The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

‘I have to live the rest of my life here, so it would be difficult if a tyrant was crowned. Arthur has to be king for the country to work properly.’

Kleio was more determined than ever to defend Arthur. Now that he had spent millions of dinars to establish himself, his attitude toward this world couldn’t be the same. Isiel hadn’t been the only one who had transformed from the hope Arthur gave. All of Arthur’s companions were people affected by his cause. Although, Kleio was a bit embarrassed as he was hoping for a steady real estate rent and stability while Arthur and his other colleagues play cool roles. He was just an NPC put in by the author to facilitate the storytelling; he was no warrior.

in personality or tone in the manuscript, the core is the same. Arthur is the authentic protagonist, and in this world, he is a hero who will lead history in the right direction.’

In actuality, there was no such thing as the right direction. World history wasn’t a record of heroes, nor was it the result of the will of some character. The people of their time didn’t know which choice was right. However, in the written story, the conclusion the author wished to happen had already decided the judgment of history. The hero in the story, Arthur, was destined to lead the world. Thus, his choices would be the right ones, forever.

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While Arthur and Kleio were lost in their thoughts, the carriage reached the palace. Carriages decorated with lined up the brightly lit-up driveway. After getting off her horse, Isiel handed the reins to the stable keeper and opened the carriage door for Kleio. Maybe because they had been talking about her, there was no way that the keen-sensed Isiel couldn’t notice them.

“You kept glancing at me as you were talking with Arthur.”

“He brought up the story of Professor Rosa Pehite…”

Although her attitude was usually serious, Isiel seemed especially stern as she glanced at Arthur, who had followed Kleio down from the carriage. Hearing that alone was enough for her to understand what they discussed.

“She is the knight I admire the most.”

Arthur fell in behind as Isiel began to escort Kleio skillfully.

“Then enjoy the ball! I will join you after I see my father.”

Considering the complicated situation between the three princes, it was understandable that Arthur didn’t head to the ballroom. Isiel headed off first to join the Viscount Kision in the parlor while Kleio passed through the entrance lined with royal guards and crossed a hallway with intricately decorated carpets. The sight of the palace, where all the chandeliers were bright and majestic, thrilled him. When he finally entered the atrium, a junior official called out his name. His name, which had no title attached to it, attracted little attention just as Dione and Arthur had guessed.

‘That meant I had to dress up so I wouldn’t stand out of place…’

It was incomparable to Novantes’ party. Generals were wearing military uniforms heavy with medals, and princesses from other countries were wearing tiaras. Everyone was dressed up extravagantly, and the strong smell of various perfume hung in the air. The orchestra, located by the windows, was playing a light dance song. The waiting room connected to the hall was full of laughter and fussing as several men and women began to dance early.

The night was still young, and the king and queen’s thrones were empty on the high loft of the hall. A third seat for the crown prince resided just below theirs. Kleio picked up a glass of champagne from an attendant’s tray and savored it slowly. The pale liquor smelled like elderflower and citrus, with just the right amount of acidity to give it an elegant and refreshing flavor.

‘Of course, even the liquor given by the royal family is different.’

After regretfully emptying the glass, he blinked twice. The moment he turned 「Perception」 on, the quiet voices around him sounded piercing screams. The music of the orchestra and the tightness of his clothes felt amplified by several times. However, now wasn’t the time for him to focus on his discomfort.

‘I don’t know with what intent the prince sent that invitation with, but I can’t go back empty-handed since I’ve already come.’

If the ball was of this size, wasn’t it obvious that people important to the story would show up in full force? If he was going to get on the boat with Arthur, it wouldn’t be bad to identify the characters whom he would be entangled with in the future. Kleio, leaning on the wall to hide his dizziness, looked around the hall quietly. Fortunately, or perhaps, unfortunately, there were no young belles who wished to request a dance from the tacky boy, so he did not need to move. Using Perception, his field of view cleared, and he could even vividly see the expressions of people standing against the opposite wall. In his head, he flipped on the Memory function of Promise. The first person he wanted to find was Duke Joseph Cruel. The middle-aged man had thin lips and a hard chin, giving him a cold feeling.

‘I think the bald man making a toast is Count Ramsdale, and is that Ambassador Schultz the one with all those medals? Aslan’s people are here first.’

It was then…

‘Speak of the devil.’

“The second prince, Aslan, is now entering!”

The junior official that had unenthusiastically called Kleio’s name announced the second prince at a volume several times louder. The orchestra’s music faded, and the crowd grew louder. People bowed their heads one after another as if they were dominoes tipped over from the entrance. Kleio pretended to bow his head as well and continued to listen. As confident as the king, the second prince crossed the middle of the hall with a moderate gait.

Aslan Riognan. The twenty-five-year-old prince was a young man with a tall and proud posture and good looks. His appearance was similar to Arthur’s, but his impression was completely different, perhaps because of his hair and eye color. He had inherited the pitch-black hair and dark eyes of his mother, which stood out amongst the people of Albion. His mother, Juleika, was the princess of the Castilian imperial family of the Brunnen monarchy, the cousin of the present emperor Brunnen.

