Surviving as a Plagiarist in Another World

Isolette let out a sigh, then sat down across from him and continued speaking.

“You haven’t changed, have you?”

“Is that so?”

Not knowing what to say, he gave a vague nod in agreement.

Isolette chuckled softly, propping her chin on one hand as she gazed at him. Her slightly tilted gaze felt unusually deep.

“I really enjoyed ‘The Wizard of Oz.’”

“The movie? Or the storybook?”

“Both. The movie was quite beautiful, but… I think the book suits me better. Reading books calms me. And while reading fairy tales… I can also think of you.”

“Huh?”

Isolette’s voice was filled with deep affection as she spoke about “The Wizard of Oz.”

From the past, Isolette had shown a profound love for fairy tales. As the most beloved fairy tale in America, “The Wizard of Oz” must have felt like a welcome gift to her.

“…And, I’ve decided to become a literary critic.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve told me several times, haven’t you? That I have a talent for critique. Honestly, I still dream of becoming a writer like you, but… working as a literary critic will surely help me with my writing someday. After all, it’s about building experience and skill in literature.”

“Ah.”

Indeed, Isolette possessed an insightful ability to analyze works.

Among the people he knew, she was by far the most talented critic.

“You look quite anxious.”

“Wouldn’t you be anxious? I’m making this choice based on your words alone… If I fail as a literary critic, Ed, you’d better be ready to take responsibility.”

“Should I prepare a position for you at the Homeros Foundation?”

“Who said anything about needing a job?”

“Then what?”

“…I’ll just call all of Homeros’ novels overrated garbage.”

“…Pfft! You?”

Isolette, who once praised Homeros like a devoted follower, would never do such a thing.

She glared at him with a pouty expression and let out a long sigh.

“Forget it. Anyway, the choice was mine. I was just joking, so don’t worry about it.”

“Alright. What will your first critique be about?”

“I plan to write about fairy tales. Stories like ‘The Little Mermaid’ mentioned in your book, Tales for Children… And other fairy tales known across the Empire. Including The Wizard of Oz.” ŔΑꞐȱ฿ĚŜ

“Sounds good.”

“…And about the people beyond the yellow brick walls.”

“Huh?”

That doesn’t seem directly related to fairy tales.

Caught off guard by the sudden topic, he looked slightly confused.

Noticing his reaction, Isolette tapped the desk a couple of times with her finger and spoke in a calm voice.

“I’ve always liked the purity of fairy tales.”

“Purity?”

“Yes. I’m not sure how to put this… but the distance, the gap between the books and reality outside of them, feels greater compared to other kinds of stories. Not in terms of fidelity or realism… hmm, how should I put it? The atmosphere, I suppose. Yes, the atmosphere. The Little Prince, The Little Match Girl—both feel so distant from the complex issues of this society. Even though The Little Match Girl has a socially critical aspect, in the end, isn’t it just about the human heart?”

“Right.”

“In the end, it’s quite simple. Fairy tales are stories about ‘goodness’… The world as a child understands it, no matter how complex, ultimately exists only within the human heart. It’s like the saying, ‘What is truly important can only be seen with the heart.’”

“That’s true. A child’s psychology and actions may be complex, but they’re fundamentally different from the complexities of society.”

While typical novels portray problems through detailed and private depictions that skew slightly, fairy tales reveal them straightforwardly using strong, effective symbols. No matter how intricate or difficult a fairy tale may be, this characteristic remains unchanged.

In his previous life, this approach had been utilized masterfully by 20th-century Disney.

While he was lost in his own reflections about his past life, Isolette continued her train of thought.

“A child who breaks a taboo is cursed, and a child who repents and acts virtuously is blessed. Like Karen in The Red Shoes, who repents and goes to heaven, or the mermaid who loses her voice and throws herself into the sea, becoming a spirit of the air. Aren’t these such clear and explicit symbols? Cursed princes, cursed princesses, cursed girls, cursed boys… Fairy tales always follow this structure. And the endings too… They either overcome the curse through virtuous deeds or ascend to heaven to be with the Lord, as a reward for enduring despair in reality. I’ve written and studied many such fairy tales myself. All I could do was learn and imitate these symbols.”

