How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World-Chapter 428: Failure (2)

I experienced an illusion that wasn’t an illusion, and I felt dizzy, but I barely managed to get through it.

It seemed like another illusion had been born, but I just ignored it.

From now on, our territory will not be a place for funerals but a stage for celebrations, transforming into yet another arena of unity.

Had there not been a clear example like Holmes, this might have turned into a long and drawn-out battle.

It’s better to just give the readers what they want and wrap things up quickly.

But even considering that, the fact that I acted without a firm stance doesn’t change.

Honestly, that’s what irritates me the most right now.

Ignoring the readers’ outcry feels wrong, but listening to them willingly makes me feel like I’m being swayed.

In my previous life, I often experienced what is commonly called “being led by the nose,” so I intended to push through until the end.

If I changed the development of the story to suit their demands, they would control it again the next time.

However, I never imagined that the readers would actually hold a funeral in front of our mansion.

And it wasn’t just a simple event—they were genuinely grieving, shedding real tears.

I couldn’t just ignore them either, since they weren’t hiding behind anonymity but openly voicing their demands.

It was no different from staging a protest in front of my home.

What choices did I have in this situation?

The only thing I could do was suppress all my complicated emotions and grant their request.

I had effectively fallen into a checkmate.

Of course, I made sure to warn them never to do this again in the future, and I personally reached out to Musk.

More precisely, I contacted a media company with ties to Musk to relay my message.

When I asked him directly, Musk gladly agreed to my request.

[Hello, everyone. This is Zenon. Thanks to the readers’ support, Zenon Chronicles has reached its conclusion, but there are those who are sincerely mourning Jin’s death. Therefore, ………]

The message was roughly like this: Loving Zenon Chronicles and immersing oneself in the story is fine, but only the author—me—has the right to decide the course of the plot.

Crying over Jin’s death is touching, but at the same time, making demands is not acceptable.

This so-called funeral event was, in essence, an attempt to pressure me into reviving Jin.

They probably don’t even realize it themselves.

An immature culture causes inconvenience to many people.

On Earth, there is one country at the forefront of such immaturity—China.

With its reputation as a brute with strength but no refinement, it serves as a prime example of how an immature culture can have serious repercussions.

I have no desire for my fans to adopt such a culture.

Especially since this fandom culture is still in its infancy, it must be carefully adjusted.

Like how a parent scolds a child for their wrongdoing but then gives them a sweet treat afterward.

“So, Mother, please don’t do this again. If this goes wrong, not only I but also those who love Zenon Chronicles could end up being criticized.”

“I’m sorry…”

Even my mother is no exception.

She may have played a role in creating this new culture, but she was still inexperienced.

Facing a new culture doesn’t make an adult any different.

And since this culture didn’t even exist before, the impact was even greater.

“From your perspective, you probably saw this event as a way to promote the territory while also hosting an event, right?

But the worst part of it is that it imposed an inescapable demand on me. In other words, you disrespected me.”

“…”

“At first, I was touched too. The fact that so many people had gathered to bring Jin back to life—it’s moving, isn’t it?

And their request was granted, so now the territory is celebrating.

Looking at it that way, it seems like a perfect outcome. But at the same time, it sets a terrible precedent.”

The event itself could be considered a success, but in terms of fostering a proper culture, it was a failure.

If I hadn’t come from Earth, things could have been much worse.

If a writer from this world had experienced this, they might have felt immense disillusionment.

Of course, since people in this world don’t hide behind anonymity and voice their opinions openly, it wouldn’t be as severe as my past life.

But the psychological toll on writers wouldn’t be any less significant.

“If people keep doing things like this whenever they don’t like something, it won’t just be me—other writers won’t be able to tell the stories they want either.

While it’s uncertain whether another work as influential as Zenon Chronicles will emerge, what’s certain is that the culture itself must be corrected.”

“Corrected…? How exactly?”

Realizing her mistake through my lecture, my mother carefully asked, her violet eyes filled with remorse, compassion, and a hint of sympathy.

It was probably due to that misunderstanding.

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She had always treated me the same way, but deep down, she believed I was a prophet.

So she thought I had personally experienced or witnessed all these tragedies.

The former might not be true, but the latter wasn’t exactly a lie either, so I let it slide.

Saying anything would only create another misunderstanding.

“Readers can hold events for writers, but they must never make demands. Of course, if the story loses coherence, they can criticize it.

