I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy

When someone dislikes the story, they leave a bad comment.

It could be a long-winded critique or a light scolding.

And one of the responses you get back is, nine times out of ten, this.

If you don’t like it, then write it yourself.

The situation I’m currently experiencing is exactly that.

“Damn…”

Balthazar Arture.

In my previous life, I was Ha Eun-seong.

As the youngest son of the prestigious Arture family and a second-year student at the academy, I’m now alone, shaking with the response I received from a famous theater company in the capital.

After dying in a freak accident at the ripe age of my 30s, I’ve reincarnated in this world for 20 years.

I’ve never once been dissatisfied with the new life I’ve gained here.

Being born into a wealthy noble family meant I’ve never felt any material lack.

Growing up as the pampered youngest child, I was completely free from the complicated political history of my family.

But that was just until today.

With all due respect, I sent a letter complaining as a nameless noble child.

The reply I received was essentially just “If you don’t like it, write it yourself?”

“These bastards really know how to push people’s buttons, don’t they?”

The previous life of Ha Eun-seong had a major hobby: watching movies and dramas.

I really loved visual media that combined the actors’ performances and direction to give a fresh experience.

And in this medieval-like other world, movies/dramas are none other than plays.

Naturally, once I got a bit older, I often spent my allowance visiting theaters around me.

But that’s only something that happened for a day or two.

‘You guys say the script is awful? You wall-headed idiots!’

I’m not talking about the direction or the actors’ performances. Those are actually quite decent, on par with modern works.

The actors probably survive purely on their acting skills, displaying a more vivid method in some ways than modern actors.

And since it’s a world where magic and sorcery are alive and well, the stage production is often so exceptional it makes you wonder if it’s CG.

But the script is the exact opposite.

It’s tedious and bland, practically like rehashing old patterns endlessly.

Anyway, the plot revolves around blind faith in the big guy upstairs handling everything.

It serves up political satire without any fun or emotion, merely going through the motions.

No matter where you go, this leads to repeated brain cramps, and it’s starting to really tick me off.

To put it bluntly, it’s boring as hell. It’s like a death sentence for entertainment.

So, when I asked why every single play seems to be the same boring story, I got roasted for it.

“Balthazar. Did you get a response?”

Just behind me, a familiar voice asked.

It was my childhood friend Maurice, who’d grown up alongside me.

Compared to our family, which is relatively well-off, Maurice’s family is one of the distinguished families recognized in the capital.

His father is our father’s direct superior, so we’ve known each other since childhood.

He glanced at the letter I was holding over his shoulder and said,

“I told you! You’d only get that kind of response anyway. Who’s going to seriously listen to your critique if they’re not in the same business as you?”

“Even so, come on!”

Crumpling up the letter infused with the audience’s resentment, I exploded.

“Aren’t you bored? Hearing the same damn story repeated at the theater every day?”

“Not particularly. What’s so important about the story anyway? Just some flashy spectacles to feast your eyes on.”

“Ugh!”

It was infuriating, and I could only thump my chest in frustration at my friend’s statement.

A brilliant script is the alpha and omega of playwriting.

It’s no wonder great literary figures like Shakespeare and Goethe are also praised as excellent storytellers.

But here, they think they can fill the visuals with magic and technique and neglect the story!

‘This is just wrong!’

In a world that’s clearly romantic and fantastical, why is the script so stagnant?

And when I point out problems, they just close their ears and look away, eliminating any chance for growth.

That aspect really aggravated me, as an enthusiast of visual media.

“Oh yeah, you say to write it myself?”

Well then, I’ll actually write it and send it by courier.

And it’ll definitely be with a COD charge.

Making up my mind, I quickly cleared the documents and books off my desk.

Then, I took out a stack of writing paper from the drawer and laid them out in a row.

As a modern person, I’ve dabbled in all kinds of movies, dramas, and plays.

I figured I could crank out a better story than those pathetic works from this world in no time.

……But it didn’t go as easily as I thought.

“Damn it.”

I admit it; I lack the talent to write.

No, to be precise, I lack the talent to brainstorm a story.

The audience’s talent and the writer’s talent are entirely different.

I thought this was just talk, but when I picked up a pen, I really felt it.

Of course, if I were just writing a trashy drama script, I might have managed it somehow.

They’re so formulaic that separate books on how to write them exist.

The problem is the era; unexpected hurdles pop up.

‘While trying to spice things up, I can’t stray too far from medieval values…’

When writing a piece, you must always consider the reader’s perspective.

The reason so many diverse stories emerged in modern times was because such a wide range of thinking was allowed.

Writing in a medieval context, with its limited perspectives, makes it tough to generate those kinds of stories.

Audiences won’t relate, and there will be those questioning the human nature of the playwright.

“Sigh.”

I ended up laying down my pen with a sigh due to a lack of sharp ideas.

‘This condition is way too strict.’

Crafting a heart-pounding chronicle that maintains medieval values while also offering modern excitement?

It’s not the lives of historical figures, and where would I find such a fantastic story in the world…

“…Huh?”

Lives of historical figures?

Suddenly, images started unfolding in my mind.

During my time in modern Korea, I had come across biographies of great figures in world history on a cultural level.

Scenes of their lives unfolding like a play’s panorama began to appear.

“Wait a minute. This could actually work!”

Rustle rustle. I muttered as I began jotting down a list of historical figures I remembered.

The history of reality is not the history of this world.

Obviously, the denizens of this world don’t know real history.

Therefore, I could forge the reality of history as if I created it without any problem.

Besides, I know well how to weave a predetermined story into something flavorful.

I’m the kind of guy who knows where to make variations and which parts to adapt for maximum fun.

‘Transform the biographies of heroes from history into a play?’

Mix in lessons suitable for the medieval-style play?

“This could work!”

“What could work?”

Turning around, Maurice peered curiously at my desk.

He yawned and casually threw me a scornful remark with a bored look.

“Summer break is almost over, and you’re just scribbling? You’ll have plenty of time to scribble on your report once we go back to the academy. Aren’t you bored?”

“Shut up.”

I didn’t particularly want to become a playwright in this world.

I was a noble son who could live quite comfortably without doing that.

My future plan was to enjoy a life of leisure, pursuing simple happiness as befits a young master.

However, as a Korean man, there is one insult you absolutely can’t stand, and that is the mockery of ‘You really suck at games’.

The theater folks mocked me, saying, ‘You can’t tell me what to do, low-tier!’

In reality, my tier was way higher!

If I didn’t take “revenge” for this, I wouldn’t be a man from Korea.

“Alright. Since I’m writing, I guess I’ll just have to use a cheat code to really bring them down.”

Muttering this, I drew an underline under one name on my list of notable figures.

The name of Korea’s pride and unmatched general recognized worldwide.

It was none other than Admiral Yi Sun-sin.

          

After some time, inside Bronde Academy when summer break ended.

“…What the hell.”

I found myself in deep thought at the campus café, palm on my forehead.

The reason was simple.

“Those who seek to die shall live, and those who seek to live shall die!”

“There are still 12 ships remaining for the Lord! Kyaa!”

“I swear by this three-foot sword, mountains and rivers quake, and with one swing, I’ll sweep through them, staining the rivers and mountains with blood!”

Academy students, thrilled, began babbling about General Yi Sun-sin’s famous lines.

Whether they were upperclassmen, juniors or peers, everyone opened their mouths to discuss the new play that just started showing.

It was only meant to knock the theater folks down a peg.

Unexpectedly, the play based on my script had become a massive success.

…Perhaps a little too massive.

---