How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World

Leona’s first night was different from other women; it lasted until the afternoon of the next day.

Given my already strong stamina, adding her heat cycle into the mix drained my energy even more, making it take longer.

Fortunately, the medicine Musk gifted me had excellent effects, so I didn’t collapse from exhaustion first. Instead, a minor incident occurred.

Just as everything had ended and I was about to clean up, Mari came to my bedroom.

Since I hadn’t come out even though the sun was high in the sky, she got worried and came looking for me.

However, the situation was perfect for provoking Mari’s jealousy, so I had no choice but to have my energy drained by her as well.

She also left me with a warning: I could enjoy myself with Leona for now, but after that, she would make sure to squeeze me dry.

Since we had spent the entire morning in bed, I ended up staying awake the whole day.

For the sake of my sleep schedule, this was for the best.

Since she had completely exhausted her energy, deep sleep was necessary for her recovery.

And so, the hardest first night passed, and after spending a whole day just sleeping, I was finally able to return to my daily routine.

Tap tap tap—

As soon as I returned to normal, I sat at my desk to finish writing. Leona was still catching up on lost sleep.

Apparently, beastmen use up all their stamina and energy during their heat cycle, and once they’re completely drained, they just sleep for days.

But that’s only for those with the strong regeneration ability unique to beastmen—Leona is a half-blood.

Naturally, her regeneration is slower in comparison. From what I heard, all she does now is eat and sleep continuously.

On top of that, she completely lost herself due to the World Tree Leaf cigar scent, which drove her to her limits, so now she has no choice but to focus entirely on recovering.

‘She’s probably the type like Cecily, who explodes all at once.’

However, because she lost her rationality due to the cigar scent, I failed to control the situation. That’s why she’s still sleeping.

Thanks to that, my evenings have been surprisingly free. Before falling asleep, Leona even told me this:

‘If I had been able to release my urges regularly, I wouldn’t have gone so far as to drain myself completely like this.’

In other words, she was indirectly asking me to help her satisfy her needs regularly so she wouldn’t go through such an ordeal again.

Of course, as I had done with the other women before, I planned to continue being with Leona for the time being. She seemed to want that as well.

Despite the storm of the first night having passed, most things remained unchanged.

For example, the lively tourists laughing and chatting in the estate—they were people who had come for Jin’s funeral.

‘I bet they’re having fun.’

It was ridiculous how, the moment I announced I would bring Jin back to life, the event immediately turned into a festival.

But as long as the readers were happy, it didn’t matter.

But what if I released a side story at this point? That would cause an uproar. I’d love to see that reaction.

Maybe it was because of the lingering effects of the World Tree Leaf cigar, but my hands wouldn’t stop typing.

I wanted to smoke another one, but I held back, worried I might get addicted.

No matter how beneficial it was, relying on it too much would inevitably have negative effects.

‘Still, carrying one around wouldn’t be a bad idea.’

Just in case of an emergency. If something happened and I became overwhelmed, I could smoke it then.

‘Now, I’ve written everything… but…’

I stared at the manuscript for the side story on my desk. I only had one page left to write.

But one thing was bothering me—was it really okay to release it as is?

The other side story, The Passing Hero, was more of a prequel, but this one was the true conclusion.

I wanted to write a closing line fitting for the end of The Chronicle of Zenon, but I couldn’t think of anything suitable.

“Since Jin is the real protagonist, I should use something related to him…”

The best option would be to include a famous song from my past life. In fact, there was one perfect song for The Chronicle of Zenon’s story.

That song was Don’t Worry, Dear, a masterpiece sung by many artists.

It was more of a memorial song, sung for people who had left or for cherished memories—perfectly fitting for The Chronicle of Zenon, where many characters met tragic ends.

Originally, I had planned for Zenon to sing it after hearing about the death of his master, Kair, but…

“I completely forgot at the time…”

So many things had happened that I overlooked it. If I had included it, it would have had a much greater emotional impact on the readers.