After all, neither I nor any writer is perfect. Even I have parts that critics point out.”

“But what if the writer refuses to listen? What if they ignore the readers’ opinions?”

“Then let them be ignored. The consequences will be theirs to bear.

Writers should have the humility to accept criticism, and readers should show respect for the writers. That is what constitutes a proper culture and civic awareness.”

I’ve said this before, but unlike my past life, anonymity is not protected in this world.

In other words, criticism here is practically done face-to-face.

But when combined with a hierarchical society, a rather strict culture has taken shape.

Many people get reprimanded or pressured just for voicing criticism.

Moreover, literature in this world was as difficult as entrance exam questions before Zenon Chronicles appeared, making it almost an exclusive domain of the nobility.

With the rise of Zenon Chronicles, a new culture was born, bringing many benefits but also gradually revealing its side effects.

“Regulating this will be very difficult. But as people learn from their mistakes, a good culture will eventually emerge. Zenon Chronicles is already a great example, so just a little more effort should be enough.”

“…I’m truly amazed. I was just thinking about what would be nice, but you…”

“It also has a political aspect, doesn’t it?”

My sudden question made my mother give a wry smile before answering honestly.

“I can’t say it doesn’t. The Michelle Territory is being developed as a cultural hub supported by the Minerva Empire. I just wanted to contribute to that.”

What my mother did undoubtedly had a major impact.

This event made Zenon Chronicles and the Michelle Territory’s presence crystal clear to many people.

At the same time, it also demonstrated the consequences of such actions.

The light and darkness were both clearly visible.

Ideally, I’d want to eliminate the darkness and cultivate the light, but culture is inherently dual-sided.

Even democracy, the pinnacle of cultural achievements, carries numerous flaws.

In a world full of people, nothing is perfect. That is an unchanging truth.

“Now that you’ve realized this, please be more cautious. Reviving Jin was possible not only because of you but also due to the support of the readers and, lastly, divine intervention. From now on, please make requests, but never demands. Understood?”

“I understand. And as your mother, and as a reader, I sincerely apologize for my immature actions.”

At my request, my mother bowed her head and apologized. Her deep navy hair cascaded down as she lowered her head.

She may have acted immaturely due to this newly emerging culture, but she was still a remarkable person.

So, I was more than willing to accept her apology. I smiled gently and nodded.

“Raise your head. There was no precedent for this, and you simply didn’t know. I’ll forgive you generously.”

“Thank you. Sometimes, Isaac, it feels like you know more than I do. Zenon Chronicles and now this…”

She trailed off, hesitating as if about to say something, then cautiously called out to me.

“Isaac.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Are you really someone from the future?”

“No.”

As expected, the question came back.

I could answer it without hesitation.

Mother seemed to have somewhat anticipated my firm response and nodded.

Then, she asked another question.

“Then how do you know so much about those tragedies?”

“If I say it’s just my imagination… would you believe me?”

“It’s hard to believe, but if you say so, I suppose I have to.”

She said that, but if I denied it, she wouldn’t truly believe it.

I clasped my hands together, lost in thought.

Though, calling it ‘thought’ was a bit of an exaggeration, since someone had already seen through my true identity.

That person was none other than Rina, the princess of the Minerva Empire.

It was revealed through Ariel’s mind-reading ability, but regardless, she knew I was a reincarnator.

‘It’s about time to talk.’

The truth that neither my family nor my fiancée, Mari, knew.

Though it was because of an accident, keeping it hidden was still wrong.

Besides, if I left it alone, the misunderstandings would only deepen.

At the very least, my family, Mari, and a few trusted people needed to know the truth.

After all, once I started writing about World War II, suspicions would only grow stronger.

It was better to come clean now.

After reaching this conclusion, I nodded and looked at my mother.

She was gazing at me with concern, as if worried that I had gone through something painful.

Even if I came from another world, my family, including my mother, would still see me as their own.

That belief brought a natural smile to my face.

“Mother.”

“Go ahead.”

“I haven’t personally experienced those tragedies, but I have seen and heard of many.

The tragedies that appear in The Chronicles of Zenon are drawn from those.”

“As I thought…”

Judging by her reaction, she had anticipated this much.

But there were still many unanswered questions piling up.

“Just so you know, I am truly your and Father’s child.

I hope you understand that you have nothing to worry about.”

“Of course, dear.

If your soul had changed midway, this mother of yours would have noticed.

