The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

Albion’s Pastoral House (1)

‘The woman who took care of Mrs. Eleanor, Melchior’s mother… Why is she wearing a military uniform now?’

The contents of the eighth manuscript were no longer reliable.

‘Hey, there was no description about Melchior’s use of the secret police.’

If anything, this was an overly modern practice.

‘To think the secret police would appear here and now… it’s ridiculous.’

It was the contradiction and error of the protagonist’s fate that there was only an effect without a cause. Was that happening to a large extent now?

However, she interpreted Kleio’s reaction, Vesna’s tone grew more relaxed.

“If you refuse, you will be considered a conspirator for first-degree treason.”

It didn’t matter that Vesna was only a 3rd level wizard. Even if you were a senior high-ranking knight or wizard, if you were bound by honor with status, family, friends, and titles, you wouldn’t be able to ignore her summons.

“Of course, the choice is left to the lord. Please behave wisely.”

Vesna didn’t bring the suppression collar, but if Kleio escaped with magic, he would become a traitor. When Kleio opened the envelope, he could see a concise summons with the deputy king’s seal.

‘A summons in reference to the charges of first-degree treason by Viscount Kision.’

This thin sheet of paper was a harder constraint than any physical instrument.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I shall respond to the crown prince’s summons.”

He moved Behemoth off his lap and stood up.

“Moth, ask the others to feed you today.”

Behemoth seemed to sense something in Kleio’s words, so he licked his cheek once then stepped back.

“…Meooow, meow. (…The way you speak is unfamiliar, but I understand the gist. This cat will find a way, too.)” Behemoth replied with firm words to give him some confidence. To the secret police, however, all they heard was a cat pining for his master.

In slippers and a coat over his pajamas, Kleio was dragged by the armed soldiers to a windowless carriage.

It felt like four hours had passed, but no one looked into the cell where Kleio had been detained. He was somewhere underground, with outdoor light dimly filtering in.

‘It seems almost modern…’

The terrifying north gate prison, which he had heard a rumor of, was much better equipped than the idea of a 19th-century prison he had in his mind. When Absalom II regained his throne by returning to the dynasty, the prison walls had been carved out of stone to contain rebels and nobles alike. Unsuited to that image, a bright light bulb was hanging from the ceiling.

‘It must take tremendous power to keep that light on at all times. Why is this place modernly equipped?’

From the start of last year, the main districts of Lundane began to be supplied with electricity around the clock. He had heard it became possible by improving the mining environment of tiplaum and increasing power generation efficiency.

‘It was strange that electricity was installed in the royal palace before the royal opera, but the reason was this interrogation facility.’

He could feel the ether from the tiplaum at the boundary between the wall and the ceiling. It wasn’t easy to know exactly what kind of function the tiplaum covering the ceiling had, as he could see its engraved side. Kleio sat on the simple mattress on the poorly made iron bed, once more glancing around the cell that was already becoming familiar.

The thick iron door remained locked, though it had a slot for pushing in meals and monitoring the inside. Opposite the bed was a sink with a faucet next to a toilet with a lid. The floor was fresh, clean tiles, with a drain on one side of the slanted floor. All of it was oddly clean. Kleio could hear the sound of water flowing through pipes below him and the sound of a heating pipe in the wall.

‘It feels like I’ve skipped a century here.’

What was going on? The basement floor where Kleio was trapped was near the palace’s north gate. All he had was time, so he had an ample opportunity to look around and use his senses. It seemed like it went down deeper.

‘There are at least two more floors below this. In addition to a large amount of activated tiplaum… the smell of mold, excrement, and… blood.’

Even in this cell, there were traces of blood that seemed to have been hastily cleaned off the floor and walls. The bottom of this cell was designed to facilitate the cleaning of blood and dirt. Kleio felt a cold chill as he raised the function of Separation.

‘There is a limit on the number of times his unique skill can be used, and it is a skill with terrifying limitations. He won’t abuse it, so in the end, physical intimidation will be added.’

Without Separation, he wouldn’t be able to cope with this situation calmly. He didn’t even think in his dreams that his narrative involvement would gradually rise in this way.