Even Mora had indirectly asked me before to include a song from Earth.

Thankfully, she understood I was busy, so she never brought it up again—but I still felt guilty.

“Should I add it now?”

Honestly, it wouldn’t be a big problem.

The song suited the bittersweet and melancholic atmosphere of The Chronicle of Zenon perfectly.

But there was one issue—the nature of this side story.

If all the major characters appeared, it would be one thing, but this side story focused mainly on Jin and Lily.

Readers would likely view Jin as the main character here, with Zenon pushed to the background.

That meant I needed a song that suited Jin perfectly…

“There is one…”

A song that, if you only looked at the lyrics, could be considered an anthem not just for Jin, but for the entire demon race.

It was Butter-Fly by Wada Kouji, a legendary song I heard back in my past life when I was in elementary school.

Anyone born in the ’90s would have heard it at least once.

As a kid, I didn’t understand the abstract lyrics and just thought it sounded good. But as I grew older, I realized it was a true masterpiece.

The lyrics were especially meaningful—about soaring forward with determination even in a dark and hopeless world, filled with resilience and hope.

“Now that I think about it, a lot of old songs had abstract lyrics.”

Maybe nostalgia played a role, but there really were a ton of amazing songs. I slowly recalled them one by one.

My past-life generation was culturally blessed.

We had survived the worst financial crisis—the IMF—and finally gained some stability in our households.

Not to mention, anti-Japanese sentiment had lowered enough that various anime were imported and even dubbed for television broadcasts.

Back then, there were no smartphones, so the only way to access anime was through limited means.

In that situation, seeing a completely new comic on television for the first time made it easy to become engrossed.

‘My parents told me to watch from a distance, saying my eyesight would get worse.’

Maybe it’s because I’m recalling a distant past now. I feel a sudden surge of emotion for no reason.

I hurriedly pulled myself out of my thoughts and returned to my work. It hurts, but the past life—it’s a past I can never return to.

However, I can bring remnants of the past into this world. That thought solidified my resolve.

‘I should visit Mora’s temple soon.’

Of course, I don’t remember all the lyrics, so I’ll need Mora’s help. I printed out the last page and stood up from my seat.

Once I add the song lyrics, the side story will be complete. After that, I just need to visit Mora’s temple and inform Musk.

The festival-goers outside—both the readers and the people of the territory—will surely cherish this as a wonderful gift.

Since I even declared that I would deliver a love story so sweet it could rot one’s teeth, my work will be more than enough to send them into ecstasy.

‘But if I write the lyrics, will a bard sing them?’

Bards do exist in this world.

They’re closer to singer-songwriters, but since the specific term doesn’t exist here, I’ll just call them bards.

Anyway, bards travel across the world, composing poetry or singing songs about myths and heroes—much like wandering minstrels.

Naturally, this tradition originated in the Kingdom of Teres, a land of culture.

Even now, countless bards roam the world, singing for people.

I heard that some sing songs about The Chronicles of Zenon, but I’ll ignore that for now.

What I’m concerned with is how they will sing the lyrics of the side story.

‘Each race has its own differences, but since they use a common language, I need to translate it well.’

The original song has some English words, but in this world, there are no “foreign languages.” Everyone uses the same script and language.

Of course, that doesn’t mean everything is identical—there are regional and racial variations in accent and phrasing.

But since the fundamental language is the same, translating the lyrics while preserving their essence remains a challenge.

‘Now that I think about it, having only one language is kind of strange.’

Back on Earth—without even looking at the whole world, just in Europe alone—there were countless languages crammed into a relatively small region.

English, German, French, Italian… While the origin of writing traces back to Egyptian hieroglyphs, languages themselves are vastly different.

Even neighboring countries spoke different languages, yet in this world, everyone shares the same one.

Though, in the past, different scripts existed—something that naturally changed as language evolved.

Korean itself has undergone countless changes, after all. This world is no different.

‘The history books say the gods granted humans their language, so maybe it’s not that strange…’

Since the gods supposedly bestowed language upon mortals, it makes sense to some extent.

