Lionel Balzac.
He stood in front of the entrance of the publishing house called “Half and Half.” He had an appointnt to et a great writer nad Herodotus there.
Herodotus was Lionel’s benefactor. He had forgiven Lionel, supported him, and cheered him on.
The world said that Hor was the savior of literature bestowed by the Lord, but─.
Lionel knew there were two saviors in this world. Herodotus, who created Hols and Lupin, was the second savior of literature.
And he was also Lionel’s first savior.
Lionel tightly grasped the card of “Lupin” in his hand, hesitating. The words written on the card were clear to his eyes.
[When the original is complete, I will visit again.]
[-Gentleman Thief Arsène Lupin-]
Had he beco the original? He did not know.
Though he learned about romance novels from Hor, in the end, this too was sothing he stole.
In retrospect, Lionel had always been a re imitation. Lacking inspiration, he always had to mimic others.
It might have been wrong for soone like him, who could create nothing on his own, to think that he wanted to be a writer.
“‥‥‥.”
Suddenly, he had such a thought.
He was afraid. It was hard to take a step forward. He felt breathless, as if trapped in rising water.
He wished he could just suffocate like this.
In that mont of impulsive thought, as he closed his eyes─.
“Oh, you arrived early. Were you waiting in front of the publishing house?”
The savior’s voice pulled him out of his silence.
“Herodotus, sir….”
“Yes.”
“Thank you…. I don’t know what to say─.”
“Hmm, discussing here would take quite a bit of ti, wouldn’t it? There’s a reception room inside─.”
The savior extended his hand to him.
Smiling brightly, he spoke.
“Let’s go.”
“…Yes!”
Lionel didn’t realize it.
That it was a plagiarized old slogan symbolizing the Korea-U.S. alliance.
* * *
Lionel Balzac sat in the reception room, taking deep breaths for a long ti.
I waited silently for him to feel comfortable.
After a few minutes, he lowered his head deeply and spoke.
“Thank you! Sir! Thanks to your introduction to Hor, I was able to publish my book like this!”
“Is that so? I’m glad.”
“And… thank you for forgiving my sins.”
“Is there anything to call a sin? If an editor requests, a writer follows, that’s all.”
I didn’t think it was such a grave sin that he, suffering from the hardships of life, couldn’t overco the pressure from the editor.
Of course, if he had brazenly continued such actions, it would have been a different story. However, he properly reflected on his actions and apologized. As a plagiarist myself, I could no longer bla him.
“If you hadn’t picked up the pen when you received that unethical request, you wouldn’t have been ashad. Ultimately, it was my decision to pick up the pen.”
“Thanks to that, I t a talented writer like you.”
“…So, I want to return this to you. Along with my book.”
Lionel took a book out of his bag and handed it to along with a card.
The card was the recomndation letter written on the ‘Arsène Lupin’ card I had given him.
The book was.
“This is the novel I truly wanted to write.”
It was the romance novel he published this ti with Hor.
Though I had read it several tis already, receiving it directly from the author was a different story.
I accepted the book with joy.
Then, I bowed my head and expressed my gratitude.
“Thank you. This is the most valuable gift I’ve received this year.”
“It’s not that great of a novel.”
“No. Really.”
Sotis, coincidences approach like miracles. Really unexpectedly, without any forewarning or clue.
There are monts when an utterly absurd and contextless coincidence touches a person.
In this world, they call it the prank of a fairy. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, but looking at the title of the novel he wrote, I couldn’t help but realize it.
“Receiving such an interesting novel as a gift is indeed a delightful thing.”
“…Thank you.”
[A Thief Haxen VS Sherlock Hols] was a peculiar work. Maurice Leblanc.
The na ‘Lionel Balzac.’ Honoré de Balzac.
And the title of the novel he truly wanted to write.
“Emma is actually the na of a woman I loved. Though I can no longer see her now….”
Emma. Jane Austen.
This person was experiencing the prank of a fairy. Probably, no one but would guess such a prank.
“Oh! But this doesn’t an I wrote this based on my true story. So, um, shall I say it’s a taphor? She went to the Lord’s embrace a few years ago. The wall of status was actually the wall of life and death that the Lord separated…. Haha…, I guess that’s too grandiose…?”
Lionel rambled on, explaining the significance of this work and his thoughts while writing it.
I smiled and nodded. Occasionally, I chid in and sotis asked questions about the work first. The “Emma” he wrote was different from Jane Austen’s Emma, but it shared one thing in common.
“Well, um, yes. It seems I put too much ambition into my novel. Haha… Perhaps no one but can love this protagonist. He is also the protagonist I love the most… Emma in reality was such a beautiful woman….”
