I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy

In the café of the Bronde Academy, basking in the languid afternoon sunshine, a woman sits elegantly, enjoying the delightful breeze from a prime vantage point.

Golden hair glowing like the blazing sun.

Sharp yet beautiful pale lime-colored eyes.

Her perfectly proportioned figure, accentuated by a well-fitted school uniform.

It was Princess Diana von Clausewitz, who resembled the late Empress closely.

Before her, a lady bows respectfully, greeting her.

“Your Highness, Princess. I hope you are well today?”

Bow. Holding her skirt, the red-haired Duchess Rosalyn Wenford greeted her with a gentle smile.

“I’m not worthy to be called like this. I hope I am not disturbing your peaceful tea time…”

“Stop with the pretenses.”

Diana chuckled lightly, responding with her signature haughty smile.

“Just do what you were doing. We don’t have to worry about our fathers now, right?”

“Hehe.”

At the princess’s remark, Rosalyn lifted her head, grinning like an undercooked dumpling.

She sat across the table from Diana and said, “I missed you, Diana.”

The Duchess Wenford comfortably called the princess by her first name, an allowance made possible by their childhood friendship.

Diana squinted slightly, whispering with a bitter voice, “…It must have been tough while I was away from the academy.”

“Nope! I managed quite well! Thanks for worrying about me.”

Like a freshly regained rose flower, Rosalyn’s joy made Diana sigh in relief.

Despite the abysmal relationship between their fathers, the two maintained the friendship they had built over the years.

They had entered the empire’s top educational institution, Bronde Academy, together.

At least while Diana was there, she had indirectly acted as a shield for her friend.

But when Diana had to pause her studies due to unavoidable circumstances, Rosalyn was left alone.

Losing the solid safety net of being the next heir to the throne.

Embracing only the stigma of being the daughter of a knight despised by the Emperor.

Well, at least she was now esteemed as the Duchess’s daughter.

‘All thanks to Phantom, that playwright, right?’

“Hmm.”

“Hey? What’s up, Diana?”

“I just remembered a pretty novel memory.”

Since she hadn’t sent letters as a princess, she didn’t expect to be treated like one.

However, even so, being openly ignored felt rather harsh, didn’t it?

Her cute younger brother, Crown Prince Wolfgang von Clausewitz, had recommended it so much.

Heard that the play Admiral Lee helped revive Rosalyn’s family, she attended the showing of Julius Caesar with her family and instantly immersed herself in Phantom’s world, becoming a hidden fan. Yet all she received in return was complete neglect and indifference?

‘Isn’t that quite adorable?’

While Diana was lost in her thoughts…

It seemed like their minds were connected, as Rosalyn propped her chin with both hands and began chatting about Phantom.

“Oh, by the way, Diana, have you seen Phantom Writer’s new work? The Julius Caesar performance?”

“Of course! The whole royal family went to see it!”

“Right! Hehe.”

Rosalyn, glowing like someone who had a wonderful dream, gazed at the view outside the café.

“It must be the same person as me, yet how can he write such masterpieces? Admiral Lee, Julius Caesar… They seem like creations brewed directly by the gods of art and inspiration!”

“…”

“Diana, you felt it too, right? That intense and dynamic expressiveness. The profound contemplation that meticulously touches human psychology. And the perfectly woven plot and beautifully imbued emotions with every word. Phantom Writer must surely be a gift from the gods!”

Ignoring the embarrassing praise pouring out like a river, Diana discreetly snickered at the revitalized friend.

A special top-secret information pieced together after watching the recent Julius Caesar.

She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of reaction Rosalyn would have if she shared it.

“Did you know, Rosalyn?”

Swish. Stirring her tea with a spoonful of sugar, Diana said, “Actually, Phantom Writer might be a student here at the academy!”

“Then when will he come out? When’s Phantom Writer’s new work?”

“Ugh, I’m so hooked on Phantom Writer’s works that I can’t live without them! If a new piece doesn’t come out, I’ll wither away and die!”

“Just wait one more day for Phantom Writer’s new work! Because if the wait goes beyond 24 hours, I’ll hit my head really hard to wipe out my memory!”

…They are insane.

Watching the complaints that cropped up almost daily, I genuinely felt fear.

So this is what they mean by “a clear-eyed fanatic,” huh?

To sum it up, the reactions of the students since Julius Caesar came out were exactly that.

Literally zombie-like, always asking when the next production will come out, wandering around the campus like the walking dead.

‘I expected a big impact, but not like this.’

If I have to write a script anyway, I thought it would be better to finish it fast.

Lingering for too long might result in a zombie apocalypse caused by the lunatics of the academy.

Thinking like this, I turned back to the dorm…

“So when’s the next work coming out?”

“You crazy person!”

I came face to face with my roommate, who was equally playing the role of a clear-eyed fanatic, urging me.

