61. A Beaming School Trip

The operation was a success.

The moment it was revealed that John was the one playing Riv, people naturally flocked to the filming location of the train scene.

The public assumed John had orchestrated this event to promote Magical Mari. Not a single one of them imagined the real objective was to turn that place into a sacred pilgrimage site.

With this, drawing attention to the location was a success.

The next step was to grant a narrative to that place.

Of course, the fact that the famous train scene was shot there, and that John had acted in it, was enough to attract people's interest.

But if I left it as is, that location would be remembered as nothing more than a spot that rode the surprise news of John's casting in Magical Mari.

It would briefly become a tourist attraction, but that interest likely wouldn't last a month.

I knew this for a fact because the very train wreck from my past life that I'd used as a motif had turned into a pile of scrap metal the moment the film's fresh impact wore off.

So what needed to be done?

My limited knowledge didn't contain any successful examples of long-term tourist attractions.

But if I understood the principles by which pilgrimage sites were born, I could make the interest in that place endure long-term.

'Grant a narrative that can last.'

I would exploit the window of heightened public interest to endow the place with a narrative that would keep people coming back.

A pilgrimage to a film location isn't undertaken because the place is pretty, but because of the narrative entwined with it.

A shack steeped in the characters' stories holds incomparably greater value as a pilgrimage site than a top-tier hotel they merely passed through.

And if a story is attached to that place, people will continue to visit, even long after the film's fresh impact has faded.

But that train was simply a place where a cool scene was shot—there wasn't really any in-film story to link to it.

So instead, I needed to weave in a story from outside the film.

'I suppose I'll have to unveil some behind-the-scenes stories.'

With a little MSG sprinkled on top.

*

It was already common knowledge that the train scene had been created while Sage Cervantes was away filming NoFoMa, when I ran wild as the acting director.

Because of that, people perceived that double-track drift as a piece of direction I had crafted.

But strictly speaking, that wasn't my direction.

'I had no idea it would turn out like that either. Honestly.'

The truth was that the double-track drift wasn't a scene I had ordered.

The scene I had originally envisioned was a classic pro-wrestling setup: Riv would leap onto the runaway train after control had been transferred to headquarters, wipe out the knights, and the engineer would commentate on Riv’s exploits over the announcement system.

After rescuing Ignos and tossing him onto the Skeleton Train, Riv would escape the escort train, which would then crash into a barricade and disappear from view. That was the scene I had intended.

But Melvin Jenkins was a madman beyond my wildest imagination.

That scene was a genuine accident.

At the time, due to a miscommunication during filming, the barricade was set up on the Skeleton Train's track instead of the escort train's.

Inside the Skeleton Train, I—as Riv—received that report from the props team late, and was about to shout "NG" and call for a reshoot.

But Melvin Jenkins, gripping the controls with the barricade rushing toward him, had already entered Berserk Mode.

- "Hah! How dare a mere barricade block my path?!"

It was only then I realized something had gone terribly wrong.

Ignoring my protests, Melvin began manipulating the controls with dazzling dexterity.

And when the train reached the barricade, instead of colliding with it, he used it as a jump ramp and left the tracks entirely.

- 'Oh shit, we're screwed.'

Setting aside the question of how one even manipulates a train weighing tens of tons into derailing, I was plunged into darkness at the hopeless task of figuring out how to get a derailed train back onto the tracks.

But the performance Melvin pulled off right after transcended my imagination.

He kept the rear wheels on the original track and set the front wheels onto the escort train's track.

Yes.

That's how the legendary double-track drift ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠scene was born.

And then Melvin pulled the brake to bring the escort train to a physical stop.

As the escort train crashed into the side of the Skeleton Train, the passenger car I was in shook violently.

That intense impact snapped me back to my senses.

- 'This has all the makings of a legendary scene!'

Everything from that point on was pure ad-lib.

- 'This stop is the Netherworld. The Netherworld. There is no need to disembark. Our chief attendant will be paying you a visit.'

- 'Prepare for combat.'

- 'I shall now deliver the Twilight Council's verdict. Total annihilation.'

The veteran actors covered a rookie actor's trolling using nothing but pure ad-lib.

Moreover, the area was originally at high risk for rockslides. Perhaps due to the shock of the train collision, a landslide occurred just as the Skeleton Train was vanishing from view.

And as if fate itself were running interference, that landslide conveniently erased even the traces of the Skeleton Train, giving birth to a legendary scene of truly divine favor.

Come to think of it, there were many similar instances in my past life.

Surprisingly often, the most hair-raising scenes and details were born unintentionally, and audiences went wild for stories from behind the screen.

Stories of an actor’s ad-lib fitting a situation perfectly, or an accidental mishap aligning uncannily with a scene, often achieved cult popularity and were retold for years.

That was the effect I was aiming for this time.

I would reveal to the public that this double-track drift was, in reality, not a meticulously planned piece of direction, but a legendary scene born from a rookie actor's sudden outburst and veteran actors' quick thinking.

If I did that, the train wreckage would skyrocket in status—from a mere filming location for Riv's debut scene, to a legendary set where the actors' raw physical prowess created magic.

"Your Grace, any word on the interview I mentioned yesterday? Yes, understood."

First, I would gather the reporters and share this story in an interview.

Then the tourist attraction would be complete.

*

After the lunchtime interview concluded, I made my way back to the filming site.

There was one final matter to check before reporting mission completion.

I recalled the mission directive.

With Duke Karamzin's cooperation, turn the filming location of the Skeleton Train scene into a tourist attraction.

Those were the exact orders.

