Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: The Saintess Beatrice
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'Gasp...!!'
"You're an academy student, aren't you?"
Princess Diana's words pierced like an arrow.
The moment I heard them, I froze solid, as if flash-frozen in an instant.
After that, her rapid-fire barrage barely registered in my ears.
She roughly pinned down my year based on my vocabulary, then commented on my build and calluses.
Watching her nail the truth with observation skills like a one-trick pony, I nearly fainted on the spot.
'What, are you Sherlock Holmes or something?'
Just a quick scan of a person, and out pops their full profile like a smartphone search result?
I'd heard rumors of her brilliance, but I never imagined it ran this deep.
"So, who might be hiding behind that mask? Should I guess for you, or would you rather reveal yourself honestly now?"
That was the last question I properly caught.
It was basically an ultimatum.
Practically a threat: 'Fess up, or I'll make you.'
'Damn it.'
Exposing my identity was a hassle, but better than getting on the future empress's bad side.
"Well, it would be best if I revealed it myself. After all, I'm a loyal subject of the empire, haha."
I forced a casual laugh and looked her straight in the eye.
At the same time, I raised my right hand to the mask, preparing to remove it.
That was when it happened.
"...Pfft."
The princess gently seized my hand just as I was about to take off the mask.
She pulled it away from my face and placed it on the table, pouting slightly.
"I'm kidding. I have no intention of forcing your identity out of you. If you want to keep hiding behind anonymity, feel free."
"I-is that so? I'm truly grateful for Your Highness's generosity."
"Hehe, spare me the empty flattery."
With a smile radiating both allure and refinement, the princess rose from her seat.
Her silken gown, like Queen Cleopatra's flowing silk, swayed gracefully as she turned her back.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Phantom. I'll take my leave for today."
"Already? The fan meet hasn't even been thirty minutes..."
"Meeting you in person was enough. I've gained all I need, so you should rest too. Juggling academy life and life as a great playwright must be exhausting, no?"
"...Thank you for your consideration. Safe travels, Your Highness."
In the end, I couldn't deny it to the last.
In that one moment, I got swept up in her pace and revealed far too much.
Before I knew it, by the time I realized, it was already too late.
'Feels like I got bewitched by a legendary fox spirit.'
Diana might actually be a fox spirit for all I know.
Her graceful figure swayed alluringly as she walked away. Even if nine tails suddenly sprouted from her, I wouldn't be surprised.
"Oh, and one more thing. Don't ignore letters from fans so casually, Phantom."
Just before stepping out of the reception room, she glanced back with a few words of advice.
"No matter how heavenly a genius playwright you are, fans get upset if you don't even reply when the contents don't suit your taste."
"Pardon?"
"Hehe."
Leaving me dumbfounded without grasping her meaning, the otherworldly Cleopatra flitted away.
And about ten seconds after she vanished...
"Gasp...!!"
I finally grasped the chilling true intent behind her parting words.
'N-no, no way... The sender of that letter from before...!'
I'm seriously aging years today.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "How was it, Diana? The one-on-one with playwright Phantom?"
The first person Princess Diana encountered after leaving the theater reception room was none other than Rosalyn Wenford.
Dressed as Julia Caesaris, she clutched a small frame to her chest, her face brimming with anticipation.
"What was Phantom like? A gentle and refined gentleman, as expected? Or surprisingly curt but deeply thoughtful philosopher?"
"Calm down, Rosalyn. I'll tell you everything back at the dorm."
"Okay. Hehe."
Rosalyn nodded eagerly, beaming with girlish innocence.
Glancing at the frame she held like treasure, Diana asked,
"That thrilled about it? Second prize got you an autographed inscription?"
"Of course. Look, she even wrote my name."
｢To Lady Rosalyn Wenford from playwright Phantom
May clear spring days without a single storm cloud continue to light your path ahead.｣
The black ink words on pristine white paper in the frame.
A simple, ordinary gift, yet Rosalyn showed no disappointment at missing first place—she was over the moon with joy.
"Phantom must know too, right? That our family was saved thanks to his plays? That's why this meaningful encouragement came with the signature?"
"Who knows."
"Tch. What's with that lukewarm response? You met him too, in my place."
To avoid any slip-ups, Diana held her tongue.
If Phantom was an academy student, he could be one of Rosalyn's close acquaintances.
She was keeping all possibilities open, so jumping to conclusions was unwise.
For now, either first or second year.
Tall stature, from a martial house, with brown-toned hair.
Matching families: Schwarz, Cromwell, Granada...
