Father Brown - 2
"It seems like most things are going according to your plans, young master. This contest will be a huge success too."
"Plans? Nah... I just said 'it'd be nice if this happened.' I got lucky."
Ever since he'd sworn his loyalty to me, Sion had been actively helping with my 'hobby activities.' All related to literature. Things that were too difficult or time-consuming for me to handle myself—like compiling and reporting on literary issues and rumors.
In my previous life, I could've gotten info on the literary scene from 'reading communities.' But in this world, there was no choice but to rely on good old legwork. That's why I was getting so much help from Sion.
"This contest might draw even more readers than the Jekyll and Hyde one."
"Oh, yeah, definitely more. It'll be overwhelming."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. It's a mystery novel. The characters have massive fandoms thanks to the nature of those two works."
For these kinds of 'fanfiction' contests, the size of the fandom determines the number of entries. And the [Sherlock Holmes X Arsene Lupin] contest had a particularly clear-cut one. The niche appeal of the mystery genre itself, plus the charismatic characters Sherlock Holmes and Arsene Lupin. Every mystery reader was basically part of the fandom.
"I hope we get some really fun entries."
"Hmm, but if there are too many, even reading them all will be a chore. Most entrants probably aren't great writers, right?"
"True. Forcing yourself through boring novels is exhausting... But there's a certain joy in that fatigue too."
"You'll read every single one yourself again this time?"
"Yeah."
I answered without hesitation. No idea how many entries there'd be, but I planned to read every last one personally. Better to count every grain of mud myself than set up a filter and miss the pearl hidden inside.
"...You really are resolute when it comes to anything reading-related, young master."
"Can't compromise on my hobbies."
"Won't you run out of time?"
"Well..."
Considering the submission period and judging time, the schedule would be tight. Still.
"If it's reading, I could do it all day."
"...Understood. I'll prepare everything for a comfortable reading session in advance."
"Yeah, thanks as always, Sion."
"It's my pleasure, young master."
Half and Half Publishing. I was there reviewing entries with President Ryan and President Dolling Kindersley, who'd come to help.
"There are so many entries! Way more than the Homerus contest at our Kindersley Publishing."
"Yeah. It'll be worth the read."
Thinking back, in my previous life, I wasn't much of a reader. One novel around 300 pages—that was my daily limit. Anything more, and time ran out. (Researching for translations doesn't count as 'reading.') Compared to friends who devoured library-scale quantities, I was definitely lacking.
The biggest issue? Reading speed. Occupational hazard from being a translator—I'd always pause for notes or original text lookups, dragging it out.
And that problem had been solved in the most absurd way after reincarnating here.
"Author, why'd this one get cut? I thought it was fun and fresh!"
"Ah, plagiarism. It stole lines and plot points from obscure novels and mashed them together. Blue Spring Valley, Black Cross, Rils and Heine, Gerik Walk, The Man with the Gun, Village Without a Gravekeeper... and more."
"You've read all those...?"
"Everything published by Kindersley, and most of the buzzy ones from other publishers."
"Huh?"
"There are a lot of fun books out there."
Having read pretty much every notable novel in this world meant no need to look up references—I could instantly recall related works. Speed-reading became deep reading.
Of course, novels like Rolls Camel's, packed with intricate language play, still required slow savoring, sentence by sentence. But for trick-and-info heavy mysteries, a whole book took under an hour.
"Is that even possible...?"
"If you know the tricks."
"Tricks make it possible...?"
In previous-life Korea, there were even '10-minute reading method' seminars. Whether that counts as real reading is debatable. Just cramming plots into your head isn't it. For me, the joy's in the process—so good books get read slowly on purpose.
But for filtering out junk? I could toss one every 10 minutes. That's about how long it took inspecting newbie translator submissions back then. Hobby vs. work difference.
"I'd hate to miss a gem because of laziness. So I read more. Even the crappy-looking ones, I check first."
"But at your level, Herodotus, can't you tell from the first line?"
"Hmm, maybe. Obvious trash shows right away—but."
I picked up an entry and placed it in the 'pass' pile. Kindersley, who'd been following along, frowned. But since I'd passed it, she kept reading a bit more.
It was kinda funny.
"Judging a novel by its first line? The rest would feel cheated. Father Brown has Holmes-level observation, spotting a person's history from their collar, but he always listens to their story first to avoid bias. Holmes gets burned by assumptions sometimes."
"Haha! You must've enjoyed Father Brown, Herodotus! As expected from Homerus—super fun! But I still think your Sherlock Holmes is the best mystery!"
"Pfft."
"Hehe."
"Why are you two laughing?"
President Ryan, unaware I was 'Homerus,' jumped in. We burst out laughing. He just tilted his head, confused.
Wonder if I'd ever tell him. Who knows.
"This should do for sorting today. Can I take the rest home to read?"
"Of course! Whatever you wish, Herodotus! Haha!"
"Thanks."
"No problem!"
Father Brown was a mystery about contradictions. No need for grand tricks or airtight logic. The author—G.K. Chesterton—deeply understood the contradictions and distortions people create themselves. He had an intuition for flimsy yet ingenious crimes built on misunderstandings.
This 'psychological deduction' influenced the queen of mysteries, Agatha Christie, and through her, persists in modern Japanese mysteries. Read a wild, contradiction-filled 'Japanese mystery,' and you're reading Chesterton's influence.
And these 'inner human contradictions' transcend eras and worlds. Anyone, anytime, reading Father Brown can't help but appreciate its thoughtful depth.
"...Haha. Truly, thank you... I can't even imagine how to repay this grace... Homerus, you are the true benefactor of all beastkin."
And it held true even for 'beastkin.'
Born retaining 'beast instincts,' persecuted for ages—the wolf beastkin Grey, their representative, bowed his head in gratitude to me.
"What did I even do? It was all thanks to the church's consideration."
"This is truly... a wish all beastkin have held for ages... So long, I can't even... Haha... Today, I could die without regrets..."
The reason for Grey's gratitude was simple. Beastkin, as half-beast cursed without human blessing from the Lord, couldn't receive baptism. Until.
"A half-man half-beast like me... receiving baptism..."
Through consultations on Father Brown, I'd connected him with church priests who baptized him.
"Uh, are you okay? Your eyes are..."
"Ah, sorry. Old man's being sentimental... Too overjoyed to control myself..."
I hadn't intended this from the start or introduced him to the church deliberately. It was purely at the church's request.
After finishing Father Brown. On an ordinary day reading trendy mysteries and pondering what to plagiarize next.
The church priests who visited me made an absurd request out of nowhere.
"We'd like Gakyeongja to scold us."
"...Pardon?"
"Please."