The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

Predestination and Harmony (1)

Fran decided to concentrate on his writing activities as he stayed in his rented attic in the Orails district. He still had uncertainties in Hydra’s Poison’s manufacturing process and ingredients.

“If people learned this is possible, there will be those who will want to take the poison. What I want is to uncover the truth and hold the offender responsible, not to stimulate public curiosity.”

Fran was a conscious writer, as could be seen from his strict attitude.

‘But if I don’t write about it, then writing a declaration of unity for workers would suit his temper.’

Kleio shrugged a little, feeling like he was sponsoring an author who was sure to write a problematic book.

‘No, by the way… if I become a bourgeois sponsoring the author of the worker’s manifesto, isn’t this Engels’ position? That’s…?’

Kleio shook his head. It was absurd. In Albion, the union organization wasn’t illegal, but it was possible to attach all kinds of charges to the strikers.

In that context, if it were Fran’s book that incited them, wouldn’t it be better to have fewer people know who wrote it? Kleio reflected on himself in the mirror, his face filled with obvious concern.

“The carriage has arrived.”

Upon hearing Mrs. Canton’s notice, his steps quickened. He had to respond to Melchior’s call.

.

.

.

Albion’s June was a beautiful season that was difficult to describe even with a thousand lines. The breeze contained the freshness of early summer, but the face of the young man standing alone in the garden in a suit with a top hat didn’t seem to be enjoying it at all. The cottage garden where they were supposed to meet was located deep in the palace, so it wasn’t easy to find.

Kleio let out a sigh.

‘Did I have to find it? He calls for me, and I’m sent running.’

Fortunately, the weather was good, and the humidity was low, so it was pleasant and cool even in the middle of the day. However, with Perception and Separation at full work, the weather wasn’t his concern. Kleio walked, dragging his feet to the two-story cottage. At the end of the trail around the cottage was a small octagonal pavilion where the white painted pillars were peeling, and the roof spread out with bronze plates was rusted—the table located under that shade, set with a kettle and an old wooden box.

Standing beside the table was Melchior filtering the tea leaves in his standard gardening attire.

‘I can’t get used to seeing it even though it’s the second time.’

Even if he saw the sight a hundred times, it would be awkward.

“Are you here? Sit down.”

Kleio sat down, taking care to hide his expression.

“I’m glad you were doing well.”

Despite the young man’s stiff attitude, the crown prince casually poured the tea into a hand-made cup.

“The trouble was solved. Thanks to that, I can afford some time. There was a break at a good time.”

Kleio followed Melchior’s gaze to the garden. Allium with purple petals, dandelions, cornflowers, and purple delphiniums was blooming side by side. The garden, where the noble summer flowers had been brought to harmony, matched the distorted appearance of its caregiver’s hand.

“Thanks to that, I have a chance to see a beautiful sight.”

“Yes. The result of thinning grass is always more satisfying than thinning people.”

Kleio sipped at the tea as he considered what to say next. It was impossible for him to make a habit of speaking to the deputy king. There were currently no people left in the country to do it, as Juleika and Aslan had vanished, and Duke Cruel had left his estate. Voices questioning the prince’s legitimacy had almost ceased. Melchior was already enshrined like a king, especially to those who understood the power of tiplaum. That had raised his recognition internationally, all the way to Brunnen and Carolinger. Foreign envoys, businesspeople, and tourists were all overwhelmed by the majesty of Melchior

‘Thanks to that, a lot of people can make money.’

Melchior seemed to have read right through his thoughts.

“I also heard that the lodging business in Orails is quite booming, but your expression is so dark.”

Kleio smiled, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“When it comes to hotels, that’s Lady Katarina’s business. I’m just receiving rent.”

“If her work goes well, it will benefit you too.”

“I don’t know. Lady Katarina seems to be struggling with the tax committee. It would be a great honor if they came to the hotel at least once to support the woman who led to Orails prosperity.”

He pretended to be worried about someone else’s business. It was laughable, but Melchior had a pleasant look as he listened.

“Indeed. If the time is right, make sure to do it. This year, the queen and her son are absent, so a letter came to me asking for a visit to the debutante ball.”

“If you show up, it would be a great gift to the young ladies who are going out to socialize for the first time this year.”

“It will be an unusual social season in many ways. By the way, it’s the first time that the Debutante Ball will be held on the east side of the Tempus, but you don’t seem surprised.”

Kleio narrowed his eyes, watching and waiting for Melchior to drop the bomb.

“Because I now have a younger sister of the age to debut in my family, I didn’t think it over much.”

“Is it? I thought this, too, was part of your prediction. It’s as if you knew in advance that Orails would prosper when you bought the land.”

‘Fuck. He knows.’

Kleio put down the teacup so that he didn’t accidentally break it.

‘I’m just an overworked agent of a God….’

“I’ve indeed benefited from predictions, but I don’t know everything of the future. Especially if it’s in the social section of the newspaper.”

“Huh? How about this? They have a photo of the princes in this week’s social section. Looking at the photo, Aslan has pretty long hair. Much more so than last time.”

It was clear that last time didn’t refer to months or years ago. Now, Melchior continued his conversation on the premise that Kleio knew everything about the previous life. He was a difficult opponent in a different sense than Arthur.

‘But why would the manuscript have details about Aslan’s hair length?! Why should I know?!’

“I don’t know what you mean. Why is the length of the prince’s hair a problem?”

“Huh. You seemed to have mastered everything, but you behave like this. Isn’t the ebony hair grown long a symbol of the Castillen Imperial Family?”

“I don’t have knowledge about it.”

“Of course, the timing was different for each episode. How about this time? Are you trying to clear up God’s arrangements early?”

It wasn’t just a matter of hair length. He thought of Dione, who had previously read all that particular information from Katarina’s postcard.

‘The Brunnen nobles prefer long hair… How would I have known?’

The signs of war were on the horizon, but he couldn’t read into it because he had lived here only for a short time. Or perhaps it was because he couldn’t internalize the mindset of the blue-blooded.

‘That’s why it’s a problem the country hasn’t gotten rid of the king yet. Tsk.’

Kleio kept his idle thoughts quiet and quickly turned the topic.

“To get the information you want to know, it would be right to interrogate that Brunnen officer.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. Mainrat’s arrogant knight quickly deteriorated after being transferred to the capital. I couldn’t even send back a coffin as only an irreparable body remained.”

He held the white teapot with a pure smile. The moment the afternoon light came through the pavilion pillars to touch the prince’s cheek, Kleio felt his mood sour. The red-golden area of his eyes was significantly wider than a few weeks ago. Looking into those eyes for a long time wasn’t something for a human to do, even with Separation to protect them. Kleio’s gaze returned to the garden.

‘He used his skill against the officer for the aftereffects to be revealed. He must’ve used some additional functions.’

If Melchior had plucked through the officer’s head, he would know better than Fran or Kleio about the Hydra’s poison and Juleika’s plans for it.

‘But he hasn’t taken any action. Rather, he’s preventing the spread of information and pushes Aslan to the end.’

Even if he checked again and again, Melchior was the same. The deputy king wouldn’t accuse Aslan of treason. If necessary, he would even damage evidence and kill witnesses.

‘Melchior has no intention of solving this situation. No, I’d be glad if he just refrained from pouring oil on the flames.’

Aslan was the one who drove Arthur to the point of death. Melchior gave up on killing Arthur, but he would welcome any development that increased the world’s complexity.

As a result, Melchior was in need of [Reduction], so Kleio had been called. How far has this deviated from God’s original plan?