“Identification confird.”
As the cradle for future leaders, the Imperial Academy was rigorously protected.
A magical shield operated 24/7 to prevent any outside attacks or terrorist activities, and there were no internal teleportation circles allowed, to block the entry of suspicious individuals.
This ant that faculty and staff had to use the special teleportation circle located just outside the Academy to commute, but at least it was nearby, minimizing inconvenience.
Of course, so found even that to be troubleso and simply lived within the Academy grounds.
But Rupert had no desire to live within the Academy. He preferred to spend as little ti as possible in this ticking ti bomb of a place, where trouble could erupt at any mont.
More importantly,
“Hurry up! Ada’s hungry!!!”
Ada, waiting anxiously at the door of the estate, always greeted Rupert with the sa impatience when he returned ho.
Even though Count Bradley was ho, along with the maid who took care of Ada and Sena, who played with her, it was still Rupert whom Ada sought the most.
As Rupert returned from work, Ada bounced excitedly toward him, holding a long stick in one hand.
“Where did she pick that up?” Rupert wondered, his eyes falling on the stick Ada clutched so tightly.
Due to recent disturbances involving black magicians in the area, Rupert had forbidden Ada from going outside. But now that he was working as a professor at the Academy and couldn’t be around as much, he felt guilty and allowed her to go out again.
Fortunately, the Imperial forces had thoroughly investigated the Sorset estate and ensured there were no lingering threats.
“Ada, what is that?” Rupert asked.
“This is Ada’s treasure,” Ada declared, holding the stick in one hand while clutching Rupert’s hand with the other. She handled the stick with such reverence that it might as well have been made of gold.
Even at dinner, she wouldn’t put it down, eating one-handed while gripping the stick. Rupert tried to take it away.
“No!!!” Ada cried, horrified, when Rupert attempted to take her “treasure.”
Even Count Bradley had to give up. After dinner, Ada ran around the house with the stick, swinging it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
“What on earth is she carrying around like that?” Rupert asked, perplexed.
“She seems to have taken a liking to a stick that a neighborhood kid found,” Kroon explained, when Rupert ran into him in the workshop.
Apparently, a local child had found the stick, and Ada had been desperate to get her hands on it ever since.
“Did she steal it from the kid?”
“No, she traded it for one of the Pinocchio figurines she asked to make for her,” Kroon said with a chuckle.
Rupert couldn’t help but laugh. A hand-made Pinocchio figure by Kroon, which hadn’t even been released yet and could fetch a high price at auction, was traded for a stick.
Ada truly was an alchemist in her own right.
“By the way, I’m still working on the film project, but it’s proving difficult.”
“Take your ti. I didn’t expect it to be easy anyway.”
“The alchemists are getting a handle on the chemicals you ntioned, but we’re struggling to figure out this gelatin substance.”
What was tripping Kroon up wasn’t so complicated chemical formula or manufacturing process.
“Can’t we just extract gelatin from pigs?” Rupert asked, puzzled. In this world, gelatin existed, and he had assud it would be easy to obtain.
“The amount of gelatin we can extract from pigs is too small,” Kroon explained.
Rupert realized he had overlooked sothing.
For the animation project, they would need a large amount of film, and naturally-sourced gelatin wouldn’t be sufficient. While gelatin could be extracted from pig skin, buying pigs in bulk just for gelatin wasn’t feasible.
Large-scale pig farming wasn’t practical just for this purpose, and the thought of using pigs they didn’t plan to eat felt inefficient.
The completion of the film was crucial for both Rupert’s animation and comic book business. Right now, background lines and emotional expressions had to be done by hand, but once film was developed, they could use screen tones like in modern comics, drastically reducing the workload.
Rupert discussed the developnt further with Kroon, but no clear breakthroughs were made. Eventually, Rupert decided to leave it in Kroon’s hands and headed up to his third-floor studio.
There, despite it being evening, Saint and Sena were hard at work, drawing sothing.
“Saint, you’re still here? And Sena, haven’t you gone ho yet?”
“Oh… I didn’t realize how late it was, hahaha.”
“I-I was just about to leave!”
Both of them flinched in surprise, as if caught doing sothing they shouldn’t have been, quickly hiding what they were working on as they answered.
Rupert, having recently sharpened his intuition due to the various life-threatening crises he’d encountered, imdiately noticed how unnatural their behavior was.
Before Saint and Sena could stop him, Rupert quickly approached their desks and reached for the hidden items.
“What’s this… storyboard?”
