Chapter 14
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Julius Caesar (6)
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“That crazy commoner bastard—how dare he splash shit all over me!”
The Count of Panto, wrapped in fury, tore the newspaper clutched in his hand to shreds.
Not satisfied, he hurled every random object within reach at the wall.
Crashing—!
The sound of a glass shattering echoed loudly through the room, followed by a heavy silence in its wake.
Damn it.
Damn that commoner trash.
So what if he'd smuggled a bit of sugar in bulk and funneled it into political funds? What was the big deal?
He'd just drafted the plan and led the charge—hadn't the Populace Party congressmen lapped up their share of the profits too?
They'd feasted well come election season, hadn't they!
“...And what of the Duke?”
“He said to handle it responsibly on our own...”
Grind.
Feeling the strength involuntarily tightening in his fist, the Count of Panto forced down his rage.
Of course.
It wasn't even worth dirtying his own hands, and he'd have bribed the press thoroughly to keep it from reaching him, or intimidated the parties involved.
He wielded more than enough power to make that feasible.
Of course, in normal circumstances.
He could've shut mouths with his own power and connections.
But...
As the ringleader, he couldn't resort to such blatant moves.
On the contrary, he had to quietly protect that damned bastard Asterik from the shadows.
If Asterik died, the evidence would come out.
And at the top of that list would be his own name.
The political rivals who'd dipped their toes in halfway were probably cheering right now.
“So, what the hell is this Julius Caesar?”
“It's... the protagonist's name from the novel...”
“Fuck. I have to suffer this humiliation because of kindling trash that low-class idiots read?”
The Count of Panto gulped down several swigs straight from the bottle on the table, then barked orders at his subordinate through gritted teeth.
“At least dunk that author bastard. That'll send a warning.”
He couldn't touch the man himself.
So hitting those around him might vent a little rage.
Of course, it'd double as a warning to the Truth Newspaper too.
While the Count of Panto was spinning a triple axel of smuggling, embezzlement, and now incitement to murder in his rage...
“Hm. Isn't this a plagiarized novel?”
“Haha, exactly—it's plagiarizing what you wrote in your youth—”
“No, it's portraying someone righteous and grand overall... namely, me, Berthus. That's the plagiarism, isn't it?”
Duke Berthus was chatting amiably in his study while reading The Fallen Noble Excels at Politics.
When handling national affairs or politics, these minor splashes were commonplace.
Thus.
Such 'minor matters' required no personal intervention from him.
So, he relaxed into self-praise.
Meanwhile, schemes to exploit this situation began bubbling up in the Duke's mind.
First off.
He could weed out the Populace and Imperial faction congressmen tied to this mess.
Of course, a few Noble faction members might not escape the blade, but so what?
Dogs bark on command and die on command.
For the Count of Panto, it was a slight regret, but digging this deep already exposed his incompetence anyway.
Also.
Issues stirring public outrage like this yielded the biggest gains when turned to one's advantage.
“How can I contain my righteous fury at such corruption in the Empire? I must hold a press conference.”
“We'll contact all the newspapers right away and make preparations.”
Waiting for the wave to crest was the height of foolishness.
The wisest rode it faster than anyone, surging ahead.
“Invite our brave Congressman Asterik too. How could I claim the glory alone?”
Thus.
Asterik's 'Aestheric List'—shaken like a demon clan's hot potato with their proverbs—might suffer a slight memory lapse in its records. Safeguarding that was necessary.
Quoting a demon clan proverb again, it was a 'two birds with one stone.'
Of course.
“The novel's quite enjoyable. Send the author some sponsorship funds. It evokes my youthful bravado enough to warrant that reward.”
He needed a distraction from the Emperor's gaze anyway, so the one who'd handed him this perfect opening deserved proper compensation.
Well.
Whether he'd have time to enjoy the spoils while dodging the enraged Count of Panto's blade was another matter.
.
.
.
Two days later.
On his way to the press conference at the Congress Hall by carriage...
“...?”
A being that shouldn't exist in the Imperial capital.
The gold dragon's blemish.
Destroyer of dynasties, walking calamity—every ominous descriptor flooded his mind.