“…….”

“But, in reality, it’s not that simple.”

“…….”

“There are people who lose their legs without being cursed, and people who are mute without having traded their voice for anything. It’s not even a trial meant to be overcome or a curse meant to balance out with heaven. So, when I studied such ‘disabilities’ as symbols of taboo-breaking curses, I began to feel a little ashamed. The very people I was studying, they’re living their lives in their own ways….”

“Ah.”

Only now did he understand what she was trying to say.

This was… a critique of “ableist narratives” that had been discussed multiple times in the 21st century.

It was one of the voices advocating for “equality,” commonly referred to as political correctness.

Why is the princess always depicted as a European white woman? Why are Asians always portrayed as mystical, slant-eyed merchants?

Such arguments—that fairy tales are a breeding ground for children’s “prejudice”—had been repeatedly raised in the 21st century.

The entity most eager to embrace such criticisms during that time was Disney.

The result… well, it wasn’t particularly great, though.

“In The Wizard of Oz, the Tin Man was turned into scrap metal by the witch’s curse… but he neither needed to overcome the curse nor gain a new heart, did he?”

“Right.”

“I’m still organizing my thoughts, so it’s hard to explain clearly… but, yes. While reading The People Beyond the Yellow Brick Walls, I started to think that way.”

“…….”

“Perhaps, what the Little Mermaid needed wasn’t legs or a voice… but a way for two entirely different beings to communicate.”

He could have added a few stories to that.

For instance, he could point out that critiques of “ableist narratives” were written from the perspective of modern individuals who had sufficient social safety nets for people with disabilities.

Braille, the writing system used by the visually impaired, was developed in the 19th century.

However, the Braille system was not recognized during Louis Braille’s lifetime because it was “too difficult for non-disabled people to understand.”

Sign language began as a tool for monks practicing silence, and even that was only taught in limited ways in a few countries, such as France, until the 18th century.

In a time when universal welfare for the productive population was not adequately implemented, acknowledging and living with disabilities was a perspective far too centered on modern thinking.

Of course, in this world, thanks to his welfare foundation, such “social safety nets” were sufficient.

As a result, Isolette’s opinion—that disabilities were not curses but simply a part of a person’s life—could carry weight.

The general welfare in this world was maintained at the level of 21st-century South Korea.

And so.

“I like that perspective… When you organize your thoughts into writing, can I see it first?”

“Huh?”

“I’m curious. About how you view the world, Isolette.”

Good literature always had to reflect the zeitgeist.

New waves of thought, new perspectives, and new issues of the time—these were the things that breathed life into literature.

What turned literature from “something old” into “something new” was always fresh ideas about the era.

Of course, applying such perspectives by dissecting and rewriting classics (as with The Little Mermaid in his past life) rather than through one’s original work… was difficult to view favorably.

But as a critic, expressing such opinions was perfectly acceptable.

They might receive some public backlash, but criticism inherently involved enduring such things.

If you were afraid of being criticized, you couldn’t work in a field that required evaluating other people’s creations.

“Fairy tales, The People Beyond the Yellow Brick Walls, and The Wizard of Oz—I’m looking forward to your critique.”

“…Hehe, sure. I’ll organize it perfectly and show it to you, Ed, so look forward to it.”

Isolette and he looked at each other and burst into laughter simultaneously.

.

.

.

“A critique from the perspective of political correctness, huh… That’s good.”

Literary circles always needed a villain to advance.

Perhaps it was fortunate that “political correctness” emerged during this early stage of literary development.

Discussions of such socio-moral issues became difficult to regulate once media started being used as a tool of power.

In contrast, if such perspectives were debated purely within the “literary realm,” it could even serve as preparation for the future.

“In that case, there needs to be a novel to serve as fuel for the controversy….”

A novel situated at the extreme opposite end of political correctness.

One rife with racism, blasphemy, hatred, and taboo subjects proudly utilized.@@novelbin@@

He knew of such a novel.

“Sion.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s head to the vault.”

“What manuscript are you looking for this time?”

At Sion’s question, he smirked and answered.

“Lovecraft.”