How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World

The place we arrived at was a shelter at the end of the garden. It was entirely white, likely made of marble, and its structure resembled a pavilion.

In front of it, a fairly wide river flowed gently, making it, as Verit had mentioned, a perfect spot for fishing.

I wondered why such a large river existed within the imperial palace, but I quickly brushed off the thought.

The Minerva Empire was known for its immense scale, so they must have made it happen somehow.

Moreover, according to history, the capital of the Minerva Empire was originally abundant with forests.

As they gradually cleared the land to build the capital, traces of the original landscape remained.

This river was likely one of those remnants. In fact, there were still many undeveloped areas throughout the Minerva Empire.

Under normal circumstances, those lands would have been gradually cleared and transformed into habitable areas.

However, at present, demon worshippers were running rampant.

Still, since the government had noticed that the budget was leaking away, it wasn’t a complete loss.

“I really like it here…”

“Your Majesty.”

The escort knight, once again making his presence known, spoke up.

When Verit, who had been about to say something, saw the knight handing him a fishing rod, he let out a deep sigh.

“Sigh. This is the best place for me. I can put everything down and just fish without thinking about anything else.”

Whirr!

Verit, clearly passionate about fishing, cast his rod with a strong flick of his wrist, having found a good fishing spot.

The fishing line extended far into the distance and sank below, making a soft plop sound as the bobber floated gently on the surface.

Mari and I quietly observed him from behind. Since the escort knight had brought chairs for us, there was no need to stand.

“Isaac, how much do you know about fish?”

Just as I remained silent without saying a word, Verit suddenly asked me a question.

His gaze remained fixed on the fishing line, and it seemed like he was trying to break the awkward silence.

“I know a fair bit.”

“Then, do you know what kinds of fish inhabit this river?”

Upon hearing his words, I turned my gaze to the river.

The water didn’t flow as gently as it would downstream, but it also wasn’t as rough as an upstream current.

Since the speed was moderate, trout or salmon were likely to live here. I vaguely remembered reading about it in an encyclopedia.

“Trout, salmon, bluebang, and rockfish are probably present. There might also be eels on the riverbed, and if lucky, even catfish.”

As you can see, some of the fish here have names similar or identical to those found on Earth.

However, despite the similar names, their appearances are completely different.

“Correct. I didn’t expect you to know. Not many young people take an interest in fish.”

“I’ve liked reading books since I was young.”

“Even so, reading books about fish must be a challenge, don’t you think?”

Verit turned his head slightly and asked with a meaningful look.

As he said, there were very few people my age who genuinely enjoyed books.

To be more precise, he was referring to bookworms—those who were completely immersed in books.

Even among bookworms, people usually focused only on the fields they were interested in. They weren’t omnivorous readers.

In other words, his question was meant to test me.

It seemed like he was subtly suspecting that I might be a prophet or a regressor.

Of course, this was just speculation. He could have simply found my knowledge impressive.

‘Well, I do read anything and everything, so I don’t really have an argument against that.’

I learned to read the language of this world when I was around four or five years old.

And from that point on, I started reading books.

Not only did I read all the books available in the mansion, but my mother, finding it admirable, bought various books for me as well.

The excitement of being born into a fantasy world, the extremely limited hobbies available compared to Earth, and my natural inclination to stay indoors all contributed to turning me into a bookworm.

Explaining all of this in detail would be too much, so I kept my answer simple and convincing.

“I read anything and everything, whether literature or nonfiction.”

“I see. That explains how you were able to write that book…”

Whoosh!

Verit trailed off mid-sentence but soon responded with a sudden burst of energy.

Judging by the tension in the fishing line, it seemed a fish had taken the bait.

Unfortunately, he didn’t manage to catch it.

Though it had bitten, it hadn’t done so properly, and the fishing line snapped back up with force.

Fish that inhabit rivers like this are naturally quick, making them difficult to catch.

“Tsk, tsk.”

Clicking his tongue at the now-empty hook, Verit reattached the bait.

It seemed like the kind of task an escort knight could have done, but he insisted on doing it himself.

