Conan Saga 3: Strawberry Elixirs and Fairy Tale Dreams
Gallen Lannyon, the alchemist, quickly whipped up the potion and handed it over to me. Golden liquid sloshed gently inside the transparent glass vial.
"As requested, I made it strawberry-flavored!"
"Ah, how should we settle the preparation fee?"
"A fee? No need! The novels penned by the creator of these tales are sparkling inspirations to me in themselves!"
"Still, I can't just take a custom commission like this for free."
Even if he charged an exorbitant price, the prince would pay without hesitation. So I wanted to make it official.
"Really, it's fine! If anything, these potions were born from the inspirations leaping out of your novels. Shouldn't I be paying you? I devoured Don Quixote, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Conan Saga—all utterly fascinating!"
"Ah, yes. Thank you."
...Wait a second. What did that alchemist just say?
"Conan Saga…?"
"Wasn't that one of your novels, sir?"
"How did you know?"
"The color of the inspiration was the same! That brilliant, otherworldly glow—not of this world at all. Hahat!"
The color of inspiration? Sure, I'd translated them, but these were stories conceived by writers from different eras. Could he really spot they came from the same author through some fantastical intuition?
"Oh, was this supposed to be a secret? No worries! Even I keep my mouth shut when it counts. Eek."
"…Ah, yes. Please keep it confidential."
He didn't look like the tight-lipped type at all… but whatever. It wasn't some earth-shattering secret anyway.
"Well then, I'm off! Got to jot down these bursting inspirations into recipes!"
"Yes. Thanks for the potion."
Free potion secured—I could trust him that much, at least.
…
The prince, now a woman thanks to the Hide Potion, downed the Fixing Potion without a moment's hesitation.
"Mmm. Both potions are strawberry-flavored—feels a bit monotonous. The creator's taste, I suppose?"
"Do you feel any changes in your body?"
"Hard to say? With Hyde's potion, the pain of transformation was crystal clear, but this one to fix the body in place… nothing much."
"……"
A free potion—surely it wasn't defective? Tension started creeping in.
Sensing my unease, the prince flashed a mischievous smile and teased.
"Hehe, no need to tense up. Even if it's faulty, I wouldn't blame you, author. You're the one who gifted me this miraculous brew, after all. I'm deeply grateful right now."
"Your Highness's joy is my joy."
"Shouldn't it be 'Her Highness' now?"
"…Her Highness."
"Yes~! Say it again."
"Her Highness."
"Hehe, one more time."
"Her Highness."
"Ehehe, this is addictive…."
"……"
"Whoa, that irreverent thought just now? You were thinking 'crazy bitch,' right?"
"No, I wasn't."
Spooky. Did she have actual mind-reading powers?
"Feels like you did… Eh, whatever. More importantly, author."
"Yes."
"When do you plan to write your next work?"
"…Pardon?"
"I'm your patron. I can ask that much, right?"
"Ah."
"'Ah'? You didn't forget, did you? No way."
I'd completely forgotten.
Cold sweat trickled down my back again. My hands trembled.
Would writing Conan Saga under a different pen name cause issues…?
"Whoa, you really did forget?"
"…My apologies."
"I sent a pretty hefty sponsorship fee, you know… Though you don't look strapped for cash. Should've promised something else instead?"
"No, the sponsorship alone is more than I deserve."
"You're the second son of the Frieden family head, right?"
"…Did I ever mention my real name?"
"Come on, do I need it spelled out? These things come to light naturally."
She sure said it boldly—like she'd investigated me. Given her status as prince—or princess now—no one could meet her casually, so it made sense.
"I hear Count Frieden is tearing his hair out over central noble politics… Want me to help?"
"You mean my father?"
"I could write a recommendation for the Heraldry Institute. Officially, it'd be from my uncle… Duke Artien, of course."
The Heraldry Institute recorded noble lineages, formalized titles, and even granted family crests to upstarts. Any noble inheriting a title needed their approval. They held little real power, but crossing them could delay successions indefinitely. Best to stay on their good side—essentially imperial bureaucrats.
