✦ Chapter 22 – Hero of the Pen (Candidate) ✦
「Translator – Creator」
“Extra! Extra!”
“Saint Beatrice nominates the playwright Phantom as a Hero candidate!”
A sensational piece of news that shook the entire Holy Empire.
The news that the great playwright Phantom had been nominated as a Hero candidate spread like wildfire.
“What? A Hero candidate?”
“I heard he’s called the Hero of the Pen? They say he wields his fountain pen to work miracles.”
“Bwahahaha! The Hero of the Pen? What a name for someone who might become a Hero! Those naming conventions are truly something else.”
In this world, the term ‘Hero’ didn’t strictly refer to someone who wielded a sword and fought the Demon King.
It had once been the case, but the Demon King had been sealed away long ago, and the title of Hero had become more of an honorary position.
Thus, over the past centuries, the concept of the Hero had evolved.
Now, a Hero was someone who bore the favor of the Gods and performed great miracles.
In other words, it was a title given to exceptional individuals who led the world in a positive direction.
Whether through swordsmanship, magic, academics, or any other means —
Only a select few who made groundbreaking achievements in their respective fields qualified for the title.
And the current Saintess Beatrice was rumored to possess the ability to see into people’s souls.
The fact that she had personally chosen Phantom as a candidate generated an immense buzz.
The first to be impacted by this were the unscrupulous theatre groups that had been shamelessly plagiarizing <Chaplin’s Comedy>.
“Boo! You script thieves! Stop it!”
“How dare you copy the comedy written by the Hero of the Pen! Aren’t you ashamed?”
“Get lost! The ten plagues will befall your theatre company!”
A barrage of protests, rotten fruits, and vegetables rained down on them.
It was only a nomination, but people were reacting as if Phantom had already become a Hero.
As a result, most of these theatre groups hurriedly closed their businesses and scrambled to issue apologies.
They couldn’t fool the discerning eyes of those who had seen <Chaplin’s Comedy> firsthand.
Of course, some felt uncomfortable with the idea of accusing others of plagiarism over mere comedy.
The view that there was nothing wrong with imitating frivolous and funny plays was still prevalent in the industry.
There were even those who went so far as to accuse Phantom of abusing their Hero candidate status to muddy the waters of the art world and interfere with their freedom of expression.
However, these complaints fell on deaf ears as the Church, with their eyes blazing, maintained a watchful eye.
“The Lord said, ‘Thou shalt not steal.’”
The priest solemnly recited the scripture during Sunday Mass.
Pointing to the cross, the young man, still untainted by the world, spoke.
“The work created by the Hero of the Pen, using his pen, is also a precious gift bestowed upon them by the Divine One. To carelessly copy it is to steal from the Hero candidate. Surely, no devout believer would condone such an act.”
The Killgrewber Theater Company had just returned from their tour in the north and held the official premiere of <Exodus> in the capital.
Although it was a smaller-scale production, with the choir being sponsored by a local church, its impact was still significant.
Many priests from the capital had pooled their funds to watch this play, which was based on a classic religious story written by a renowned playwright.
As a result, the young, passionate apprentice priests, in particular, became ardent supporters of Phantom.
The play had masterfully and symbolically interwoven the fundamental tenet of the Heavenly Church —“God loves you and is always watching over you”—into a grand epic narrative, capturing their hearts completely.
The news that the creator of this epic had been nominated as a Hero candidate by the Saintess herself, and the rumor that the protagonist, Moses, might even be Phantom’s self-portrait, further fueled their enthusiasm.
“Hallelujah! The Lord saves those who believe! Therefore, fear not!”
“I will be your voice, so do not hesitate and go forth! What better words could express God’s love!”
“Moses is not only the Hero candidate’s self-portrait, but also the embodiment of the ideal virtues of a priest! This is the example the Hero candidate wants us to follow as priests!”
They firmly believed that <Exodus> was a symbolic representation of the virtues upheld by the Heavenly Church: unwavering faith, the responsibility of a priest, indomitable will, and courage.
They hailed it as a masterpiece that offered a clear answer to the question—“How should one live as a believer of the Heavenly Church?”—through a compelling story.
…And some of the more radical priests among them began to put their beliefs into action.
They left their churches and sought out the impoverished, those who suffered like the Hebrews.
They cared for lepers who were ostracized like slaves, and even took on manual labor to support them.
Some even risked their lives to journey to remote areas beyond civilization, embarking on treacherous missionary work.
For these enthusiastic priests, material compensation or bodily comfort was unnecessary.
