How a Hero Lives as a Writer

17 – Spring Breeze or Yellow Dust (2)

Even with the development of papermaking technology, paper is still an expensive commodity.

So, unlike the aristocrats, writers from commoners who couldn’t afford it tended to have side jobs while not writing.

The sidelines of writers were diverse, but among them, the most recognized was that of a scribe for an aristocratic family.

First of all, the money was good and I could read many books for free, which helped me write the book.

Therefore, the competition for scribes from noble families was bound to be fierce, and those who occupied the position had no choice but to enlarge their egos.

As a writer, he has written decent works, and he works under a nobleman for a salary.

They are on a business trip to another country to transcribe a novel by a writer they have never heard of.

It was a situation where a good atmosphere could not be formed.

‘There is no artistry, the style is pathetic, and there is no lesson. Is this garbage that only looked at the money and increased the amount is a masterpiece?’

Among them, Logan, who had written two successful novels, was even more hostile.

‘Only one volume!’

Since the manuscripts made by scribes are hand-made, the number of books that can be printed in one year is limited.

Therefore, the books they copied were mostly books of high importance.

There were times when I transcribed novels in this way, but the order to directly transcribe the manuscript of the book was counted on one hand.

Even that was only applicable when at least three volumes were released.

‘Is it just because it’s easy to read?’

Logan continued to copy silently, holding down the emotions that were about to burst out.

But he wouldn’t have been dissatisfied in the first place if it had been said that he would press it tightly.

‘Why is my handwriting so dirty! The font size is arbitrary, and the lines make waves and sit down!’

In Logan’s eyes, the manuscript in front of him seemed to be a manifestation of the noun of bad handwriting.

The scribes each gritted their teeth for similar reasons, praying that today’s work would be over soon.

As if their earnest prayer had worked, sooner or later the bell sounded announcing the end of today’s work.

Those who were silently copying stood up from their seats and quickly walked out of the upper chamber.

The store’s employees sighed in relief and hurriedly retrieved the manuscript of ‘Oh My Lady’.

“Editor-in-chief.”

As Emma retrieved and tidied up her manuscript, she spoke to Alexander, who was waiting for her case in case she didn’t know.

“What happened?”

“Have you been this bloody before?”

“This is the first time I have come to transcribe a manuscript.”

“… Is it also a matter of pride?”

“I guess so. A scribe is mostly a side job, and most of the time, the main job is a writer.”

No matter how much they earn as scribes, they consider themselves writers.

That’s why he doesn’t want to accept the reality that novels that are lacking in some way compared to his own work do well.

“Isn’t it still like this?”

“To borrow the expression of that hero, it is because the genre is different.”

“Genre?”

“The hero described his novel as a snack-like literature. It was an expression that it was fun at the moment of reading, but there was nothing left after reading it.”

“I stayed… ?”

Emma carefully defended ‘Oh My Lady’.

But when he saw Alexander narrow his brow slightly, he shut his gaping mouth.

“It is foolish to equate an artist with a work. For some reason, meeting a writer who only writes unpleasant endings in real life, because the story that he was a pleasant person is quite common in this world.”

“Uh… Author of ‘Diago the Blue Blade’?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, that’s the story.”

Emma had a vague idea of what Alexander was about to say.

“It’s wrong to equate the artist with the work, but that doesn’t mean they’re completely out of line, right?”

Alexander gave a small nod to the question.

If you weigh your family with strangers you don’t know, you will incline toward your family even if you’re not aware of it.

A novel is like a child to a writer, so even if you try to write it as far away as possible, something from the writer will permeate you implicitly.

“But there is no such part in the hero’s novel.”

The hero’s novel hardly reads the writer’s philosophy or values that can be found in other novels.

“Still, the second volume was a little different….”

“Even though the emotions were described meticulously, there was no part where I could see something of the artist.”

“Uh, if you think about it, it seems like that.”

As Emma read the last part of Volume 2, her heart skipped a beat, and she remembered how she had almost stained her manuscript.

But when I think about it, it doesn’t seem that the hero’s values or philosophy are embodied in the work.

“For those who take it for granted that novels contain lessons or philosophies, novels about heroes are heretical.”

It is impossible to say who is good and who is bad.

It’s just a difference in taste.

However, the novels of the warriors sold well commercially, and the novels they wrote did not.

“Since there is nothing in the book, you must be thinking that it is lightly scribbled.”

Even if the book is light, it is not scribbled as a joke.

