The Old Man and the Sea (3)

I didn't have a particularly deep conversation with Poren about it. I already knew the book would be polarizing. He seemed to like it, but as the one selling it, he was probably out there every day gauging the market.

"I'll go ahead and proceed with publication."

"Yes, please do."

And so, roughly a week later, The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Old Man and the Sea went on sale.

As Poren had predicted, opinions were split right down the middle. But before I could examine the reactions in detail, I first had to receive Katiranya's evaluation. Because she had once again slipped into my room and was reading the manuscript.

Honestly, the less noticeable she became with each visit. I was curious how she managed to appear without making a single sound, but I decided to wait patiently. Since it was a short story this time, it didn't take her long to finish.

Katiranya lifted her head, looked straight at me, and summed it up in a single sentence.

"Uh… is that all?"

"Indeed. I kept it brief this time. I have other matters to attend to."

With that, she simply turned and left. Did she not like it? But the faint smile on her lips made that hard to believe.

Come to think of it, she'd been going out a lot lately. I wondered where she was going and what she was doing.

"I have no idea. Whatever. Time to rest."

Before that, though, I sent a letter to the Holy Kingdom. It was one of the occasional letters I sent, this time simply asking for her thoughts on the book. Now I could truly relax.

I lay down on the bed, picked up a book, and spent the time reading comfortably.

A week after The Old Man and the Sea was published, bookstores were packed just like they had been for The Little Prince. The name Prometheus alone was reason enough for people to buy it.

"Agh! Let me through!"

"Hey! I was here first!"

People shoved and jostled, desperate to grab a copy first. It was absolute chaos—pushing others aside, squeezing between those in front. Pure pandemonium.

The reactions from those who finally managed to read the hard-won book fell into two broad categories.

"Ah, what a beautiful story."

Some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠praised it as a fine work that beautifully captured the greatness of humanity and the wonders of nature.

"Tsk, no matter how you look at it, humans aren't that great, are they?"

Others focused on humanity's darker side and the need to seek the Goddess's forgiveness. The divide was especially pronounced among followers of the Goddess Church.

And today, as always, the nobles gathered in the salon were split into two camps. The side with the positive evaluation spoke first.

"Ahem. I assume everyone has read the book?"

"Of course!"

He smiled at the enthusiastic response from his supporters—no, from the nobles on his side. Then he turned confidently toward those with opposing views.

"This novel depicts the greatness of humanity. It is quite different from any novel that has come before."

His argument went like this: Stories in this world had always revolved around the gods. But The Old Man and the Sea was the first to focus purely on a human being. Even Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which had centered on humanity, still featured significant divine intervention. The standard of good and evil had been based on the words of the gods, after all.

Therefore, he claimed, this work was an excellent book that beautifully portrayed human greatness and willpower.

Naturally, the opposition countered with their own arguments.

"The old man in the story also prayed to the gods! Didn't he ask for the fish to take the bait? And there was even a statue of the Goddess in his house!"

It had originally been a statue of a different god, but I had adapted it appropriately. They pointed to that detail as proof.

"Humans are foolish creatures. That is why the Goddess bestows her words upon us and guides us."

Their position was simple. Yes, the old man was great. But that greatness existed not solely because he was human, but because he had received the Goddess's guidance. The very presence of the Goddess statue in his home proved he had a connection to her. Even if he wasn't a devout believer, his way of thinking had clearly been influenced by the Goddess.

Of course, those who supported the concept of Human Triumph pushed back fiercely.

"What nonsense! That was purely his own fight!"

"Nonsense! The only reason he could possess such a strong heart was because the Goddess existed!"

The representatives of both sides glared at each other. Then, without warning, they each grabbed a napkin and hurled it at the other. The clear declaration of war brought smiles to both their faces.

"Hoh, so that's how it's going to be."

"Right back at you."

The two quickly established rules. No killing. No weapons. They would fight using only their fists until one side surrendered.

"Satisfied?"

"Yes. You?"

"Quite."

With simple and clear rules agreed upon, they clenched their fists and took their stances. A tense atmosphere crackled between them.

They studied each other, nerves on edge, until the representative of the Human Triumph faction charged first.

"Haaah!"

"Oof! Hup!"

The representative of the Goddess faction was momentarily startled but quickly threw a punch. Their fists landed on each other's faces at the same time.

