Christmas. A holiday celebrating the birth of the Savior.

Children are buzzing with excitement for gifts while adults are soaking up the joy of a feast—thus, it’s a grand holiday of the Church that comforts people with the joy of the Savior.

I decided to send copies of “Andersen’s Fairy Tales” to my friends on this holiday because of my memories of “Christmas.”

After all, Christmas was a day for kids.

I figured it was a pretty fitting day for gifting fairy tales.

“…What? The teachers at the foundation are  teaching the kids how to read and write?”

“Yep! Hehe, it’s the foundation you created for children’s  education, right? The teachers are all working happily too!”

That was before I heard the news from Mr. Kindersley.

When I learned that, I was a bit taken aback.

I knew the foundation’s work inside and out since I was the one who set it up. The foundation’s purpose was to support families and nurseries to keep kids out of labor and provide them with education.

But—

“But it’s Christmas today, isn’t it?”

“Hehe, it’s fine because the teachers are happy to work! They say there’s no day off when it comes to helping people!”

“……”

Teaching kids until Christmas? Is that really okay?

Sure, it’s better than outright working. The foundation has a policy to provide families with subsidies if they send their kids to school to prevent child labor.

Maybe it’s just that I’ve lived in 21st-century Korea, where universal education is a thing and everyone is super into studying, but the chance to “learn how to learn” might actually be fun for kids.

But, hmm.

I’m not so sure. The “Christmas” in this world and the “Christmas” from my previous life share a lot of cultural similarities, but they can’t be exactly the same, right?

“…What are your plans for today, boss?”

“Hmm, well, first I need to go over the upcoming publishing plans and business strategy with the staff at the publishing house. Then I have to manage the rights the author entrusted to me… Oh! If you’re asking about my personal schedule, I’ll probably enjoy a family dinner in the evening and then attend a Christmas Mass at church.”

Mr. Kindersley casually counted off his tasks on his fingers as if it were no big deal.

To begin with, these days, a lot of people are pretty indifferent toward church and faith.

Not everyone spends Christmas enjoying time with family as a festive holiday.

In the council, nobles are probably bickering loudly, Illustrator Lucia is tackling several commissions, King Natae is still grinding away at work, and everyone else is probably just doing their bit.

On Christmas.

There weren’t any carols echoing through the streets. Well, maybe you’d hear them near churches or nurseries, but it wasn’t exactly a merry atmosphere. The “Christmas spirit” I remembered from my past life just wasn’t part of this world’s Christmas celebrations.

It was quite an odd phenomenon.

When I was younger—basically, shortly after being born in this world—I remember being perplexed about how the “Christmas culture” here was almost identical to that of my previous life. When I asked Mr. Kindersley about this, he paused for a moment before responding.

“Ah! Back in the day, it definitely seemed to have a bit more of a lively vibe… Hmm, but since taking over the publishing house, I’ve been too busy to really keep up with it.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! They say being busy is a virtue these days, right?”

Busy is a virtue.

Indeed, in this constantly changing, turbulent world, it felt spot-on. The faster society evolves, the more it adjusts to keep up, leading to the notion that “working hard is virtuous”—like Korea post-Miracle on the Han River.

I understand how rapidly the changes are happening in this world.

Now, airplanes from the gray towers are flying in the sky. The white towers are setting up telegraphs to link bases. People walk around all day clutching newspapers or magazines, and the diplomatic lines between the Kingdom of Haren and the Empire have been restored. So many changes are taking place.

So yes, the saying “busyness is a virtue” is definitely true.

Society was moving so fast that you’d struggle to keep up if you weren’t busy.

“…Still, it’d be nice to have Christmas off.”

“Hehe, are you worried about me? Thanks! You really lift my spirits!”

Mr. Kindersley smiled. It’s now hitting me how much both he and I have aged.

When I first visited Kindersley, I was just a baby-faced rookie.

Now he’s a seasoned businessman.

“But that’s alright! It’s my calling to spread your novel to the world! I’ll work so hard my bones might shatter!”

“No, I insist you take a break…”

“Really, I’m fine!”

Mr. Kindersley isn’t one to throw around empty words.

He’s always said stuff like “I’ll work until I break my bones,” and he has been putting in hard work day and night, sporting dark circles under his eyes like some high-ranking wizard.

And the root cause? That would be “me.” His job revolves around spreading my plagiarized earlier works into this world.

When I think about how many novels I’ve copied in such a short time…

Yeah, it’s definitely more than one person can handle. I bet everyone at Kindersley is working just as hard, burning the midnight oil like Mr. Kindersley.

“And that’s how one ends up overworked to death.”

“Oh come on, can working hard actually kill someone? I enjoy what I do!”

“…….”

That sounds strangely familiar.

It’s basically something I used to tell myself all day in my past life.

– “Hey, didn’t you pull an all-nighter at the publishing house again?!”

– “Huh? What? Oh wow, is it already morning…”

– “Your eyes are so bloodshot right now…. I’m worried you’re going to drop dead!”

– “What do you mean drop dead?”

– “I’m not joking!”

– “It’s fine, I won’t die. It’s what I love!”

– “You might die?! Do you know how many people have died from overwork these days…?”

– “Come on, please. You’re just repeating internet rumors! I don’t believe anything without proof.”

– “Ugh…. You sound like a real madman.”

– “Seriously, you have no filter around your senior!”

Looking back now, my junior was right.

People can actually die from overworking themselves. It’s kind of amusing to realize this only after dying, but hey, living this second life gives me the chance to reflect on it.

“…If you work too hard, you might literally die.”

“What?”

“Now that I think about it, it seems literature could really use a Christmas after all.”

Mr. Kindersley can’t be the only one who feels this way. Most people living in this era, like him, see hard work as a virtue.

Sure, the Puritanical work ethic has played a role in advancing society, but…

Even God worked for a week creating this world and then took one day off, which is why we call it the Sabbath.

“Rest is basically the spark for culture. Countless stories, movies, music, carols, artworks—all created around Christmas…”

“Yes, author? I’m not quite sure what you’re saying…”

While I’m somewhat concerned that implanting “Christmas from a past life” into this world might come off as cultural imperialism…

If all these arguments about needing rest for people don’t suffice as a reason for cultural invasion…

Well then, as usual.

I’ll just say it like this.

“Mr. Kindersley.”

“Yes?”

“A novel set during Christmas… don’t you think we need one?”

“Uh, if you write a new novel, I’d be more than happy…”

“Okay, then, I’ll whip up a real ‘masterpiece’ so you can go all out starting tomorrow, but for today, just relax for Christmas.”

“What?”

“Tell all the employees to go home and rest. Christmas should be spent with family.”

If it were a Charles Dickens novel, it would surely earn the title “masterpiece.”

And.

The story I’m poised to unleash upon the world was the one that made Charles Dickens famous as “the creator of Christmas” in England.

.

.

.

[Scrooge! The old sinner who always bullies others, preys on the good, and is cunning, malicious, greedy, and downright vile! The coldness lodged in his soul made him as hard as a brick.]

.

.

.

“Ah, young master. Are you working on a new novel?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The Count has prepared a Christmas dinner. He insists you must join us for dinner.”

“Oh, I just need to wrap this up—”

“Young master.”

“Yeah, Zion.”

“I know it’s presumptuous of me, but I hope you can take it a bit easier this Christmas.”

“…Uh.”