“This is a magic pen. Of course, both the professor and the headmaster confirmed its safety.”

As Rupert sat in his studio, examining the pen, he recalled Amelia’s words.

When she explained that the pen could automatically draw whatever the user imagined, Rupert had been astonished. The surface of the pen was engraved with intricate magical symbols.

“But it’s a failure,” Amelia had said.

Rupert hadn’t understood at first how a pen that could draw what you envisioned could be considered a failure. But after hearing her explanation, he had to agree.

—In order to ensure safety, the pen won’t activate unless the user’s mental strength is at a certain level.

In actual usage tests, none of the students had been able to use it, and even the professors from the magic department could only use it for a short time. The only person who could handle it properly was Eustaf.

“Eustaf as the standard? That’s too high,” Rupert had thought, wondering how mental strength was even measured. Mana or physical ability could be quantified, but something as abstract as mental strength?

Despite his doubts, Rupert decided to try using the pen following Amelia’s instructions.

He gripped both ends of the pen and twisted them in opposite directions to activate it.

Pop!

As Rupert twisted the pen, the magic symbols on its surface began to glow.

“What? Is it working?”

It seemed to be functioning, so Rupert grabbed a sheet of paper and, as Amelia had told him, began to think about what he wanted to draw. He closed his eyes and envisioned Ada dressed as Snow White, happily proclaiming herself the princess. The memory was vivid in Rupert’s mind, making it easy to picture.

Scritch.

“Oh!”

As Rupert focused on the image of Ada, he felt his hand moving on its own. Or rather, the pen was moving by itself, and his hand was just following. Opening his eyes, Rupert saw the pen drawing Ada exactly as he had imagined, right on the paper.

“This is incredible…”

The speed at which the pen was drawing was astonishing. It moved across the paper like a printer, far faster than Rupert could ever manage by hand, and it wasn’t sloppy. The pen was capturing every detail of the image in Rupert’s mind.

In about a minute, the drawing of Ada as Snow White was complete.

‘If I could apply this to manga, or even animation, it would be revolutionary.’

Rupert’s mind began racing with possibilities. With this pen, he could solve many of the time constraints that had once seemed impossible to overcome.

‘I should try drawing a manga scene.’

His current project, Van Helsing, had many action scenes, so the pen could be especially useful.

Scritch.

Rupert opened his storyboard and mentally divided the panels, envisioning the completed art for each one. Once again, the pen began moving automatically, drawing out what Rupert imagined.

After about a minute, the drawing was complete. However...

“There are several parts missing.”

Unlike the first drawing, the manga panel didn’t come out exactly as Rupert had envisioned. Some areas were incomplete. He assumed it was due to a lack of concentration or perhaps a limit on how much the pen could remember and draw at once.

Deciding to try a different approach, Rupert worked one panel at a time instead of imagining an entire page. This time, the pen perfectly captured what he envisioned.

“This is a miracle!”

Rupert was overjoyed. He hadn’t expected such an amazing tool, and he eagerly continued using the magic pen to work on his manga. By the time he’d completed enough for the equivalent of one chapter of Manafia (four issues), he suddenly felt dizzy.

“Ugh…”

It was as if he hadn’t slept in days. A splitting headache hit him, and his body felt drained of energy.

—This pen is affected by mental strength.

Rupert clutched his temples, recalling Amelia’s warning. Of course, a tool this powerful had to come with a risk. He realized he had gotten carried away and overworked himself.

Barely managing to stay conscious, Rupert stumbled to a small bed he had set up in the studio and collapsed onto it. If he had pushed himself any further, he might have passed out, just like last time.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, Rupert fell asleep.

“Why won’t this work?!”

The next day, after regaining his strength, Rupert called all the artists to the studio. Though he couldn’t summon Iolin from the Imperial Palace, he gave the pen to the remaining artists to see if they could use it.

‘I’m not in a rush, but if other artists can use this pen, it would be a huge help.’

Rupert hoped the pen would assist his fellow artists, who were struggling with the unfamiliarity of biweekly publishing schedules. He handed the pen to each artist one by one, checking if they could activate it.

But Sena and Ismael couldn’t even get the pen to activate.

The only one who managed to use it was Dumas, but…

“Ow… my head hurts.”

“Already?”

“Actually, I started feeling a bit foggy as soon as the pen began moving, and it just got worse.”

After drawing about a page, Dumas complained of a headache, so Rupert had him stop immediately.

‘Are Sena and Ismael too young to have strong mental strength?’

Rupert remembered Amelia’s mention of the students at the Academy being unable to use the pen. Only Eustaf had been able to.

‘So why am I able to use it so easily?’

Even factoring in his pre-reincarnation age, Rupert was younger than Dumas. Considering how much more he had used the pen compared to Dumas, Rupert realized that age wasn’t the issue.

‘There’s no clear way to measure mental strength.’

It wasn’t something that could easily be quantified. But Rupert had a theory about Dumas. Based on the stories Dumas had shared while working together, his past was full of hardship and tragedy.

Perhaps that was why Dumas had the mental fortitude to use the pen.

‘That must be it.’

Rupert began to understand why he himself had been able to use the pen.

“Dumas, take it easy for today.”

Rupert advised Dumas to rest, while Sena and Ismael, still disappointed they couldn’t use the pen, were also dismissed for a break. With the magic pen’s limits clearer, Rupert began thinking of how to incorporate it into his plans.

“Iolin, is everything well with you lately?”

“Thanks to Your Majesty’s grace, all is peaceful.”

The Emperor frowned slightly at Iolin’s response.

By Imperial custom, even the Emperor’s children were not supposed to address him as “Father.” Yet, Leonious had given his only daughter special permission to do so. However, Iolin still insisted on calling him “Your Majesty.”

“Is there nothing you need?”

“No. In fact, I have so much already that I find it overwhelming.”

The Emperor had expected this answer. Iolin had always been different, even as a child. One day she would be engrossed in music, the next in swordsmanship, and then shut herself away for days, consumed by academic studies.

But none of these passions lasted long, and as she grew older, she seemed to lose interest in everything, walking around with a perpetually bored expression. The last time he had seen her genuinely excited was when she proposed the idea of distributing manga throughout the Empire.

‘Father! This is the perfect way to educate our citizens!’

She had enthusiastically called him “Father” while presenting her plan to reduce illiteracy in the Empire through comic books. Her excitement had been contagious, and the Emperor had approved the project without even looking at the details.

It had been a precious request from his daughter, after all.

“Hm… I’ve recently taken to reading manga during my leisure time.”

“Really? Is that true?”

“Of course. I’ve been reading Manafia, the magazine that Professor Rupert publishes.”

Iolin’s eyes widened in surprise, eagerly awaiting his next words.

“My favorite is The Puppet Theater.”

“Really? I love that story too, Father!”

“Ha ha! What a coincidence.”

It was no coincidence.

—Your Majesty, if you casually praise her work while talking to her, I’m sure it will go over well.

It was a suggestion made in secret by Aiton, Iolin’s chamberlain, and it had worked perfectly.

“I never expected His Majesty to be reading manga! But wasn’t Van Helsing more entertaining?”

Hearing the conversation between father and daughter, Crown Prince Alex chimed in. But as soon as he did, the Emperor shot him a sharp look.

“Are you one of those ‘manga illiterates’ they talk about in the markets?”

“No… I didn’t mean it like that, and manga illiterate? Seriously?”

“That’s a popular term these days. Are you so out of touch with the common folk that you don’t even know that, despite being the Crown Prince?”

Alex was left bewildered, unaccustomed to being scolded by his father. Since when did the Emperor know so much about manga and popular trends?

“The Puppet Theater and Van Helsing are both good, but in terms of literary merit, I think Man of the 2nd Century is the best…”

The Third Prince, Edric, who had been quietly eating, also joined the conversation.

‘This is ridiculous.’

The Second Prince, William, looked on in disbelief as the rest of his family engaged in a spirited discussion about manga. He exchanged a silent nod with the current Empress, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation.

For the two of them, this meal had transformed from the previously cold, silent affair to something just as challenging in a completely different way.