chapter - 9

 The genre of hardboiled fiction begins with a contradiction.

A deep distrust and cynicism toward humanity, a life weary and exhausting contrary to the bright future promised by propaganda. As this contradiction deepens, people try to stop thinking deeply.

That's when novels that smash things apart become popular.

At least it feels satisfying inside!

“I didn't expect hardboiled to become so trendy all of a sudden.”

“Sir, what is hardboiled?”

“A genre that solves problems with violence.”

“I've never heard of it.”

“Because I just made it up.”

To call this hardboiled is a stretch; it's more like plain violence. There's no problem-solving, just breaking things.

I put the book I was holding back on the shelf.

[Mad Hammer]

[Hammett's Revenge]

[Ariant's Swordsman]

The bookshelf was filled with violent stories of similar sentiment to the book I had just read.

Most of them were low-quality short stories printed on cheap paper. For the price of one Don Quixote, you could buy 200 of these.

It seemed these violent stories were trending because the world's printing technology was more advanced than expected, akin to the early 20th century.

This was an unforeseen development.

“Is there something you don't like?”

“No, well, this kind of trend isn't necessarily bad for me…”

These low-quality short stories are quick to read and consume. Pulp fiction can form the basis for a genre fiction fandom, so popularity isn't necessarily a downside.

The problem is…

“They're just not fun.”

“Indeed, they don't compare to your novels, sir.”

“No, they're not even as interesting as knightly literature.”

They were simply crude and sensational.

Robbery, murder, rape, violence—everything shocking was crammed in. It made me wonder if there was any intention to create a “story” at all.

It felt like a textual depiction of gore porn.

Such an unpleasant trend can't last long. For this trend to solidify, a standardized plot structure is necessary.

“Don't buy any more of these cheap short stories.”

“Understood.”

“But if you come across something that's actually interesting, bring it to me. I'll eventually write a novel fitting for this pulp fiction anyway…”

“Do you have a new work in mind?”

“I have a few ideas, but it's still too early.”

More importantly, the announcement of the results for the 'fan fiction contest' we’ve been preparing for comes first.

For my plan to succeed, the outcome of this contest is crucial.

“Sion, pack up. Oh, make sure to bring the ‘chemicals’ we kept aside.”

“Understood.”

Sion began placing the chemicals into the bag.

Thanks to the shock protection spell on the bag, I didn’t have to worry about the glass bottles breaking. The bottles themselves were also alchemically enhanced, making them sturdy.

“Sion, can you hand me one of the chemicals?”

“Yes?”

I hesitated briefly, then opened a bottle and drank it down.

“Ugh, damn, this hurts… It never gets any easier.”

“Sir?”

“It’s better than going with my real face.”

For now, it’s fine, but later on, problems might arise related to my novels.

I don't want another “Why did you kill Holmes?” situation.

It’s better to separate ‘Homer’ and ‘Ed’ entirely. Some people already know my face, but without social media in this world, it should be fine.

“Alright, let's go, Sion.”

It's time to meet the winners.

. . .

“Ahhh! Is it really true that ‘Homer’ himself is coming to present the awards?”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so nervous…”

“When I meet him, I’ll ask him to sign my book… Maybe even shake hands…?”

The auditorium for the 'Jekyll and Hyde Fan Fiction Contest' awards ceremony was buzzing.

Everyone here had participated in the contest with the hope of meeting the author ‘Homer’ in person.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come with you? It’s not like someone’s going to shoot at us, right?”

“It’s fine! The rules say winners can bring up to two guests.”

“Phew… Thanks. You being my friend is the greatest luck in my life…”

Among literary enthusiasts, the name ‘Homer’ was akin to that of a god.

A superhuman who ruled the aristocratic social circles with his debut work 'Don Quixote', and the creator of captivating characters like ‘Jekyll’ and ‘Hyde’ with 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde'.

