The simplest way to boost reading and publishing rates is by increasing the number of  libraries.

With more libraries, authors can sell their books to them, ensuring at least a smidge of profit and some promotional benefits, while readers can enjoy their favorite books without worrying about costs. In South Korea, libraries often end up being treated as mere study rooms for students, and surprisingly, those visiting for the sake of reading can sometimes feel like they’ve been wronged… but hey, that’s a bit of an odd instance. Fundamentally, libraries are supposed to be places where you buy books from authors and let readers read them for free.

Naturally, this benefits both the writer and the reader.

And.

The biggest hurdle to reviving this  library culture is…

“As you mentioned, we’ve implemented public lending rights and price maintenance agreements for all libraries owned by the Foundation, registered artists, and publishers with whom we’ve partnered.”

“Ugh. When you say it like that, I feel like I’ve turned into some sort of evil overlord…”

“Huh?”

“No, it just feels like I’m part of something sinister…”

So, we’re talking about the book price maintenance system and the public lending rights system.

The book price maintenance system prevents books from being sold at more than a certain discount off the list price, while the public lending rights system makes libraries shoulder the financial losses authors incur from ‘free lending’. And of course, both of these systems faced a ton of criticism in my past life.

The idea behind it was to protect author rights and prevent the quality of books from plummeting due to price wars in a free market…

But really, in a free market, this is ridiculous.

If book prices go up, people will stop reading them, and if libraries become too costly to maintain, no one will operate them—leaving us with just public libraries. It’s a policy completely overlooking the fact that both books and libraries are goods and services in a ‘market economy.’

And.

“So, what’s the financial strain on the Foundation?”

“None at all. Honestly, since The Little Prince, the entire cultural industry has practically been your personal monopoly. There’s even a report stating that the Foundation’s financial returns have surpassed the government revenues of the Empire.”

“…Looks like the East India Company really had it going on.”

“Huh?”

“Aren’t the Empire or any parliamentary bodies calling for regulation? You’d think with this kind of expansion, someone would propose anti-trust laws.”

“Most of the noble members of the Council are followers of yours. Even the Imperial Family… don’t they support you?”

“Ah.”

I was someone dwelling outside the ‘market economy.’

What I monopolized wasn’t the publishing industry; it was the ‘content’ of this world itself.

Goods sold through the Upper Alliance feature characters from works like ‘The Little Prince’ and ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ while theaters put on adaptations of ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.’ Those brilliant engineers, trained under ‘Principia,’ were the ones cooking up new technologies for everyone to enjoy, and the Foundation’s backers were aristocrats and politicians who’d read my literary flips and were either impressed or totally enamored by the ideas I peddled.

Most other well-known authors had either participated in my contests or learned literature at academies I managed.

If we’re comparing past lives, I’m basically a mash-up of Disney and Nintendo.

In effect, I was the ultimate indicator of the world’s corruption. The impact becomes even more pronounced when you factor in influence, not just wealth.

That’s why… I managed to introduce the ‘book price maintenance system’ and ‘public lending rights’—two things I had previously bashed so much back in the day—into this Foundation. Publishers were buying books at inflated prices and authors got royalties for their free lending. All the economic and social expenses? Just piling up on the Foundation.

Only a lunatic who doesn’t care about money would do that.

And that lunatic was me.

After all, that profit was just borrowed from the literature of my past life, so it makes perfect sense to return it to the literature of this world.

“Hmmm… How many High Streets are there in the capital?”

“About 600.”

“And across the Empire?”

“Well, I suspect it’s over 10,000.”

“How much do you think it’d cost to build  libraries in all of them?”

“All of them?”

“Oh, we’ll just buy the ones that are already built and renovate them, assuming they’re all under the Foundation’s name.”

“Hmm…”

Sion twirled his eyes around for a moment, pondering, before he spoke.

“What’s the scale?”

“I don’t know. Around the size of the Central  Library—the biggest in the Empire?”

“Not even if we cashed out on all the Foundation’s rights, bonds, and financial assets. Unless… if we include your personal wealth, then we might have a shot.”

“How about just the size of a typical local library?”

“That could work within the Foundation’s yearly budget.”

