People Faint from Joy Too
"Oh, we read the piece you submitted with great interest. The mythological interpretation featuring an angel directly... It didn't quite match the tone of the original work, but I felt it could be the seed of something truly unique."
"H-Huh, ugh, th-th, Ho, Homerus! Y-Your words honor m-my work—glurk...."
"Huh?"
I never imagined I'd witness that scene in real life. And not just once.
. . .
There was a minor incident where one winner fainted from sheer joy, but thankfully, the ceremony proceeded without major issues. The fainted recipient quickly recovered thanks to a priest who rushed over for treatment.
"Next, we have the Outstanding Award. The Outstanding Award goes to—Maiden, author of 'Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde'! Congratulations! Please come up to the stage."
"Yesss~."
I knew who it was without even seeing her face. In fact, I'd known the moment I read the entry. Who else could write such a radical tale of Dr. Jekyll drinking a potion and awakening his inner 'femininity' as Hyde?
"It was a highly unconventional and intriguing novel. Especially the inner depiction of 'Mrs. Hyde,' who retains Jekyll's memories yet can only perceive herself as a woman—it was masterful."
"Oh my, for Homerus himself to praise it so... What an honor."
The Empire's Third Prince. There she was, disguised in the guise of a familiar maid, the author of Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde. She covered her mouth with delicate fingertips, striking a coy pose.
"I was so looking forward to meeting you here at the ceremony, Homerus."
"Haha... Thank you."
Every time I faced her, my mouth went dry as cotton. It felt like an invisible pressure was bearing down on me. Was this the power of authority? Scary stuff, power! I needed to hand over the award and wrap this up fast.
"Then, I'll present the award. Outstanding Award..."
After awarding her and then granting the Grand Prize to the entrant who adapted the original into a play called Jekyll and Hyde, I recited my prepared lines and set up the final event.
"To everyone who participated in this contest, thank you once again. As a token of our appreciation, we've prepared a little surprise gift. President Dolling?"
"Yes!"
"Bring out the potions, please."
Dolling Kindersley wheeled out a cart hidden behind the stage. On it sat vials crafted by an alchemist.
"This is the potion from my novel Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde—the one that awakens Hyde."
My sudden declaration sent murmurs rippling through the hall. I tapped the amplification magic tool to quiet them and continued.
"—Though it's a bit different, actually. In the novel, the potion separated and manifested only the soul's 'evil side.' This one reveals the soul's true, complete form in the body. No risk of losing control like in the story, so feel free to use it without worry."
"D-Do you mean we can... use it?"
"Yes. I'd like to give one to each of today's winners. Ah, only to those who want one, of course."
The hall heated up even more at my words. Some faces lit with anticipation, while others paled, recalling the novel's 'Hyde.'
And among them, one person stared at the 'potion' with an oddly rigid expression.
"Winners who wish to receive a potion, please come forward."
As the others hesitated, one figure—appearing as a woman, yet unmistakably a man—rushed forward faster than anyone. The Empire's Third Prince.
. . .
The Empire's Third Prince, Idris, was an affront to the imperial family in her very existence. Born a son of the Emperor, with every right to grasp the Empire in her fist, she considered herself a 'woman.'
They'd called in exorcists claiming demonic possession, mental mages suspecting insanity. But the verdicts were normal, normal, normal. There was nothing wrong with the prince.
For no discernible reason or context, born in a man's body, she defined herself as a woman. In the end, the Emperor buried the Third Prince's very existence in the shadows.
"Your Highness. That suspicious potion... You're really going to drink it?"
"Enoch."
"Consuming an unknown substance so recklessly..."
"Think about it—we've known each other a long time, haven't we?"
"...Yes."
The Third Prince's shadow. Enoch was a bastard child. Of imperial blood, yet forbidden to speak of it. That's why he could be a shadow.
If the Third Prince died suddenly before the Emperor, Enoch would step in as the 'real' prince, assuming her role. Both knew this.
"Enoch. Doesn't it get exhausting, living your whole life as someone's shadow?"
"Serving in Your Highness's stead is my honor."
"It's boring as hell for me. Hiding in the shadows, just... brooding like this."
If Enoch harbored even a sliver less loyalty, the one called 'Your Highness' now would be Enoch, not Idris. The prince felt that truth anew, murmuring in a trembling voice.
"Even if drinking this proves my 'soul's true form'... nothing might change. From His Majesty's perspective, easier to let the shadow remain prince than correct that the prince was actually a princess, right?"
"Your Highness."
"Enoch. So... I just want confirmation. That I'm... not wrong."
With a wistful smile, the prince uncapped the vial and downed it without hesitation.
"Hah... Not as painful as I thought... Have I changed much?"
At a glance, she looked unchanged. Still beautiful. Her deep eyes made men shrink like frogs before a snake; her languid smile set careless hearts racing.
But Enoch, who had shadowed her lifelong, spotted the shift.
"...You've changed. A lot."
"Should've drunk it in front of a mirror. Made the same mistake as Dr. Jekyll. Hehe."
The flat chest, adorned with lace to conceal it, now swelled gently; her height had shrunk slightly; her form was more feminine overall. Her features were nearly the same—
Yet even Enoch, ever the shadow, felt his heart stir at the femininity now gracing her.
Gazing down at herself briefly, she let out an awkward laugh, shyly covering her mouth.
"Feels a bit... empty down there. Guess I really am a woman now."
"...Your Highness."
"Gotta ask Homerus where to get more of this. Enoch, clear my schedule—"
"......"
"Enoch?"
Enoch averted his gaze. The prince blinked blankly, then felt the warm liquid trailing down her cheek.
A retainer must not gaze upon his lord's tears—that's why Enoch had turned away. Realizing this, she wiped them with the back of her hand and teased playfully.
"Sniff... I must look a mess right now, huh?"
"No, Your Highness. You are always beautiful."
"Hehe, how would you know with your head turned? Just a moment. The tears will stop soon..."
"......"
"Haha... Why won't they stop? Sniff, wait, hic, sob...."
That day, in the carriage back to the imperial palace, Enoch kept his head turned until they arrived.
. . .
After the ceremony, I gave Dolling Kindersley a brief rundown of my future plans.
"I'm thinking of starting an academy to nurture literary talents."
"An academy...?"
"Yes. Centered on a few standout winners from this contest, as a pilot program for now."
The main reason I'd held the 'Secondary Creation Contest'—securing promising aspiring writers.
Ultimately, the goal was to teach them my past life's knowledge and techniques, producing more works. Especially genres like 'detective novels' or 'historical fiction' that I couldn't plagiarize solo. Like disciples under a master.
"President, is it feasible?"
"A pilot run wouldn't be hard. But a formal academy needs imperial approval... Ah! With the Third Prince sponsoring you, it might go smoother than expected!"
"A small-scale pilot with a few people is fine for now, so no rush on the formal academy."
"Got it!"
Good. Dolling would handle preparations perfectly. A bit over-the-top in her enthusiasm, but her competence was unquestionable.
In the meantime, I'd keep advancing literature my way.
"President."
"Yes!"
"Could you introduce me to a magazine? One of those cheap ones, the kind you read once and toss?"
"Pardon?"
"Yeah."