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Chapter : 06
The temporary suspension of publication for The Story of the Three Kingdoms.
The decision to spread this news to bookstores had been Ludwin’s.
The flood of letters from readers was already becoming overwhelming, and there was no way to know when Marquis Rinter’s demand would finally be fulfilled.
‘He said two months with his own mouth… but how am I supposed to believe that?’
Ludwin grumbled as he recalled Edward’s calm face when he had confidently declared that it would take only two months.
If novels could really be produced that quickly, then by now Ludwin would have bought the most expensive mansion in Lugbadin, rolled the finest tobacco leaves, soaked them in the finest liquor, and smoked them every day.
Of course, the Edward he had known so far was not the type to make empty promises, but…
‘Even so, how can anyone believe it? Just planning a novel should take at least two months.’
And to stop writing the masterpiece of a lifetime that he was already in the middle of and suddenly start another work?
It was absurd.
Ludwin stared sorrowfully at Volume 2 of The Story of the Three Kingdoms, which had just come back from a fresh printing.
It would probably sit in a warehouse for years, waiting for the day it could be republished.
The thought alone was enough to drive him crazy.
At least the series had already earned more than a year’s worth of profits for the publishing company, so they could survive somehow…
‘Please, Author. I’ll wait however many years it takes, but you must republish it someday.’
Money wasn’t the issue.
Before he was a publisher, he was also a reader.
A fan who desperately wanted to see what happened next.
As Ludwin silently lamented Edward’s absence, there was one thing he had failed to realize.
Within Rinter Lugbadin alone, there were already hundreds—no, thousands—of people who felt exactly the same way.
A week after the suspension announcement.
“B-Boss!”
“What is it? Did you finally find a decent submission among the manuscripts—”
“I can’t even check the manuscripts because of the letters!”
Looking at the mountain of letters his employee brought over, Ludwin finally understood.
The readership he now had to deal with was nothing like before.
* * *
News of the suspension spread throughout the city in an instant.
And countless people reacted to it in countless different ways.
—The story after Dong Zhuo burns the capital and flees to Chang’an will not be available for the foreseeable future.
“What?! That bastard is insane! Does this villain get to keep living comfortably after all that?!”
Farmers who had spent their entire lives farming and had only recently started reading novels erupted in outrage.
—The events after the gathered lords disband, each pursuing their own interests and accomplishing nothing, will remain unknown for the time being.
“What?! Then what happens to Sun Jian after he discovers the royal seal in the ruined capital?”
“Idiot! Yuan Shao noticed it! There’s definitely going to be a war!”
“How would you know? The next book isn’t even out! Did anyone predict Volume 2 after reading Volume 1?”
The drinkers who loved discussing the grand political situation of the Three Kingdoms in taverns exploded with frustration.
—The magnificent exploits of Lü Bu, the strongest knight, can no longer be seen.
“WAAAAAAAH!”
The city’s children burst into tears.
—Nor can the future exploits of Liu Bei and his sworn brothers, who fought him on equal footing.
“Equal footing? What nonsense! It was a dirty fight! Three against one is against the knight’s code!”
“As if one-on-one duels in the middle of a war make any sense in the first place!”
“We need to hear the author’s opinion!”
The knights who had been passionately debating Liu Bei’s sense of chivalry rose up in protest.
That was right.
Everyone was angry.
Volume 2 alone had already sold over 8,000 copies, and together Volumes 1 and 2 had surpassed 20,000 copies in only four months.
Did anyone really think only the buyers had read them?
Families shared copies. Friends borrowed them.
The readership of The Story of the Three Kingdoms had grown beyond measurement.
And all of their attention turned toward a single place.
Valtheim Publishing.
—Explain the situation!
—You can’t build things up this much and suddenly suspend publication!
—Publish the next volume!
Faced with an avalanche of terrifying letters, Valtheim Publishing hurriedly released an explanation.
—The author’s chronic illness has worsened, making it difficult for him to write for the time being.
The notice was posted in bookstores throughout the country.
It sounded abrupt.
It even sounded suspiciously like a lie.
But what could people do?
If the author was sick, getting angry wouldn’t solve anything.
“Illness…”
“Well, authors are people too…”
“Author K.H is sick? Then surely Volume 3…”
Rather than becoming angry, public sentiment began moving in a different direction.
Anxiety that the next volume might never come.
Sadness that they might never again experience the joy books had finally brought them.
From that point onward, the atmosphere of the city began to change dramatically.
“This kind of story must consume an incredible amount of stamina to write.”
“He must have pushed himself too hard thinking and thinking until his condition worsened.”
“Oh heavens… Author…!”
The nature of the deliveries changed.
Letters were replaced by precious foods and rare medicinal ingredients.
The amount became too much for Valtheim Publishing to handle.
* * *
“Ed, what are all these fruits?”
“They’re called Mongoose Apples. Apparently they’re good for indigestion. Why don’t you try one?”
I carefully sorted through the fruits, medicinal herbs, and unfamiliar meats Ludwin had sent.
Even what had arrived today was a considerable amount, but the gifts piled up at Valtheim Publishing would require at least two wagons to transport.
‘Author! Please… write faster! Our entire operation is grinding to a halt!’
