The Bestseller Author's Fate
It goes without saying, but this wasn't my first trip to the Capital.
Sure, I hadn't been there often, but I'd dropped by Kiara's family home a few times, thanks to that.
There was a strict rule that engagements had to be formalized in the Capital, no exceptions.
And even without the engagement excuse, there was no way I could've avoided the Capital after graduating from the Imperial Academy. The main campus was right there in the city, so enrollment, graduation, and every major event happened on its soil.
Of course, all that's ancient history now.
After more than a year lounging around as a freeloading young master, heading to the Capital felt downright awkward.
Especially decked out in the academy uniform I'd already worn through graduation.
"......Hah."
Stepping out of the carriage, the familiar sight greeted me as always.
Four times I'd come home for break and returned to the academy for the new term.
And in those four trips, the Capital hadn't changed a bit.
Extravagant nobles and merchants catering to their vices. Commoners who still reeked of poverty despite it all.
And above everything, the authoritarian vibe unique to an absolute monarchy, oozing from those government buildings.
After four years, I'd thought I'd never have to face this crap again—yet here I was, back in uniform.
"...Fuck."
I'm not one to curse lightly, but who wouldn't in a spot like this?
Honestly, this place is just fucked.
Why the hell academy uniform?
My age doesn't even match anymore.
Back in my previous life in Korea, a grown-ass adult in a school uniform was either for amusement park dates or some fetish play.
I'm not here to whip out my dick or anything. No, I'm showing up like this just to meet some spook from the Intelligence Bureau.
If it were a woman, fine, whatever. But knowing how rough and rank those Intelligence Bureau dudes are, it's hardly welcoming.
All I could muster was a stifled sigh in my shitty mood.
Feeling like I needed something to shake this off, I glanced around the square.
Market stalls, shops, statues, fountains, bookstores....
...The bookstore was the one familiar thing. I headed straight there.
I swung by here thinking they sold major textbooks, and that feels like yesterday.
The despair of realizing the academy handed them out for free came flooding back.
A hollow chuckle escaped even in my drab mood—guess my situation's pretty damn pitiful right now.
As I drew closer, the bookstore owner stood waiting, unchanged as ever.
That's always how he is. If you're just killing time, he ignores you. Spot a real interest, and he latches on with helpful info.
Of course, he probably doesn't remember faces.
Academy students are mostly stuck-up nobles, so commoners avoid eye contact anyway.
He might not even recognize me.
Maybe because my past life was a commoner's grind—I never pulled the high-and-mighty act.
I'd pop in for dopamine hits, flipping through books.
Not that I dove into dusty tomes gathering cobwebs, mind you.
I stuck to the bestsellers corner.
Same as always.
"......Hah."
A dry laugh escaped at the sight of my books stacked high.
White Knight's 49 Shadows, Juliet's Night Like Magic.
While other books claimed one shelf slot, mine hogged two each. Felt weird seeing it.
Probably because they'd whipped up a storm in high society.
Even if nobles loved them, word spread through valets and maids to the commoners who could read.
"...."
And if you can read, odds are you can write too.
I never imagined so many people would pick up a pen after reading my stuff.
One, two, three...
I scanned them roughly, then gave up. Too many rip-offs.
If the bestsellers corner's this flooded, god knows how bad the other sections are.
Luckily, I'd read all these already.
Most were the plagiarisms Jang the bookbinder had griped about.
None had literary merit—or value as yaseol, for that matter.
Except one newish-looking book.
50 Shadows
"...."
Maybe—just maybe—this one could live up to my expectations.
The thought sparked curiosity I couldn't shake.
I grabbed a copy and started flipping through, slowly.
One line... one line...
The more I read, the clearer it got: this author can write.
But page after page...
Not horny.
This author can't write yaseol.
No value as yaseol whatsoever.
A real book like this needs elements that get you hard with words alone. This? Zilch.
No taboo thrill, no conquest rush—just bland emptiness. What's the point?
If it were pure romance, you could trash it for not being spicy enough.
But this screams "inspired by my books"—it should be forceful as hell.
Only the details are salvageable.
「...My wrists pinned, he slammed me against the wall, pressing close. Shame barely registered before I glared at him with venom...」
Feels like she tried it herself. Or imagined it in first-person.
Women write most first-person female stuff, so probably the latter.
Makes it perfect for young ladies who get off on this.
Problem is, it doesn't hit for me.
Just like "young lady" means noble daughters, this vibe doesn't suit a noble son like me.
To me, it's just some non-arousing women-targeted 19+ romance fantasy.
