Surviving as a Plagiarist in Another World - Chapter 45: Jules Verne

< Chapter 45: Jules Verne – 3 >

While translating Jules Verne’s “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea” with the chief magician’s advice, “The Mysterious Island” also entered the final review process.

Translating “The Mysterious Island” was simpler.

This was due to the difference between “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea,” an exploration narrative, and “The Mysterious Island,” a survival story. From my perspective of plagiarizing works from my past life, there wasn’t much to worry about besides historical accuracy.

Moreover, on Earth in my previous life, “The Mysterious Island” was often recreated as a “fairy tale” or a “recommended book for elementary students,” so I had experience summarizing it several times.

“Sion, what do you think?”

“Hmm, both works are so excellent that it’s hard for me to say… I’m not sure if I should dare to compare these two novels.”

“I’d still like to hear your opinion.”

“Personally… I find ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea’ a bit more thrilling. The story of exploring the sea feels very romantic to me.”

Sion gave a slightly higher evaluation to “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.”

Since both works were representative pieces by the same author, it could simply be a matter of my translation. However, it was more likely due to the different directions pursued by the two works.

“The Mysterious Island” was written for exactly the same reason as “Lord of the Flies,” the antithesis of that novel.

Isolating children and showing how they change.

In “Lord of the Flies,” William Golding imagined the changes in children as chaos and desire. On the other hand, the optimistic Jules Verne imagined the changes in children as “growth and courage.”

This was internal rather than external, and the target of their pioneering was essentially an “inner conflict” rather than an “unknown place.”

And Sion seemed to feel more romance in the story of exploring the unknown space of the sea in “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.” Perhaps it was even more so because he had grown up as my attendant from a young age.

Since I was someone who stayed indoors reading books, Sion also rarely had the chance to travel far.

“Sion, do you also have a desire to go on an adventure?”

“No.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to go far. For me, the young master’s literature is the deep sea and the island. When I help the young master, I see the boundaries of ‘literature’ that I did not know before and hear its name. It makes me feel truly free.”

Sion spoke in a voice without the slightest hesitation.

There was something in that story that could be called “strength.” Sion was full of conviction.

“I still don’t fully understand what you mean by ‘the development of literature,’ young master. So I wanted you to be my captain. I don’t know the map of the sea, but I believe the young master will guide the way step by step.”

“Like Captain Nemo?”

“Umm. Yes. Is that disrespectful?”

“Pfft, ah, I see, I understand what you mean. Thank you.”

Captain Nemo was certainly a charming character.

He was a wise and bold intellectual, a noble and mysterious figure. Except for his enigmatic aspects, he was actually quite kind.

But behind that lay an ominous undertone.

It was the same kind of ominous feeling one gets when looking at a sea so deep that the bottom is invisible. Perhaps Sion saw me as that kind of person as well.

[“I am not the civilized person you speak of! I have completely severed ties with society, and you have no right to judge that! So, I do not follow its laws, and I expect you never to mention those laws in my presence again!”]

Half of my soul still remained on ‘Earth.’

When I drank the Hyde potion, the half-mixed appearance of my past and present selves was the clearest evidence.

And the sea called ‘Earth’ was more ominous and unfathomable than the darkness of the deep sea. At least to the people of this world.

Secrets. Mysteries. Darkness. Miracles.

To the people of this world, the untouchable ‘otherworld’ was a distant and alien place that no great pioneer or skilled adventurer could fathom. Just as Captain Nemo was the only one who had roamed the deep sea, I was the only one who had experienced Earth.

And people tend to fear or loudly worship what they cannot understand.

“Uh, um?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Something just came to mind.”

It might be an overinterpretation, but perhaps that’s why people called me ‘Savior’ or ‘Saint of Literature’ and worshipped me.

They felt an inspiration in my literature that was not of ‘this world.’

The fact that there was an inspiration in my writing that distinguished it from the literature of this world had already been mentioned by an alchemist. People with keen spiritual senses—priests of the church or some writers, for instance—might have discovered something different.

“Hmm…?”

Moreover, the magician once said that ‘possibility’ was the recreation of events.

He said that even the practice of shooting at human-shaped targets by the imperial army was to maximize such possibilities.

[“Resembling things share possibilities, thus creating similar events…. That’s why tricks like blood ties or magic towers work….”]

Several incidents in this world. The slight discord I felt when writing works like Don Quixote or Sherlock Holmes.

The reactions of readers in the history of literature from my past life occurring similarly in this world. The prank played on Lionel Balzac by a fairy.

Connecting all this, one could come up with quite an interesting hypothesis.

I thought it was simply because of the ‘power of literature’ that classics held, but perhaps.

“Magic was at work…?”

There might have been some magical link between the literature of ‘Earth’ and the works I plagiarized.

It was so abstract that it was possible even without magic.

The fascination a reader of Don Quixote had with chivalry and the character of Don Quixote, the family members who asked ‘Why did you kill Sherlock?’ after seeing Sherlock Holmes’ death, the young nobles who mimicked Werther’s attire after reading The Sorrows of Young Werther.

These were all things that could happen even without magic.

