Chapter 163: I Became a Plagiarizing Fairy Tale Author in a LitRPG (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 163: I Became a Plagiarizing Fairy Tale Author in a LitRPG (3)
“Hey, you. What’s with this ending? I read it to my daughters just like you said, and now they won’t stop crying!”
Wolfram demanded, sounding as if he were interrogating me.
He had his reasons for being so upset.
The main conflict in the story of Snow White is the queen, jealous of Snow White’s beauty, driving her out and trying to kill her.
The queen repeatedly attempts to assassinate Snow White, but she is thwarted each time by the dwarves.
However, the queen eventually succeeds in feeding Snow White a poisoned apple, causing her to collapse and fall into an eternal sleep.
That’s as far as the story goes in my book.
It was a frustrating cliffhanger even for those who knew the ending, so how would it feel for those who didn’t? The innocent children who wanted Snow White to live happily ever after were instead met with a sad ending.
I had shattered their childhood innocence.
“The elves are brave warriors, so why are the dwarves portrayed as cowards?”
And there was another dwarf’s protest.
Elves don’t appear in the original Snow White, but they do in the fairy tale I wrote. To be precise, she was a beautiful forest fairy with blonde hair and long ears, inspired by Tinkerbell from Peter Pan.
To someone who didn’t know Tinkerbell, she would just look like an elf. Just as the dwarfs looked like, well, dwarves. This, too, was by design.
This was my adaptation of Snow White:
The dwarves, who had helped the princess in every way in the original story, were now so terrified they wouldn’t leave their homes. Instead, the forest fairies came to Snow White’s aid.
The reason was simple.
When it came to provoking people, nothing worked better than stirring up conflict. And if the opposing party was the elves, it was all the more effective.
“Is there any need to get so invested? It’s just a fairy tale. Don’t pay it any mind.”
That’s what I said, but seeing their reaction, I was certain my plan would succeed.
It was time to release the poison in Doomheim.
*
The Drunkard’s Keg, the most famous tavern in Doomheim.
The place, usually bustling with energy, was unusually gloomy today. The fathers, in particular, let out deep sighs. That alone was enough for the men to feel a sense of camaraderie.
“Did you happen to read Snow White to your daughter, too?”
“You too?”
The fairy tale Snow White had recently taken Doomheim by storm.
The pitiful Snow White, driven from her home by her stepmother simply for being beautiful, her life constantly under threat. The story ends with her falling into an eternal sleep after eating a poisoned apple from her stepmother, disguised as a witch.
“She won’t stop crying about Snow White dying. It’s no use telling her it’s not real, that it’s just a fairy tale.”
“You know what my kids said? They asked why the fairies helped Snow White while the dwarves just hid like cowards. They even said they wished they were born as elves, not dwarves!”
The pride of the dwarves, passed down since the legendary blacksmith, the great Hargran, was shattered, and the budding generation that would carry Doomheim’s future was steeped in a sense of defeat.
All because of a single fairy tale.
“Who the hell wrote this garbage?”
“I hear it’s some human bastard freeloading at Lord Thorvar’s place.”
“What?”
“And the rumors say he plans to sell this book all over the continent.”
“That’s ridiculous! We can’t let that happen!”
They couldn’t allow such a false tale to tarnish the honor of the dwarves. Forgetting even their drinks, the dwarves rushed to Thorvar’s house.
The place was already swarming with a massive crowd of dwarves.
“You scrawny human bastard! Stop hiding and come out right now!”
“Did you think you could get away with insulting dwarves in Doomheim?”
The dwarves roared, protesting loudly.
Perka, who had been peeking through the curtains, stepped away from the window. Beside her, Karami was watching the scene while sipping coffee.
“It looks like a spilled bucket of caramel popcorn. Makes me want to grab a handful.”
After creating this whole mess, all he did was crack tasteless jokes. Perka let out a weary sigh.
Perka had also read Snow White.
Her mother dead, driven from the castle at a young age due to her stepmother’s jealousy, her life under constant threat.
It seemed as though she would survive the numerous attempts on her life, but in the end, she fell for a scheme and was cast into an eternal sleep.
The story was undeniably Azyeth’s life, and Perka noticed at once that the illustrations, while a far cry from the real person, also resembled Azyeth.
And Karami had ended the tale with that very Azyeth meeting a sad ending.
“How on earth are you going to clean this up after writing a story like that? The people have turned into a complete mob.”
While Azyeth was being tormented by her stepmother, the fairies had tried to help, whereas the dwarves were busy hiding. To think he would disparage the dwarves by comparing them to elves, of all people, here in Doomheim.
Even Perka, who was half-human and half-dwarf, could understand how they felt. It would have been strange if they weren’t angry.
Sighing once more, Perka glanced at Azyeth. Azyeth was sitting on the bed, quietly reading the fairy tale.
What must it feel like to read your own story that ends so tragically? Her expression was impassive, but she must have felt strange.
Fairy tales were supposed to have happy endings. Karami was truly wicked.
Only then did Perka belatedly remember.
