chapter - 5

Upon arriving at the publishing house, I was greeted by an unexpected sight. A man with an unusual aura was waiting for me, accompanied by two armed men in plain clothes and a woman who appeared to be a maidservant.

"So you are Homeros, the author of Don Quixote. I came to see you in person because you rejected my invitation."

The word "invitation" caught my attention, and I immediately knelt down and bowed my head. This was an unexpected turn of events.

Meanwhile, the publisher had already fled the scene. I wondered if I should offer my next work to a competing publisher.

"I am a subject of the empire, greeting Your Highness."

"I apologize if my sudden appearance was rude."

"It's not rude at all."

"But if you see it as rude, I have a good reason."

I felt a chill run down my spine. Would a prince really come in person just because I rejected his invitation?

"I... I couldn't accept such a generous invitation."

"That's not for you to decide."

"I apologize..."

"When I read Don Quixote, I thought you were a man of great depth, but you seem more timid than I expected."

It was a tense situation where one wrong word could cost me my life. Who wouldn't be nervous?

"Haha... To be honest, I was a little curious. What kind of person would dare to reject a royal invitation?"

"I apologize for not living up to your expectations."

"No, this is interesting in its own way. For example, your age. You don't look like you've had your coming-of-age ceremony yet, have you?"

"Y-yes..."

"The author of Don Quixote is just a kid? The literary critics who praised it will be shocked."

As the prince's interrogation continued, the maidservant behind him spoke up cautiously.

"Your Highness, I apologize for interrupting, but there is a boorishra on your clothes."

"Hmm?"

"I'll fix it right away."

"Ah, very well."

Thanks to the maidservant, I was able to catch my breath for a moment. I wondered if the prince's attire was so important that she had to interrupt our conversation to fix it. But then again, the sensibilities of the nobility were different. The prince's appearance was impeccable, so it wouldn't be strange if he had obsessive-compulsive disorder.

After the maidservant fixed the boorishra on the prince's clothes, he continued speaking.

"It's amazing that someone your age could write such a great work. I'm rather impressed."

"Thank you..."

Suddenly, I noticed a change in the prince's tone.

"Hm? What's wrong?"

"No, it's just... I thought I sensed something odd."

"Oh, really? What do you mean?"

"Never mind, it's nothing."

The prince's attitude seemed to have changed, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"I've been rambling on. The reason I came to see you is because I want to support you. You're a young artist with a bright future, and supporting artists is a meaningful act."

"It's an honor..."

It was not uncommon for nobles to support artists. They would support them to enhance their own reputation and show off their taste. It was a tradition that had been passed down since the Middle Ages.

"But this is my first time supporting a writer, so I'm not sure how to go about it. When supporting a painter, I usually commission a portrait in return, but I can't ask a novelist to write my biography. How is literary support usually done?"

"If you support a work, you can include a message of thanks in the preface."

"Could I have my name included in all of your novels as a supporter?"

"That wouldn't be too difficult, but..."

Something seemed off. The prince was deliberately avoiding a certain word.

"Who do you want to see their name in my novels?"

"Hmm? What do you mean? Of course, the name of the person who supported you."

"So who is that supporter?"

"...How dare a mere writer be so rude."

I had confirmed my suspicions.

"I apologize if my question was rude. Is it possible that the person standing before me is not the real prince, but a stand-in?"

"You've got quite a mouth on you─."

Just as the prince was about to raise his voice, one of the guards interrupted him.

"Ernok. Stop."

"I'm sorry."

"It's over. The disguise wouldn't have worked forever anyway."

Wow. So the prince had even prepared a double for this situation. Being a member of the royal family must be tough.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration and excitement, as if I were the protagonist of a mystery novel.

"I apologize if my question was inappropriate. Is it possible that my words could cause a problem?"

But the real prince was standing quietly behind the "maidservant."

"Your Highness."

The situation had become tense, and I held my breath as I waited for the prince's response. Had I guessed correctly? I wasn't just making a wild guess, was I?

"...How did you know?"

I had guessed correctly.

"Please lower your voice, Your Highness."

"This is my usual way of speaking. Do I really need to speak in a pompous and condescending tone just because I'm a member of the royal family?"

It must be burdensome for those who have to address the royal family with honorifics. It's something that should be considered.

"So, how did you know? Most people would have moved on after realizing that Ernok was a fake."

"It was because of your arms."

"My arms?"

"Women usually move their arms naturally to avoid their chests when they use them. But when Ernok removed the boorishra from your clothes, I noticed that he moved his arms like a man."

It was knowledge I had learned from mystery novels, but I never thought I would have the chance to use it.

"And?"