All they needed was the Gospel of love preached in the scriptures, and a life dedicated to its practice.
“Let us all take up our staffs! We, too, shall perform God’s love and miracles with these staffs!”
“Hosanna! Like Moses, let us lead the starving and oppressed people to a land flowing with milk and honey!”
The new priests, focused on poverty, practical action, and the gospel as their absolute value.
They formed their own communities, creating religious gatherings funded by their own donations.
However, the impact of <Exodus> wasn’t limited to the religious sphere.
“Hey, have you seen that? The setting for Exodus is Egypt, which was also featured in Julius Caesar?”
“Of course. I’ve looked into it thoroughly.”
“Oh my God. Could it be that the worlds of these two great works are connected…?”
Of course, the Killgrewber Theater Company had been quick to clarify publicly during their performance of <Exodus> that the ‘Egypt’ depicted in both plays referred to entirely different nations and that there were no narrative connections between them.
Cleopatra in Julius Caesar, despite being a pagan, was a virtuous character who assisted the protagonist.
Conversely, the Pharaohs in <Exodus> were a villain of the worst kind, guilty of blasphemy.
It was a wise decision to swiftly draw a distinction to avoid potential future issues.
Even so, they couldn’t completely stop people’s imaginations from running wild.
“Look at this! What do you think of the story I’ve come up with? Moses, guided by God’s revelation, goes to Rome and smites the traitor Brutus with a bolt of lightning, rescuing Caesar!”
“Nah, that’s too childish! How about this? Cleopatra, the queen of Egypt, witnesses the ten plagues and converts to the Heavenly Church! She then becomes a Saint who assists Caesar!”
“Wouldn’t it be great if the Red Sea parting caused Emperor Octavian’s fleet to be annihilated? The enraged emperor, unaware of the cause, invades Egypt and brings a greater punishment upon Pharaoh, ha ha ha!”
As Phantom’s list of works grew, fan clubs started to emerge quietly.
And centered around these clubs, ‘What if’ scenarios envisioned by the fans slowly began to blossom.
As long as they didn’t publish or profit from it, imagination and creation were free.
Some sought happy endings, others romance, and some preferred cathartic twists, reimagining their beloved works.
As the scale of fan creations grew, so did the interaction between these fan clubs.
And thus, the culture of fanfiction began to take root in the Holy Empire.
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“Hey, Hero of the Pen.”
“Shut up, before I stab you with this pen.”
“Heh heh.”
Maurice chuckled smugly, arms crossed. Seeing his annoying grin, all I could do was sigh deeply.
Regardless, I had to submit my assignment, so I cleared my mind and diligently worked with my quill pen.
“Well, at least you’re just a candidate for now, right? You can’t stand unnecessary hassle.”
“It’s just an honorary title anyway, these days. It basically means the Saintess approves of my creative work.”
Hero of the Pen or whatever it was, I had been given a rather silly title, but nothing much would change.
‘To put it simply, it’s like a kind of Nobel Prize in Literature.’
Did being nominated for a Nobel Prize dramatically change anyone’s life?
They’d probably just continue their writing as a more celebrated and honored author.
So, the Saintess’ decision to nominate me without pushing too hard was probably out of consideration for me.
She was telling me to avoid getting caught up in unnecessary trouble and just keep doing what I had been doing as a playwright.
In other words, she was sparing me from bothersome responsibilities while letting me bask in the accompanying fame.
…Thinking about it that way, I suppose I should be grateful.
However…
“Oof, my aching back.”
Despite being a young master who had risen to the rank of Hero candidate, my recent days were spent mostly hunched over my desk, causing me to groan as I stretched my back.
From Admiral Yi Sun-sin to Caesar and Charlie Chaplin, and now Moses…
In a normal world, a whole semester would have passed by already, but here, things were a little different.
A year in this world was noticeably longer than a year on the Earth I once knew.
If any Earthling scientists saw this, they’d be spitting blood, refuting and nitpicking this strange peculiarity.
‘It really threw me off when I first came here.’
Perhaps the most difficult thing to adjust to was the noticeable difference in the flow of time.
At times, I felt like I should be toddling around, but I was still confined to a cradle.
And just when I thought I should be growing into a fine young lad, I was still just a baby being fed mush.
Even growth and aging were remarkably slower here compared to Earth. At some point, the imbalance between my physical body and mental state nearly drove me mad.
So, even though I’d accomplished a tremendous amount of work by Earth standards, not much time had actually passed in this world.
Still, the length of a day was fairly similar to Earth’s, and the semester’s duration was generous, though the course load was correspondingly heavy.
