Chapter 2

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 2

Chapter Title: Olympus Tales (1)

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The next day.

After putting our heads together with Historie and discussing it.

The hallucination that pops up every time I shout "Status Window"...

I still couldn't be completely sure if it was just a dream from scurvy or a perk from tripping into another world.

But no loss if it flops.

We concluded that we needed to verify this hallucination.

...

"Quite... a bold idea."

"Is that so? Haha..."

So, the mid-sized publishing house I visited.

The editor's reaction after snatching my unparalleled masterpiece and devouring it in an instant.

"It's definitely challenging, fresh, and fun... but could you change the 'gods' references a bit? Like heroes or something along those lines."

A bit lukewarm.

Not hard to understand.

This world had unified its faith under the Goddess Church.

I'd been a little worried about that point myself, so during revisions, I'd tried removing the god references.

But.

The moment I wrapped up the edits for the sake of interest or flexibility.

"...That's not possible."

Once again, the hallucination—no, the Status Window—popped up.

And the hard-earned perk skill was on the verge of vanishing into thin air.

I shot him sparkling, pleading eyes as if to say there has to be some way, and the editor sighed while rustling through my manuscript again.

"Anyway, it has plenty of publication value. If we craft the blurb right, it can pass as a fable rather than something directly targeting the church... but royalties will be 2:8."

A bit stingy, I thought.

But right now, I was just a rookie author who'd finished his debut work.

I'd have to prove myself with sales.

I signed the contract the editor slid over.

The first die had been cast.

Three days passed.

"Work's done. Heading out first."

"Already? Did you pick up some magic? How'd you handle that volume so fast...?"

"Haha... See you next week!"

In the meantime.

I'd gotten to experience the true power of 'Cyclops' Handicraft', my perk skill.

The part-time gig at the woodworking shop I'd picked up now and then to scrape by even without a real job.

Unlike the old days when I'd constantly smash my fingers with the hammer.

I could finish jobs nearly twice as fast as before—and flawlessly clean.

Enough confidence that I wouldn't starve.

And the wrist pain from typing? Gone.

I'd truly been reborn as a hearty jack-of-all-trades for any handiwork!

"Heh heh heh."

Slicing up history alone guaranteed a livelihood, and it even boosted my innate talents?

The history department was undoubtedly the ultimate invincible major that could crush med school and kneel engineering!

Of course, academia debated whether myths counted as history, but the system had publicly affirmed their value as material, even tagging them with '(Myth)'.

Myth's the best, myth.

History's the best, history.

Normally, I'd grab a cheap bite at the inn and hole up in my study to write furiously.

But today was the monumental day my first novel hit shelves.

I had to check out the bookstore.

...

Having chased after adventures my whole life, I'd never paid much mind to pop culture.

But this world had arts thriving among the masses.

Galleries, theaters, and bards belting songs on every street corner.

I wove through the chaotic spot reminiscent of Hongdae streets and stepped into the bookstore.

"Oh..."

Pride surged the moment I spotted my books on the new releases table.

A banner with the promo copy we'd hammered out together flapped above it.

The result of framing it to avoid undermining the goddess's authority as much as possible.

If these flew off the shelves, I'd be rolling in riches, fame, market share, user logins...

"Not buying? Step aside, commoner."

"Ah, yes."

With a curt tone.

A noble shoved me aside and picked up my book.

Books in this world ran pricey.

Magic engineering enabled mass printing for economies of scale, sure—but hardcovers as standard meant commoners like me rarely splurged.

So the buyers were inevitably the moneyed sorts.

In modern webnovels, I'd get instant feedback—or sharp snake tongues disguised as such.

For now, all I could do was watch the sales.

About three hours later, after the eleventh copy sold.

I left the store.

Two months since debut publication.

And I...

"I-I believed in your pen, Author Yul! Recontract with us!"

"4:6! 4:6, contract with our house!"

"We'll pre-contract your next work too!"

Ended up more popular than I'd imagined.

My original publisher getting cold feet.

Others wooing me.

Rival authors fidgeting anxiously.

In those two months.

Besides my debut, I'd penned one more.

Couldn't cram all Greek-Roman myths into one book, so naturally, the Olympus Tales sequel.

The renamed debut, Olympus Tales: War of the Gods, hadn't caught much fire.

But after days haunting bookstores to gauge trends.

I spotted romance novels—love stories mixed with adventures—ruling the roost.

Yet completion levels underwhelmed.

One K-melodrama dump could sweep them all; it was that dismal.

Thus.

Time to properly expand the world.

Volume two: Zeus' Love Affairs.

Honestly...

Practically erotica.

A more blatant title like 'Zeus Fucks Them All' would've fit.

Thanks to that, cult hit status—with complaint letters flooding the publisher over "sexual harassment."

Mythology's ultimate jack-of-all-trades, supreme playboy—Lord Zeus.

And so...

"Uh, Author. About next work's contract..."

"No, with us! 2:8? That's a slave deal!"

"Of course we'll renegotiate the split...! Boo-hoo, we didn't recognize your talent..."

Here we are.

Sure, they're begging now... but true major league publishers—the newspapers—haven't come knocking.

Feels like top dog among the small fry.

The one uneasy bit.

The Heracles tale's ending was primed for hate over its conclusion.

Sorry in advance, dear readers.

Historical accuracy.

But why are makjang dramas popular?

'Cause they're makjang.

"I'll... think on the contract a bit more. Still writing the next one. I'll reach out first."

After shooing out the regret-ridden, despairing, obsessed editors.

"Status Window."

I uttered the ever-moving phrase.

Public reception had dipped, even.

But sales don't lie.

Not blockbuster territory, truth be told.

Bestsellers cleared thousands in two months easy, they said.

But this was more than I deserved.

First book's flop meant probably no Hephaestus-linked skill...

But at this rate, Hermes-related power was a near lock.

Sales ticking up right before ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my eyes—soon enough.

"Sigh..."

Is this... right...

Even for accuracy, a legendary hero achieving feats, betrayed by his wife, suicidal in torment...?

Thankfully, the finale.

Athena deifying him on Zeus's orders, plus the deliberately omitted Gigantomachia exploits from volume one.

Adding that spoons some happy ending into the tragedy...

Probably wrap by tonight.

Myth as source or not, adapting it to sell here was all on me—headache inducing.

Public opinion secondary.

System nagging historical accuracy, completion ratings, etc.

"Maybe rest a bit."

『Good work, Yul. How about a walk to cool your head?』

Following Historie's advice, fresh air sounded good.

Dumped the last swig of today's cola down my throat and stepped out.

"Author Yul, right?"

Someone called me.

I turned.

"Gasp..."

A woman in bizarre garb emphasizing her sensual curves sacrilegiously—a cross-shaped slit gaping at her chest.

This outfit.

Familiar somehow.

Definitely...

"From the Goddess Church. Mind cooperating a moment?"

...

Cold sweat down my spine.

This world had unified faith under the Goddess Church.

And I'd peddled polytheist tales in a monotheist world.

Um...

Am I... a heretic?