The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

‘In the last manuscript, according to his warfare, he is a man that considers life insignificant and doesn’t hesitate to act cruelly.’

However, it was a behavior that stemmed from a twisted notion, and there had never been a single description of pleasure from the murder itself.

‘Additionally, Aslan was constantly sending assassins that weren’t a threat to make Arthur suffer the pain of killing someone weaker than him.’

It was a kind of harassment that was impossible without understanding from the heart that murder was a painful thing.

‘It’s unlikely that Aslan kills for some personal pleasure.’

Aslan was a character described as consistently determined. Unless it was in combat, it was considered to be blasphemy to stain your blade with the blood of an innocent, and he wouldn’t accept the battle if the opponent’s status wasn’t appropriate. There was an explicit scene in the last manuscript where he dismissed other knights’ polite challenges for that reason.

‘In his own way, he was a villain with convictions. Pursuing only the noble lineage and power, believing in the rule that those with both are right.’

What the hell was this new rumor then? As more things arose, he felt a migraine building up. Kleio needed Tylenol more desperately than ever.

‘Sheesh.’

.

.

.

Kleio went back to his dorm, enduring the headache. As the carriage shook him, his head continued to throb. He felt disturbed that, as a 21st-century man, he had no knowledge of chemistry or pharmacy.

‘Just knowing how to make Tylenol would make me not only a lot of money, but it would also help with this headache. Ah.’

He struggled up the stairs to his door, but when he opened it, an unexpected person was waiting for the exhausted Kleio. They weren’t sitting but frantically pacing back and forth in the dormitory parlor.

“Why’re you here? Tomorrow, the sun will rise in the west.”

“Where were you running around?! Don’t you have paid sick leave?”

“I left for a place worth going to, but now my head hurts.”

“…Is it real?”

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“If you’re not going to die, take a seat.”

After the field trip, Fran had been away from school for a while. Following that, the Door of Mnemosyne and Zebedee’s classes had been closed. In such a situation, he was exempted from his free research time assignment to see after Fran. Fran’s attitude, which had been scattered, changed 180 degrees, and his expression was ghostly white.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Murders are taking place in Lundane. I have to solve it somehow.”

“What?!”

Kleio was so surprised that his long, drooping eyes opened wide. It wouldn’t have been as surprising had he asked for help managing the People’s Flag or some other organization.

‘But murder?!’

He had just heard that the second prince might be a killer, so what kind of misery was this? In the last manuscript, the main characters hadn’t been involved in such a heinous crime!

“If it’s a murder case, why not go to the police first?”

Fran struck the living room table, scattering the paper that had been piled upon it.

“When a few boys and a girl selling flowers disappeared from the Opera Theater, the police didn’t care! If they listened to me, would I have come to you? All the victims are commoners. The dumb police department guys!”

The blood was rushing to Fran’s head. He wasn’t acting like this for no reason.

“But you have a reason to think this is murder, right?”

“At the start of autumn, Mr. Bartleby of the Printers guild came. His niece, who sells flowers at the theater, hadn’t been home for a week. She was taking care of her two younger siblings.”

After all that, Fran still seemed to be helping the union; he was devoted to his ideals.

‘Scientist or not, his attitude is the same. His essence hasn’t changed.’

“The police? I went to them, and do you know what they said? ‘A girl her age might’ve eloped with her lover.’ They said nonsense like that.”

“…Did you use your skill?”

“You seem to think that it’s all-rounded, but it encourages people who are already sympathetic at least a little from the start; it can’t pierce closed minds. Should the cops pay attention to such affairs? Those sons of bitches…”

“You’ve had a lot of trouble.”

“Is my hard work a problem?! Eventually, Miss Bartleby’s body ended up in the morgue. The damage was so severe that it was impossible to verify the cause, though she had burn marks on her wrists.”

“Then…!”

“And there was a peculiar etheric reaction on the nape of her neck. There are no wizards in the morgue, so the police department couldn’t even sense it!”

Kleio listened carefully to Fran.

“I found that there were quite a few people who suddenly disappeared like that a few months ago.”

The words spilled out of Fran quickly. Even after finding Miss Bartleby, he visited the two morgues in Lundane every day. He had seen four more unidentified corpses, each with that same etheric reaction.

“Some corpses had their throats cut; some had swollen and burst by the time they were found in the water. But, it’s the same criminal’s actions. I can still recognize that strange ether that lingers.”

Kleio’s weak stomach was already queasy from his descriptions. He had suddenly been dragged into ‘CSI: Albion Edition’ without a chance at refusal. Yet, amid his confusion, he didn’t forget to check the basic facts.

“By the way, Fran, how did you investigate without the skill [Ether Detection] that can only be used by wizards of level 3 or higher? Opening a circle to track the etheric reaction would also require three magic slots.”

“That’s a valid question. My etheric sensitivity is still 2nd level, but that problem is solved with this.”

Fran tapped the metal-rimmed glasses he wore.

“This is an object with a mana stone crystal for the lens and a [Sense] magic engraved on the copper frame. I barely acquired them with the money I had.”