Turn it into a tourist attraction.

Looking at those words alone, one might think it’s fine to report mission success immediately, but national systems didn’t operate that simply.

Anything funded by tax money had to produce tangible results.

If I were to submit a report based on a vague feeling of 'Yeah, this is probably good enough'?

The moment that kind of nonsense was tolerated, a tax leech was born.

And in a nation as large as the Empire, I was sure tax leeches were already scheming to exploit every possible loophole.

The country I lived in during my past life also got royally fucked over like that. No way I could repeat the same experience in this life.

Therefore, regarding this order to create a tourist attraction, I absolutely had to confirm tangible results.

Upon arriving at the site, instead of sightseeing around the train with the crowd, I dodged people's gazes and crafted a walkway along the incoming path.

Since road conditions strongly affected the tourism experience, I shaped the route so it was easy to walk without detracting from the scenery.

Next, since a rockslide accident with this many people gathered would be disastrous, I preemptively shaved away any unstable rocks.

This wasn't something I could fully handle on my own; I would likely need to mention it to the Duke later to get additional safety measures in place.

Lastly, to quantify the tangible results, I settled down a suitable distance from the site and began recording the number of people coming and going.

The average inflow per hour, average duration of visit, and even the gender ratio and age groups.

The records weren't meticulous enough to hold statistical significance, but over several hours, I collected rough information that could at least serve as usable data.

About five hours later, once I was satisfied the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mission had succeeded, I finished recording the data and stood up.

'The school trip is pretty much over.'

Today was the third day.

The school trip was five days excluding the weekend, and I'd used three of them to make this a tourist attraction.

There were two days left, but...

'At this point, how do I even join in with the others?'

Even having fun had its own rhythm.

Maybe if I'd been hanging out with them from the first or second day, but suddenly tagging along on the fourth day? I'd be the only one unable to follow the flow.

So I just gave up cleanly.

I figured I’d wander around looking for good restaurants near the duchy and shoot an episode of The Solitary Gourmet.

Half regretful and half exhausted, I closed my notebook and was about to leave, when a familiar voice called out to stop me.

"Yo?"

"?"

"What's with that face? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Because there's a bachelor ghost standing in front of me?"

"You really do say whatever you want in front of the Imperial Prince."

Leon was here.

No, it wasn't just Leon.

Behind him were a flock of noble children.

I didn’t know their names, but they were Political Science Department students I’d seen around a few times.

'Why was the Political Science Department here?'

Seriously, why were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they here?

Those guys had been shipped off to the opposite side of the Empire—the Empire's western side.

It wasn't famous as a tourist spot; instead, it was a place with a huge population of other races like Elves and Dwarves where you could experience a variety of cultures.

So why were they here?

"I saw the hotel commercial. Good stuff."

"??? You were there?"

"I've been here since the first day?"

"?"

I chewed over Leon's words.

That they'd been here since the first day didn't mean they were sneaking out or on personal excursions, but that the school had simply sent them here—and how the hell did that make any—

'Ah.'

Come to think of it, me coming here was also Duke Karamzin's handiwork.

There was no reason a member of the imperial family could not do what a Duke could.

"Oh, child. You've already tasted the flavor of power, haven't you. Does the school trip just look like your personal vacation now? Thanks to you, the academy and the Karamzin Territory's administrators must be shitting blood."

"I didn't do it."

"Sure. Of course you didn't, oh noble bloodline. When one's superior points, those below must roll. If their superior says he dislikes the already-decided location, they just have to make it work somehow in a week, isn't that right~"

"I. Didn't. Do it."

"...Really?"

"For real. On my mother's honor."

A mere prince could hardly swear on the Emperor, so Leon staked the Empress—his mother—instead.

I marveled that the most valuable oath a person could make hadn’t changed much between worlds and decided to believe Leon.

Thinking about it, even if it wasn't Leon, others capable of pulling this off certainly existed.

Besides Leon, the Political Science Department was full of people who could pressure the school administration.

"So whose handiwork is this? The royal family from that country over there? Or children of privy councilors?"

With a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sulky expression, Leon shook his head and answered.

"No. Pia."

"...Her again?"

Just like during the entrance ceremony, she was far too fond of changing the schedule on a whim.

Of course, during the entrance ceremony the academy had exploited her reputation for a large-scale hidden-camera prank, but it remained true that she had acted without thinking.

She seemed to have a poor grasp of her own position.

Rationally, she knew she possessed the right of succession, but she didn't fully understand it.

The narrow perspective and willful social behavior she occasionally revealed laid bare her incomprehension of the weight of her succession rights.

Because of this, even within the Imperial Palace, there was no one who viewed her chances of becoming Emperor as high.

Even Uncle Emperor, while granting her succession rights, had told me outright that she wouldn't influence the succession landscape. That said it all.

She was an immature child who didn’t know her own strength and destroyed anthills for fun.

But the reason Leon and I worried about her was something else entirely.

"Look, she's coming this way. Perfect timing."

Slightly later than Leon, Pia arrived at the scene.

And just like Leon, she was leading her own entourage.

The moment she spotted me from afar, a smile bloomed across her face and she waved cheerfully.

I smiled and waved back.

While keeping her in the corner of my vision, I observed the entourage accompanying her.

The noble children behind her were directing pleasant, friendly smiles at me, just like Pia.

But I did not smile at them in return.

"The world's really improved. These days, even parasites can walk around on two legs."

Leon agreed with my undisguised disgust.

"It was my oversight."

"It was our oversight."

The sight of that foul-smelling group approaching with a girl I regarded as a little sister was deeply unpleasant.