Editor 125

He stopped in front of the collapsed Arthur and Kleio. The two boys looked like castaways stranded in the cold.

Arthur had tried to save his precious companion Kleio, and Kleio in turn wished for the world Arthur sustained to be safe.

“Having someone you would save even at the cost of your own life makes a person both strong and weak.”

The crown prince bent slightly toward the boys, as if examining something strange.

“You completed the double-cast perfectly, so I owe you an answer.”

Even as his consciousness faded, Kleio struggled to grasp the words spilling out. In Melchior’s lament were truths Kleio had desperately wanted to know.

“This pain has been repeated many times, and in the end, it will surely take my honor. Yet, for the first time in eternity, a being who can relieve my pain has been given to me.”

Melchior’s voice, echoing far, stirred Arthur’s consciousness. The third prince still had his eyes closed, but ether was gathering around him.

Even so, the crown prince paid no attention to Arthur. The only one he focused on was the being that had appeared but twice before.

“Repetition wears everything down—pain and joy alike. Amid that oppressive yoke, you came. I once wondered if this was a reward earned by defeating my adversary, or a sign of a capricious god’s persuasion… but it was neither.”

Melchior’s voice was still clear, as if he did not know human emotion, but the content of his words belied the tone.

“I know that newness was not given to me, nor is it mine. Just like everything else in this world.”

Kleio’s vision, blurred by tears and sweat, barely regained focus. With a heart pounding in tension, he checked the crown prince’s expression.

On Melchior’s face, admitting plainly that the world was not revolving for him, there was neither resignation nor anger.

That was why Kleio was afraid.

The will of Melchior, who tried to maintain dignity even after endless defeat, loss of honor, and suffering so terrible as to bring death over the long years.

Jeongjin knows what such people have done in history.

Stronger than hatred is conviction, and stronger than anger is the certainty that drives one to fulfill their own justice.

Kleio’s arm, gripping Arthur, trembled faintly. Or perhaps it was Arthur’s arm, around Kleio’s back, that was shaking.

The boys were so close, like cubs from the same litter, that the distinction was meaningless. Melchior thought it was a rather symbolic sight.

“Of course, the gods do not answer, so all these events might merely be coincidence.”

Hope, which approaches and recedes like the orbits of stars, and the rules and laws of the universe not made for him—Melchior did not resent them.

He simply intended to defy them.

“The king of Albion, at the moment of coronation, can exert an inexplicable influence on the laws of our universe. I have tried to break or turn away from that crown. But I failed.”

Bound by the frame of narrative, but wishing to escape it. A being who seeks to defy the author who holds the pen. Can he be considered merely a character on a page?

Kleio trembled. Sensing his unease, the ether around Arthur eventually activated [Enhancement].

The area around Kleio, huddled with Arthur, also began to glow faintly with [Enhancement].

Groaning, still not fully conscious, the young prince unconsciously performed such a feat.

Melchior smiled.

“My brother is a righteous and loyal child. I never resent this boy, defined as my little brother. The problem is that we are two and there is only one crown. I long for the miracle when divinity dwells in a mere human body, as my tool of rebellion.”

Kleio thought the desperation of the two Riognans was too vivid. The heat of the life he had saved. The declaration of one who resists fate.

Can someone who merely reads the manuscript, who corrects it without affection or joy, who passively executes the author’s will as an outsider, have the right to revise their lives?

What is the purpose of rewriting, repeated eight times?

Is it truly the author’s intention that one must only reach the predetermined ending?

From the beginning, “Jeongjin” does not know the ending of this story.

The need to live the present for an unknown ending made feel like more than just a story.

At that moment—

A delicate, beautiful fingertip reached the battered mage protected by the prince’s ether.

Long fingers suddenly pressed down on the boy’s unimpressive neck.

The young Riognan’s [Enhancement] fiercely resisted the attempt at violence. Even as his fingertips reddened and were crushed, Melchior did not care and tried to choke Kleio.

Arthur’s ether and Melchior’s unique skill were opposites. It had been so since Arthur was a helpless newborn.

Melchior could predict it. If he forced “Structure Sight of Insight,” no one here would survive.

He had killed Arthur in his third and fifth lives.

And then, the world ended there.

And again, it repeated.

He did not want another repetition.

Melchior’s hand dropped away, without intent to kill.

The frustration of a “world not given for him” was familiar to the crown prince. Rather, this was more like a process to confirm that the law remained in effect.

“Of course, you will not wish for the future I envision. You will hinder me from possessing the miracle. While I wish for your failure, I also want to thank you. These two feelings coexist without contradiction. Is that not how humans are designed?”

The last thing Kleio heard as his consciousness faded was a clear and quiet laugh.

---

Four days had passed since the beast’s attack.

In that time, the funeral for the late duke was held with great pomp. Burial was customary in most of Albion, but in Tristain, they uniquely practiced cremation.

From the first duke, Lancelot Tristain, all the way until now, the remains of deceased dukes had always been cremated and scattered in the port of Jecabre.

Though Kleio and the children, being outsiders and severely injured, had stayed in the castle, the story that Rotan, who accompanied Taetherton to the ship for the ash scattering, wept enough to melt the snow, was passed along by the loose-tongued Trude.

‘If someone’s been sick that long, even their real parents might lose affection… I get just how emotionally attached this knighthood is to the ducal house.’

As for the duke’s horrific end, Melchior made a public announcement, skipping over the details appropriately.

