Chapter 3
Chapter 3
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Admiral Li: The Final Battle
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Medieval playwrights generally fell into one of two categories.
Freelance writers submitting scripts in hopes of royalties.
Or established mid-level actors doubling as troupe managers.
Compared to modern times, theater companies in the medieval era were smaller in scale and simpler in structure.
As a result, it was common for the troupe's star actor—who shouldered the company's burdens—to handle most of the creative work as well.
From directing the play to their main job of acting, and even rough scriptwriting.
It wasn't unusual for a single talented individual to manage all three.
The Killigrew Theater Company, where I'd submitted the Admiral Li script, had operated the same way originally.
"Oh! There you are, the hero of our Killigrew Theater Company! The unparalleled master playwright Phantom, arriving like a storm!"
A middle-aged man greeted me with exaggerated gestures.
He was Renua, Killigrew's top star actor, director, and manager.
This same fellow had played the lead role of General Yi Sun-sin in the Admiral Li production.
He was also the one who'd brainstormed the overall staging with me.
"Good grief, I'm too embarrassed to show my face. To think I'd ignore advice from a brilliant writer like you... I wish I could crawl into a rat hole right now."
...That's right—the one who'd sent me that snide letter saying "If you're so jealous, write it yourself" was this very guy.
I stroked the plain white mask I wore to preserve my anonymity and returned the greeting.
"Good to see you, Mr. Renua. I'm here about the Admiral Li production from last time."
Phantom was the pen name I'd chosen when submitting the manuscript.
It came from the ghost in the musical The Phantom of the Opera, based on the French novel by Gaston Leroux.
A bit cringey, sure, but it fit pretty well for someone hiding their identity to pursue art.
"Ah, right. Admiral Li."
Renua winced slightly at my words.
He rubbed his temple with an index finger and spoke in a troubled tone.
"Academy cadets keep swarming the theater entrance—it's a nightmare. They're demanding a sequel to a play that doesn't even exist. What a mess."
"...I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. If anything, it's good for us. A big fuss like this boosts the troupe's reputation."
Noise marketing, in other words?
But this wasn't a situation to view so optimistically.
If no sequel came out, those students looked ready to start a real riot.
And Prince Wolfgang—who might call out his personal guard if things escalated—was a wildcard.
The battle-hardened middle-aged man still seemed relaxed, but the crisis was one spark away from erupting.
So, I quickly presented my solution.
"Here. The new script."
"Oh ho, a new work? What's the title?"
"The sequel to Admiral Li the students have been clamoring for. Working title: Admiral Li: The Final Battle."
"A s-se-sequel to Admiral Li?!!"
...Whoa, that startled me.
"M-my Lord! A real sequel exists? Hngh...!!"
Renua snatched the script, hyperventilating as if he might pass out.
He handled it like a sacred holy book.
After excitedly flipping through it for a while, he finally came to his senses.
"S-sorry. I got too carried away. Admiral Li holds special meaning for me, you see."
"Is that so?"
"Of course. No play in my lifetime has caused this much of a sensation. I've acted my whole life, but nothing's been an overnight smash like Admiral Li."
"..."
"And your script is so brilliant that even I, as an actor, got completely immersed. In Admiral Li's breathtaking saga, I mean. I never dreamed I'd witness the birth of a once-in-a-lifetime genius. What an honor."
The birth of a once-in-a-lifetime genius? That description pricked my conscience hard.
All I'd done was trim and edit with conviction—the content was just General Yi Sun-sin's life as history recorded it.
"By the way, it's shorter than expected."
Flip flip! Renua skimmed the pages and asked.
It was indeed less than half the length of the previous script.
I shrugged nonchalantly.
"It's a sequel, after all. Just a concise depiction of the aftermath we couldn't cover last time."
This script covered the tense buildup from right after the Battle of Myeongnyang to the Battle of Noryang.
Compared to the previous one, which compressed most of the general's life, the shorter length was inevitable.
Adding other Imjin War events would drag unnecessarily, and inserting original content would expose my limitations.
