Surviving as a Plagiarist in Another World

Horror novels.

Among them, the genre that could be called ‘ghost story novels’ was generally difficult to forget once read. A ghost story read during the day would come to mind when lying in bed at night, and if even the sound of wind was heard in a dream, one would flinch, shudder, and be consumed by fear.

This sticky sense of fear was the greatest characteristic of ‘ghost story novels.’

“I haven’t had the courage to read the newspaper these days. It’s amazing how many creepy stories there are… even just one story on a single page of the newspaper is enough to make my body tremble. It’s truly strange.”

“That’s the power of a ghost story. Even with a short story, it can infinitely stimulate one’s imagination of ‘fear.’”

“Do you enjoy ghost stories, Lord?”

“I like all kinds of stories. Ghost stories, folk tales… everything.”

If modernizing ‘ghost stories,’ they would fall into the category of what is commonly called ‘cosmic horror’—stories about ‘violence that cannot be resisted by human strength.’

Thinking about the ghost stories found in a 500-won ghost story book sold at a stationery shop near an elementary school makes it easy to understand. They are stories that are incomprehensible, where all one can do is run away, full of violence, about monsters that are unpredictable. Such ‘ghost stories’ are the ancestors of cosmic horror.

The fear of ‘things that cannot be resisted’ does not reside in stories, but within us. From the natural phenomenon of a late-night wind rustling the reeds, one might imagine a murderer hiding in the reed field, hear the eerie wails of a ghost, or see the teeth of a wild animal crouching down.

Thus, in horror stories, the ‘symbol’ itself holds more power than the completeness of the ‘story.’

It’s okay if there’s no plausibility or realism. A horror story protagonist never asks, “So how did you fix this with a geodetic coordinate system?” In the end, what matters is whether the reader can find fear in the ‘symbol’ itself.@@novelbin@@

Thus, fear could only be seen with the heart….

“In that sense, ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ is a very powerful symbol.”

“Why is that?”

“Because no one can avoid wishing for something. It’s especially malicious in that one can’t blame anyone but themselves for the wish they made.”

Everyone has at least one desperate wish.

And ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ grants such wishes. It asks for no price, refuses no difficult wishes, and instead, makes the person who made the wish miserable by playing with their fate.

Like King Midas, who received the golden touch but couldn’t properly eat anything with it.

Like Cassandra, who gained the ability to predict the future but couldn’t persuade anyone with her prophecies.

It gives the other person what they desire.

And then it leads them to ruin and regret because of that very wish. As old tragic tales go.

“A tragedy…?”

“In ancient myths, stories about fate generally end in tragedy, don’t they? The fact that what was spoken actually comes true means that the two symbols of ‘prophecy’ and ‘wish’ aren’t so different in essence….”

“Ah!”

Greek tragedy.

The oldest form of literature that could be called the root of all Western literature.

The Monkey’s Paw was a story about such ‘fate.’

…

…

…

“My father was laughing really loudly.”

“What?”

“About ‘The Monkey’s Paw.’ He was really enjoying reading it.”

Princess Es, who now felt like a staff member at the Kindersley Publishing House due to her frequent appearances, sat on the sofa, her legs swinging up and down as usual, but somehow, her posture felt softer and more gentle than usual. ɽåƝ∅ʙĚṢ

Was something good going on?

“You said you read the memoirs of the past kings at the Royal Archives, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Thanks to His Majesty’s consideration, I was able to read them.”

“Is it interesting? I found it boring, just like reading a family tree…”

“It was a rather interesting experience.”

Princess Es tilted her head, as if perplexed, then smiled lightly and leaned back against the sofa.

Buried in the soft sofa, Princess Es continued, her voice tinged with laughter.

“My father said to thank you.”

“Pardon?”

“Not that, I mean… thank you. You know, I’m always really grateful to you, author.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Yesterday, for the first time in a while, my father read me a bedtime story.”

“Mm.”

The Emperor himself reading a children’s book to Princess Es… The thought of it was so funny that I had to stifle my laughter.

Well, family harmony is a good thing.

“The book was ‘The Monkey’s Paw.’”

“…Did you perhaps mistake it for a fairy tale because of the title?”

“Of course not. He’s just a mean-spirited person who enjoys telling ghost stories at night and scaring his daughter.”

“Ah….”

“Anyway, he was laughing while reading it, and then… well, he started telling me old stories. Older adults are always like that, right?”

“That’s true.”

“Don’t you want to know the Emperor’s old stories? About when he ruled the empire?”

“Mm. No.”

“Tch, boring. Anyway, thinking about it now, that was the first time I ever heard my father tell a story.”