“Hmm.”

“Is that your directive then?”

“Nah, um. Just let me mull this over for a minute…”

By the way, the Empire’s Central Library was so enormous and grand it could easily pass as a temple. It supposedly houses every book published in the Empire up until now. Constructing 10,000 of those isn’t exactly a normal notion at the ‘let’s sell the Foundation’ stage.

As it stands now, the Foundation has become so bloated that, even as a ‘charity organization,’ the income it’s bringing in far surpasses its expenses, making it sound like it’s crying for help.

This is even with the Foundation providing education and free meals to every kid in the Empire, vocational training and job placement for adults, and welfare that’s almost desperately generous to all artists.

“Hmm…”

“Master?”

“To start with the public library initiative… no, let’s call it the Foundation library project—let’s kick that off around the capital and stretch it out over a few years.”

“Got it.”

“And, honestly, I’m getting the feeling that the Foundation can’t grow any further. I mean, I’m not planning to splurge extravagantly like other nobles, and if I stop funding it, the cash will just stack up. Setting up a bank here… doesn’t really seem worthwhile. The Foundation would just start buying those bonds too.”

“Is it really an issue if the Foundation grows larger?”

“The Foundation is already handling most of the responsibilities a ‘state’ should take care of. By managing universal welfare, it means the Foundation has to oversee all the talent, infrastructure, and administrative resources associated with welfare. It’s practically an additional government within the Empire. That’s alright for now…”

“Eventually, the Empire might suspect a coup and start wielding swords.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Just the opposite. If the Foundation expands more than it already has, all citizens of the Empire will end up thinking that the Foundation is the real government. Just as the current Emperor is granted rights under a constitutional monarchy, but the Parliament effectively dictates policies in the Empire… Eventually, the Parliament might become merely a legislative body, acting as a puppet for the Foundation, producing policies solely for it. The term ‘Empire’ could end up symbolizing the Foundation rather than the Parliament or the Emperor.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Huh?”

“If the Foundation that’s dedicated to evolving literature becomes the core authority of the Empire, then it’s a step closer to achieving your dream of advancing literature.”

Sion looked puzzled that I, usually fixated on ‘advancing literature,’ would even find myself pondering this.

But I had no choice but to respond sharply.

“Literature should never seize power. Absolutely not.”

In my past life in South Korea, literature was dismissed and ridiculed by industry folks, treated merely as a “tool of the literati.”

Literary power.

It’s an intangible force that all writers deny exists, yet it’s strangely brought up whenever literarily-related policies or issues arise. This has led to the perception of literature as a “dated trend” and a “parasite on other industries,” becoming a political power in its own right.

Even mainstream authors, whom literary power supposedly elevates, end up insisting they are ‘outsiders’ looking in on it. It’s this inexplicable force that continues to rise under the banner of ‘literature,’ even though every writer critiques and overlooks it.

Newspapers, publishing houses, politicians, and theorists—

The most vicious power in literature was concocted through the fusion of “resistance literature” from the past with contemporary “mainstream politics,” birthed from the old political spheres.

That, my friends, is literary power.

The moment literature monopolizes power, the ‘works’ are overshadowed, leaving only the ideology of literature to linger. This power operates not for the sake of ‘literature’ but purely for the preservation of ‘literary power’ itself. Just like all powers exist solely to maintain their dominance.

Influence, not the works themselves, becomes the whole essence of literature.

So, literature shouldn’t hold power. Even if I could sway the world at will, it should remain merely a ‘work’ after I’m gone.

“What should we do then?”

“Well, maybe I could split the ‘universal welfare’ ventures of both The Little Prince Foundation and the Holmes Foundation, donate them to the Empire, and convert them into state-run initiatives… This requires further thought.”

…

That night, I went to sleep thinking about the future direction of my Foundation.

And then.

At dawn the next day.

“Do not be afraid.”

An angel descended upon the Frieden family mansion.

“The transcendent of literature, named Homer, Herodotus, and Sophocles, ascend to the heavens.”

Dawn—the time when the chaotic hubbub of Earth is cloaked in darkness.

With a tranquility so deep that it was unparalleled, even within the womb.

Time stood completely still.