Remembering Ludwin’s desperate cry, I picked up a Mongoose Apple and took a bite.
Sweet and refreshing, with a slightly bitter aftertaste.
It really did feel like the sort of fruit that was good for your health.
“Did the people who read your book send all of this?”
My mother approached and asked in astonishment.
Apparently she had only just noticed the gifts hidden behind the mountain of fruit.
I handed her another apple.
“Yes. I’m grateful for it.”
“Dear heavens… So this was God’s plan for our Ed—to be loved by so many people.”
Seeing the joy on her face made me happy too.
Just like a few days ago, when both of my parents had read The Story of the Three Kingdoms and kept pestering me for spoilers.
Neither of them had ever really thought about reading books before.
Life had always been too busy.
But now their own son had written a book loved by so many people.
The fact filled them with excitement and pride.
A few days earlier, I had also given most of my royalties from Volume 1 to my parents.
They no longer had to work themselves to exhaustion just to survive.
The ordinary, impoverished candlemaker family had suddenly gained the freedom to enjoy life instead of merely enduring it.
“But do you really not know when Volume 3 will be written? Your mother wants to read the next story as soon as possible.”
“Yes. I accepted a request from an important person.”
I gave them a heavily simplified version of Marquis Rinter’s proposal.
Nothing had been finalized yet, and I didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily.
Still, judging by the disappointment on their faces, I probably needed to hurry.
After taking a few more fruits, I returned to my room.
A mountain of romance novels that Ludwin had recently sent sat on my desk.
As I opened one, I thought about the information I had gathered regarding Emilia Rinter.
‘They said she isn’t particularly flashy in noble society.’
Perhaps she had inherited some of Vilak Rinter’s personality.
She was said to be a beautiful woman who was intelligent, elegant, and coldly rational.
She was knowledgeable in both academics and magic, and supposedly unmatched when it came to conversation.
‘Then she’s probably not the type to become obsessed with shallow character appeal…’
To play it safe, I could simply write another novel similar to The Story of the Three Kingdoms.
There were plenty of war stories in Greek and Roman mythology alone.
But I didn’t want to do that.
Even if this was only adaptation and translation work, spending months thinking about Romance of the Three Kingdoms and nothing else was starting to wear on me.
‘That’s why I chose romance novels, but…’
I closed the romance novel I had been reading.
I had already read more than ten of them, and almost all followed the same formula.
A brave knight displays his martial prowess for a noble lady, and the story eventually leads to passionate sex.
That was the dominant form of romance among noblewomen in this world.
And after reading about ten books like that, an innocent ten-year-old boy such as myself found his mind thoroughly corrupted.
So…
“It should feel familiar, yet completely new.”
Having made my decision, I headed into the Subspace Library.
The formula of the romance novels I had just been reading was one that had also been popular in my previous life.
After all, who wouldn’t enjoy stories about heroic knights and beautiful women?
The library was filled with them.
But the work I intended to write would completely defy the mainstream formula of romance.
The reason was simple.
I had grown tired of it after only a few days.
So I would write a kind of romance this world had never seen before.
I pulled a book from a shelf and opened it.
A romance that rebelled against the conventions of romance.
Inside my mind, the structure of the story rapidly assembled itself.
This story was a tragedy.
The tragedy of a man who found the love of his life, yet could never attain it.
The tragedy would be expressed through letters.
Sometimes dry.
Sometimes heartbreaking.
Sometimes neutral.
But always for one purpose.
To express the word love in its purest form.
Expressing it simply was easy.
Expressing it purely was difficult.
Perhaps it was meant to be painful.
That was why something so seemingly simple could evoke so many emotions.
After finishing the outline, I returned to reality and picked up my pen.
I had read this book countless times before.
Yet every time I read it, it still felt as though something inside my heart was about to explode.
After a moment’s hesitation, I wrote the opening sentence.
A famous line left behind by the original author.
“There comes a time in every person’s life when they believe this book was written for them alone. If such a time never comes, then that would be a most unfortunate life indeed.”
* * *
Two months passed after news of Author K.H’s illness(?) became public.
Some might find it surprising, but people still hadn’t forgotten him.
For commoners, whose lives had offered few forms of entertainment, the joy brought by The Story of the Three Kingdoms had been that powerful.
Of course, other publishers had begun lowering book prices and releasing competing works.
But the public response was lukewarm.
It would be unfair to say those books were simply bad.
More accurately, none of them had managed to distinguish themselves.
None had become the kind of universally discussed phenomenon that everyone recognized by title alone.
Perhaps that was why, when a new poster appeared at bookstore entrances, the reaction was explosive.
—New Novel by Author K.H. Sales Begin Next Week.
Was it Volume 3 of The Story of the Three Kingdoms?
Would they finally get to read the continuation?
People’s anticipation compressed until it felt ready to explode.
What story would the author tell after finally overcoming his illness?
And when a week passed, everyone learned exactly what kind of illness the author had suffered from.
A terrible illness of anguish and sorrow.
The kind of suffering the author himself must have endured.
And that illness turned out to be highly contagious.
It began consuming everyone who read the book as well.
Its first victims…
Were the nobles.