Even I can communicate with the gods without issue, so it’s hard to doubt.

What I need to focus on now is translation.

Honestly, translating the emotions exactly as they are is incredibly difficult.

Some terms, like life-and-death situations, byo-yomi (countdown in board games), and self-atari (self-capture in Go), simply don’t exist here, so I had to create my own words.

Fortunately, the grammatical structure of this world’s language is similar to Korean.

That’s also why I was able to write The Chronicles of Zenon so smoothly.

If the structure were closer to English, I would have suffered while writing, coughing up blood in frustration. In that sense, I suppose I’m lucky.

‘There’s even a ballad version of the melody, so…’

They’ll probably manage.

But since it’s an all-time classic masterpiece, I wonder if there’s a bard capable of truly capturing its explosive emotion.

They can sing it gently like a ballad, but fully expressing the intensity of the original might be difficult.

There are bards, but no one yet worthy of being called a singer.

Still, just being able to hear songs from my past life, even indirectly, is satisfying enough.

‘Now, what’s left…?’

I stretched my stiff body after the long writing session.

The remaining tasks:

Writing the prequel side story, The Passing Hero.

Compiling and organizing my knowledge of World War II.

The World War II section will take time since I need to recall and organize my memories,

but The Passing Hero can be written immediately—I’ve already planned the entire story, and there are no sponsorship issues.

I’ve decided to conclude it with smoking a World Tree leaf cigar.

Knock, knock, knock—

[Isaac. It’s me. May I come in for a moment?]

As I was stretching, someone knocked on the door and asked for permission to enter.

Judging by the voice, it was Rina.

If it were Mari or Adelia, I wouldn’t be surprised, but Rina visiting me personally was rare.

Cecily and Arwen… They were probably playing Go right now.

Feeling a bit curious, I granted permission.

“Come in.”

[Then, excuse me.]

Creak—

As soon as I spoke, Rina carefully opened the door and stepped inside.

She wore a dress elegantly blending gold and white, radiating sophistication.

Her sharp eyes, giving her a cat-like impression, softened slightly as she bowed politely and approached me.

She was holding a rolled-up bundle of paper in one hand—it looked like a newspaper.

“Sit there. So, what’s this about?”

“There’s something I thought you should see.”

Rina took a seat across from me and handed over the newspaper.

I unfolded it as I sat down. Come to think of it, I forgot to read today’s paper.

[Gray Desert Expedition Sets Off in Search of the Truth—Led by Cardinal Deimos of the Savior Theocracy…]

[Supported by multiple nations including the Kingdom of Teres, the Minerva Empire, Alvenheim, and Helium, the unprecedented Gray Desert Expedition embarks today with the united purpose of uncovering the truth behind The Chronicles of Zenon…]

[The expedition includes numerous scholars, such as archaeologists and historians.]

The moment I opened the newspaper, my eyes landed on the headline of a front-page article.

The Gray Desert Expedition had departed.

I couldn’t help but feel puzzled.

I had heard that an expedition was being formed, but this was too sudden.

I assumed it would take at least a week to organize—had something happened?

I looked up from the newspaper and met Rina’s gaze.

She, too, seemed to sense something was off, her expression serious.

“…The Gray Desert Expedition has already set out? Did you know about this?”

“I found out yesterday. The problem is how abrupt it was.”

“Isn’t this too hasty? What about the support troops from each nation?”

“They arrived safely. But the leader is Cardinal Deimos of the Savior Theocracy, which seemed odd, so I asked my father about it…”

She trailed off for a moment, then let out a deep sigh.

Her furrowed brows indicated she was clearly troubled.

I remained silent, waiting for her to finish.

If she had come to me personally, something serious must have happened.

“…A divine oracle was given.”

“An oracle?”

“Yes.”

At least by my standards.

“An oracle instructing them to set out as soon as possible. And it came directly from the Savior Theocracy.”

Something definitely felt off.