‘It was Aslan’s complex that he was the only one who looked different among the three siblings. So, he’s interested in the Legend of The Conqueror just because his black hair was the dominant gene. Scientific discovery is urgent.’

The prince, unaware of Kleio’s existence, stepped forward arrogantly. It was still a bit unbelievable that this prince, who still looked youthful, would be capable of such cruelty later. Aslan went to the platform without looking around. There were seats for the second and third princes below the stage. Aslan, sitting in his seat, looked up at the crown prince’s throne with complicated emotions in his eyes. Then, he stared at the chair beside him that wouldn’t be filled that night. Kleio, who was using Perception, clearly saw Aslan’s expressions and movements.

‘Oh, when his expression changes… now it feels completely different.’

The prince, his dark eyes reflecting his old grudge, now gave off a feeling worthy of a villain. However, it was clear that some of the young girls in the hall had different opinions from Kleio. Several of them were glancing at Aslan with blushing cheeks.

‘Bad men are always in demand.’

Kleio chuckled a little at the absurdity of the situation. He was reminded of the contents of a romance novel he had seen before becoming an editor.

‘In love novels, the male protagonist usually has dark hair, but he wasted his youth because he was passionate about his younger brother since he had the wrong genes.’

The Duke of Cruel was the first to approach Aslan and bow. It was clear they were sharing secret talk.

‘Although I can hear everything.’

“Is the queen absent?”

“My mother said she wasn’t feeling well today.”

“Indeed, …to see your Majesty sitting like this, it would be better to spend dinner alone.”

‘Hmm, I guess it means she doesn’t want to come to a banquet where her son sits lower than Melchior. They’re talking about it openly.’

There was nobody in the hall who could be called Melchior’s people. Of course, everyone except for Aslan’s faction supported Melchior. Discussions came and passed while they waited for the prince who hadn’t yet appeared. Numerous people mentioned Melchior with admiration and respect. Unlike Aslan, whose mother was Brunnen nobility, Melchior, whose mother was a commoner, was said to have gained popularity with his skill rather than having specific support.

‘It is said his mother died early. Nevertheless, the crown prince has great connections to the business and social world. It is said that his information department is especially skilled. Oh, yes, there was the silent thug… Sir Tasserton.’

However, he didn’t see any man who looked like how Sir Tasserton was described in the manuscript. Melchior, too, showed no signs of appearing.

‘The prince is late. Well, the protagonist is too.’

Kleio, no longer able to endure the turmoil, went out a side door to get some fresh air. Contrary to Arthur’s worries, Melchior seemed to pay little attention to Kleio.

‘There are so many invitees, so who would care about a student? Our protagonist has suffered too much in this version and has become too cautious as a result.’

***

The problem now was that he got turned around in a corridor while he searched for a place with nobody around. All the attendants were concentrated in the ballroom so he could see no one in the dark corridor. If he found a guard, he could ask for directions, but he couldn’t even find a guard. He felt like he was lost.

‘I was on the first floor in the ballroom, so how did I end up on the second floor now?!’

He wandered the hallway, his legs and back aching. He could see the ballroom with its windows open and light spilling out on the other side of a spacious courtyard, but as he walked around the corridor, he felt like it was growing further away.

‘Is this the same corridor? If I don’t know how to get there, let’s go out the window. I can use the [Deceleration] magic formula.’

Since he had been warned about using magic in the royal palace, he had been patient. But now, it seemed that he was getting more lost as time went on. Kleio suddenly froze as he trudged tiredly around the corner of the hallway. Life-sized portraits were hung in the niche where the long corridor began, with gas lamps on both sides lighting them up. A portrait of a woman wearing white clothes, standing at an angle, looked back at him. Kim Jungjin knew her face.

‘…Minsun?!’

Minsun was the Madonna of the history department. She had white skin, large eyes, and cold beauty. It was rumored that her mother was from a different country. She didn’t have a friendly or pretty face, but still, when she smiled, it seemed like his heart was tightening. The pale purple eyes in the painting looked down at Kleio, her long hair all white, but everything else seemed like Minsun. There was a small name plate under the portrait.

-Regina Istoria, Archbishop of Lundane-

Kim Jungjin wanted to point at it and yell.

‘I… what?!’

No matter how long he had his unrequited love, wasn’t putting her face on a fictional character too much? He had no relationship with her. She was kind to everyone and often spoke to Kim Jungjin in college but only answered him as much as necessary. Minsun was a senior to him, that was all. Moreover, there was no reason for the child of a great family to pay attention to a poor college student.

‘No, this is the first time something like this has happened since getting caught inside the manuscript. Minsun… I can’t be the one who made her look like this.’

As he thought about the possibilities, his eye caught on the Promise around the index finger of his left hand. A hypothesis formed in his mind could explain why there was an item in the manuscript that looked the same as his graduation ring… and why there a person who appeared to be modeled after Minsun.