“Am I some script-writing machine? Be patient and wait!”

“It’s all your fault, you damn bastard! Are you still my friend after this? You made me dependent on Phantom’s works!”

Playfully grabbing my collar, Maurice glared with bulging eyes.

He shook me around as if protesting, making a ruckus with an air of innocence.

“Give it back! I want my eyes back from Admiral Lee and Julius Caesar! If not, hurry up and write the next production to satisfy this burning thirst!”

…This dude is genuinely crazy.

The students pretending to be zombies were just fakes.

Real insanity came from Maurice, the young lord of the Marquess of Lavalle.

He knows Phantom is his best friend, yet he’s acting like this.

Shouldn’t he be mocking me for being a devoted fan of the works of someone he grew up with?

I’d be surprised if I became a fan of a friend’s work from childhood.

“Alright, alright. I get it. I’m already thinking about the next work.”

I curtly shrugged off his hand, responding.

Then Maurice chuckled, speaking in a sly tone.

“Hehe, right. The royal family is keeping an eye on you now, so you can’t slack off. If the playwright of Admiral Lee and Julius Caesar goes missing, the whole empire will turn upside down.”

“Well, that’s part of it, I suppose…”

I fumbled for the ring I received as a reward from my pocket.

Initially, the royal family had proposed to give me a position,

But I firmly refused that offer.

‘Are you trying to kidnap someone and work them like a thrall?’

I’d rather not have an ending where I overwork myself to a death like Minister Hwang Hee. Besides, I despise getting tangled in complicated political struggles.

So the compromise I negotiated was this ring.

With it, I would receive VIP treatment in any facility, and all expenses incurred would be charged to the royal family, like a credit card.

In other words, it meant that the dignity and maintenance of the great playwright Phantom would now be sponsored by the nation.

‘Well, at least the material rewards are quite lavish.’

Chuckling to myself, I said to Maurice, “But I’m not writing just because of the pressure.”

While it was true that I had come too far to back down, honestly speaking, that wasn’t all there was to it.

‘Turns out it’s becoming fun as I go along.’

Initially, I jumped in impulsively, and afterward, I simply couldn’t let go of the sponsorship.

However, after the successful staging of Admiral Lee and then Julius Caesar, my mindset began to shift a bit.

The scripts I wrote actually bring joy to audiences.

That they significantly impact society in various ways.

And because of this, someone unhappy, like senior Rosalyn, could find happiness.

It was a refreshing experience I couldn’t feel while stuck as simply a viewer in the past.

‘Okay, I had better prepare for the worst, whether my family goes bankrupt or something.’

Continuing my double life as a mysterious playwright didn’t seem so bad.

Fame gained as Phantom, and the money I earned as Balthazar would keep flowing in.

‘So what kind of story should I write this time?’

Thirty minutes after sending Maurice away and settling at my desk.

Chewing on cookies slathered with strawberry jam for a quick energy boost, I was lost in thought.

High-end snacks specially ordered by Maurice from a pastry shop to allow me to concentrate solely on creation.

Yet even with sweets, my brain wasn’t as sharp as before.

‘Since I’ve already written serious and grand stories, I’d like to write something lighter and more comedic this time…’

Could it be because of depicting Admiral Yi Sun-sin and Julius Caesar’s tales back to back?

I found myself facing genre-related dilemmas rather than scenario-related ones this time.

After all, both Admiral Lee and Julius Caesar were essentially of the same heroic epic genre.

Even delicious food can become bland if eaten every day.

If I’ve seen an action piece, I need a healing narrative; if I’ve seen a horror film, I should watch a comedy.

In that regard, I felt a growing need to expand Phantom’s creative boundaries.

However, being limited by the subject matter of “biographies” posed a significant challenge.

‘Where can one find a light and comical tale of a great person?’

By definition, great figures are remembered for their achievements after overcoming hardships and adversities.

At least, I couldn’t think of anyone who lived a life as humorous and comical as a comedy skit off the top of my head.

It would be easier to find someone who directed similarly stylized films but it was challenging to find someone who lived such a life… Wait?

‘Films?’

Thinking about it, many artists could be considered great figures.

And for artists, their created works are a vital part of their lives.

Just like how thinking of Miyazaki Hayao brings to mind Spirited Away or Steven Spielberg conjures Jurassic Park.

Great directors wanting to be remembered not by their lives but by their filmographies isn’t a surprising notion.

And I knew one comedic director and actor representing the comedy genre.

An artist who led the cultural wave of the 20th century, dubbed the master of slapstick comedy from England.

“…Life is a tragedy from close up, but from a distance, it’s a comedy!”

Recalling his legendary quote, I eagerly rummaged through my hazy memories.

Back when I was Ha Eun-seong, a movie and drama addict, living as Balthazar.

I was trying to recall the flow of a silent film I laughed until I cried over a dozen times.

---