He then cast his line once more, and with another soft plop, the bobber landed gently on the water.

“What was I saying again?”

“You were saying that I was able to write The Chronicles of Zenon because I read a variety of books,” the escort knight answered in his place.

Nodding in understanding, Verit relaxed and quietly continued speaking.

“When that book first came out, I was truly shocked.

Literature was considered the exclusive domain of the nobility, filled with overly difficult words that made my head ache every time I read them.

Even though they were the same words, they required interpretation.”

“I strongly agree with that sentiment.”

“Was it out of frustration with that aspect that you decided to write in a simpler style?”

“I wouldn’t say it wasn’t a factor.”

That was the truth.

While my past life as a writer played a role, the biggest motivation was my desire to write something myself instead of dealing with frustrating books.

Seeing my quick response, Verit chuckled heartily.

Then, after a brief pause, he spoke again, this time with a meaningful tone.

“That’s how it should be. People can only get closer to books when they can understand them properly.

But in the past, books were written in a way that only pushed people away. Literature shouldn’t belong to any one group.”

“… …”

“The Chronicles of Zenon has brought many people closer to books.

Even in the Academy, the number of literature students has increased significantly because of it.”

Feeling embarrassed by the praise, I scratched my head awkwardly.

When I glanced to the side, Mari was smiling proudly, as if she had written the book herself.

By the standards of my previous life, The Chronicles of Zenon wouldn’t even be considered pure literature.

There were still debates about whether it should be acknowledged as literature at all.

But The Lord of the Rings, Sherlock Holmes, A Song of Ice and Fire, and even The Call of Cthulhu

In this world, The Chronicles of Zenon likely fell into the same category.

Even if it only served as a bridge to pure literature, I thought that was more than enough.

More importantly, The Chronicles of Zenon was causing another unintended consequence.

“Still, becoming too famous can be a problem in itself.”

“Why is that?”

“There is no one writing in a style similar to The Chronicles of Zenon.

Even if someone tries, they either give up due to criticism or feel pressured and stop writing altogether.”

In Cherry’s case, she was able to write because I personally vouched for her, but others are too hesitant to do the same.

Publishing houses had attempted to hold a contest or an event to encourage new writers for the future, but it was shut down due to opposition—ironically, from none other than Savior.

Not just Savior, but various large and small organizations protested, arguing that it was ‘presumptuous’ for others to write in a similar style.

One could carve sculptures, perform plays, or even make movies, but when it came to writing, opposition was absolute.

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t mind if others wrote in a style similar to The Chronicles of Zenon? That writing style is uniquely yours.”

Verit tilted his head slightly, asking in a tone of surprise.

His question was essentially whether I was fine with my symbolic writing style being replicated.

Before it was regarded as a prophetic scripture, The Chronicles of Zenon was already gaining recognition for its distinctive style.

Its full potential exploded in the fifth volume, leading to its immense popularity.

In a literary landscape filled with books as difficult as exam papers, my writing style made it easy to visualize the story immediately.

That style had become my signature.

And now, since the book was treated like a holy scripture, others naturally hesitated to imitate it.

“But earlier, you said that writing belongs to no one.”

“Writing may not be anyone’s exclusive property, but your style is uniquely yours.”

Hearing his calm response, I became certain—this was a test.

Just moments ago, he had said that writing belonged to everyone, yet now he contradicted himself.

I remained silent for a moment to organize my thoughts, and as soon as they were clear, I spoke fluidly.

“Your Majesty, I merely made good use of the existing language—just like a chef preparing a dish.

No matter how skilled a chef may be, if the ingredients are poor, the result will be disappointing.

It’s not the use of language that is wrong, but those who misuse it for ill intentions. Using language creatively is not a crime.”

It is the people who commit verbal abuse that are at fault, not the language itself.

And using language playfully does not taint it.

In fact, such creativity should be encouraged, as it increases the diversity of language, which is its most essential quality.

Even in my previous life, despite Hangul being created centuries ago, new words were constantly emerging—this alone should be enough to prove my point.

“Language is something that no one can easily control. Not even the person who created it.”

