I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy

“Extra, extra!”

“Saint Beatrice has recommended the playwright Phantom as the hero candidate!”

This breaking news shook the Holy Empire.

News spread rapidly that the great author Phantom was actually a candidate for the hero.

“What? A hero candidate?”

“I heard his alias is the Hero of the Pen? They say he wields a fountain pen to create miracles.”

“Puhahhat! To be a hero candidate and have an alias like that? What a brilliant naming sense!”

In truth, in this world, the term ‘hero’ wasn’t just a label for someone swinging a sword against the Demon King.

There was a time when it was, but now that the Demon King had been sealed long ago, it was merely an honorific title.

Since several centuries ago, the concept of a hero had been reshaped to fit the changes of the times.

Now, a hero was someone blessed by the Favor of the Gods, capable of performing great miracles.

In other words, it referred to an exceptional individual who leads the world positively.

Swordsmanship, magic, knowledge, and more.

It was a title aimed at an elite few who accumulated groundbreaking achievements in specific fields.

Not to mention, the current Saint Beatrice was rumored to possess the ability to perceive people’s souls.

The fact that she personally chose Phantom was bound to create a massive impact.

The first to be affected were the unscrupulous theater companies that poorly imitated Chaplin’s Comedy.

“Boo! Script thieves! Get lost!”

“To copy a comedy written by the Hero of the Pen! Aren’t you ashamed?!”

“Buzz off! Ten plagues will rain down on your company!”

With countless jeers accompanied by rotten fruits and vegetables flying through the air.

It was just a candidate registration day, yet the reactions were fierce as if he had already become a hero.

Most of them were too busy issuing apologies to manage their failing businesses.

After all, they couldn’t deceive the audience members who had watched Chaplin’s Comedy.

Of course, some felt uncomfortable being accused of plagiarism over mere comedy.

Many in the industry still believed there was nothing wrong with mimicking a frivolous and ridiculous play.

Some even grumbled about how Phantom was abusing his hero candidate status to disrupt the art scene and unduly interfere with personal freedoms.

However, such complaints were futile under the watchful eyes of the church.

“The Lord said, do not steal from others.”

A priest read aloud scripture graciously during Sunday mass.

That young priest, still untainted by the world, pointed to the cross.

“Any work created by the Hero of the Pen with that pen is a precious gift bestowed by God. To copy it thoughtlessly is akin to stealing from the hero candidate. A truly devout believer cannot condone this.”

After finishing northern engagements, the Killgrewber Theater Company held a formal performance of Exodus.

Although it was a shoddy version sponsored by the nearby church choir, the impact was still significant.

Claiming to present a legitimate religious play written by a great author, the priests of the capital pooled their resources to watch it together.

As a result, especially the young and passionate apprentice priests became enthusiastic supporters of Phantom.

The Heavenly Church constantly emphasizes a fundamental belief: ‘God loves you and watches over you.’

They were captivated by the ability to articulate this basic doctrine into a grand epic with intricacy and symbolism.

The news that the creator of that epic had received a recommendation as a hero candidate spread even further.

Rumors began to circulate that the protagonist Moses might be a self-portrait of the hero candidate, causing excitement to swell uncontrollably.

“Hallelujah! God saves those who believe! So, do not be afraid!”

“I will be your voice, so hesitate not and step forth! Where else can you find dialogue that expresses God’s love so well?”

“Moses is the self-portrait of the hero candidate and embodies the ideals of the perfect clergyman! This is the model priest the hero candidate desires from us!”

They believed Exodus not only told the story of the ‘shepherd who crossed the sea’ but symbolically conveyed the virtues of the Heavenly Church.

Unwavering faith, responsibility one must have as a priest, and indomitable will and courage.

It was deemed a masterpiece that provided a clear answer to the question of how one should live as a believer of the Heavenly Church.

……And among them, some radical priests even began to put these thoughts into action.

They left the church to find the poor suffering like Hebrews.

They cared for lepers who were rejected like slaves and personally engaged in manual labor to assist them.

Some even risked their lives and embarked on a perilous mission into uncharted territories beyond civilization.

The zealous priests didn’t seek material rewards or physical comfort.

What they needed was solely the love Gospel taught by the Bible and a life practicing that directly.

“Let’s all take up our staffs! With this staff, we shall perform the love and miracles of the Heavenly!”

“Hosanna! Let’s lead the starving and abused people to a land flowing with milk and honey!”

These emerging priests, centered on simplicity, action-oriented principles, and placing the Gospel as an absolute value, formed a community.

They named this gathering ‘Ark of the Heavenly.’

And what the members collectively carried were staffs made of Mayflower wood.

Thus, the moment was born for the Pilgrims of this world, uniquely arranged.

“Hey, Hero of the Pen.”

“Please be quiet before I poke you with my pen.”

“Hehe.”

Morris casually crossed his arms, chuckling.

Seeing his annoying face made me let out a deep sigh.

Anyway, I have to submit the assignment, so I simply clear my mind and work diligently with the quill pen.

“Still, I’m glad it’s just a simple candidate for now, right? You hate being in the spotlight.”

“Well, these days being a hero is an honorary position anyway. Saint Beatrice supporting my creative work, that’s the extent of its significance.”

Even though I received a rather ridiculous title of Hero of the Pen, nothing would really change.

‘In simpler terms, it’s like being nominated for a Nobel Prize.’

Would my way of life change dramatically just because I’m a Nobel candidate?

I’d probably just continue my writing activities as a more renowned author.

Thus, not pushing it too hard and simply keeping me as a candidate was the Saint’s consideration, I guess.

Not getting entangled in unnecessary issues and doing well as a great author.