Surprised, Kleio activated Understanding to look closely at his glasses.

[Glasses of Judgment

—Rating: Best

—Detects ether and determines its properties and properties]

‘What, it’s right under an artifact in quality!’

“There was such a way…”

“It’s not a big deal if you know the principle. I couldn’t implement it, so I designed the blueprint and placed an order with a processing wizard.”

His disbelief vanished at Fran’s explanation.

‘It was that easy? To think his talent has been corrupted…’

“Anyway, the police don’t even conduct proper autopsies for poor commons of unknown identity. It seems that it hasn’t been identified, but there is something in common between the corpses with that reaction. Each had bled out.”

Kleio glanced over at the novel Dione had purchased him left unopened next to the sofa.

‘The vampire novel was a bestseller, and now it’s an imitation crime?’

“I tried to move public opinion, but the newspaper won’t publish a story like this. They talk about third-class topics or strange corpses. The police won’t move unless someone more important dies. But you’re the capital hero. Lend me that name.”

At first glance, it was beyond Kleio’s ability. Kleio, who was thinking of getting out of it somehow, remembered what happened during the field trip and closed his mouth. On the night of Fran’s death, Kleio himself offered to help after hearing all the boy had gone through. Trust could only be maintained when a person backed their sayings.

‘Fran is a talent coveted by Melchior, so he can’t get away from this.’

If media and publishing were properly developed, propaganda would become a great weapon. Moreover, the murder case itself was a problem. Everything that occurred in this world had a cause. A serial murderer was on the loose, one that hadn’t appeared in the last manuscript. If it were related to magic as well, he couldn’t sit still.

‘If the time limit for Editor’s Authority were a little longer, I could read the final manuscript carefully, but I don’t have the time.’

Kleio rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger to relieve the stiffness in his eyes.

“It’s not difficult to lend my name. Sell whatever you want, but that alone can’t solve this. The police won’t be particularly cooperative with me either.”

“Why?”

“It’s unlike that the reputation of the former commoner who just received the title of a knight will have much power over the police department.”

“…Even though we’ve reached the age of an adult, we still have to be evaluated by the names of our parents.”

“We’re still students. We won’t be treated as adults until we’re twenty, anyway. Besides, there are some advantages to being a student.”

“What the hell are they?”

“We can borrow our classmate’s power. Luckily, we have a lot of outstanding students this year.”

‘Lucky or not, we’re here. Let’s deal with it somehow.’

“I don’t know. The school has the Student Security Autonomy. According to the school regulations, there is a provision that ‘in case of emergency when the Door of Mnemosyne is open, security maintenance activities are possible throughout the capital.”

Even after destroying the Queen’s Garden, the door remained active. Now, the external barrier of the school was being maintained by wizards belonging to the Defense Forces. That meant such a rule could be applied.

“How about gathering friends who can afford to participate in the investigation to gather evidence? With solid evidence, the authorities couldn’t turn you away anymore. Even if a problem arose in the process, it would be the police’s problem if it wasn’t properly dealt with.”

A rare look of surprise came over Fran’s face. He was clever, but he couldn’t follow Kleio when it came to experience.

“Which students belong to the police department?”

“In our year, Isiel Kision and Celeste Tanpet de Neju.”

Kleio gently shook the bait in front of Fran. If he put the trusty Isiel and Cel together, with their strong sense of justice, they wouldn’t lose to anyone.

‘With those two, Arthur will follow automatically. I can’t do it myself, but… Arthur’s ability will see this through.’

.

.

.

Cel didn’t even think twice. First of all, being able to go out at night legally was a strong incentive.

“Good! If I don’t, I feel like mold would start growing on my back from being stuck inside!”

Her wounds had just started to finish healing.

“If that’s the case, I will also help. If we could get the evidence and hang it over to the police, wouldn’t a formal investigation start?”

Isiel, who had suffered through writing reports for the Defense Force, also seemed ready and willing to help like she wasn’t tired in the slightest.

“Me too! Are you going to take me along?”

Arthur was clinging to them, but Fran pushed him away coldly. Kleio, standing back, let out a sigh.

‘Well, for a republican, a prince is a foe to be defeated. I don’t think that Fran’s temperament would fit well with him.’

What to do? You couldn’t force a horse to drink, though you could drag it to water.

‘But if he bumps into him, would his prejudice not disappear?’

Was that expectation in vain? Fran raised his glasses and looked over Arthur.

“Riognan, you don’t even belong to the police department.”

“Then, as a friend of the officers.”

“If you’re looking for fun and excitement, we don’t need it!”

Arthur didn’t get involved with Fran’s anger. Instead, he lowered his head with a serious face that erased his smile before looking politely at Fran. Fran opened his mouth angrily but then promptly shut it as he noticed Arthur’s transformation.

“What kind of fun is it for people to die? The dead will never come back. Still, the police officers won’t move their heavy asses. How could I stay? I can’t pretend I didn’t see this.”

Fran’s eyes turned over in his glasses.