How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World

It was when I sent even the epilogue to the publisher following the 30th volume.

Around the time the whole world was in chaos over Jin’s death, only the Empire had no time to care about it.

A famine had occurred for the first time in 20 years.

And not just anywhere—it broke out in the eastern granary region, like a bolt from the blue.

For the Minerva Empire, famine was a far more sensitive disaster than war.

About 100 years ago, a great famine had nearly uprooted the empire entirely.

According to records, around 8 million people starved to death, and there were even accounts of parents consuming their deceased children.

The empire’s population was much smaller back then, yet the damage was so severe that the country was turned upside down.

Fortunately, the emperor at the time was considered one of the greatest rulers in history.

Compared to the catastrophe caused by that great famine, the Minerva Empire was quite lucky.

Had they left the famine unchecked, even Minerva would have collapsed helplessly.

After famine comes banditry, and when those bandits band together, they form a rebellion.

Once civil war breaks out, the fate of the nation is effectively sealed.

Fortunately, the empire took the great famine as a lesson, implementing various policies and continuously expanding its territory to secure more granary regions.

Thanks to that, it was able to endure.

Although this time, the granary region had fallen into famine, Alvenheim was providing support, so they could manage for the time being.

The reason Alvenheim could send food aid was simple.

First, its population was smaller than the empire’s, and second, its food production was significantly higher.

Alvenheim—the land where milk and honey flowed, a country blessed by the gods.

It had no specific granary regions; the land itself was fertile.

There, crops grew abundantly just by scattering seeds, and even the harvest was carried out using magic.

Moreover, due to the small population, vast areas of land remained uncultivated.

The low population of elves was largely due to their racial traits, but the convenience of magic also played a role.

They didn’t need a massive workforce like machines—just a few incantations, and it was done.

Seeing this, one might wonder if elves even needed industrial civilization at all.

“Just knowing is enough. So, tell me.”

While I was enjoying a rare moment of relaxation after sending off the epilogue, Rina suddenly appeared at my estate.

And the first thing she said was that she wanted a way to eliminate famine.

It was an absurd request for me.

Of course, she knew that I was a reincarnated person from an entirely different world.

More than that, she knew I had lived in a civilization far more advanced than this one.

That was probably why she asked such a question.

But all I did was know things—I had no idea how to actually create them.

“I was a liberal arts major, to begin with.”

At best, I knew that Fritz Haber invented nitrogen fertilizer.

And that later, he developed poison gas, leading to countless deaths.

That’s it—I only knew about it.

I had no idea how to make it, and I had long since forgotten any chemical formulas.

If I had remembered, I could have made a fortune from it.

Besides, this world didn’t have chemistry—it had alchemy.

The knowledge system wasn’t established, and its development was all over the place.

For example, the training suits people wore while exercising were considered a product of alchemy.

In my previous life, such inventions emerged during the rapid development of chemistry.

As I had repeatedly mentioned, this world’s technological progression was oddly unbalanced.

Even if I provided knowledge, I wasn’t sure if it would even be applicable.

“I don’t mind telling you, but I doubt you’ll be able to use it.”

“Why do you doubt it?”

“Because I don’t know if the soil here has the same composition as in my world. That’s the biggest issue.”

That was the main reason my knowledge might be useless.

While this world had many similarities to my past life, it also had incomprehensible elements—like magic.

In other words, I couldn’t be sure that the soil contained the same components as what I knew.

Fritz Haber had discovered that nitrogen was necessary for soil fertility, and that much I understood.

But was nitrogen also essential for the soil in this world?

That question lingered.

If this world required a different nutrient, then that would be an entirely new problem.

This world had a way of shattering the common sense from my past life.

If I had been more interested in science rather than history, things might have been different—but that wasn’t the case.

Finally, I didn’t even know what nitrogen truly was.

Explaining something I didn’t understand myself would be completely meaningless.

“At least it’s a relief that even Hirt can’t control nature at will.”

Even the goddess of nature, Hirt, couldn’t intentionally bring about droughts.

Nature was simply nature.

Of course, there had been cases like the last time when an earthquake occurred—but that was an extremely rare event.

As far as I knew, that happened because Luminous and Mora were scolded harshly.

This famine was just a natural occurrence—it was by no means a disaster deliberately caused by Hirt.

“Hmm… so that’s the issue. That’s a shame.”