Princess Es softly, almost whispering, introduced the life of a person named ‘King Abraham the Fortunate.’

She spoke melodiously about how he got the nickname ‘Fortune King,’ how unfortunate he truly was, how different the outward appearance and his self-perception were… It felt like listening to an epic monologue.

Her voice had a captivating charm. As she conveyed the brief old story passed from King Abraham’s mouth to hers, Princess Es ended with a playful gesture, mimicking the shape of a monkey’s paw with her fingers.

“─So, my father said he truly felt like ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ himself.”

“I see.”

“…Do you think my father’s fate is like an uneasy and unsettling tragedy?”

“Pardon?”

“Could twisted, unwanted fortune be, after all, a misfortune?”

Princess Es, who asked this question, seemed, for the first time, somewhat… uneasy.

She wasn’t dressing up with femininity as she did during her days as Idris, nor was she acting like the mischievous Princess Es. The warmth and stability she usually had when speaking were completely lost when she brought up this subject.

Just.

She looked like a girl worrying about her family.

“Do you… think that one should not make wishes to their father, writer?”

“Mm….”

Wishes. Monkey’s paw. Luck.

The kind of luck that grants wishes in a twisted manner sounded complicated just by hearing it. Wasn’t it something filled with malice?

Of course, that wish was granted in the end, just as Prince Idris became Princess Es, but…

The method, which drove a few people into dreadful loneliness and conflict, made it difficult to give a positive evaluation.

But.

“Does Princess Es believe in Santa Claus?”

“Yes?”

“What I mean is, let’s say a little child wished, ‘I hope Santa Claus gives me a wonderful toy tonight!’”

“Yes….”

“So, who would have granted that wish? I mean, when the child wakes up and finds a real toy placed by their pillow.”

“Well? Oh, it would be the child’s parents, right?”

“That’s right. Even without a transcendent being flying through chimneys at the speed of light, the child’s wish was still fulfilled, wasn’t it?”

“That’s true…?”

Luck… if the ‘Monkey’s Paw’ granted wishes recklessly.

One could simply wish to a different being, not a monkey’s paw. A being much more gentle, considerate of the other, thoughtful, and even willing to stop if it seems inappropriate.

To such a being.

“Why not create a bucket list with your family? You could discuss together with whom, what feelings, when, what to do, and how to achieve it… as you share opinions and ask each other questions, I think it will turn into quite a specific wish.”

“…That sounds like a very conventional and idealistic solution.”

“I’m a bit weak when it comes to the occult.”

“Right, but you’re right. Thinking about it, I don’t think we’ve really communicated properly as a family. We don’t spend much time together either…”

“Then, it would be good to start by increasing the time spent with your family.”

Hmm.

Isn’t that a bit too cheeky coming from someone like me, who spends all night reading books in the library and doesn’t even go home?

“Spending time with family… Heh. Do you know how busy the royal family is? Isn’t that too easy to say?”

“Considering how busy they are, they seem to visit quite often.”

“That’s my job!”

“Well, if you need a reason, isn’t there one?”

“Yes?”

I handed her a book that had been on the desk.

The topic of the conversation we’d been having until now.

The “Monkey’s Paw.”

“Tell His Majesty that because of the novel he read to you, you were scared to sleep alone at night and want to sleep together.”

“…What? Isn’t that too childish?”

“They say no matter how old children get, to their parents, they always remain kids.”

“Monkey’s Paw” is a horror novel. It’s a ghost story that makes the reader feel uncomfortable, a horror that makes them afraid of shadows.

So the emotion evoked by “Monkey’s Paw” is negative.

But sometimes, this kind of fear actually brings people closer together.

“Sometimes, it’s okay to be a little spoiled. Just think of it as making up for all the times you couldn’t be spoiled when you were little.”

“Heh, what’s this!?”

“Wouldn’t His Majesty accept this much spoiling?”

Isn’t it the greatest wish of a father with a daughter?

To grow closer to his daughter.

To bridge the distance between him and his daughter.

If the King of Luck truly was someone with ‘luck,’ this too would be granted.

Thinking this, I looked at Princess Es.

Princess Es, raising the corners of her mouth playfully, asked.

“Then, what about you, writer?”

“Eh?”

“If I were to be spoiled by you, would you accept it?”

“Well, I think we were talking about family…”

“Heh heh, at least think about it. What do you say?”

Spoiled by Princess Es.

After a moment of thought, I answered.

“No.”

“…Tch. Isn’t that a little too firm?”

“I’ll read you a fairytale, though.”

“Ah, is that a promise?”

“Eh?”