Duke Berthus's entire body prickled with goosebumps at the sight resembling Esthea the Mad Dragon in her wandering guise.
“Your Grace, is something the matter—”
“No, it's nothing.”
It couldn't be.
Over thirty years ago, before his very eyes as a young man, she'd turned an entire royal palace to ashes—then vanished from public view.
No way such an ill omen would shadow the capital right when he was preparing his grand scheme.
A week after Congressman Asterik's total immersion in Caesar sparked the all-out exposé frenzy...
...contrary to my expectations.
Surprisingly, nothing happened to me.
On the contrary, the fervent virality brought nothing but good fortune.
Next Skill Unlock Conditions Met.
Must maintain for 1+ week. (Day 6)
Expected Skill: [B-rank] Caesar's Dice
Daily readers more than doubled—a huge milestone—and if I held out one more day, a B-rank skill would join my roster!
Interviews poured in alongside...
But I turned them all down, naturally.
Pen names fade; real names last forever.
Back when Esthea and Serephin trashed the place in their hero-dragon show, I figured even they might spill since they were a hero and dragon.
After that, I drilled it into Gilford: Never leak my personal info. Ever.
Me doing a face-reveal interview?
The folks on that Asterik List—eerily like McCarthy's blacklist—might come after me.
Security held so far, thankfully. No incidents.
Well.
Esthea hadn't shown up wagging her tail since, and Hero Serephin returned to the Demon Realm.
—Ah! Author! Bumping into you again today! Oh, this? Hmm, the capital's security's a bit lax? Bugs keep flying in—I was just cleaning up!
Barring Roselin, it was perfectly peaceful daily life.
...Even with Hector's Courage equipped, Roselin still made my heart race every encounter.
The scenes we'd crossed paths in were brutal.
Like some secret society's dress code, men in black suits beaten to a pulp, dragged by their hair.
To the point I wondered if you could even call her a saintess—borderline blasphemy.
Her healing was the real deal, though.
Mention a stiff wrist casually, and she'd unload a full health check and treatment package.
Good was good.
I even blurted, Could a saintess beat a dragon?
—Ahaha! Hmm, a dragon might be tough?
Tough, not impossible—chilling yet reassuring.
If that rascal dragon tries kidnapping me, saintess trump card it is.
Utterly perfect peaceful days.
.
.
.
Human affairs are ever unpredictable, as they say.
“Th-this is all... sponsorship money...?”
“Yes, Author.”
Luck didn't stop there.
A most excellent noble who praised my novel sent an unimaginable sum!
“...Can I really accept all this?”
“Of course. We don't have much to offer as is—how could we skim sponsorship? Haha...”
Gilford's laugh felt oddly strained, but...
Serial fees weren't huge, so this sponsorship was invaluable.
Enough to upgrade from my breached home and cover half a year's living expenses.
Truly...
Novels...
make bank!
Beaming with joy, I handed Gilford the manuscript.
This installment focused on Caesar rooting into Roman politics.
Elected quaestor, stepping into the Senate; inheriting Marius's mantle to champion the people in speeches.
Dodging Sulla loyalists by wedding Sulla's granddaughter Pompeia after his first wife Cornelia's death—bold moves.
And here.
The pillar of the Triumvirate, the windstorm who would've seized Rome without Caesar.
Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus made his debut.
Unlike Caesar building his base,
This man had boldly declared to Sulla himself, “You are the setting sun; I am the rising sun,” backed by heroic war feats and charisma.
And...
Caesar's fated rival for life.
A story's thrill needs not just a protagonist, but a well-crafted antagonist.
Pompey fit the bill perfectly.
I worried if spotlighting this side character might feel excessive to readers...
“Perfect! Let's run with this!”
Gilford flashed a chimp-like grin and thumbs-up.
“Thanks. I'll head out then.”
“Sorry I can't see you off. Take care, Author!”
Fleeing the reception room—that is, the warehouse piled with newspapers—my soul brimmed with joy.
The jingle of silver coins in my pocket? Spot on.
This money.
Even if Historie spawned glitchy, it'd fund three months of socialization easy.
Thus.
Today, I'd erase 'Pygmalion's Obsession' from my skill list.
By using the skill.