Due to Phyton’s attack, the main building was destroyed and the stairs collapsed, delaying Mietz and Ishiel’s arrival. Taetherton, who was with Melchior, held off all the duke’s guards.

In other words, there were no close-range witnesses to the incident.

‘But there were a ton of distant witnesses.’

The reporters and photographers Melchior had brought into the mountains were so excited to have landed a huge scoop that they rushed telegrams to the capital.

The effect was immediate.

Not only the national dailies but also the northern papers blazed with stories about the veiled knights’ battle with the beasts, the new Duke Tristain’s incredible feats, and the crown prince’s calm leadership.

“Blessing of Albion, Leader of Our Generation”

“Crown Prince’s Leadership Proven Amid Fierce Battle”

“Beast Attack in Tristain Territory Settled… Dukedom to Sir Taetherton Tristain”

Once it appeared in print, no matter how degraded the image, Melchior dominated the tone of the front page.

Though he had long since reached adulthood, the crown prince’s appearance seemed to grow more bewitching by the day.

The space devoted to praising Aslan shrank, and the national dailies’ front pages once again followed Melchior’s activities.

As public opinion reversed and gossips chattered, Taetherton cared about nothing but Melchior’s safety.

Taetherton’s image appeared in the papers as well. With his long bangs swept back and wearing formal attire, he exuded a noble air befitting a duke.

‘Though in reality, it’s a bit different. Photos are such a subjective medium.’

Standing beside the crown prince reading the eulogy, the 23rd Duke of Armorique did not glance at the mourning deputy or his father’s coffin, but only looked at one person.

‘Being bloodless and tearless isn’t just because he’s a noble, I guess.’

He had always been a loyal knight, but since acquiring the [Simile of Eternity] covenant, Taetherton’s devotion had become even more extreme.

‘Just what kind of reincarnator is Taetherton? Does it mean he’s the reincarnation of the first Duke Tristain? That would be a completely new setting.’

Kleio guessed that reincarnation didn’t refer to revision of the manuscript.

‘If that were so, then except for people like Dione who don’t appear in previous drafts, everyone else should be a reincarnator, but there’s no such title. Ugh, I can’t make heads or tails of it.’

“Huuuuuu.”

Kleio let out a long sigh, twisting his aching back this way and that as he turned over in bed.

‘Too much happened in one night to sort it all out. It had been peaceful for a while, then suddenly this sharp turn.’

Having been through all sorts of mess and drained of ether, Kleio had barely regained consciousness for three days, almost entirely bedridden.

The diagnosis wasn’t ether depletion but a severe cold.

It was the price for rolling around on the cold floor of a building with no roof that chilly night. Even the summer garden cape couldn’t fully protect him this time.

Arthur was up in a day and a half, the other kids in a day, but only Kleio was still stuck in bed.

Of course, that sudden development had brought a lot of gains.

Arthur’s level rose to 6. Kleio himself finally reached level 5, and the Angelium twins who fought at the north tower were promoted to level 4.

Everyone had trained hard during vacation, so after gaining experience by fighting beasts, their levels rose quickly.

‘Plus, my unique skill became a buy-one-get-one deal.’

Lying down, Kleio stretched out his hand.

On his left was Promise, and on the right, only the faintest hairline scar of the stigmata.

Within the rectangular “Editor Authority,” a new 2-centimeter crack had formed along the back of his hand.

Activating his unique skill, a short message popped up.

[Unique Skill: Diegesis

—Manifestation form: Undecided

—Activation condition: Unmet]

Just as it had stated at activation, it was a skill that couldn’t be used just by thinking about it alone.

‘If I can’t use it at will, what’s the point of it being called a unique skill? Are they just messing with me?’

The skill name was equally vague.

Only after running “Promise” at full did Kleio manage to connect it to a few lines of explanation he’d barely read in a copy handout for the liberal arts class.

‘In theater or literature, it’s a technique where the events of the work are delivered not through acting or description, but through narration by a speaker or the author’s surrogate. Something like that… right?’

Honestly, he wasn’t sure. It was a moment when he desperately needed to Google. Missing Google in vain, he felt another fever coming on.

After gulping down some water, Kleio, lying back down, recalled the message that had appeared when “Diegesis” activated.

[—The gist of ‘Diegesis’ will be recorded in the manuscript.]

In the sections Kleio had been able to read so far, he had never seen a message from “Promise.” Nor had his inner thoughts ever been described.

‘But since this message says it’ll be written in the manuscript, doesn’t that mean narration or something related to me will appear in the ? But if there’s too much of that, the writing will get choppy. Ugh, I’ll have to check if I ever need to use Editor Authority.’

The first message he heard:

『When one sincerely shares intent with a being deeply entangled in the world’s safety, the glorious favor of the gods descends upon the earth.』

The god is the author, and the hero is the protagonist.

Compared to the businesslike messages of “Promise” that focused on information delivery, the language of “Diegesis” was much more poetic.

It seemed the new unique skill “Diegesis” was classified as a different kind of intervention in the manuscript than what “Jeongjin” the editor did.

‘Maybe it’s also because my narrative intervention score got higher.’

Kleio felt strangely unsettled.

‘After taking the blue pill and deciding to just go for it, I figured if my narrative intervention got high enough, I’d eventually become a character too. At this rate, maybe I’m a third of the way into the work myself.’

Of course, that didn’t matter. Whether he was a person or a character, it was not a big deal to Kleio, who couldn’t even leave this world.

The problem was always Arthur, the manuscript, and the crown prince.