‘…Melchior, the madman, gained some knowledge during his repeated life to work in the way of a modern controlled state.’

His secret service’s activities must have been a new and unfamiliar way for the people of Albion. However, it was a form of operation that wasn’t unfamiliar to Kleio, who had memories of the previous world.

‘In the last manuscript, Melchior never lived up to the 20th century. How could he think of using media politically or secret police?’

Problems that he had no way to answer popped up randomly. The god of this world could read about another, so who knows if Melchior could’ve seen the same thing?

‘I can’t even ask him what he knows. Ah.’

Kleio leaned back against the bed, feeling depressed.

‘Even though he’s a junior nobleman, Schliemann Kision is pretty famous now. He’s sincere, humble, and competent, so he has a growing reputation among the lords.’

But this was the first-degree treason that the boy prince was worried about when Kleio joined him.

‘The last crime of treason in the first degree was applied to Queen Carmela. The justification is weak for the deputy king to commit his own summary execution without trial.’

Kleio crossed his arms, holding his body.

‘If he remembers the past, he would know that he would be a spearhead against Brunnen… He can’t touch Arthur, so is he going to ruin even his own country?’

But for Melchior to win Albion’s crown, the country must remain, which made the purpose of this night’s performance unclear. The goal couldn’t have been to execute Viscount Kision or make Brunnen easy to invade. He had to grasp this Prince’s true intent, which was why Kleio didn’t escape this prison right now. He was scoured and robbed of his wallet and wand, but he was not restrained, and the door was locked without any magical deterrents. It would be a problem to be pursued as a wanted man, but it would be a bigger problem if the direction of history were distorted. Kleio pondered deeply on how he should act.

The morning sunlight shone in fragmented pieces as time passed. From a distance, the church bell rang out seven times.

Rattle.

Bang.

When the bell stopped, the iron door latch was released. Vesna Driscoll entered, carrying a tray of bread and a cup of water.

“Did you have a comfortable night, Sir Kleio?”

One of the men in the indigo uniforms he saw before followed her, placing a stool down before going back to the door.

“Please have your breakfast.”

What kind of time was it to eat now? Kleio only drank the water on the tray he had received.

‘Ah, it’s too cold.’

“I don’t think I was in a position to spend a comfortable night here, Ms. Driscoll.”

Vesna’s mouth slightly rose in a smile, but her eyes remained cold as they swept up and down Kleio.

“Oops, I didn’t even consider that my name would’ve been known to Sir.”

“There are no secrets in this world. You know that better than anyone else.”

Kleio threw out the bait. The probability that Vesna was the head of the secret intelligence department, the Prince’s passionate believer whom Cel mentioned before, was tremendously high. Vesna’s lips curled a little higher as she produced a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

‘Really… Are you saying this is the head of the secret intelligence department?’

Again, this was not described in the last manuscript. Now, the sun warmed the foot of the bed as the cigarette smoke spread in the damp air.

“Yes. There are no secrets in this world. It is even more so to the loyal intelligence department of our crown prince.”

Vesna flipped the lid of the silver cigarette holder back down and held it out to Kleio. Somehow, it was a friendlier attitude than before. He decided to take one and light it. The last time he had smoked was in the military, but the memory was engraved as an unconscious habit. Even though his body had changed, lighting the cigarette was easy. Vesna’s mouth moved once more in a subtle expression of surprise. For a while, the two quietly savored the scent of the cigarettes… It felt a little different.

‘Is it because there is no filter? Why is it so acrid?’

To not lose face, he sucked in the smoke deeply, feeling his lungs growing fatigued. He was used to the clean air in Lundane, so the smoke made his lungs feel sore and stuffy. Vesna casually dropped the cigarette and put it out with her heel.

“I assigned a special room for you. It’s a pity that you couldn’t sleep.”

“I tend to need a blanket.”

The tall and delicate young man’s speech was polite, though his words weren’t. Vesna personally preferred this kind of human quite a bit, especially since his surname was Asel. It would be quite enjoyable to teach a vain young man what suffering and obedience were.

‘It would’ve been nice if he could be detained in the lower levels.”