"Well... The prince might have a peculiar taste and make his servant cross-dress. That wouldn't be proof that you're the prince, would it?"

"Ah, after Ernok removed the boorishra, his tone suddenly became more friendly. I thought it might be some kind of signal or warning."

"A warning...?"

The prince had come to the publishing house in person because he was a fan of Don Quixote.

"A prince who loves Don Quixote wouldn't stand by and let someone mock the author's young age. That's why I thought you were the real prince."

Any fan would be able to understand that. If they found out that their favorite author was actually a young person, they would be more likely to express admiration than contempt.

"...Did you really guess that I was the prince for such a trivial reason?"

"Well, it might not be enough...

To be honest, half of it was a lucky guess.

"Does a writer need a grand reason to recognize a passionate reader?"

"...Hmph! You're a really interesting person."

"Did I say something rude just now?"

"You were very rude."

"I apologize."

"I'm joking. I just wanted to see your face, so I came to find you. I never thought you would figure out that I was the 'real' prince."

The prince laughed heartily. It was as if he had used magic. I felt a strange sense of discomfort, as if my perception was out of sync. Perhaps it was because he looked and sounded like a woman.

Thanks to this, the tension had eased somewhat.

"The life of a royal must be very tiring, having to hide your identity and even cross-dress."

"Ah, I do this because it's my preference."

"...What?"

What did I just hear? The smiling prince covered his mouth with his hand and whispered in a playful tone.

"Don Quixote mistook Aldonza, a village girl, for Dulcinea, a princess, didn't he?"

"Ah, yes..."

"If there are people who want to believe they are knights, there must be people who want to be mistaken for 'Dulcinea', right?"

It was the thinking of a madman. Covering his mouth and smiling, he was clearly a madman. Unfortunately, that madman was the third prince of the empire. I had no choice but to pretend to sympathize with him.

"Yes, that's true."

"I knew it! I thought the author of Don Quixote would understand."

"Ah, yes..."

"Did you know? There are people in this world who are born with a different appearance in their hearts than their outward appearance."

"Yes... Their inner senses and identities are not necessarily the same as their physical bodies."

I never thought I would have such a conversation in this world.

"Oh, you understand! The church's bishops, who advocate for the unity of the soul, will never accept it, but... Our god loves beauty. In a world where only obvious and visible things have value, how can there be beauty?"

"Ah, yes."

Why was I having this conversation with the prince of the empire? Was this a dream?

"What do you think, author?"

The conversation about sexual identity continued for nearly 30 minutes. It was the longest 30 minutes of my life.

.

.

.

"Will you spare him?"

"My, Ernok. If someone hears you, they'll think I kill people without a second thought. How can I be a member of the royal family if I don't value the lives of my people?"

Inside the carriage on the way back to the palace, the prince sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile on his face.

He had been born with a soul that did not match his body, and had lived his entire life in a 'false' body. He could only go out in the shadow of a stand-in, and even that required permission. He spent most of his time in the palace.

Naturally, he became immersed in classical novels...

And the work 'Don Quixote' was a ray of light in his stifling world.

"I'm afraid rumors will spread. If we can prevent a falsehood by sacrificing one life, wouldn't that be the right thing to do?"

"Then the quickest way would be to take my life."

"...I apologize. That was not my intention."

"No. Um, look outside. People's faces are so bright. Isn't it?"

After the development of magic engineering, the empire had changed greatly. People's living standards had improved, and more and more people were seeking education and entertainment rather than just survival. Circuses and magic shows had become popular, and the power of the royal family had waned while the power of the parliament had grown.

The world was changing rapidly. Everyone was proud of this change. They believed that the world was moving forward and did not question it. They turned a blind eye to the side effects of this change.

Mana had become polluted, the great forest had been destroyed, and new mutant monsters were appearing all over the world. People said that the world was moving forward, but in reality, they were recklessly rushing forward without even knowing where they were going, just like a magical train.

"Look at those people dressed as knights errant, laughing and holding books. Don't they all look like madmen?"

"Honestly speaking, they do look like madmen."

"Haha, that's too honest. But you're right."

However, one novel was changing this world. People no longer dismissed the past as barbaric. They no longer ignored justice as an illusion. They no longer laughed at courage as recklessness.

Of course, excessive romanticism of the past should be cautioned against, but this world had been running too fast, looking only to the future.

"If the world is going crazy, then having too much common sense is a crazy act."

But even if one falls over because of the past, one should not jump off a cliff.

.

.

.

"How much is the... sponsorship money?"

I thought I had earned a decent amount of money from Don Quixote's royalties, but I was wrong.

"Four!"

"I'll forgive you for leaving me and the prince alone in the reception room and running away."

"Hah... Thank you..."