What Rupert saw were the drafts of a comic that Saint and Sena had been secretly working on in their spare ti.
“Why were you hiding this?” Rupert asked.
“Well… it’s not finished yet…” Saint mumbled, embarrassed.
Rupert knew exactly what they were feeling. It was common for creators to work with passion and joy, but when it ca ti to show their work to others, they often felt as though they were facing a death sentence.
They started to obsess over flaws, questioning why they hadn’t polished certain parts more, and when their carefully crafted stories received lukewarm reactions, it could feel like their very souls were being torn apart.
Saint, being an established artist, likely felt even more pressure with his first foray into comics, and Sena, working on her first project, was probably terrified of judgnt.
But Rupert understood one thing: a work was only complete when it was shown to others.
“No matter how brilliant the piece is, if it stays locked in a drawer, it will never beco a true work of art,” Rupert thought.
Every creator had to go through this process, and Rupert intended to be their first audience.
Although he couldn’t view it entirely from an audience’s perspective, no one in this world knew more about comics than Rupert, making him the perfect person to give feedback.
So, as Rupert began reading through their storyboards, Saint and Sena anxiously watched him, holding their breath.
Rupert, whose expression rarely changed, simply focused on reading the storyboards, which only made the two even more nervous.
“That’s my best scene… why isn’t he reacting?” “I think he frowned just now… does he hate it?”
They analyzed Rupert’s every movent, more focused than they’d been while creating the comics.
Finally, Rupert finished reading both of their works. Saint and Sena held their breath, waiting for his reaction.
“This is aweso!” Rupert exclaid.
The response was a phrase they had never expected to hear.
“Is this what true geniuses are like?” Rupert thought to himself, genuinely impressed.
He had expected Saint, being known as the Empire’s greatest artist, to show exceptional talent, but creating comics required a different set of skills, and Rupert had been concerned about the transition.
However, Saint’s work was not only incredibly engaging but also brilliantly written.
“A story about a chanical human becoming more human….”
This wasn’t just ahead of its ti—it was ahead of the world. It was a concept one might expect to see in modern Earth comics.
Clearly, Pinocchio had influenced Saint, but while Pinocchio told a simple, classic story of becoming human through sacrifice and courage, Saint was exploring a far more complex the.
“Though it’s quite heavy for a comic,” Rupert mused.
Heavy comics weren’t unheard of, but they tended to be very niche. Even on Earth, where comics were well established, this genre wasn’t an easy sell. Perhaps lightening the tone a little might make it more accessible.
And as for Sena’s work—
“This is practically Sleeping Beauty,” Rupert thought.
Sena’s comic was a fairy-tale story about a princess cursed by a witch to fall into an eternal sleep.
The details were different, but the core the was strikingly similar, and Rupert couldn’t help but be surprised.
“Now that I think about it, Sena’s favorite story has always been Snow White.”
Just as Saint had been influenced by Pinocchio, Sena seed to have drawn inspiration from Snow White. While fairy tales existed in both worlds, it was interesting to see how similar thes erged across cultures.
For example, the Western tale of Cinderella had much in common with the Korean folktale Kongjwi and Patjwi, both stories about virtuous girls whose lives are transford by magical intervention.
“Both of your works are amazing. They’re practically ready for publication,” Rupert praised them.
—Of course, a few minor tweaks would be needed.
Saint and Sena exchanged bright smiles, their earlier tension evaporating at Rupert’s words.
Rupert wasn’t just giving them empty complints to boost their confidence; he genuinely wanted to showcase their work to the world.
“Should I publish them separately? No, that wouldn’t…”
Rupert had noticed that ever since he had started releasing children’s books and comics, other works had begun to appear, but many of them had faded into obscurity. Even if the stories were good, people still sought out Rupert’s works.
The sa could happen with Saint and Sena’s comics if they were released on their own.
Then, an idea struck Rupert.
“A magazine!”
In countries like the U.S. and Japan, and even in Korea for a ti, comic magazines had been a popular dium for showcasing works. A magazine would be the perfect platform to introduce their stories to the world.
“If I publish our comics in a magazine format, with serial installnts…”
This would generate enough buzz to bring attention to Saint and Sena’s works, while also making sure they didn’t get overshadowed.
“But three works won’t be enough. I’ll need at least five.”
Even if it wasn’t possible to feature ten different stories like Earth’s comic magazines, five would be the minimum needed to make a magazine work.
Rupert’s thoughts deepened as he considered the possibilities.
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