The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

‘The price is so high; powerful people buy it to show off rather than using it.’

The appearance of the mana stone was beautiful. In general, a single magic formula like [Cold Protection] could be engraved into it for use as an ornament. However, only a wizard could implement complex magic formulas using mana stones as a medium, and in that case, they disappeared after implementing the magic. On the other hand, for products such as the suppression collar, the complex formulas engraved during production always functioned the same regardless of the user. However, only advanced wizards could process such tools. Mana stones and tiplaum were two kinds of materials that complemented each other’s weaknesses and roles if only the problem of processing tiplaum could be adequately solved.

‘But this is the one who’s supposed to be solving that problem.’

After glancing at Fran, Kleio lowered his reading lamp and pulled out a few copies of the magazine Clarion to read the article Fran contributed. He could quickly find out by reading just three or four articles that Fran was still indeed a genius.

‘He’s just a genius at annoying people instead of being a genius scientist.’

Kleio soon turned away and fell asleep.

.

.

.

Strange anxiety hung heavy in the chilly air. A cold wind blew through the door of the opened terrace. How many hours had he slept? Kleio opened his eyes and realized immediately that the bed opposite his was empty.

“!!!”

Kleio jumped out of bed and moved over to Fran’s bed. The room was freezing.

‘It’s been a while since he left.’

The winter palace was protected by barriers, so the possibility of an intrusion was low.

‘Did Fran leave on his own? At night?’

His coat was hung by the entrance of the room still. Kleio ran through the open balcony, looking out into the dark forest where even the birds of the night couldn’t be heard with Perception reinforced his eyes. It didn’t miss the slight shaking of branches in the corner of the forest that had not a single speck of light.

Crunch, crunch.

It was the sound of two people stepping on fallen leaves.

Fuu…

The sound of someone breathing. Then, Kleio recognized the familiar smell of blood. He almost instinctively shouted out before he thought of Fran’s situation and closed his mouth.

‘That… Things might get complicated if he’s caught at the wrong time.’

Kleio leaned out and looked up and down the building. No lights seemed to be on in any of the rooms, and there was a shallow thicket under the terrace. He had no more time to hesitate. He spread out his circle as he jumped off the railing, not having enough time to prepare a creative mantra.

‘I’ll have to build something on the fly.’

“[Deceleration] [Deceleration] [Deceleration]!”

Instead, he filled all three magic slots and used a slowing spell. It was a pointless waste of ether, but he could afford it. But even with his speed lowered, the landing was overwhelming for Kleio, who had poor motor skills. He was hit by a tree vine under the balcony, which tore at his pajamas and skin, but it didn’t hurt too bad. Ignoring his scraps, Kleio used the circle once more with a [Leap][Fly] formula to head toward the source of the blood.

“[Leap, like the feet of a messenger!]”

The forest was vast. Due to the nature of the circle, he could only move as far as his circle spread out. He would expand it, leap to the edge, form a new one, jump again… After using that for what felt like a long time, he reached the source of the blood. In front of him was a beautiful and old beech tree, the tallest in the forest. The smell of blood was wafting from under the branches, and his perceptive eyes quickly found the boy he searched for.

‘Fran?!’

Fran’s eyes remained open, his broken eyeglass lenses stained with blood. The place where his heart should be beating, in the middle of his ribs looked dark. Instead, all his clothes were black with blood. His right hand was cut off at the wrist. It was a nauseating sight.

“Francis!”

Kleio urgently called out to him, kneeling by his side as the blood on the ground soaking into his pajamas. Kleio stiffened in shock as he pressed a finger against Fran’s neck. He had no pulse, and the body of the eighteen-year-old boy was quickly turning cold.

“No! What do I…!”

Kleio reflexively activated his unique skill. The golden letters of Promise lit up Kleio and the dead boy, revealing the blood-soaked fallen leaves surrounding his body.

[Unique Skill: Uses Editor Authority. (1/3)]

[―Remaining time/time limit:

00:00:59 / 00:00:60]

Kleio’s eyes widened a bit as he checked the time limit. It had increased to a full minute! Soon after, that same pen and ragged roll of paper appeared before him. Palimpsests’ condition seemed to be worse. Even a slight touch caused it to break apart. Kleio began to scan the manuscript from the end, concentrating desperately to find the spot he needed.

– He had no pulse, and the body of the eighteen-year-old boy was quickly turning cold.

That was the spot.

-The two men, Fran’s right hand in tow, disappear into the dark.

-Big Feet Bill cuts through the boy’s right wrist with a large butcher’s knife.

-Paul grabs Fran’s limb as Big Feet Bill finishes him off.

-Francis Gabriel Hyde-Wight appeared at the meeting point precisely on time.

-Fran waits for Kleio, who shares his room, to fall asleep.

