Surviving as a Plagiarist in Another World
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Chapter 12 Table of contents

Genre fiction is considered low culture.

Especially when it’s serialized in cheap magazines like ‘Half and Half.’ It’s all about a brief escape, a decent bit of fun, and just enough dopamine. Pulp fiction is the kind of entertainment for those who are short on time and leisure, much like the shorts that once flooded YouTube in a past life.

As a result, the content is often straightforward, simple, and easy to digest.

“Sion.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“From now on, we’re holding a fan letter reading session.”

“…Huh?”

Naturally, these “easy-looking” novels attract their fair share of critics.

The outcome? A magic bag stuffed full of fan letters.

“Read these, and sort the ones that offer rational criticism or coherence and research advice from those that are just mindless complaints.”

“…Got it.”

Sion looked a bit puzzled but didn’t bother asking why. He started reading the letters one by one.

From the frowns occasionally creeping across his face, it seemed there were quite a few letters of baseless criticism.

“Um, my lord.”

“What?”

“Here… there’s a letter saying, ‘Isn’t this just a plagiarism of Don Quixote?’ Where do I put this?”

“Do you think it’s plagiarism?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Then it goes in the baseless complaints pile.”

“Got it.”

Criticism comes in various flavors.

Plagiarism accusations were still somewhat polite. Some letters veered dangerously close to personal attacks.

By gathering all those letters, he could filter through a surprisingly large stack.

“My lord, are you thinking of suing the readers who wrote these complaint letters?”

“No. I have something much more entertaining in mind.”

“Something entertaining?”

“Yup.”

In the Conan the Barbarian series, many villains emerge.

Greedy and cowardly nobles, thieves who snatch keys, violent pirates, troublemaking civilized folks who can’t stop picking fights… All these minor characters are destined to get knocked around by the hero. They needed names, and it turned out they had hit the jackpot.

“Being cast as a cheap villain in the novels they slammed as cheap? That’d be the ultimate humiliation for them, right?”

“…That’s definitely the case. It’d be infuriating.”

“And fun, right?”

“Yes.”

“Hehe…”

Perfect.

Figuring out names for minor characters was a headache, but now they had the ideal scapegoats.

You, the trolls.

You’ll become fodder for the very novel you snickered at!

* * *

“Lately, it seems like there are more magazines with interesting stories,” he mused.

“Ah, true. Most of them seem to be following the Conan the Barbarian formula, but surprisingly, there are a lot of innovative stories too. For instance, ahem, stories like ‘Barbaroi on the Cliff’s Edge’ are quite enjoyable.”

“Did such a story exist? But look at this! The villain in this story has the same name as you. I was shocked when I first saw it.”

“What.”

The Conan the Barbarian series kept riding a steady wave of popularity.

Using the names of some critics for minor villains had been hugely successful. Some critics panicked and vanished, while others felt a strange mix of emotions seeing their names in the stories and grudgingly kept reading.

“Don’t you think there’s been more dust on the streets lately? Every time I walk, white dust seems to be flying around.”

“This isn’t dust… it’s pulp. It’s all paper scraps.”

“What?”

The ‘Half and Half’ magazine was so easy to tear that its torn and ragged pieces piled up like snow on the streets.

What a disaster caused simply by people continuously reading a magazine that was supposed to be a one-time read, then tossed or used as toilet paper.

“Haha! I am Conan the Barbarian! By the gods, begone!”

“Aah, I want to be Conan too!”

“I want to play Conan too!”

“There are too many Conans! Puhaha!”

Also, the Conan saga became extremely popular among kids.

‘Half and Half’ was a magazine even kids could buy easily with their pocket money, and its ‘heroic fantasy’ genre was perfect for igniting a spark of adventure in young boys’ hearts.

Children, clutching sticks, dashed around pretending to be barbarians.

“Aah! It’s a metal monster!”

“Run away!”

“No! Barbarians don’t flee!”

And thus, the kids pretending to be barbarians ran into an odd figure.

An old man riding a donkey, wearing a helmet made of paper and tin, dressed like a medieval wandering knight.

An odd tension filled the air between the kids with their sticks and the old man on the donkey.