From noble mtl dot com

ㅡ The novel I wrote is not entertainment.

Alexander frowned as he remembered what the hero had said.

Tsk.

This isn’t really about siding with the hero.

As editor-in-chief, I’m just giving novels that sell well the same treatment.

I decided to accept that.

While the members of the editorial department were tidying up the space the scribes had left, they returned to their lodgings and were having dinner and drinking.

Those who have been drinking tend to have a lighter mouth without even realizing it, and that was not much different from scribes.

“Honestly, I don’t know if I have to make a fuss like this.”

When Logan put down his glass, another scribe nearby took up the story.

“The story read well. But if it was so light and short, wouldn’t anyone be able to do it?”

“Yes. After all, a story has to have depth.”

“Sometimes it’s like this. For some reason, it’s a novel that sells well commercially.”

“That’s right. Autumn fields that are popular here? I don’t know why it’s trending.”

They eagerly vented their accumulated anger.

However, the criticism of ‘Oh My Lady’ belonged to the light axis.

Criticizing a work presumed to be a novel written by an aristocrat outside of the work was highly likely to be a problem in many ways.

So they switched the subject to criticizing Aucklia itself.

Of course, this was quite a risky move, but this inn was a place prepared for them, so there was no friction.

So it was only natural that his remarks became more and more extreme.

Of course, there were not only those who vomited vicious words like them.

“I didn’t know that the Viscount would claim himself as a scribe.”

The sword-clad knight opened her mouth, but the man called Viscount was just drinking tea in silence.

The man, already familiar with this situation, decided to wait quietly.

“How about Kyung?”

Thinking that what was to come had come, the knight cautiously looked into Viscount Leonard’s gaze.

His gaze turned to the teacup, the table, and the people talking next to him.

This question was most likely a question related to the topic coming from the table over there.

“I don’t know because I live a life that has nothing to do with novels.”

“I see.”

Viscount Leonard began to drink tea as if he had lost interest again.

I don’t know if this is the answer Viscount Leonard wanted or not, but it doesn’t seem to be an answer that goes against his heart.

The knight let out a sigh of relief and relaxed his shoulders.

But he couldn’t relax just yet.

He didn’t know what questions he might ask again, so he had to be ready at any time.

The knight carefully looked at Viscount Leonard.

His gaze often turned to the noisy table next to him, but his expression was terribly indifferent.

However, the knight noticed that the corner of his mouth twitched only for a moment.

It looked like a laugh laughing at foolish beings.

The knight was so concerned with that expression that he had to spit out a question without even realizing it.

“Have you had any business with a writer named Bright?”

Viscount Leonard looked at the knight with an expression of surprise.

“Sir, what is your name?”

“This is Miles Lift.”

“Let me remember.”

The knight felt as if he was seeing Viscount Leonard’s eyes for the first time.

It was a feeling that I couldn’t tell if it was fortunate or unlucky.

Rush.

Since the driver was thinking that way, the noisy people got up from their seats and started going up to the floor where the guest rooms were.

Viscount Leonard stood up quietly as his footsteps receded.

Since dinner time is over, he seems to be heading to his room as well.

With that thought in mind, he turned to the stairs, and Viscount Leonard took a step towards the corner of the store, not the stairs.

Then he stood tall in front of a table where two men and women were quietly drinking tea.

The knight hurriedly clung to the viscount’s side, wondering what the situation was.

“That… Do you have anything to do with me?”

When the dark blond man wearing a bracelet on his right wrist asked that question, Viscount Leonard nodded his head with a rather emotional expression unlike before.

“I want to talk to you, do you have time?”

“Me?”

The knight hurriedly prepared a chair nearby for Viscount Leonard.

Viscount Leonard joined them on his own without permission from the person he spoke to.

The knight was at a loss as to how to react to this unexpected situation.

Do I have to take a seat too?

But this seems to be a bit problematic in terms of common sense.

These two look like a romantic relationship no matter how you look at it….

After thinking that far, the knight now noticed that this table was strangely strange.

‘Knight?’

Those who had some level of knowledge in magic or swordsmanship recognized each other.

The knight noticed that the woman sitting at the table in front of him was the knight.

A dark blonde haired man sitting alone with a knight.

As she thought about it, her gaze went to the right hand of the man wearing it.

A suspicious man wearing camouflage artifacts that only nobles can buy.

When the knight thought that far, Viscount Leonard opened his mouth with an interesting expression.

“You are Bright, the author of ‘Oh My Lady.'”