Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Fountain Pen (1)
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Sherlock Holmes was currently enjoying explosive popularity.
Though it was only in Rlangbur and a few surrounding territories, there was no denying that it was a hit in those places.
A debut novel from a rookie author, and his very first book at that.
It had first gained traction thanks to the mad stunt pulled by the president of Jenectra Publishing House.
But this time, its popularity had skyrocketed because of the author's involvement in solving a real murder case.
Even commoners were pooling their money or passing the book around hand to hand.
Thanks to that, Jenectra's printing presses were running hot every day.
"Hahaha! The fourth print run already! We're on the verge of hitting ten thousand copies!"
"Congratulations, sir. That said, the protests have grown even larger, disrupting our schedule."
"Ugh. Can't be helped."
Jenectra was letting out joyful screams like this.
But where there is light, there is also shadow.
Not everyone was singing its praises.
"What the hell? Holmes doesn't even get half the page count? This isn't Sherlock Holmes as the main character then!"
This was a flaw that even Edn had lamented.
Despite the title, Holmes didn't have that much screen time.
Of course, if you split the book into parts one and two, Holmes was undeniably the protagonist of the first part.
That was why this particular complaint didn't gain much traction.
The real issue was the backstory of the culprit's crimes.
He'd taken flak for letting his guard down while fleeing, but the religion angle was even more problematic.
Edn had made one thing clear at the beginning of the book.
All the place names, characters, religions, and such in the story were entirely fictional.
Even so, the religious controversy was unavoidable.
"The author's quite bold. Who would've thought he'd include something like this, even in fiction."
"Isn't this blasphemy?!"
The outcry centered on the vicious portrayal of people who worshipped and served gods.
With the Church of the Goddess of Mercy already established by the Holy Kingdom, accusations flew that this was promoting another faith.
A barrage of criticisms followed, leading the Holy Kingdom to keep a close eye on Prometheus—on Edn.
The archbishops didn't ban Sherlock Holmes outright, but they did designate it a restricted title.
Of course, only a tiny handful in the Holy Kingdom even knew about this.
Sherlock Holmes had originated from a rural territory in the empire, after all.
It was only because the Goddess's influence reached there that word had gotten back.
Amid all these mixed reactions to Sherlock Holmes, one person from the Holy Kingdom took notice.
The one interested in the restricted book was none other than the Saintess herself.
She sighed several times as she opened the book and read.
Not out of displeasure, but admiration.
"Oh my. So that's the story behind it. How tragic."
The Saintess, Hepiriya.
Her hair was a pure, snow-white cascade, as if plucked straight from an eternal glacier.
Her clear golden eyes sparkled like dots on a field of snow.
With her soft, gentle features, she was the Holy Kingdom's Saintess.
Anyone who saw her would swear an angel had descended.
Yet there she was, smiling at the contraband Sherlock Holmes she'd smuggled in.
Lost in thought, she let out a soft sigh and caressed the cover.
Her slender fingers danced lightly across it for a moment.
"It's definitely provocative. No wonder the old... ahem, the archbishops won't like it."
Hepiriya glanced around suspiciously, checking if anyone might have overheard.
It was her private room, but better safe than sorry.
Reassured, she turned her thoughts back to the book.
"Just when things were getting dull, I found a gem."
Being the Saintess brought many blessings, but it also demanded many sacrifices.
She had to smile at everyone, follow the Goddess's teachings to the letter.
Maintain perfect posture, dispense mercy without fail.
Hepiriya didn't hate any of it, truth be told.
It could be a hassle at times, but seeing those blessed by her smile in return made it worthwhile.
The problem was the old fogeys—the archbishops.
They were rotten to the core, just like in Sherlock Holmes.
The Saintess didn't have hard proof yet, despite gathering evidence.
"Some of them are known for their messy affairs with women."
To put it bluntly, her personal spies had spotted them frequenting pleasure districts.
"Soon... there might be a storm of blood."
Hepiriya licked her lips, entertaining dangerous thoughts.
Ideas she'd harbored and plotted for a long time.
A way to strike back at the archbishops who only sought to use her, the Saintess.
Whether it would succeed was anyone's guess.
Hell, whether she could even set it in motion was doubtful.
"I can't just sit idly by when even outsiders are calling out their corruption."
She smiled with her eyes, anticipating what was to come.
For a fleeting moment, those softly curved eyes gleamed with peril.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Thankfully, the gathering ended without incident.
By the time the carriage from House Bertang brought him back to the territory, evening had fallen.
But his head was screaming for a break.
Even if it had gone smoothly, conversing with nobles—especially young ladies—was no walk in the park.
Being the only man there had drawn all eyes his way.
Nearly half the questions thrown at him had made it exhausting.
"Whew. Better cool my head before heading in."
No point going home now; nothing productive would come of it.
So he strolled the streets leisurely, taking in the sights.
He paused at the fountain in the square and popped into a bakery for some fresh-baked bread.
About an hour of aimless wandering later, he plopped down on a bench.
"Feels good to take a breather now and then."
Ever since starting his novel, he rarely left the house.
Sitting in that chair day after day had left his butt and back aching.