'...And finally, Arture.'
Which one was still unclear.
But narrowing it down this far was satisfying progress.
So Diana decided not to rush.
The process of tracking the enigmatic man called Phantom...
Had become genuinely enjoyable.
Thus, Rosalyn and Diana, the two best friends, traversed the theater interior together.
A large mirror for the costume room, temporarily shoved aside for the event.
Diana paused mid-stride as she passed it lightly.
Then she began leisurely admiring her reflection in the glass.
"Hmm..."
"What's up, Diana?"
"Nothing. Hehe."
Not Princess Diana, but transformed into Egyptian Queen Cleopatra.
The gap brought an indescribable thrill of deviance.
...On this day, the princess awakened to a new hobby.
A rather expensive and secretive one:
Cosplay of favorite characters.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The character impersonation contest for playwright Phantom had set the capital abuzz.
As the excitement faded, the slapstick laughter frenzy from [Chaplin Comedies] gradually died down too.
No matter how intense the stimulus, repeated exposure dulls it over time.
After riding out the storm, playwright Phantom released a follow-up to [Chaplin Comedies] with proper spacing.
Allowing audiences to slowly build tolerance to the antics.
Perhaps because of that, it thankfully didn't spark the same manic frenzy as Charlie Chaplin's humor debut in this world.
Instead, the theater world faced an entirely different issue.
"Forgeries?"
"Yes. Forgeries."
Isabella exhaled a long plume of cigarette smoke as she explained.
"Comedy's relatively easy to imitate. Plus, with all the similar gimmicks and concepts, it's hard to nitpick every one."
"Hmm..."
Floods of slapstick plays ripping off Charlie Chaplin-style antics almost verbatim.
Troublemakers quiet during [Admiral Li] and [Julius Caesar] had reared their heads.
And from Isabella's account, they weren't just copying—they were vulgarizing [Chaplin Comedies] in the sleaziest ways.
Obscene jokes, sensationalism, black humor masking personal mockery, brazen disses at the original.
They butchered Chaplin's dignity without scruple to amp up commercial appeal.
'I worried about this when handling Charlie Chaplin...'
Phantom's previous works were blockbuster hits with uplifting, symbolic success.
Even wielding massive social influence, making blind imitation iffy.
'[Admiral Li] brought House Wenford back to politics, [Julius Caesar] reshaped imperial etiquette—who'd dare plagiarize those outright?'
Not unless they had ten lives to spare.
But comedy, aimed purely at laughs, was different.
This world lacked clear copyright concepts anyway.
By medieval standards, claiming ownership over slapstick, satire, or humor elements was tough.
In simple terms, the common mindset here was, 'It's just comedy—not serious drama—so if it's fun, why not copy?'
'Not just this medieval-ish world culture.'
Even in modern human-rights nations like America, stand-up comedy scenes were rife with plagiarism until the early 2000s.
Bill Cosby, Amy Schumer, Robin Williams caught in scandals, not to mention Carlos Mencia outright bashed for living off rip-offs.
"Sorry, Mr. Phantom. Your meticulously crafted script treated like trash. As an actress, I feel guilty for not protecting the character."
"No, the ones acting without decency are at fault. No need for you to apologize, Miss Isabella."
I comforted the actress, who looked awkward as if she'd done something wrong.
Anyway, we needed a way to address this.
'Letting it slide damages the original too.'
Low-quality knockoffs tarnish the source's image in the end.
But cracking down? Laws and awareness are too underdeveloped.
'Any good ideas?'
I was pondering solutions when—
"C-captain! A guest has arrived!"
Knock knock! A troupe staffer called from outside the reception room door.
Isabella frowned delicately and shot back curtly,
"No appointment? We don't meet walk-ins. Send them away."
"N-no, it's not... you're not the one they're here for..."
Suddenly, the door burst open!
Two knights with cross emblems on their chests entered the room.
'W-what the hell?'
Holy Knights?
From the Celestial Faith order, holy warriors obeying Papal Court commands.
They stood firm, glaring at me and Isabella under winged helmets.
And behind them...
"Forgive the intrusion, everyone. We had no choice due to urgent Papal Court business."
...A beautiful woman in nun's robes appeared.
Silver hair shimmering like softly falling snowflakes.
Eyelids half-closed, as if in a light doze.
And an intricate jeweled cross pendant at her neck.
"Are you the famed great playwright, Phantom?"
With an enigmatic smile, the ethereal nun introduced herself.
"I'm Saintess Beatrice. Pleased to meet you."