The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

‘Were you interrogating Arthur? You won’t find anything special from him, so what the hell are you going to force him to do?’

His head began to ache for a moment, but he strengthened himself not to reveal it. The world hadn’t started to shake yet. If things went as planned, Arthur could soon be released. No, he had to make sure that happened.

“Thank you for taking the time when you’re so busy. You must’ve taken the fast route to save your precious time.”

The prince laughed a little at Kleio’s response. The conversation between the two was similar to a dance, returning the right answer at the right time without having to believe each other’s words. The crown prince pointed at the empty chair with his hand. Thanks to Separation, Kleio was able to move calmly and sit down without shaking.

“Alright. Since you were relieved of the six-week wait, let’s get to the main point. If it is judged that it’s not very informative, I will have to go to the next scheduled item.”

The prince’s schedule was usually prepared six weeks in advance, and it was true that such an unexpected meeting was a great privilege. It wasn’t very pleasant to hear from the one who detained Kleio and his friends, but now, he wasn’t in a position to bring that up.

‘It won’t be easy, but let’s waste his time somehow.’

It was the first time he had watched the prince closely after that winter night in the Tristein territory when Grendel attacked. Unlike then, his face was clear, and his eyes looked youthful. Perhaps the aftereffects of his skill use hadn’t occurred yet. The crown prince tapped the back of his hand, appearing relaxed, but it was an obvious move to make Kleio hurry up.

He wouldn’t be able to keep the crown prince held down with so little bait. Kleio thought of the ammo he held. Would it be appropriate to use now? Or would the future be distorted for the worse if some information were revealed now? He would be lying if he said he held no hesitation.

‘But I have to. I can’t think of a better way.’

Kleio forced his mouth to open.

“I have a bit to say about the experiment that was conducted at the expense of your subjects. It is presumed to have happened in the process of improving a unique medicinal material that uses Ezra’s style and demon’s blood.”

“Well, tell me more.”

“The name of the medicine is Hydra’s Poison. It’s a drug created by a student of the Capital Defense Force nearly a century ago. The aftereffects are great enough to destroy one’s surroundings when ingested.”

“What does such a strange poison have to do with my subjects?”

“Ezra’s stylus, the main ingredient of the poison, has the effect of repelling evil. If you survive after consuming the poison prepared with demon’s blood, you will gain an etheric sensitivity that you lacked before.”

The crown prince’s fingers stopped tapping, proving Kleio’s judgment was right.

Revealing an issue not listed in the last manuscript was a straightforward way to draw the prince’s attention.

“Where did you gather that information?”

“Do you remember the uproar at the opera house last winter? I thought that perhaps the swordsmen who were involved in the incident had been taking this drug, so I continued a personal investigation.”

“What is the clue you’ve been tracking for two years?”

“It is red ether. Anyone who consumes the poison has a reddish ether, regardless of their level. However, it was difficult to report to the Defense Forces because there is no solid evidence other than the sightings.”

The prince’s eyes shone with a metallic luster as a strange joy filled his face.

“Red ether. The ether of Swordmaster Sir Rosa has a similar color. Is it different from hers?”

“It’s completely different. It’s not a bright red like Rosa, but a dark and cloudy red. No one has been able to reach the level of a swordmaster with the drug, and it seems that the higher the power it expresses, the weaker the reasoning of the subject becomes.”

“How does the weakness manifest?”

“Men turn into beasts, craving the blood of others. Thanks to the investigation, I’ve come to that conclusion.”

“If the side effects are so severe, are there so many people who would drink it even with the potential benefits?”

“My guess is that the subjects aren’t doing it of their own volition, but someone is kidnapping or tricking innocent people into ingesting it.”

“Hmm. Who is manufacturing the drug, and for what purpose? Demon’s blood is difficult to obtain, after all. Experimenting with it would be tricky.”

“The purpose is presumably stabilizing the drug. It seems that adjustments are needed to increase the level of ether while suppressing side effects.”

Kleio felt like he hadn’t had a drop of water in days. His throat felt dry.

“…It is believed that the one who had repeatedly carried out these brutal experiments in an Albion with deep connections to Brunnen. I’ve heard rumors that someone with this red ether has appeared in provincial towns of both Brunnen and Albion around the Pintos mountains.”

“And you must know the name of the person with those connections.”

“That’s right.”

“Tell me.”