‘That’s the part I need to edit!’

[―Remaining time / time limit:

00:00:06 / 00:00:60]

He found the right part, but there wasn’t much time left. When he had the opportunity, he needed to grasp the contents of the manuscript as much as possible.

‘Why did you pick such a crazy development?!’

Kleio put the pen to the section to be edited and scanned the previous page. He had never been so lucky to be able to read quickly.

-Jared Paul buys off a servant who works in the palace to pass a note to Fran. ‘Colleagues are in danger; come to the meeting place.’

-Paul hesitates to kill the child. Big Feet Bill persuades him that Francis is the child of a noble family like Robert, that will someday betray them.

-The Winter Palace, which is less guarded than the capital, is the best place to trick Francis and approach Melchior.

-Big Feet Bill’s plan is to bring Melchior the right hand of Propaganda and receive a pardon for his crimes.

-There is some unique skill in Fran’s right hand.

-Melchior is very interested in Fran, especially in his unique skill.

-The rest of Fran’s colleagues have died or went missing after their attempt to assassinate Melchior failed. The only radicals that had survived were Big Feet Bill and Jared Paul.

‘Is that it?!’

[―Remaining time/time limit:

00:00:05 / 00:00:60]

Five seconds left, he had to start editing. His hand holding the pen was slippery with sweat. Kleio scribbled the delete mark at the bottom of the page to confirm that he wasn’t asleep. Even in the dark, the golden powder mixing with the blue ink was as bright as a star, making the symbols clearly visible. The last remaining seconds felt like an eternity.

‘Author, please listen to me this time!’

Finally, the response came.

[―The author accepts the editor’s recommendation.]

[―The scene is edited.]

The eight paragraphs that followed that one sentence began to fade away. The broken glasses began to mend to their full form as the shadows and leaves around them scattered. The forest and the night rewound all at once, bringing the world backward. The world lost its texture and volume, turning into a flat ink line before fading to white. It was a terrible feeling that he would never get used to it as he entered a void that deprived him of all senses.

.

.

.

Kleio awoke in his bed in the annex of the winter palace. Fran looked at him, startled.

‘It was successful!’

Kleio stood up and grabbed his wrist, the words spilling out of him.

“Don’t go, Francis! You’ll die if you do!”

“What-!”

Fran pulled his arm away, but not before Kleio could feel his pulse. This really was the world eight paragraphs ago. Fran was still alive, which meant his choice was right. This terrifying power of revision had worked.

‘Of course, it’s true that Fran was someone who shouldn’t die!’

The tiplaum problem hadn’t been solved yet. If Fran died, the author would also be in trouble.

“They’re asking to meet with you, right? But they don’t need help; they’re trying to kill you and take your hand to Melchior.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Fran. ‘Speak with faith.’ I have a stigma, look.”

A rectangular shape began to appear on the back of Kleio’s hand since he had just used Editor’s Authority. With Fran’s eyes turned to it, Kleio continued to explain.

“This is a unique skill with the ability of prediction. I look into the future.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but in this situation, that was good enough. However, Fran’s eyes began to shake with agitation. Kleio continued to try to persuade him as the lines on the back of his hand continued to glow.

“My prediction is incomplete. I don’t even know what it’s all about, but I’ve seen your blood being soaked up into fallen lives, your body broken and missing its right hand under a beech tree.”

That was the scenery he had just seen, and his description had to be vivid for it to work on Fran. Fran’s face turned white as a ghost as he heard about his own death.

“A giant with big feet cleaves off your hand with an ax while a skinny man holds you down. I didn’t know where it was until now, but after coming here, I know that the tallest tree in the forest is a beech tree.”

The tallest beech tree was the place of appointment written on the note, and as he described the appearance of his attackers, Fran’s agitation grew even worse.

“They don’t trust you, just like the nobleman Robert. They think you’ll betray them. They are also being pursued by Melchior. They want to hand your unique skill over for a pardon.”

“How do you know that name… Robert…!”

Fran’s answer sounded like a scream. Kleio quickly turned on his magic shield and sat Fran down on the bed.

“I don’t know who Robert is, or even who those two men are. You don’t have to tell me either. It’s so that you can judge it properly. Are they really on your side?”

Fran wracked his brain for a long time before his expression, which was on the verge of tears, became calm once more.

“…Robert is the teacher who gave me this. As a moderate, he opposed terrorist activities, but that eventually turned him into a traitor. It was a conspiracy; I don’t think Robert abandoned his convictions.”

His voice no longer trembled.

“But the ones who did that aren’t my colleagues. I have to go.”

It seemed impossible to stop him, but I still had to try.

“I just told you what will happen if you went there!”

“Then go with me. I can’t do it alone.”

Why did he bring him back to life if he was going to jump back into the place he died?!