In the history of my past life, and with all the great classics I had plagiarized, literature inherently had a magical quality. It wasn’t strange to think so from a rational perspective.

And.

“If it’s something possible with magic, it ultimately should be possible without magic as well….”

Let’s return to the story of my soul.

My soul was the only link connecting ‘Earth’ and ‘this world.’ This soul loved literature, occasionally longed for Earth in my past life, and cherished such longing or even the slightest piece of information as important to ‘literature.’

Moreover, I had extensive experience translating countless ‘classic literatures.’

Translating classic literature was a labor-intensive task. It was not uncommon to erase and rewrite sentences multiple times to capture the atmosphere of the era. Just as a soldier repeatedly shoots at a target to improve accuracy, a translator must rewrite the same sentence several times to grasp its essence.

In the process, one studies the history of the era in which the classic literature was written, searches for various papers and references to include in the footnotes, and finds anecdotes that would be good to include in the ‘translator’s note.’

Only after going through this arduous process is a ‘translation’ completed.

Thus, a translator’s work was to magically recreate the work of the author. It wasn’t much different from being a magician.

“No wonder my translations were going so well….”

It would be nice if this were an exaggerated guess….

But perhaps the very ‘history of Earth’s literature’ had embedded itself in my soul. Using the works I had experience translating as a medium.

I was infecting this world with ‘Earth’!

* * *

“You’re not looking so well today? It’s not because I came, is it?”

“No, there’s no way I’d dislike seeing you, Lady.”

“I didn’t say you disliked me, did I? It seems Homer finds it unpleasant to see me?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“I like coming to see you, Homer.”

“…It’s an honor.”

The lady visited me as suddenly as always.

Leaning back on the sofa in the reception room, she tilted her head slightly and looked at me questioningly.

“So, is there something going on? You look unwell.”

“Uh, I have some personal worries.”

Just as I said, I was troubled by a hypothesis.

Perhaps my literature was infecting this world with ‘Earth’s literature.’

Of course, it was not entirely different from my goal.

My goal was to rapidly develop this world’s literature through the literature of my past life. To guide the way with various literary movements, new paradigms, and endlessly researched plots.

However….

“I was happy that things were progressing quickly, but the results are slightly different from what I initially envisioned.”

“Ah! That happens often.”

“But the result isn’t bad. It can even be considered good. It’s just that my initial concept was such a lofty ideal that I feel a bit uneasy.”

“Hehe, so even authors like you have such worries? I thought you were just a genius writer─, but you have more human sides than I expected?”

What I intended to create was fertile ground for new literature to blossom, not a rice field growing crops merely to fill stomachs.

Ultimately, my goal was to witness completely new and interesting works born from the fusion of ‘the literary trends of my previous life’ with this world’s culture, thought, religion, and values. New classics and new literary trends.

Since this world only had ‘chivalric literature’, I killed chivalric literature with ‘Don Quixote’.

To prevent literature from stagnating, I established copyright laws.

I shattered the conventions of existing literature with ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’, increased literature’s accessibility with ‘The Conan Saga’, and broke taboos with ‘The Sorrows of Young Werther’.

I spread the genre grammar of ‘detective novels’ and ‘romance novels’, and now I even planned to propagate SF and adventure literature.

“So, I am worried. It’s quite disappointing.”

But if the result was merely a repetition of ‘my previous life’.

If, like when I used to look for new releases in Kyobo Bookstore every day after work, the only ‘miracles’ I could marvel at were new novels of similar genres.

After coming all the way to another world, that would be a bit.

Isn’t that disappointing?

The princess’s reaction to my disappointment was simple.

“In that case, why don’t you just leave it to the readers?”

“Excuse me?”

“You might think it’s just a ‘usual’ novel, but readers might feel differently, right? Some might curse Homer as outdated, while others might praise it as Homer’s greatest masterpiece. Isn’t it meaningless to worry about it alone?”

“Um.”

“At least for me, Homer’s novels have always been the most fun and enjoyable. So, I want to see more. Please release new works more often.”

“…….”

Leave it to the readers….

In my case, it would mean leaving it to the writer. And in fact, that simple phrase was indeed the truth.

“You’re right…. Ultimately, it seems I have no choice but to leave it to the readers.”

“Right? So, when is the next work coming out?”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“You’re welcome. It’s my pleasure. So, when is the next work─.”

“Thanks to you, my mind is clear now.”

“Do you perhaps dislike me?”

“I like you.”

“…Pardon?”

“I really enjoyed ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde’.”

In the end, it is the author who writes the work.

No matter how much I, a plagiarist, babble about magic and Earth’s literature, it would only sound arrogant.

Sometimes, even from a genre thought to be dead, great works emerge.

As a reader, all I had to do was.

“Princess, I look forward to your next work.”

“…Ah, yes. I see. You got me there.”

“Excuse me?”

“Geez, you’re telling me not to just sit back and read, right? How unfair…. Alright. Well, I am also an author after all…. I have a work I was preparing to show at the academy.”

“Haha, yes.”

It was to trust the author.

“I believe in you, Lady Es.”

“I look forward to it too, Homer.”