Women might eat it up, though.
I snapped the book shut, interest gone.
That's when my eyes drifted to the band I hadn't noticed.
「The most worthwhile among today's vulgar rabble.」
...And below it, the princess's name in bold.
「Her Highness Charlene Rogueist Breeze Monde.」
"...."
What a clueless fucking hack.
My face twisted.
Does she only read "literature" all day, numb to the real spicy stuff?
Sure, her prose chops might top mine. By that metric, maybe she's right.
But yaseol's gotta make you horny.
How's a non-horny yaseol "worthwhile"?
It's no different from killing time with any old book.
It's about the horniness. Why judge yaseol by other standards? Can't switch criteria per genre?
Thud.
I dropped it back on the bestsellers shelf.
She pulled this shit before too.
The memory bubbled up.
Casually reading a newspaper, only to see her review calling White Knight utter garbage.
Grind.
Still pissed my teeth off. Being clueless isn't a crime.
But reviewing yaseol while clueless? That's criminal.
"...Hah."
I'd come to the bookstore to kill time and unwind.
Fuck that—my mood's ten times worse now.
If she keeps badmouthing my work like this, spreading negativity, won't my books stick in people's minds as "weird"?
If I die, who cares anyway.
I left plenty of my mark on Sis yesterday.
Someone'll remember me, so no biggie.
Staying longer would just drive me nuts, so I headed straight for the Intelligence Bureau building.
* * *
I compared the Empire's Intelligence Bureau to the NIS before, but strictly speaking, it's way broader.
Unlike Korea's power split by separation of powers, here all authority flows from the Emperor—who is the Empire.
TL;DR: the Bureau's NIS + Prosecutor's Office + Supreme Court rolled into one.
And it's under the Imperial household, handling admin and legislation.
Point is, if they sic it on someone, killing them's a breeze.
That's why I braced for death the second I saw that letter.
And an agency with that much power has no reason to hide its location.
"Building's huge, huh."
That alone made finding it easy.
Mixing NIS, Supreme Court, and Prosecutor's Office? The structure screamed grandeur—no separate Supreme Court needed.
Once you realize it's your slaughterhouse, though, the awe turns to dread first.
Gazing at the nearby salons—probably for aesthetics—a sigh was all I could manage.
Safe spot, sure. With the Bureau right there, what's to fear?
Even war wouldn't touch this place.
...How the hell did I end up here?
Oh right—wrote some books, they blew up in society, some bigwig sent me a pussy print.
And not just any bigwig; one the Bureau protects.
So if I hadn't written shit, I could've lived cushy, sucking honey forever.
Mom...
Shouldn't have written. If just for me, I'd have scribbled on manuscript paper and hidden it.
If word of my death hits, Jang'll follow me days later.
Maybe pluck out what little hair I've got left.
Step.
Each footfall brought the Bureau closer, dread mounting.
Never thought I'd feel terror like this my whole life.
Please, not someone I kn—
"Huh? Adrian?"
"...?"
A familiar voice made me glance over. Two women in dresses stared back.
One was Kiara, black hair and those massive... tits hitting first.
Her eyes scanned me in surprise.
"...What's with the outfit?"
"Ah, this is......"
I started explaining, gave up, and met her gaze.
Hard, with the woman next to her stealing attention.
"Heh, hehe......"
...Some weird furball in a dress.
Smaller than Kiara, fluffy uncombed hair everywhere.
Shadowy face giving creepy vibes—someone you'd avoid.
And Kiara, not even hinting annoyance, stuck by her side.
High odds: duke's daughter. Some duke, but high-status for sure.
Academy-honed instincts kicked in; I bowed.
"Greetings."
"Ehehe. H-Hello thereee......"
"......Adrian de Vallancien."
"...H-Huhuhu.... V-Vallancien......"
"...Adrian de Vallancien."
"Ah, A-Adrian, I s-see......"
Her uneasy laugh grated.
I racked my brain for noble houses.
Dukes under the imperial family, with salon-attending daughters? Three, maybe?
Two I'd seen at academy—hair color didn't match.
Left with...
...Quiliar.
"Y-You wore what we t-told you to.... G-Good job coming......?"
She knew the letter's contents.
Tying it to her identity sent chills down my spine.
"...."
I knew her father too well.
"I-I'm.... O-Opheli......"
The Intelligence Chief's other title: Grand Duke Quiliar.
"M-My house is, uh....... Q-Quiliar... R-Ring any bells?"
Looks like the one who summoned this rural baron's son was the Chief's daughter.