You’re still as considerate as ever, and though you may seem naïve at times, you’re also wise.

That hasn’t changed since the old days.”

Mother smiled warmly and spoke in a gentle tone.

Fortunately, it seemed my fears wouldn’t come true.

Nothing would be more painful than having my family treat me like a stranger.

That was the reason I had kept my reincarnation a secret until now.

I wanted to maintain this harmonious family, where we could joke around and help each other when needed—this ideal relationship was what I truly desired.

“Then, could you gather our family members?

Including Grandpa Clark, Mari, Cecily, Adelia, and lastly, Leona.

Oh, and Arwen might visit too, so we should include her.”

Kate was dealing with personal matters, so I wasn’t sure when she’d return.

As for Cherry, I planned to tell her later.

Rina already knew my secret, so there was no need to worry about her.

Mother listened to my request and nodded before speaking in a calm tone.

“That sounds good, but it might get too chaotic.

Let’s first gather just our immediate family, including Marie.

After that, we can tell the others one by one.

If everyone asks different questions all at once, things could get confusing.

Especially since Princess Cecily will probably have a lot of questions.”

That made sense.

Mari and Adelia liked Zenon’s Chronicles not for Zenon, the author, but for Isaac, the person behind it.

Leona, due to the unique culture of beastmen, had slowly grown closer to me.

But Cecily and Arwen were different.

They firmly believed I was a prophet or a regressor.

It would take a long series of conversations to break that illusion, so handling them separately was the better option.

“Hmm… That does make sense.

Then let’s gather just our family, including Mari.

As for the others… I’ll speak to them separately.”

“Before that, is there anyone else who already knows your secret?”

“Because of Ariel’s mind-reading, Rina knows.”

“Oh?

That’s unexpected.

Mari will be upset if she finds out.”

I had already anticipated that.

Mari would probably sulk and complain.

I had prepared for that eventuality.

Either way, the time to reveal my true identity was approaching.

Mother stood up, saying she would call everyone personally, and I remained seated, looking up at the ceiling.

Strangely, I didn’t feel nervous.

Maybe it was because I had already left too many clues and foreshadowing.

Or maybe it was because I had seen this future coming.

‘I feel kind of relieved.’

I would correct the misconceptions, and more importantly, reveal the truth I had been hiding.

As Zenon’s Chronicles neared its true conclusion, various secrets would come to light.

I smirked and shifted my thoughts.

‘This world isn’t familiar with tragedy.’

It was something I had always doubted.

Even in myths, there were hardly any tragic stories.

Luminous, Mora, and Hirt showered their believers with endless love, and the worst tragedy was losing their followers in the war against demons.

Even war, often considered the ultimate tragedy, seemed too tame in historical records.

The Race War focused on the arrogance of the elves and the rise of humanity, but it barely touched on the suffering.

The only records that acknowledged war’s cruelty were the personal diaries of participants.

Everyone knew war was terrible, but the historical records were strangely lacking.

‘World War II will be shocking, but they won’t truly grasp it.’

A war of blood and steel would seem like fantasy to them.

Unlike Zenon’s Chronicles, it would be hard for them to immerse themselves in it.

So, I needed a story that focused entirely on tragedy.

Fortunately, I had a good idea.

A world where all the gods had perished, leaving only demons behind.

A world where all heroes had fallen, and everything moved toward destruction.

The dead would rise again, spreading devastation to achieve their desires.

A world filled only with despair and tragedy, where mortals struggled desperately to survive, clinging to the smallest sliver of hope.

And when the prophesied time arrived, rain would fall from the heavens, signaling the world’s end, and the entire world would be swallowed by the sea.

‘I wish someone else would write it… but no chance.’

If even Jin’s death caused an uproar, no one in this world would ever conceive such a story.

I had no choice but to write it myself.

I would make them accustomed to despair.

That way, situations like today wouldn’t happen again.

This story would be set in the same world as Zenon’s Chronicles, an alternate take on what would have happened if Zenon and his party had failed.

‘I’ll kill them all.’

A small, petty revenge.

‘This much should be fine, right?

The gods wouldn’t be so petty as to hold a grudge over this.’

I muttered to the gods as I closed my eyes.

At this moment, I had no idea—

‘The protagonist should be a demon, of course.

And they should have a tragic past.’

—that this book would one day be regarded as a ‘sacred text’ in an entirely different way.