Karami was the Slave Reaper.
She had completely forgotten, given his recent actions. Perhaps everything he had done up to this point was just preparation to feel some sort of base pleasure.
So Perka thought.
*
It was the fourth day since Snow White had been revealed to the world.
A new fairy tale, and cheap at that, Snow White was an easy gift for parents to buy for their children.
Parents bought the book and read it to their children, and the children who encountered Karami’s version of Snow White fell into a depression.
The girls who saw themselves in Snow White experienced a vicarious eternal sleep, and the boys who had anticipated the heroic deeds of the seven dwarfs were left with a sense of loss.
While not as deeply affected as the impressionable children, the adults who had hoped for a story where good triumphs over evil reacted similarly. For people in a world without much cultural entertainment, the impact was even greater.
Like the witch’s poisoned apple.
The Reaper had unleashed the poison of despair upon Doomheim.
The dwarves set aside their mining and their drinking, gathering in front of Thorvar’s house to protest vehemently.
Come out now.
Come out, apologize, and change the story.
The only reason they were protesting peacefully was that he was Meister Thorvar’s houseguest. Had it been anyone else, they would have broken down the door long ago.
But the dwarves’ patience was wearing thin. Discontent began to brew against Thorvar as well, for keeping his door firmly shut and hiding Karami.
Just as their heightened emotions reached their limit, on the verge of erupting like a volcano…
“Good evening, everyone. To think you’d all come to visit at this late hour. I’m overwhelmed.”
The firmly shut door opened, and Karami finally revealed himself.
“Finally crawled out, have you? You elven spy bastard!”
“Haha, it’s true I’m acquainted with the elves, but I’m no spy.”
Despite the torrent of hostile emotions from the crowd, Karami answered smoothly.
“For what reason have you all gathered here? Is this a festival?”
“It’s your funeral! Did you really think you could publish that garbage as a fairy tale and walk away in one piece?”
“A fairy tale?”
“Don’t play dumb! You think we don’t know you wrote Snow White?”
Karami tilted his head with a look of genuine confusion.
“Why is that a fairy tale?”
“What?”
“Snow White is based on a true story. I only adapted it slightly.”
“How is that garbage a true story? Are you kidding me?”
The dwarves raised their voices in unison to protect their pride. As if mocking them, a blatant, derisive smile spread across Karami’s face.
“I’ve been to the Great Forest. They fought bravely, boasting of their martial prowess. But what about the dwarves? Didn’t you forsake your duty and choose to hide like cowards?”
“Th-that’s…”
“And you expect a fairy tale about you to be all sunshine and rainbows? Escaping reality? Don’t make me laugh.”
He spoke as if he understood.
How terrifying must it be to face a dragon?
But the fact that they had run away remained unchanged, and Karami had only written things as they were.
“It was the adults who gave up on an ending filled with dreams and hope. So it’s only natural that the children get a sad ending.”
Karami shrugged. Despite his taunts, the dwarves couldn’t offer any rebuttal.
The dwarves, who had been ready to charge in at any moment, now just exchanged wary glances, as if their previous fury had never existed.
“Actually, there’s a secret to Snow White.”
Just then, Karami’s plausible voice flowed into the crowd.
“The version of Snow White I published is Part One. The conclusion is in a separate book, Part Two.”
“Is that true?”
“It is. Part One is merely the bridge leading to the ending. I’m writing Part Two right now.”
In other words.
“If you were to perhaps show me your bravery… the ending just might change.”
“……”
“You still have a chance. A chance to reach a happy ending. A chance to show your children dreams and hope.”
The dwarves’ eyes wavered.
Karami didn’t miss a beat and continued his persuasive speech.
“And is that all? I am the Slave Reaper. There is no one on the continent who doesn’t know me. They won’t be able to resist taking an interest in a book I’ve written.”
“So…?”
“If you fight without backing down, even from a dragon… Yes. Then I’d have no choice but to admit that dwarves are a superior race to elves.”
Karami delivered the final blow.
“Your bravery will be recorded in this fairy tale and passed down for generations to come. Just like the great Hargran.”
Silence settled over the crowd.
There were dwarves contemplating, dwarves hesitating, dwarves whose hearts were swayed but whose minds still wavered. From among them, a dwarf with five children raised his voice.
“That’s right, lads! Can we show our children such a cowardly side? If we let a guest in Doomheim be driven away, can we hold our heads high in front of our kids?”
That was the signal.
“That’s right! We can’t let ourselves be outdone by the likes of elves!”
“Dragon or lizard, whatever it is! Let’s hunt it down and show them the bravery of the dwarves!”
The dwarves shouted in one unified voice.
“We are dwarves! An indomitable race, born of steel and embracing the flame! Only the hammer and the anvil can forge our destiny. None shall stand in our way! Raise your hammers, raise your shields! We are the children of the earth who can forge even the gods!”
The declaration thundered through the underground city.
The dwarves solidified their resolve, declaring their intent to join the battle.
Karami smiled silently.
All that was left was to prepare.