SIWALL 12

Swish.

Unlike his delicate face, a hand full of calluses and scars quietly pulled off the sleep mask.

White light was leaking in between the thickly drawn curtains. Watching the sparkling dust floating in that light with a dazed expression for a moment, