The Little Mermaid
The Little Mermaid
Recently, Count Bradley Somerset had been deep in thought.
It was less a worry than a conflict—should he be pleased, or should he be concerned?
First, the family's financial situation improving significantly was certainly something to be pleased about.
'My lord Count, as of this month, three-tenths of the family's outstanding debt has been fully repaid.'
It was astonishing.
They had been struggling just to pay the monthly interest, yet now not only the interest but even part of the principal was being reduced.
Not only that, but some of the merchants who had come to press for repayment had completely changed their attitude.
In the past, these were people who had not hesitated to raise their voices rudely even to a noble such as himself.
'Haha, my lord Count, you have money and you have people—what great problem could a slight delay in repayment possibly be?'
They now said such things, telling him not to worry about the interest and cutting him slack.
Of course, there was always a follow-up remark that came right after.
'But, my lord Count, by any chance... do you have any spare books?'
Indeed. Every conversation always ended with a question about the picture books.
"Is that book really worth that much?"
His eldest son had gone off to the battlefield to earn merit despite opposition, and there had been no word since. His remaining son had been a worry for being so timid, but at some point he had begun to change.
Originally, the boy had liked drawing and been kind to people, but he had been a fearful, introverted sort.
'Father, how about you step away from the family finances?'
A son suddenly urging him into retirement.
Even more shocking was Viscount Klein, a vassal who agreed with the boy's statement.
'What are you saying? There might be a silver mine in our territory right now. Am I supposed to ignore that?'
'No, where in the world is there a mine that produces silver ingots rather than silver ore?!'
A mining expert had appeared around the time the family's finances began to improve slightly.
The man had presented a silver ingot as proof that there was a silver mine in their territory, and the Count had been mulling over an investment.
It was withdrawn immediately due to the opposition of his son and the viscount responsible for the territory's finances.
Of course, the Count had nothing to say. He had nearly fallen for such an absurd scam because his eyes had spun at the word "mine."
Ever since the elf-made specialty fertilizer incident, he had been unable to keep his composure when it came to anything involving money.
So, as his son had suggested, he had stepped away from financial matters and delegated full authority to Viscount Klein and his son.
"Still, I can't block my son's path."
His admirable son had created a new thing called picture books and revived a family that had been walking the road to ruin.
Not long ago, he had even received a plaque of appreciation from the imperial family, so he was already more than qualified to be the heir.
However, if things continued as they were, it was obvious that even if he succeeded to the countship, difficult times would follow.
"Summon Viscount Klein. I have something to discuss."
As a father, even if he could not help, he had to make sure he did not become an obstacle.
***
"Waaah!!! Prince, die!! No!! Little Mermaid!!"
Ada, who had naturally become my first reader by now.
This time as well, I had shown Ada <The Little Mermaid> in manuscript form before it was made into a book.
Her initial reaction was the same as always—Ada buried her head in the pages as if climbing into the book and read intently.
Around the time she neared the end of the book, tears began to well up in her eyes.
In the end, upon seeing the prince who failed to recognize the Little Mermaid, and the ending where she left that prince and returned to the sea, she burst into tears.
"I hate you, Big Brother! Make the Little Mermaid and the prince get married!!"
Ada pummeled me with her tiny fists.
Since I was getting hit anyway, I turned around and offered my back, savoring the massage with delight.
I could manipulate my readers' emotions.
The reaction pouring out of Ada right now was exactly the reaction I wanted.
Making children terrified by creating something cruel or scary is easy.
But making children fall into the emotion of sadness through story alone?
That is a problem of tremendous difficulty.
There are no beings as pure in emotion as children. Children accept both funny and sad things exactly as their primal emotions dictate.
They react with razor sharpness to emotions manufactured through clumsy adult calculation.
In that sense, unlike the picture books so far, <The Little Mermaid> was a work perfectly suited to presenting the emotion of sadness to children.
'I will now give you sadness too. I will give you a sadness more precious than love.'
A line from a famous Korean poem came to mind.
What is the role of a picture book?
Why give a children's picture book a tragic ending? Because a scene like this was necessary.
Because children must learn sadness properly before they can understand love.
Ada, too, would realize through reading <The Little Mermaid> this time that not everything flows toward happiness, and that one's own choices can bring tragedy.
That is how children grow.
"Big Brother, die!!"
Realizing that the punches from her tiny fists were nothing more than a massage to me, Ada bit the back of my neck.
"Ack!!"
A clearly imprinted set of teeth marks.
Still not appeased, Ada kept trying to bite me, and I barely managed to hold her and calm her down.
Watching Ada huffing and shedding tears, my thoughts shifted a little.
Isn't what makes children grow, after all, a beating delivered with love?
***
"No! Reservations are handled exclusively at the main branch."
"But Branch Manager, this is a request from Baron Sleepy, our branch's biggest customer."
"Still, we cannot! The company head is turning down requests even from ducal houses. This is not something we can handle."
As news spread that the third picture book's publication was imminent, every branch of the Yuren Merchant Company was in an uproar.
Noble houses that had never even had business relations with them showed up demanding books and causing a scene—those were actually easier to deal with.
They could simply be ignored.
But when client houses with existing contracts came asking for books, it was hard to refuse.
Fortunately, each branch had been allocated a set quantity of the standard edition for sale; without that, the offended nobles might well have canceled all their contracts.
The premium hardcover edition could only be reserved at the main branch, and for the custom-made edition, getting a lottery ticket was difficult, let alone making a reservation.
For the hardcover edition, reservations were only accepted from those whose transaction history with the Yuren Merchant Company exceeded a certain amount, and the lottery for the custom-made edition was the same.
"What a madhouse."
Absinthe, the Goldpool Valley branch manager, had been hounded by nobles' demands since morning.
But a smile hung on his lips.
It was thanks to the explosive increase in revenue, as the number of noble houses newly contracting with the Yuren Merchant Company to purchase picture books had grown significantly.
'To think it really turned out exactly as the company head said.'
When they had first contracted for the picture books, Absinthe had not understood why the company head was pouring so much effort into what seemed like such a small business.
Back then, he had inwardly scoffed when the company head said picture books might become a strategic weapon for breaking into the stubborn noble circles.
When it truly unfolded as he had predicted, Absinthe could not help but be amazed.
Absinthe marveled that the legendary merchant's instincts—said to be so cold-blooded he would not bleed a drop even if stabbed—were as sharp as ever.
***
"Aaaah!! A wooden carrying frame!! I need a carrying frame!!"
Seeing Rupert Somerset roaring before his eyes, Esteban felt a headache coming on.
'Here we go again.'
Suppressing a sigh inwardly, Esteban began soothing Rupert once more.
"Please calm down, Master Rupert."
"Even if you and I earn money outside, how can I stay calm when money is leaking at home?!"
He had felt this about Rupert for a while now: the man was remarkably greedy when it came to material things.
Even now, when his father Count Bradley announced he would host a banquet, Rupert had checked the amount spent on it and exploded.
'He doesn't seem like a noble at all.'
And that was a good thing. Compared with other nobles who put on airs over honor and dignity, Rupert was far easier to talk to, and their thinking clicked remarkably well.
But the way he worried about the cost of a banquet that was only natural for a noble, or his lukewarm reaction to expensive clothes and goods while showing fervent enthusiasm for new potions from the Alchemy Guild—these were hard for Esteban to understand.
'He's not some mine slave.'
Rupert reminded him of a mine laborer, doing work so grueling that no one wanted it and only prisoners or slaves were left to toil there.
Those workers craved Vitality Potions even more than food or other luxuries.
"Master Rupert, do you know why noble houses hold banquets?"
"Of course I understand. It's because of the state of society—if you don't host banquets, you're not recognized as a noble."
Rupert answered carelessly, as if he had no interest at all.
For some reason, seeing that face answer curtly made Esteban want to smack him once, but he quickly erased the thought and continued the conversation.
"Nobles are not beings who stand alone. No matter how powerful a noble may be, without people supporting them from below and guiding them at their side, they are no different from commoners."
Esteban spoke with unusual force, and only then did Rupert focus on the conversation. Esteban continued.
"The Somerset Count's House currently has far too little influence for a count's house. The surrounding nobles can disregard its authority and encroach on its territory with barely any response."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Master Rupert, do you happen to know how much annual revenue the territory brings in?"
"Well, roughly... I understand it's 50 to 60 gold per month."
Esteban slapped his knee with his palm and lamented at Rupert's answer.
"Does that even make sense? A count's house with a territory of this size bringing in that much revenue? It should be at least double that!"
"So it's a vicious cycle—because we have no influence, we can't push back when our interests are plundered, which reduces our influence even further."
Esteban nodded at Rupert's answer.
"Exactly. The surrounding nobles do not recognize a house that doesn't hold banquets and shuns socializing as a noble house."
Esteban's words precisely pinpointed the current situation.
After the Somerset Count's House had faltered economically, many vassals had left, and with no money to socialize, the family had drifted far from noble circles.
In this situation, even when surrounding nobles laid claim to interests in the Somerset territory, there were no fellow nobles to take their side, and so the decline was accelerating.
"That is why Count Bradley is going out of his way to host this banquet—to prepare for the time when you inherit the title."
Nobles do not hold banquets merely to waste money and indulge in luxury.
A banquet is an occasion to declare that one's house is still standing strong and sound.
As he watched Rupert nod in understanding and admiration at his words,
Esteban felt proud that his counsel had landed.
Because Rupert's position becoming solid was a great benefit to Esteban himself, as the one contracted with him.
"I understand. So that was the background. But Esteban... is there any way to cut the banquet costs a little?"
Esteban, who was himself called cold-blooded, was almost appalled by Rupert's even more miserly suggestion.