"What do you think? Pretty sweet gift. Just getting your name on their rolls, and central nobles will come bearing presents."
"…I appreciate the thought, but I'll pass."
Our father had no need for such a post.
"Eh, why?"
"My father treats gossiping about central nobles as his life's joy. I can't rob him of that as his son."
"…Pfft, what? That's ridiculous. Is that seriously the reason?"
"Yes."
It was half-true. My father—Count Frieden—was a born slacker. He loathed work, visibly recoiled at signing papers. Hand him a bothersome job like the Heraldry Institute, and he'd curse me as an unfilial wretch.
"So let's pretend I never heard your offer, Your Highness."
"It was a gift, not an offer… Fine, I won't force it."
"Thank you for understanding."
"But! Don't forget I'm your patron from now on. And write the next novel soon."
"Yes. Understood."
"Hehe, I'll be looking forward to it."
Why was she so delighted? Giggling behind her hand, the princess soon left with her guard knight.
Moments later, a head peeked around the door.
"Author! His—er, Her Highness is gone!"
It was Dolling Kindersley, the publisher's owner.
"Man, I'm exhausted…."
"Hehe… Great job!"
"I'm sweating bullets here—dying for a glass of water?"
"Knew you would, so I prepared it ahead!"
"Ah, thanks."
I took the glass from Ms. Dolling and chugged it. Refreshing. Did they install a magic water purifier here?
"Ms. Dolling."
"Yes!"
"I need you to take on editor duties."
"…D-Do you mean…?!"
"Yes."
Perfect timing—I had a work I was itching to plagiarize. Time to publish it.
"A new novel."
"Whaaaa—!!! R-Really?! You're not ditching me?!"
I'd expected her to freak out, but the wording was off.
"Ditching you…?"
"W-Well, you suddenly went to that cheap rag Half and Half with your mega-hit, so I thought it was because I fell short… Tears welled up and… Hehe. Thank you for choosing me!"
"Ahh."
True, from her perspective, her top author jumping ship to another publisher must've been a shock.
"No need to worry. I'll stick with Kindersley Publishing for most things going forward."
"Th-Thank you! I'll work till my bones grind to dust and my body shatters!"
"No need to go that far…."
She really was dramatic.
…
Conan Saga was the ancestor of mass-produced fantasy novels. Straightforward plots, simple stories, stereotypical characters, direct prose, episodic omnibus format. In short: easy to read.
Half and Half was far cheaper than other magazines, so Conan Saga's readers included plenty of kids.
"Mom!"
"Back from playing with friends? Eek, what's that on your knee? Oh no, it's all scraped up! Running around like this—doesn't it hurt?"
"Barbarians don't stop for pain!"
"You stop when it hurts. Playing on through injuries is just foolish. It'll get infected."
"Hehe."
The noble, heroic Conan the Barbarian play was all the rage among kids lately. All you needed was a stick. Bare chest? Just strip.
The problem: kids immersed in hero play often got hurt tumbling around. Children naturally bashed their noses playing anyway, but to parents, it was all Conan Saga's fault.
"Sigh, that damn barbarian whatever."
"Learning to read is great, but… they'd be better off with proper books. Magazines are all violence and sensationalism."
Thick illustrated fairy tale collections were luxuries for the wealthy and nobles. Common kids got cheap magazines or slim novels. Or maybe a Don Quixote saved from allowances—though few actually read it.
"Haa…."
…
"I'll write fairy tales."
"Fairy… tales?"
"Yes."
"Ah, like compiling oral folktales into a collection?"
"No. Original creations, naturally."
Precisely, plagiarizing my past life's works—but I'd grown shameless enough to say it straight.
"Fairy tales…? Not just a few stories for a collection…?"
"You'll see once you read them."
I was certain. Among all the masterpieces I'd plagiarized so far, these fairy tales would sell to the most people, in the most countries. Any adult who'd once been a child couldn't help but love them.