“I absolutely love Hyde…”

“I prefer Jekyll. He has this fragile, protective charm and is so gentlemanly.”

“Oh, I get that!”

‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’ was particularly popular among women.

Jekyll, the cultured and kind but fragile gentleman, and Hyde, the bad boy who didn’t care about others' opinions—these character traits struck a chord with female readers. Especially since the concept of ‘multiple personalities’ was novel and particularly impactful.

Some of these fans included daughters from noble and influential families.

“Do you know what this is?”

“That’s… could it be the first edition of Don Quixote Part 1? The one that’s no longer available on the market, how did you…?”

“I plan to get Homer’s autograph on it. Just imagining it is thrilling, isn’t it?”

“Would you consider selling it?”

“Who would sell such a priceless treasure for money?”

“If I promised the rights to develop the Prinen Mines…”

“…Excuse me, are you serious?”

It was like a social gathering where people negotiated and made deals behind the scenes.

Some people were even wary of each other.

“Could it be that someone hired a ghostwriter?”

“Surely not. The mere fact that Homer himself would read my humble work is an immense honor… Who would do something so vulgar?”

“You’re right, of course.”

However, such suspicions didn't last long.

If there are no irreconcilable differences in interpretation, fans of the same work naturally bond.

“Homer is like a god to me. I couldn’t possibly commit such blasphemy.”

“Oh! I understand.”

Thus, Homer was a god.

In today's world, where magic engineering has made people more detached, he might have more influence than a god.

“The awards ceremony will begin shortly! Winners, please take your designated seats, and companions, please move to the back!”

“Oh, it’s starting soon. What should I do?”

“Do I look okay? My face doesn’t look too tired, does it? I should have gone to bed earlier last night!”

And so.

“Homer is entering the stage to present the awards!!!”

A ceremony filled with reverence and chaos began.

. . .

In the waiting room attached to the auditorium.

I sat there, waiting for my turn to come.

“Are you ready, sir?”

“Oh, yes. I don’t need to prepare anything special, do I?”

“You might want to prepare yourself mentally…”

“I’m just presenting the awards.”

If I were a winner, it might be different, but I’m just handing out the awards, so I don’t see why I need to prepare myself mentally.

For some reason, Director Doling seemed a bit anxious.

“Sir…!”

“Yes, Director.”

“You shouldn’t be so relaxed…”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, you need to be more aware of your own influence.”

“That’s why I changed my appearance, isn’t it?”

My appearance, altered by the chemical, was a mix of my previous and current life’s features, but it was hard to deduce ‘Ed’ from it.

As I traced my face with my hand and said that, Doling suddenly raised his voice in frustration.

“That face is the problem!”

“What?”

“You’re too handsome!”

“Am I…?”

Hmm.

Honestly, I do feel a bit more handsome.

Like a mix of the best features of a mixed-race actor?

Killing the disadvantages of both my past and present faces and leaving only the good parts?

“At this rate, it would have been better to come with your original face!”

“Isn’t that just a roundabout way of saying I was ugly before?”

“Your original face wasn’t ugly, just… harmless?”

What does it mean to look harmless?

I can't tell if it's a compliment or an insult. I’ll assume it’s a compliment for now.

“Oh, it’s my turn… Sir, you’re up right after me, remember? Come out as soon as you’re called!”

“Yes, yes.”

Director Doling went out to give the opening speech, leaving the waiting room suddenly quiet.

Maybe because of his warnings, I felt a bit nervous. I leaned back in my chair, waiting for my name to be called.

No, not my name.

– “Homer is entering the stage to present the awards!!!”

With the name of the greatest writer in history being called, I opened the door to the dark waiting room.

Beyond the door was light.

“KYAAAAAA—!!!”

“WAAAAAA—!!!”

And there were people cheering.

For a moment, I was overwhelmed by the cheers, feeling dazed. Everyone in this room was looking only at me.

Ah.

This is why the Director told me to prepare myself mentally…