To avoid troublesome responsibilities and just extract the fame that comes with the candidacy, it was definitely kind of nice for her to think this through.

…Speaking of which,

“Ouch, my back.”

Despite being a hero candidate now, I haven’t been able to get up much from my desk lately, groaning as I rub my spine.

Performances of Yi Sun-sin, Julius Caesar, Charlie Chaplin, and Moses.

In a normal world, a semester would have flown by already, but things are a bit different here.

A year in this world is noticeably longer than a year on Earth.

Reality science students would probably vomit blood arguing against that weird peculiarity.

‘So, even when I was newly reincarnated, I was quite flustered.’

It felt like a kind of time difference?

I would expect to be walking by now, but I’m still stuck in a cradle.

I should be becoming a proper boy soon, but I’m still babbling and eating baby food.

Even growth and aging occur overwhelmingly slower compared to Earth, and at some point, I felt half-mad due to the imbalance between body and mind.

Thus, even though I had accomplished a tremendous amount of work by Earth standards, not as much time had actually passed.

Well, the length of a day here is quite similar to a day on Earth.

And since the semesters are lengthy, that means there’s an immense amount of material to keep up with.

“So, do you have any plans for your next work, Hero of the Pen? Huh?”

Morris perched on my bed, probing.

It hasn’t been long since I watched Exodus, but he was already trying to test me.

Typically, I would’ve shot back a sharp remark, but right now, I was too drained to do so.

“I don’t know. With assignments and studying, I have a mountain of stuff to tackle.”

“Want me to help? I’ve completed my submission preparations. You can reference the materials I’ve gathered if you need.”

“No thanks. You know Professor Prunel is super strict. Even a trace of help from others would be an instant cut for me.”

This class on Political History, infamous for being tiresome and dull at the school.

I lamented that my grades were my enemy and graduation requirements a pain.

“Sigh, but I still have to write something, don’t I?”

When opportunity knocks, one must row!

The attention on Phantom might weigh me down, but the coins piling up in Balthazar’s account are delightful.

So, before my popularity wilts or new talents outshine me, I wanted to engage in as many creative endeavors as possible.

‘Yet, it’s a fact there’s hardly enough time to stage even one play.’

After all, crafting a play isn’t as simple as just typing words and calling it a manuscript.

Acting, props, makeup, stage setup, and all that jazz.

Everything requires discussions with everyone involved before the preparations for a performance can be completed.

Is there an easier way? A genius method to skip the complex, time-consuming process and produce a piece quickly?

“……Aha!”

In that moment, an idea struck me like lightning.

I briefly set down my quill and turned to Morris.

“Hey, Morris. Since you’re a young lord from the Marquis family, you must have connections in the publishing industry, right?”

“Publishing industry? Probably. But why?”

“Once the assignment is over, I want to write a レゼドラマ (Lesedrama) this time.”

“Lesedrama? What’s that?”

“It exists, trust me.”

Lesedrama. In kanji, it describes a study play or a chamber drama.

Lesedrama is a genre not meant for performance, but intended to be read as a script like a book.

Due to limited stage conditions or the uniqueness of a performance, authors often choose this method when unable to unleash their imagination freely.

The representative and master of this field is undoubtedly the French playwright Alfred de Musset.

After his debut work Venice by Night bombed, he completely pivoted toward Lesedrama.

Musset’s traits include seeking intricate psychological realism, expressive complexity, and stylistic romanticism.

To fully unleash his free-spirited and fresh creativity required the absence of performance constraints.

And if I were to write a Lesedrama focusing on a biography, there could only be one choice of character.

“Know thyself (γνῶθι σεαυτόν)!”

“What do you know?”

“Trust me, it’s a thing.”

Though not an original quote from the party involved, it was still a phrase I cherished throughout my life.

Stretching with all my might, I invoked the name of the ugly philosopher recognized as the root of midwifery and dialectics, as well as Western rationality.

“By the way, you’re my friend, but you really are a mysterious guy.”

Morris gawked at the Orichalcum medal carelessly sitting on my desk.

“A ring with the royal seal, and now a recommendation as a hero from the Saint? You might even become a consort at this rate! You’re of the perfect age, and the princess is getting ready for marriage soon.”

“No thanks. A consort? No way.”

Having met the princess at a cosplay contest, I knew she was quite a scary woman.

If I let my guard down even a bit, she could easily take my innards without hesitation.

There’s no way such a whimsical character would consider a mere playwright as a husband candidate.

I’d be lucky if she didn’t nurse a grudge against me for ignoring her fan letters.

“Actually, we’ve been exchanging letters lately, don’t stir the pot.”

“Aha, the lovey-dovey love letters between Phantom and the princess, huh?”

“Love letters? What are you talking about?”

Since the fan meeting, the princess has started exchanging notes with me more regularly.

Nothing monumental is asked; it’s mostly casual greetings, but honestly, it was a bit burdensome.

After all, I felt like I made quite the impression by ignoring her fan letters.

Each letter seemed to carry subtle nuances making me slightly anxious.

Just last time, she teased, “You didn’t accept a royal position but eagerly agreed to be a hero candidate? That’s disappointing!”

“No, I definitely didn’t ask for the recommendation.”

What nerve would it take to refuse the recommendation given by the Saint?

“Hey, Balthazar, your thinking is unnecessarily negative. In my view, I see no reason why someone wouldn’t take an interest in you.”

“……Have you lost your mind after starting to date Julian? How does that girl seem interested in you?”

“Sigh, no, I’m not. Anyway, you dense fool. What good is it to write a good script if you aren’t perceptive? Tsk, tsk.”

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