"Ugh!"

"Gah!"

Staggering from the impact, they both stepped back. They rubbed their chins for a moment before charging at each other again.

As they traded blows, one of the nobles who had been watching from the side suddenly punched the person from the opposing camp next to him! The reason was simple—he was simply too excited. Watching the representatives fight had made his body itch for action.

Considering that most knights came from noble families, it wasn't strange for a few brawlers to be among them.

"What the—?!"

"Haaap!"

"Hey! You bastard!"

What had begun as a fight between representatives quickly spread to both entire factions. Soon everyone was fighting, and the meaning of the two sides blurred. Some had bloody noses. Others lost teeth.

If there was one person to feel truly sorry for, it was the owner of the establishment.

"Sigh… my poor life."

The bartender and proprietor of the tavern where nobles often gathered shook his head. While fights broke out from time to time, this was the first time everyone had gone completely wild. In the end, he hid beneath the bar table and started reading a book.

It was The Old Man and the Sea, the very book the nobles had been arguing about.

"Is it really worth fighting over?"

He couldn't understand it at all. The brawl continued until he had finished reading the entire book.

Saint Hefiliya. A beautiful, pure, and devout believer.

Of course, such evaluations were no longer heard. Ever since she had overturned the Holy Kingdom, a new set of titles had been bestowed upon her.

The New Lantern. The Hope of the Holy Kingdom. The Spear of the Beautiful Goddess, and so on.

By opening the Holy Kingdom, the Saint had come to be treated as a hero—the one who had exposed the corruption of the former archbishops and saved the nation.

Thanks to that, the way people looked at her had changed significantly. If she had once simply been the Saint, she was now seen as a resolute and strong figure.

Of course, those who had known her true nature from the beginning wouldn't find their opinion of her changing much. In any case, after another busy day of handling official duties, it was finally time for her to rest.

"Haa… I'm exhausted."

Although quite some time had passed since she replaced the archbishops, she still hadn't found suitable successors. As a result, half of the archbishop positions remained vacant. Naturally, Hefiliya, who had caused this situation, had to fill the gap herself.

She was slumped over her desk with her eyes closed when someone knocked on the door of her office.

"Who is it?"

"Saint, it's me."

It was one of Hefiliya's secretaries. To come in during her rest time… She assumed there must be some urgent matter and granted permission to enter.

The secretary came in immediately and handed her a letter.

"This is a letter from Eden Lerambourg of the Empire."

"From Eden? I understand. Thank you."

"Then I'll take my leave."

The secretary quickly left the room so as not to disturb the Saint's rest. Hefiliya smiled softly at the thoughtful gesture, then looked down at the letter and grinned.

"I wonder what it says this time?"

She carefully opened the envelope, took out the letter, and unfolded it. As usual, it began with brief pleasantries. She read through it happily until she suddenly stopped.

"He's asking what I think of The Old Man and the Sea?"

It was one of the usual questions, but for some reason today it felt strangely heavy. Her instincts as a Saint were warning her. So Hefiliya pondered for a moment before continuing to read the rest of the letter.

Fortunately, nothing else triggered her intuition. That meant only this particular question required careful consideration.

"Hmm. I should write the letter first."

She could add her answer to that question later. Hefiliya began writing down everything she wanted to say. After about thirty minutes, she had completed the letter she wanted.

"Now, all that's left is…"

Her eyes fell once again on a particular line in Eden's letter.

Hefiliya stared at the sentence and fell into thought. Why had her intuition told her to answer this part with care? She thought about it, but nothing specific came to mind. Since she still didn't know the situation inside the Empire, that was to be expected.

So she decided to simply write her honest thoughts. She picked up her pen again and began writing her answer to the question on a fresh sheet of paper.

"Hehe. Of course, people like that aren't common."

Hefiliya didn't consider herself to have the same indomitable spirit as the old man. That was precisely why the old man in the novel seemed so remarkable to her.

She neatly folded the second letter, placed it in an envelope, and sealed it with melted wax.

"I'll ask someone to send this in a little while… For now, I must return to work."

Setting the letter aside on the corner of her desk, Hefiliya picked up her documents once more. For a long while afterward, the only sound ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the Saint's office was the quiet scratching of her pen.