A bizarre meeting between primitive barbarians and a medieval knight!

The first to speak was the old man in knightly garb.

“Kids─.”

“Now! Attack all at once!”

Just as the old man opened his mouth, the brave little barbarians swung their sticks. An ambush? Sure, but none of their hits landed on the old man.

As he casually waved a hand, the kids dropped their sticks and took a step back.

Staring blankly at their empty hands, they couldn’t figure out why they’d let go.

The old man’s quirky yet kind voice broke the silence.

“Where is the Dorling Kindersley publishing house?”

Once upon a time, he was a noble known for being iron-fisted.

The mad duke left his lands to his son and set off on a knightly quest.

Duke Andy Carpenter.

Now he was off on a quest to find the publisher of Don Quixote after going a bit mad from reading too much of it.

Upon hearing the old man’s question, the kids responded with sheer panic.

“Aaaah─!!!”

“Run!!! The iron monster is chasing us!!!”

Without a second thought, they took off running as if they were being chased by their worst nightmare.

It seemed Duke Carpenter would be searching for Dorling Kindersley Publishing for quite a while.

* * *

The prince came to visit without tiring.

“It’s been a while, Your Highness.”

“Oh? Didn’t we meet at the awards ceremony?”

“Ah, I really enjoyed ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde.’ I regret we couldn’t discuss it more at the ceremony.”

“Haha, is that so? I’m very glad to hear that from someone like you, author Homer.”

Now, he was somewhat used to conversing with the prince.

In the past, he would have broken out in a cold sweat, trembling while his tongue twisted. Now, it was just the parched mouth.

That was quite the progress!

“But what brings you here today?”

“Isn’t our relationship such that I can’t come visit without a reason? That sounds a bit hurtful, you know.”

“Ha ha…”

The prince squinted as if a bit offended.

What exactly was their relationship again?

A patron and a beneficiary? Without a specific reason, it seemed there was indeed little cause to meet.

“If you felt hurt, I apologize.”

“Haha, I’m just kidding. I truly came here for a reason.”

“Oh, and what reason might that be?”

“It’s kind of hurtful the way you wrap up the conversation so quickly as if you’re just glad it’s over.”

“Ha ha…”

Wait, he didn’t seem accustomed to this at all. Cold sweat began to trickle down his back. His clothes were getting damp.

“Well, we can mention the purpose and then chat slowly afterward.”

“Yes.”

The prince, who had been speaking bluntly while twirling his hair, suddenly grew serious.

“The potion I received at the second creation contest awards… I want more of it.”

“The potion… you mean?”

“Yes. I really need it.”

The prince slowly and gently began to explain why he needed that potion.

Listening to his tale, I felt slightly dazed, a shiver creeping up my spine.

The absurd story that the prince, with a woman’s soul, had turned into a woman by drinking that potion had sprung forth from his lips!

“So, I want more of that potion. And I’d like to know who made it.”

“…Sure.”

But, I had to accept it soon enough.

The mere existence of a potion that manifests a soul into a physical form was preposterously fantastical.

It wouldn’t be all that weird for a potion to be able to switch one’s gender.

“There’s enough of the potion left, so I can give you a few.”

“Phew… Thank you, author.”

“And I’ll talk to the creator separately. I won’t mention anything about Your Highness.”

The Third Prince being a woman was a secret for a reason.

It was a secret that should never see the light of day.

“Please do that, author.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

* * *

“Ah, so you’re saying that a man with a female soul became a woman after drinking the potion?”

“Yes, that indeed happened.”

“Now that’s an interesting case!”

I hurried to the alchemist and explained the situation right away, making sure to keep the subject’s identity secret.

The alchemist listened intently, clapping his hands.

“Simple! If you drink the potion that locks in the physical form while under the original potion’s effect, that will work!”

“Is such a potion available?”

“Usually used in alchemy experiments to avoid accidents… The important thing is that it’s possible! I’ll mix an amazing one for you!”

“Ah, okay.”

“What flavor would you like the potion to be? Personally, I recommend strawberry!”

“Anything works for me.”

“Then how about spinach flavor─”

“Strawberry sounds better.”

“Excellent choice!”

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