Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - 3
Sometimes, the most absurd rumors can snowball from mouth to mouth. Especially when there's even the slightest scrap of evidence.
"The chess depicted in Alice in the Mirror Country is Haren Kingdom-style chess! What else could prove that the author Homerus hails from the Haren Kingdom?"
"Nonsense! To call the empire's great sage a Haren native based on something like that—you must be out of your mind!"
At first, it was just a joke, idle speculation at best. Claiming someone was from the Haren Kingdom based solely on a single chess rule was laughable to begin with.
But rumors always start from such trivial jests.
"Come to think of it, the mystical tendencies in Homerus's literature bear striking similarities to Haren Kingdom myths."
"Exactly! The perspective on the soul in The Sorrows of Young Werther fits perfectly if interpreted through the doctrines of the Eastern Church, which is predominant in the Haren Kingdom!"
Soon, people began shoehorning evidence into the rumor. Literature offered fresh perspectives on life, and if you looked hard enough within it, you could find all the "proof" you needed.
Moreover, testimonies from fans who had actually seen the author Homerus lent it credence.
"Mr. Homerus was an incredibly exotic-looking handsome man! He had this mixed Eastern heritage vibe, surrounded by such a noble, serene aura."
"Could it be... that Mr. Homerus really is of Haren Kingdom blood?"
Ed's otherworldly appearance—a blend of his past and present lives—was more than enough to fuel the mixed-blood theory.
Whispers even went that far.
"I've heard that in the Haren Kingdom, dispossessed royals often change their identities and flee to the empire... Could it be...?"
"Gasp."
The rumors were spiraling out of control.
And the star of those rumors was...
"Son."
"Yes, Father."
"People are saying you're a mixed-blood royal who fled the Haren Kingdom."
"...Yes."
"Which would make me that 'Haren Kingdom royal who fled'..."
"Haha..."
"I've never even set foot outside the empire, let alone the Haren Kingdom."
"Yes..."
I was getting the cold shoulder at the dinner table.
The head of the Frieden family was a layabout. His hobbies? Gossiping about central nobles, causing chaos in parliament, and faking illness whenever an invitation arrived from the capital.
The only reason a man like that inherited the Frieden countship was that he was the previous count's sole son.
He was laziness incarnate.
He'd even tried handing the family headship to his younger sister, only to get shot down by the heraldry office.
"Why would I be Haren Kingdom royalty? My capable second son?"
"...I have no idea."
"Are you a mixed-blood?"
"No, sir."
The Frieden Count wasn't truly offended. This was just...
Teasing.
He was the kind of dirty-minded father who got a kick out of ribbing his son.
"I don't care if you pick up weird potions and write books out there, but don't go scamming people with our family tree."
"Yes, sir..."
"It could spark diplomatic friction with the Haren Kingdom, and it leaves me feeling oddly unsettled. You ungrateful brat."
"Father, I never claimed to be from the Haren Kingdom myself—"
"Oh? Now you're talking back to your father? Aigoo, when the empire's great sage Homerus raises his voice, a powerless noble like me has no choice but to shut up. I'm terrified he'll put some gossip about me in his next novel."
"......"
I opened my mouth to retort, then closed it and just picked up my spoon.
I couldn't tell if the soup was going in my mouth or my nose. Better eat fast and retreat to my room to write.
"Now you won't even pretend to listen... Aigoo, guess I should just die of old age. When I go, pass the countship to Eric. That ungrateful second son will do fine on his own."
"Congrats on becoming family head, bro."
"Uh, thanks, little bro. So, when's your next work coming out?"
"Dunno."
"...Raising kids is pointless, they say."
"Tsk tsk, it's because you're so frivolous that the boys pick it up from you. How are you still so immature at your age?"
Father sulked unnecessarily and hung his head, while Mother clicked her tongue at him.
Just another ordinary day in the Frieden Count's household.
Rolls Camel was a stutterer.
Her mind teemed with fragments of countless languages and poetic inspirations, but converting them into social speech was an excruciating ordeal.
That was why Rolls Camel stuttered.
If asked to recite poetry, she could do it flawlessly; if told to spin a tale, she could go on for hours.
"I-I-I’m f-f-fine! S-Support is j-just b-b-burdensome—."
"No need to be so tense. We're only offering this to support your artistic endeavors, Ms. Camel. We won't demand anything special."
"Th-That’s, um, I-I—."
Conversing with others was incredibly difficult.
Social language, in particular, eluded her.
Rolls Camel's language was pure primal tongue, ornate prose for art, complex yet intuitive puzzles. Tailoring it to others' judgments? Utterly agonizing.
"If it's hard to decide right now, please at least take a look at this document."
"Ah, y-yes! Of c-course!"
"Haha, then I'll take my leave. I'll visit again soon."
"Y-Yes..."
Rolls Camel read the document from the patron's agent once, then tossed it in the trash.
She lay quietly on the sofa, gazing at the world's patterns.
The wood grain of the table, the dust motes dancing in the sunlight, the mana rippling from a broken magic tool.
Observing them eased her mind, if only a little.
But what truly soothed her was something else.
"Haa... I w-want to p-play with the k-kids..."
The children.
Pure girls, especially.
Rolls Camel adored them—not in a sexual way, but spiritually. Only then did she feel profound peace and comfort.
Perhaps because her linguistic intuition mirrored their free, unbridled one.
Inventing words on a whim, rambling incoherently all day, prioritizing raw feeling over others' gazes, reacting honestly with joy or dislike.
Children were the epitome of utter purity, she believed.
"Ugh..."
She wanted to play with them, but caution was key.
Adults judged the world through narrow lenses, spewing irreverent assessments and guesses.
Many blasphemously labeled her a pervert for merely playing with children.
Horrific.
Even now, they gossiped wildly about the great Homerus—Haren mixed-blood, hidden royal.
People clung to the idiotic belief that great writing could only come from great bloodlines.
"I m-miss Mr. H-Homerus..."
In that regard, Homerus viewed the world with clearer eyes.
Not through his works—though they showed it—but his attitude.
He harbored none of the era's common prejudices. He entrusted joint authorship to a stutterer, smiled warmly at her praise of girlish purity, showed no noble arrogance or artistic ego.
Eerily rational.
Yet that made him seem purely innocent.
Pure, great intellect—that was Homerus in Rolls Camel's eyes.
"I w-wish I c-could be a g-great author like Mr. H-Homerus..."
Staring blankly at the world's patterns, Rolls Camel suddenly rose and headed to her room.
To write.
To become a great author, she first had to become an author.
"President."
"Yes! Author!"
"There are weird rumors circulating in the empire lately. Could you issue an official statement? Say that all the 'Haren Kingdom royal' nonsense is baseless gossip."
"Got it!"
Marketing-wise, it wasn't harmful, but no need to let potentially problematic rumors fester.
Best to nip them in the bud via the publisher.
But...
...Too late by one step.