“So? Do you have plans for your next work, Hero of the Pen? Huh?”
Maurice prodded, perched on his bed, eagerly awaiting my answer.
It hadn’t been long since he’d seen <Exodus>, and Maurice was already probing me. Normally, I’d give him a sharp retort, but I was too drained at the moment.
“I don’t know. I’ve got assignments, studying… a mountain of things to do.”
“Want some help? I’m all done with my submissions. You can refer to my research materials if you need.”
“No, thanks. You know how strict Professor Prunelle is. He’ll instantly fail me if he senses even a whiff of outside help.”
I sighed, thinking about the notoriously boring and tedious Imperial Political History lectures.
The only reasons I was taking this class were that I needed the credits to graduate.
“Haah, still, I do need to write something.”
As they say, strike while the iron is hot.
The attention on Phantom was overwhelming, but the money piling up in Balthazar’s account was very much appreciated.
So, I wanted to be as prolific as possible before my popularity waned, or some new genius came along to outshine me.
‘But to put on an entire play in such a short time is impossible.’
Writing a play involved more than just typing words.
Acting, props, makeup, set design—everything had to be discussed with everyone involved before a production could be staged.
Wasn’t there something I could do? A way to bypass the lengthy and complex process while still producing a work?
“…Ah!”
In that moment, an idea struck me like a bolt of lightning. I set down my quill and turned to Maurice.
“Hey, Maurice. You’re the young master of a marquis family, so you have connections in the publishing industry, right?”
“Publishing? Probably. But why?”
“Once I finish the assignments, I’m thinking of writing a Lesedrama.”
“A Lesedrama? What’s that?”
“You’ll see.”
Lesedrama. In our language, it would be called a “closet drama,” or a “literary drama.”
A Lesedrama wasn’t meant for the stage. It was a genre intended to be read as a written work, like a novel.
It was often chosen by writers limited by stage conditions or specific performance constraints, allowing them free rein of their imagination.
The undisputed master of this genre would be the French playwright Alfred de Musset.
After his debut work, <A Night in Venice>, was a massive failure, he shifted focus entirely to Lesedramas.
Musset’s works were known for their intricate psychological insights, complex expressions, and romantic literary style.
To fully unleash his free-spirited creativity, he needed the absence of performance limitations.
And if I were to write a Lesedrama based on a historical figure, there was only one person to choose.
“Know thyself (γνῶθι σεαυτόν)!”
“Know what?”
“Just, you know, stuff.”
Though not a phrase I coined myself, it was a cherished saying throughout my life.
Stretching with all my might, I mentioned the philosopher recognized as the father of midwifery, dialectics, and Western rationalism.
“Seriously, you’re a baffling fellow, even for a friend.”
On the desk lay a medal made of Orichalcum.
Maurice shook his head as he marveled at the precious metal, which was at least twice as expensive as any other precious metal of the same weight.
“You’ve got a ring with the imperial seal, and the Saintess nominated you as a Hero. Next thing you know, you’ll be an imperial son-in-law. You’re the right age, and the princess is about to start looking for a husband.”
“As if. I’d rather die.”
I’d met the Crown Princess at the cosplay competition, and she was a rather intimidating woman.
She was like a gumiho—a nine-tailed fox from Korean folklore—ready to steal your liver the moment you let your guard down.
There was no way someone as cunning as her would even consider a mere playwright as a potential husband.
I should just be grateful she hadn’t borne a grudge against me for ignoring her fan letters.
“You know, we’ve been exchanging letters quite often lately. Don’t jinx it.”
“Aha! Those lovey-dovey letters between Phantom and Her Highness? I had a blast proofreading them. Very exciting.”
“Love letters, my foot.”
After the fan meeting, the princess began exchanging letters with me.
They were just friendly correspondences, nothing too serious, but it was honestly a bit nerve-wracking.
I had a feeling she was still upset about the ignored fan letter, and there was something subtly off about her tone.
Just the other day, she had teased me with a note saying, “You refused the royal office but eagerly accepted the Hero nomination? How disappointing.”
‘Look, it’s not like I asked to be nominated.’
And how could I possibly refuse a nomination from the Saintess herself?
“You’re just being overly negative, Balthazar. Looks to me like she’s trying to get close to you.”
“…Has your brain turned to mush ever since you started dating Julian? How is this in any way her trying to get close?”
“Sigh, never mind. Honestly, you’re so obtuse. What’s the point of writing great scripts if you’re this clueless? Tsk tsk.”
— End of Chapter —
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