“Haah, it is a name I cannot dare put in my mouth as a guess because I view my own life as precious.”

Melchior smiled gently, flipped his flowing hair behind his shoulders.

“Now before you stands the sole representative of the king of Albion. Still, if you are afraid to dare mention the name, haven’t you already answered it?”

That casual reaction… Did it mean Melchior already knew about Aslan and Juleika? Assassins with red ether had been running wild in the middle of the capital before, so Melchior would’ve had enough time to pursue information about them. But it wasn’t easy to dig through that smile, so he lowered his attitude.

“You may already be preparing a countermeasure to stop the cruel experiment, but I was surprised to hear about it, so I apologize for taking some inappropriate behaviors.”

“Well. It was an area somewhat overlooked, but I was in a hurry to inform my brother that his hobby was somewhat out of reach.”

“Hobby…”

“How presumptuous.”

After hearing Melchior’s answer, Kleio suddenly realized that the prince seemed reasonably happy. The prince knew of Aslan’s biological experiments and was neglecting them.

‘No, it’s not neglect. He has no heart to stop it.’

“Of course, I will admit that it was difficult to grasp the reality as it was the first incident I encountered in my life.”

Kleio knew the origin of the prince’s joy. Aslan’s raging about was also the first time it happened to Melchior, so how could he not be happy? This man, who had lived nine lives, couldn’t distinguish between good and evil like those who lived only once. However, it wasn’t acceptable, even though it might be understandable. Kleio’s fists clenched subconsciously as the illusory scent of rot passed by his noise. Geheim’s pain, his deteriorating humanity as he was imprisoned with others to suffer. All of that was an act that made human life insignificant.

Kleio couldn’t forget the moment when the singer’s body collapsed in his arms.

“I believe many innocent citizens of Albion and Brunnen would be sacrificed. It’s an issue that shouldn’t be left unattended.”

Kleio’s tone was still calm, but Melchior could sense faint anger in his words.

“Do you want to argue that their deaths are an irreparable tragedy?”

Melchior looked down at Kleio with warm turquoise eyes, a faint vermillion light in their center.

“You have a strong predictive unique skill, being chosen by God. Still, you’re trying to insist that you don’t know how this world is structured. Just know one thing, Sir Kleio. You’re poor at lying.”

The crown prince was convinced that Kleio knew of the world’s repetition.

“Time is this world is circling. Even those who have died now will be alive again in the next phase. Why would you mourn those deaths?”

Kleio froze. It was clear that men should not kill their fellow men, whether it was in the real world or in this one. But in a place where the dead returned, what ethics could survive? The prince’s smile deepened before the wizard’s silence.

“The lost flowers aren’t completely dead; they’ll bloom again when the sun passes, and the season returns. If you garden as a hobby, you will understand what I mean.”

Kleio realized now more than ever that human life wasn’t worth as much as flowers to Melchior.

“Even if history repeats itself if you don’t have a complete memory of the repetition, then death is just death. Don’t you know? Even if you can go back to what it was before, you still suffered.”

Interest began to fade in the crown prince’s face, smeared over by cold indifference.

“If you wish to preach, I will grant you a place at church, but don’t test my patience. Then, is that the end of your report?”

The prince turned his gaze to the wall clock, readying himself to leave, but Kleio answered urgently.

“So, isn’t it that the prince really wants the season to come when no other flowers will ever bloom in God’s garden?”

Ultimately, it was a straightforward question that asked if he wanted to stop this repetition. The vermillion light in his eyes expanded like a flame as if he were trying to trigger his skill. Kleio increased his Separation intensity to the max as a sense of pressure bore down on the office. However, Melchior soon regained his composure.

“God’s garden, what an accurate expression. Yes, if you look down on this world from afar, it might seem to be a garden of pleasure. Do you know, Sir Kleio? Under the garden’s idyllic landscape, the cycle of death and life lurks, that struggle for survival to eat or be eaten. As difficult as it is to bloom flowers, it isn’t easy to prevent a weed from growing. You can’t see the results of the work today or tomorrow. In order to plant even a small flower, you need to have the patience that could last years…

“I’m pretty used to it, watching the newly blooming flowers every time. The flowers that bloom again don’t spread out their petals in the same shape; their sizes are subtly different. That difference is a reward given only to those who wait.

“So, for example, to say I weren’t curious about how this magician would be refined next time, it would be a mere pretense. Someone who wasn’t alive before is now standing in my office.”