Surviving as a Plagiarist in Another World

In those days, the so-called Fortunate King must have been incredibly naïve.

He believed that there was still some familial affection left among his siblings.

He thought the sugar-coated words of his brothers, spoken to win the youngest over, were sincere.

He mistakenly assumed that the bonds of family were still functioning properly.

So.

Hmm.

This might sound quite laughable, but─, the Fortunate King of those days was a man who loved his family….

“…Don’t look at me like that.”

“What kind of look do you think I am giving Your Majesty?”

“You misunderstand me.”

“Say it with either your snake eyes or human eyes, not both.”

“My apologies.”

Ahem.

In any case, the young Fortunate King used to make wishes without much thought.

He wished upon the stars twinkling in the night sky, upon the merciful Lord, upon the Savior who became flesh, upon insignificant local deities—without even knowing to whom he was praying… aimlessly… he made his wishes.

He wished for his siblings to stop fighting.

“…The result was truly ridiculous. No, it was so absurd that it almost became grandiose. A street clown’s play would have had more credibility than what happened, and my poor words cannot do it justice.”

“You may speak comfortably. I understand everything as clearly as if I can see it.”

“There was an incident. My father… the Ironblood King was injured.”

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[“In one house, a father wept tears of sorrow for his lost daughter, while in another, a mother shuddered in fear for her child’s fate.”]

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The Ironblood King was a dreadful coward.

If he got even a scratch, he would make an enormous fuss.

When his power seemed threatened, he would obsessively harass his political enemies.

Narrow-minded and petty, he never forgot grudges and easily dismissed his own mistakes.

And.

That day’s events seemed to have struck at all of the Ironblood King’s fears with a brutal clarity.

Like a slapstick scene from a B-grade comedy film, assassins, spies, traitors, and turncoats clashed, throwing the banquet hall into chaos.

The esteemed Ironblood King, His Imperial Majesty, who hosted the banquet, tried to flee the commotion and tripped in a ludicrous manner.

A knife, somehow smuggled into the hall, damaged the banquet hall’s furnishings.

Objects tumbled noisily to the ground, glass shattered, protective magic activated, a fire started somewhere, and also.

During this tumult.

The Ironblood King injured his finger.

“Are you referring to his finger?”

“Yes.”

“Not his hand… just a finger? Was it perhaps his index or thumb that was cut off?”

“No. A piece of broken glass lodged into his finger.

Thanks to the protective magic, the assassin’s blade couldn’t leave a scratch on him, but when he fell and scrambled on the ground in panic, it happened.

Removing the glass shard probably hurt more than the initial wound.”

“What? Really?”

“Don’t try to make sense of it. He was simply that kind of person.”

He was a pathetic man.

Even more so because he unleashed his shortcomings upon his children.

“He seemed to take that incident very seriously.

Obsessed with paranoia and delusion, he convinced himself that if any one of his sons vying for the throne succeeded, they would dethrone him and have him executed.”

“All this… over a single glass shard?”

“Yes. Over just one shard of glass.”

A storm of blood swept through the royal family.

The uproar at the banquet hosted by the Emperor himself was more than enough justification for a bloodbath.

Whenever an incident arose that tarnished the royal family’s prestige, it was all too common to use treason as a pretext to eliminate political enemies.

The officials assumed this, too, was one of those ‘political maneuvers.’

Even as three princes were implicated in treason and rendered invalids, they thought the same.

The Ironblood King, truly a ruler of iron and blood, could cast aside his own children for the royal family’s dignity.

When three princes vying for succession were incapacitated, the gossips merely chattered away.

Only the Fortunate King knew the truth.

A father, terrified of his own children, had orchestrated a bloodbath to kill them.

A truth so absurdly horrifying that it could only provoke laughter.

“…How is that even possible?

How could a father… no, shouldn’t the ministers or officials have stopped it?”

“Didn’t I tell you? The empire was mad back then.

And it was none other than the cowardly Ironblood King who turned the empire into a den of madness.”

So absurd was the story that even if this truth were revealed, people wouldn’t believe it.

An emperor who discarded three of his children over a mere finger wound.

Who could believe such a ludicrous truth?

The only reason the Fortunate King could recount this tale ‘honestly,’ without embellishment, was because the person standing before him was the Eternal King.

A descendant of the dragon, one with the eyes to discern truth from lies.

And.

The Eternal King’s mouth fell open in shock.

“My word…. It’s all true.”

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What followed after that was pathetically mundane.

The Fortunate King made a wish.

Perhaps because he didn’t yet know his destiny, or perhaps even knowing it, he wished.

It might have been his last wish before the birth of his precious ‘daughter.’

He wished for the empire, now a den of devils, to return to normalcy.

And.