Plus, only Biena knew he was writing a book.
He'd lied to the servants about research when asking for help gathering materials.
His sister would occasionally drop by and nag him to get out more.
"Man, looking back, I put them through a lot."
He'd leaned on the servants—especially Biena—in all sorts of ways.
They'd helped without complaint, letting him write in peace.
"Maybe I should give her a reward later?"
Pondering what to get Biena, he started to stand.
That's when someone approached silently and sat beside him.
"Hello?"
...Oh, she's gorgeous.
No, focus.
Snow-white hair, golden eyes.
Dressed in cleric's robes from the Church of the Goddess.
The outfit had slits on the sides and a cross-shaped cutout at the chest.
Pretty revealing; his eyes were drawn there naturally.
Is all medieval fantasy fashion like this?
Quite the pious pouch—er, anyway.
She was a rare beauty in this territory.
He'd never seen her face at the local church either.
Dispatched from outside? Or just visiting?
The stranger beamed and introduced herself.
"I'm Hepiriya. Nice to meet you."
"Ah, yes. Nice to meet you too. I'm Edn."
They exchanged polite bows.
He barely resisted getting lost in her silky voice.
But what was this about?
As he looked at her quizzically, she smiled and spoke.
"Truth be told, I just arrived here. Do you know of Sherlock Holmes, by any chance?"
Ah, so that's why she's here?
She looks like a cleric, probably from the Holy Kingdom. Has word spread that far?
He couldn't ask, so he had no way to know.
At any rate, he nodded since he did know it.
"Yes, I know it."
"Wow, really? Have you ever met the author?"
Her tone pitched up, words tumbling out a bit faster in excitement.
She seemed like a die-hard fan.
Was that a sparkle in her eyes? Nah, probably imagination.
Seeing her so thrilled up close tugged at his own lips.
But he held back!
He had no plans to reveal he was the author yet, and writers were supposed to be enigmatic!
No way he'd admit the author was right in front of her.
Though his gut also screamed it'd spell big trouble if he did.
"Sorry, never met him."
"Oh."
Visible disappointment washed over her face.
Like a puppy who'd had its treat snatched away.
Eyes downcast, head drooping, tail tucked between her legs.
It tugged at his heartstrings, but what could he do?
Instead—
He offered her the bread from the bakery.
"Want some?"
"Pardon? Oh, thank you."
Her eyes went wide in surprise before she accepted it carefully.
She nibbled daintily with her small mouth.
"It's delicious."
"Right? It's Rlangbur's pride and joy."
"...I see."
They shared the bread in companionable silence for a bit.
Strangers or not, breaking bread together bridged some gap.
How long had passed?
Once she'd finished the bread he'd given her, she turned to him.
"Thank you. For sharing bread with a stranger."
"No big deal."
Sharing food that's meant to be shared feels good.
Well, not always, but right now it did.
"Heehee, you're kind. Want me to hear out a worry of yours?"
"Payment for the bread?"
"Yes. Figured you wouldn't take money. Or should I pay you properly?"
He shook his head right away.
He wasn't short on cash, and he'd offered it freely—taking money felt wrong.
Hepiriya, as if expecting that, urged him to spill whatever was on his mind.
Her bright smile coaxed the words out before he knew it.
"I've got this tough problem staring me down, but I have no idea how to tackle it."
He sighed, voicing the worry gnawing at him.
He was developing a ballpoint pen lately, but lacked the facilities to produce it.
He needed to solve that, but current infrastructure made it impossible.
Of course, he didn't say it outright, but his frustration came through.
Hepiriya furrowed her brow ever so slightly, pondering.
"Then why not start with the easy parts, step by step?"
Easy parts?
He looked at her, and she tilted her head with another smile.
As if wondering what was so hard about that.
Pretty— no, snap out of it.
He shook himself and mulled over her advice.
Start easy, go step by step.
Common advice back on Earth too.
Solve the simple stuff first, and suddenly the hard parts fall into place.
As he thought, an idea struck.
"Wait, hold on. Why didn't I think of that?"
He shot to his feet without realizing, shoving the ballpoint pen from his mind.
In its place came something more medieval-appropriate, the ballpoint's precursor.
"A fountain pen."
"Fountain pen?"
"Sorry! Something urgent came up!"
He apologized to Hepiriya, bowed hastily, and bolted.
Right, why hadn't he thought of fountain pens?
Unlike ballpoints, they didn't need precision machining.
Some trial and error, sure, but far more feasible to produce.
"Hell, I can even make a prototype!"
Perfect. Next invention: fountain pen!
Excitement was already bubbling up.
"Uh..."
Hepiriya watched Edn dash off, a touch bewildered.
Even with her perception-obscuring artifact, no beauty like her had ever been brushed off quite like this.
But she soon chuckled softly and offered a prayer to the Goddess.
Clasping her hands, eyes closed, toward Edn.
"Goddess, please bless that man's path."
Edn had unknowingly received the Saintess's blessing.
Had an archbishop found out, they'd weep blood.
Wasting such a precious blessing.
Hepiriya, of course, wouldn't have minded.
"I hope it goes well for him."
She meant it from the heart.