“Not even a god?”

“A god could take language away. But even a god wouldn’t be able to erase it entirely—because people would simply create a new one.”

“Hahaha!”

Verit burst into his characteristic hearty laughter, clearly entertained by my response.

He then slowly reeled in the fishing line, even though no fish had taken the bait.

Once he finished, he handed the rod to his escort knight and turned his body around.

Since the chair had no backrest, he was now facing me directly.

The corners of his mouth curled in amusement, and his deep-set eyes gazed at me intently.

After staring at me for a while, he glanced at Mari, then, as if finally understanding something, he spoke quietly.

“Interesting. It’s not like you used that silver tongue to charm Mari… After all, she despises insincerity.”

“We simply connected naturally. That was before I even revealed my identity.”

“Oh? I didn’t know that. Well, if you had revealed your identity before making a move, she probably would have disliked you even more.”

Verit nodded, seemingly convinced. At the same time, Mari subtly shifted her position and nestled closer to me.

Without saying a word, I rested my head on her shoulder. We leaned into each other.

Verit smiled warmly at the sight but then spoke in a slightly regretful tone.

“Looking at you two, it seems like there won’t be room for Rina to step in. But don’t make her feel too lonely.”

“That won’t happen,” Mari replied. “I know exactly what Rina likes.”

On the surface, her words were meant to reassure Verit, but their true meaning was entirely different.

Indeed, we would never make Rina feel lonely.

More importantly, we had long since understood her true feelings.

No matter how much of a father he was, he would never know his daughter’s secret preferences.

That applied to Emperor Verit as well.

However, since Mari was the one who said it instead of me, he seemed to trust her words even more, smiling deeply.

“Thank you. Sitting here like this, realizing I don’t even know what my own child likes… Well, from now on, I’ll leave Rina in your hands.”

“We won’t let her shed any tears.”

“That’s more than enough.”

Verit stood up as he spoke. It seemed like he was preparing to return.

I wasn’t sure if exactly fifteen minutes had passed, but the time had flown by quickly.

Looking back, it felt foolish how tense I had been.

“You two can stay and enjoy yourselves a little longer. I need to go check on my daughter.”

“Understood.”

“Good. Oh, do you have any questions? We’ll have plenty of time to talk during the upcoming banquet, but if there’s something you’re curious about, ask now.”

Just before leaving, Verit turned to me with a question. The moment I heard it, I immediately asked mine.

“I’d like to know what connection you have with my father.”

“Hmm… Sir Michelle, you say… Yes, I do owe him quite a bit.”

Verit was not the least bit surprised, as if he had expected the question. He stroked his beard thoughtfully.

It seemed like their relationship was quite complex.

I already knew my father had lived a tumultuous life, but I never imagined he had a connection with the emperor.

After organizing his thoughts for a moment, Verit turned to me and answered clearly.

“For a brief time, he was appointed as my escort knight.

Back then, I was the third son among five boys and two girls, so it felt like I was being assigned someone at random.

After all, he was just a commoner who graduated from a knight training academy, not the prestigious academy.”

“I see…”

“And within that short time, he got caught up in the imperial succession struggle and was sent to the border region.”

“…What?”

An imperial succession struggle?

Just hearing the term sent a wave of political complexity through my mind.

While I was still reeling from shock, Verit rubbed the back of his head, as if reminiscing about something troublesome.

“It’s a long and complicated story, so I’ll explain it another time.

But yes, I do owe Sir Michelle a debt. That’s why I wanted to grant him the title of Count, but he refused.”

“…I know my father was part of the Navy Knights.”

“As I mentioned earlier, he was originally a commoner who didn’t graduate from the academy.

How do you think such a person was transferred, without any formal recognition, to the Navy Knights at a young age?

And to a dangerous border region, no less? Think about what that means.”

“…”

“Well, that’s enough explanation for now. We’ll meet again soon.”

With those final words, Verit left with his escort knight.

I watched his departing figure blankly, then let out a hollow sigh.

‘That must have been an absolute nightmare.’

Now I understood why my father despised politics so much.