As always─.

“Many people died.

Through accidents, political strife, battles….”

The wish was granted.

The Ironblood King’s end was as absurd as his deceitful nature.

“My father died when a toilet collapsed, drowning him in filth.

It was such a shocking event that the public only heard that he died in an accident.”

“Ah.”

“To someone who prioritized only their dignity and safety, wasn’t it a fitting end?

Well, in any case, such is the fate that flows in the veins of the imperial family.

The desired end can never be attained.”

The frail boy became emperor.

And he did so perfectly, without any disturbances.

All his brothers had become invalids.

The Ironblood King had already killed all the ambitious ministers who could challenge the authority of the royal family.

The nobles and maternal relatives who divided the empire were all sent to the afterlife.

It was the most peaceful coronation in the empire’s history.

Thus.

The boy, who was lucky enough to be born as the emperor’s son, became emperor.

By sheer luck, all his brothers became invalids.

By sheer luck, all the ambitious ministers were killed.

By sheer luck, the emperor died early in an accident.

Surrounded only by loyal servants of the imperial family and devoted ministers of the empire.

The frail boy.

Became emperor.

And so, the gossipmongers, either with delight or as an innocent jest, called him this.

The “Fortunate King.”

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“I’ve rambled on, haven’t I? Somehow, this place stirs old memories….”

“Perhaps because it’s a place filled with nostalgia.”

“Is it because it’s a space meant for children?”

As they talked, the two had already experienced all the attractions of the “Arabian Nights” theme.

One Thousand and One Nights.

They say it’s a tale that captivates you for 1001 nights.

Indeed.

Thinking it was quite an intriguing experience, the Lazy King nodded.

“…The sun is setting.”

“There’s a parade at night. Shall we watch it together?”

“No, I won’t. I have a rule not to participate in the final event.”

“Hm? Is there a special reason for that?”

“Don’t you think it’s unfortunate? Not being able to choose the end yourself, just waiting until it’s over and eventually leaving.

There must be no lingering regrets; it’s better to sever it yourself.”

“Your Majesty is truly diligent.”

At the Lazy King’s heartfelt admiration, the Fortunate King chuckled self-deprecatingly.

“I’m just struggling.

The fate of the royal family is to never have a satisfying end…

If one cannot rely on fate for help, one has no choice but to help oneself.”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t think that’s always the case.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t you hear it?”

Only then did the Fortunate King notice the sound around them becoming more orderly.

Noise is usually a terrible cacophony.

The laughter of a family enjoying a good time doesn’t care about the anxious voices of another family who lost their tickets, and vice versa.

However.

At this moment, all the noise was taking on a single order.

The murmurs, cheers, shouts, and all kinds of voices merged like the cries of children eagerly awaiting a parade.

They mixed chaotically, then settled quietly on the paved ground.

People screamed like farmers encountering a ghost, then fell silent like priests bowing their heads to greet the Savior.

The scene was so surreal that it even felt solemn.

It was, in itself, a mystery.

The mystery of power so great that merely stepping forward made many bow their heads in respect.

An immense authority that, with its sheer presence, cast magic stronger than any violent force.

“It seems the owner of this amusement park has arrived.”

“…Ah, indeed.”

The Lazy King’s eyes saw more than most.

Fate, truth, character─ what some might call the soul, the Lazy King could easily discern.

And.

At this moment, the presence of the person approaching through the crowd,

The golden brilliance like threads reaching to the highest heavens,

The blessed benevolence connecting to all the people enjoying this park,

The glorious charity that brought tears to more than the crosses of the papacy or the radiance of sacred lands.

It was so extraordinary that no one could mistake it for another person.

Amidst the respect of countless bowing people, “he” walked toward the two of them.

“Ah? It’s been a while, both of you.

Did you come together?

I didn’t know you were so well acquainted.”

Someone once said that sufficiently advanced power is indistinguishable from magic.

At this moment.

Everyone nearby, out of respect and reverence, held their breaths, quietly watching the man with only their eyes.

Because.

It couldn’t be helped.

The fact that they were here meant that they had received help from “that person.”

Their ability to laugh, to be happy, to enjoy culture, and to care for their families.

It was all thanks to “that person.”

The name of the man who helped everyone in this world.

“It hasn’t been that long, has it? Author Homer.”

“Ah, is that so? I’ve lost track of time lately….”

He was called Homer.

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[In the span of 1001 nights, Scheherazade bore three children.

One child began to walk, another crawled, and the third was still cradled in the arms of a nursemaid.]

[The Sultan promised Scheherazade that he would no longer kill the maidens of the land.]

[The Sultan’s palace overflowed with joy, and that joy spread widely throughout the city.

It was a night of immeasurable happiness.]