Renua looked a bit disappointed at first but soon dove into reading.
"Hmm, oh! Nice— so the story flows like this? Heh heh."
His face grew smugger with each page.
He was clearly reveling in the general's brilliant maneuvers—the role he'd play himself.
But soon, grief and sorrow twisted his features.
"Admiral... Admiral Li! Ngh...!!"
Renua's hands trembled as he gripped the script.
Tears welled up like beads in his eyes.
He'd just read the scene where General Yi falls at Noryang.
I'd amped up the pathos and grandeur on purpose, and it hit perfectly.
'Must be because acting's his life—he immerses himself completely in his roles.'
His heartbroken expression, like he'd lost his country, stirred an unexpected pang of guilt.
Finally, I cleared my throat awkwardly and cautiously asked for his thoughts.
"What do you think of this one? Is it any good?"
I was worried about the different ending from the first play.
Theater scripts in this world developed slowly.
I had no idea how audiences here would handle a sad conclusion.
But Renua's reaction blew those concerns away.
"Are you kidding? 'Good' doesn't cut it! This is a masterpiece! Admiral Li's epic hero's saga, perfected by a heroic death!"
He slammed the script shut and raved.
"Scratch that—not even 'masterpiece' is enough! A historic gem worthy of the annals! It should be designated Empire Treasure Number One for generations to admire!"
He loves it.
I chuckled at Renua hopping around like a kid.
Yi Sun-sin was a legendary commander from the distant eastern land of Joseon.
His story might not mesh perfectly with this world's medieval Western vibe.
So, I'd adapted it in the style of late-18th-century German Ritterdrama—knight dramas.
German Ritterdrama was Gothic theater emphasizing heroic chivalry.
It surged in popularity after Goethe, author of The Sorrows of Young Werther, dramatized the life of real knight Gotz von Berlichingen.
Goethe's Gotz aids the weak, lives honestly and honorably, and dies a hero.
He's the last true knight upholding truth and freedom amid lies and chaos.
And that fit Korea's great sage-hero, General Yi Sun-sin, perfectly—perhaps tailored just for him.
'Goethe romanticized Gotz's life one-sidedly, but every exploit of General Yi is pure historical fact.'
Loyalty, diligence, bravery, honor, integrity.
The virtues General Yi embodied aligned seamlessly with medieval chivalry.
That's exactly why I'd chosen him as the protagonist.
General Yi's saga transcended national pride in Korea alone.
It held universal value that could resonate across any culture.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Extra! Extra!"
"New show at Killigrew Theater this weekend!"
"The sequel to Admiral Li, the talk of the town! The very play Academy cadets protested to see!"
Newspaper boys hawked the cultural buzz.
Hucksters plastered playbills everywhere.
The capital's streets buzzed with their shouts.
As Renua predicted, the Academy students' protests made for excellent noise marketing.
Even those indifferent to theater, or uninterested in Admiral Li,
flocked to see what had elite cadets causing such a stir.
Soon, everyone in the capital knew Admiral Li's fame.
The sequel announcement filled them with anticipation.
"A sequel to Admiral Li? I can hardly sleep from excitement."
"Even His Highness the Prince is counting down the days."
"Damn overtime! On the weekend I need to see Admiral Li? Screw this world!"
Enthusiasm swelled from all directions.
The capital guard struggled to maintain order.
Impatient crowds nearly caused crushes at the theater.
Scalpers exploited pre-sale tickets in back alleys.
As the weekend approached, the streets resembled a warzone.
"Grab that fleeing rat! Scalper!"
"Mercy, milord! Just this once!"
"The premiere's this weekend—why are they mobbing already? Disperse now!"
"Shut it! Don't mock a citizen's pure longing for a masterpiece!"
Amid the chaos, time marched on.
Finally, on performance day, audiences headed to Killigrew Theater with bated breath.
All eyes in the capital focused on that fateful night.
Bang-!!
Admiral Li took a bullet right in front of the audience.