“I think you’re wrong about that.”
“Pardon?”
“This protagonist, Emma, will be loved. By countless people.”
His protagonist was lovable.
Although I was not a critic, I could be sure of this one thing.
“This novel will remain a classic, read by people forever. And countless people will learn about love through this novel.”
“You’re giving too much credit….”
This ‘Emma’ would beco a classic. Not because it was a novel by Jane Austen, but because it was a novel by ‘Lionel Balzac.’ It would be rembered for a lifeti as a novel anyone in this world could relate to and love.
“They say artists caught in a fairy’s prank leave their nas in history, don’t they?”
“A fairy’s prank? Haha… I wish I could experience such a prank….”
“You already have.”
“Pardon?”
It was hard to explain this ‘prank’ to him.
Instead, I shrugged playfully and said,
“A writer recognized as a genius by the two most renowned authors in the Empire. What else could this be but a fairy’s prank?”
“…Haha, that’s true. Indeed, such a miracle could not happen without a fairy’s prank….”
“If you need, I can write a recomndation for you.”
Hor and Herodotus.
This author’s work, recognized by these two writers, would quickly gain fa. And many aspiring writers would read his book and study romance.
This man, with his innate sense of structure, could be a far better teacher than a plagiarist like .
I imagined Lionel Balzac teaching students at the officially established ‘Literature Academy.’ A pleasant future awaited where students taught by him would publish nurous entertaining works.
“That would be too much pressure for ….”
“Let’s call it an investnt. An investnt in a future great author. No, with just this ‘Emma,’ you’re already a great author of the present.”
“……”
So, whether Lionel Balzac felt burdened or not.
That was not my concern.
“Let’s go together, Mr. Lionel Balzac.”
“…Yes. Thank you very much, Mr. Herodotus….”
* * *
“It’s been a while, writer.”
“Yes, it has been a while. It’s an honor to et you, Cardinal Garnier.”
Cardinal Garnier had co to the publishing house.
It was the second ti since I first t him when publishing ‘The Sorrows of Young Werther.’
“The reason I visited you again is because the council has decided on your ‘beatification.’”
“…What?”
“Then, I should call you Venerable now. The beatification process takes several years, but until you are beatified, you will be a beatification candidate, receiving the sa respect as the bishops of each region.”
“Uh, I don’t quite understand the situation. Wasn’t my beatification canceled?”
“The goodwill you have shown this ti has been recognized as a ‘miracle’ by the church.”
“A miracle…?”
Cardinal Garnier smiled warmly as he explained the ‘miracle.’
“Do you know what a miracle is?”
“…I’m not sure.”
“A miracle is sothing that cannot be achieved by human will alone, sothing that can only be accomplished with the help of the Lord.”
“Is it different from magic or blessings…?”
Cardinal Garnier pondered my question for a mont.
Nodding as if organizing his thoughts, he explained.
“Magic can bring rain during a drought, and blessings can make the la walk. But neither of these can lift our hearts out of malice.”
“Our hearts?”
“Making the wounded forgive those who hurt them, making the strong protect the weak, turning the indifferent back to the church, and making people willing to die for their faith. These are what we call miracles.”
“……”
“The miracles the Savior perford a thousand years ago, Mr. Hor, you have recreated on this earth. If not a miracle, who else could make the rich willingly open their storehouses for the poor and regard it as an honor? Who could make people love children as their own?”
In Cardinal Garnier’s eyes, a pure white radiance flickered.
Proof of the existence of God. Divine power.
Soone who felt God’s presence closer than anyone else spoke to .
“We, as priests who have only received blessings, can only be envious. If all we have is the glory of receiving His overwhelming blessings and being thankful for His rcy, how can we not be ashad?”
He confessed he had never experienced a miracle himself.
“So, I ask you, writer. Accept the church’s beatification and beco a Blessed—furthermore, a saint.”
“Even if I did, what could I possibly do…?”
“Just say one word.”
“……”
“Do you believe that miracles exist in this world?”
To that simple yet clear question.
I pondered absentmindedly.
Like soone possessed, I nodded.
“Yes.”
* * *
“Sion.”
“Yes, Lord Ed.”
“What do you think a miracle is?”
“A miracle, you say?”
Sion tilted his head slightly, then answered without hesitation.
I couldn’t help but laugh at his answer.
“To , your literature is a miracle, Lord Ed.”
“Pff, really?”
“Yes.”
“I think so too.”
On my desk were stacks of romance novels published by various publishers in the Empire.
This was the miracle!
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