Rina seemed to accept my explanation, nodding in understanding.

Her expression clearly showed disappointment.

Seeing her troubled face, I thought for a moment.

The fact that she came straight to me suggested that this famine had hit the empire hard.

With the nation already unsettled due to demon worshippers, and now facing a famine, it was bound to struggle.

“Not even divine power or magic can fix this.”

There was only one reason a famine occurred without any apparent disaster: the land’s nutrients had been exhausted.

Ancient people weren’t fools; they had been using divine power and magic to help their crops.

The problem was that both were terribly inefficient.

Even the elves of Alvenheim only used magic during the harvest.

They never used it to restore soil fertility.

They didn’t need to.

Alvenheim wasn’t plagued by lightning strikes or flooding rivers—just sowing seeds was enough for crops to flourish.

“During the war between races, land was the most coveted resource.”

But Alvenheim had flatly refused to give up its land.

The human alliance had persistently pressured them, but in the end, they gave up.

In any case, soil nutrients couldn’t be easily replenished by divine power or magic.

That was why Rina was so troubled.

Just 100 years ago, the Minerva Empire had nearly collapsed due to famine, and now, after only 20 years, another famine had struck.

Thanks to Alvenheim’s support, there wouldn’t be mass starvation this time.

But no one knew how long this famine would last.

“She seems unusually urgent, though…”

News of the famine must have reached the imperial family first.

After that, I had read about it in the newspaper.

Even considering that, Rina had come to my estate in quite a hurry.

The 30th volume had just been released, and the epilogue was about to come out, yet something urgent was clearly happening.

“Did something happen? You seem more rushed than usual. Don’t you have work to do?”

“Uh, well… yeah. But after the famine was announced, a certain noble made a rather shocking proposal.”

“What kind of proposal?”

Just how terrifying was this proposal that it made Rina so anxious?

I sipped my tea and waited for her to speak.

The words that came out of Rina’s mouth were enough to leave me stunned.

“Since more famines might occur in the future, let’s artificially reduce the empire’s population.”

“What?”

“You heard me. The population will keep growing, but food production might stay the same or even decrease.

Alvenheim won’t help forever, so they suggested reducing the population—starting with the slums.

They proposed neglecting non-essential regions even if famine occurs.”

I was so shocked that I remained frozen with a dumbfounded expression.

To think that an argument from the 19th century of my past life would resurface here.

What Rina was talking about was the infamous “Malthusian Trap.”

The theory states that while the population grows exponentially, the resources needed to support it only increase at a steady rate.

Eventually, this imbalance would make it impossible to sustain the growing population, so the only solution was to control the growth.

Among the proposed methods, some were outright inhumane.

It was an argument that made no sense to anyone.

“…Who the hell said that?”

“Count Baust. He’s one of the most renowned scholars. Also, he’s a descendant of a family that was hit directly by the great famine 100 years ago.”

That explanation was enough for me to get a rough idea of what kind of person he was.

Since his family had experienced the great famine firsthand, he must have formed such ideas because of it.

Moreover, unlike Earth, where more than half of history was filled with wars, this world had been relatively peaceful.

On Earth, wars often fluctuated the population, but here, nothing of the sort had happened.

Even during the Race War, the total number of casualties was only around 3 million.

It was a completely different world compared to the horrors of Earth.

If I only considered the historical timeline, though, this was the period when such arguments would naturally emerge.

Given the invention of magical engines, the Industrial Revolution was just around the corner.

“What did His Majesty the Emperor say about this?”

“He dismissed it as nonsense. He even sarcastically suggested that instead of targeting only the poor, they should fairly eliminate half of the population, regardless of age, gender, or status.”

“… …”

Hearing both the Malthusian Trap and a Thanos-like solution in the same conversation was truly something.

Berit probably said that to counter Count Baust’s argument, but it was still an extremely dangerous statement.

Rina let out a deep sigh and, after a moment of hesitation, spoke quietly.

“…Maybe Count Baust has a point. The empire’s population keeps growing, but we don’t have the resources to support it.

Even if we solve the wealth gap with money, it would mean nothing if we don’t have enough food to feed the people.

At this rate, we might see a war break out due to food shortages in the near future.”

“It’s not a might, it will happen. That’s just how it works.”

“Did that happen in your world too?”

I nodded at Rina’s question.

One of the biggest causes of war throughout history was food.

Regardless of how the population grows, land does not expand unless it is taken by force.

More importantly, this was not just a problem for the Minerva Empire.

Even without looking far, there was Animers.

During the Race War, a large portion of its population was wiped out in a massacre, but now, their numbers were steadily increasing again.

Furthermore, beastmen, due to their racial traits, required more food than humans.

At some point in the future, they would inevitably go to war to secure more food supplies.

“Didn’t they say that during a famine, they use magic to summon lightning?”

For now, the situation was still manageable.

Even if a famine occurred, they could use rituals to summon lightning to restore the land.

However, the problem was that these rituals had to be carried out on a national scale.

And eventually, there would come a time when even that wouldn’t be enough.

“In my world, there was an argument similar to Count Baust’s.

In fact, an empire that once ruled a significant portion of the world even adopted such a policy.”

“R-really? And… did it work?”

“Of course, it worked.

One million people starved to death, and another million emigrated to other countries.

The only reason it didn’t get worse was because the famine happened on an island.

If the Minerva Empire had adopted this policy during the great famine 100 years ago, the number of deaths would have easily exceeded 20 million.”

“… …”

Rina clamped her mouth shut at my somewhat sarcastic response.

She seemed to have expected a different kind of “effect.”

The Irish Great Famine, caused by Britain’s deliberate neglect.

Unlike other famines, this was a case of man-made disaster.

A scholar once said, “It was God who sent the blight, but it was the English who caused the famine.”

That one famine permanently reduced Ireland’s population to this day.

That’s how devastating it was.

“But within 100 years of that argument being made, a way to solve all famines was discovered.

The global population grew from 1.6 billion to 7 billion, and that theory was completely abandoned.”

“…You said earlier that you knew the method, right?”

“Yeah. But it was also used to create poison gas for warfare.”

“… …”

Rina’s expression shifted between joy, concern, and shock in a matter of seconds.

She was getting a firsthand taste of Earth’s bizarre and fantastical history.

Still, I could see that she was genuinely trying to find a way to solve famine.

At first, she had seemed like an arrogant royal, but now, it was clear that she sincerely cared for the people.

Or rather, it was probably more accurate to say she cared for the empire itself.

But since a nation is fundamentally built upon its people, her approach was still commendable.

“I don’t know if this will help, but you should consider investing in alchemy.”

“…Alchemy?”

“Yes.

You need to analyze the composition of the soil, determine which nutrients crops require to grow, and classify those nutrients systematically.

Then, you need to see if you can artificially create those nutrients.

To do all that, alchemy needs to advance significantly.”

That was the only advice I could give.

I didn’t know how to make nitrogen fertilizer, I didn’t remember the chemical formulas, and I didn’t even fully understand what nitrogen was.

I could only speak in vague terms.

But at least I tailored the explanation to fit this world’s context.

“Alchemy, huh… But alchemists are a bunch of eccentrics. Would this really work?”

“Well, the alternative is to adopt Count Baust’s policy and starve everyone to death…”

“Alright, alright. I get it. We’ll do it. First, we need to establish a proper knowledge system.

Like you said, alchemy is currently too chaotic and disorganized.”

I wasn’t sure if my words had truly helped.

All I had done was recount history from my past life.

And if I ever wrote a novel about World War II, I would have to answer a lot more questions like this in the future.

To the people of this world, Earth’s history would seem like something straight out of a fantasy novel.

But at the same time, it was also a glimpse into their own possible future.

With the invention of magical engines, all that remained was for accumulated technology to explode all at once.

“By the way, did your world also have an empire?

What kind of empire would adopt such policies?”

“To put it simply, it was a country that influenced the entire world.

At one point, it almost ruled over everything.

It was called Britain—the British Empire.”

“Really? Was it as great as the Minerva Empire?”

“Well, let’s just say it was a country that meddled in every part of world history.

If something strange happened in history, nine times out of ten, it was because of Britain.”

“… …”

And so, my life continued, somewhere between peaceful and chaotic.

Meanwhile, with the release of the epilogue following volume 30, another bombshell dropped.

[Another hope introduced in the epilogue. The child born between Jin and Lily is named…]

[Even the gods cannot resurrect Jin. His soul has grown too vast for a mere mortal’s body…]

[The confirmation that Jin’s resurrection was impossible left a lasting impact on the readers.]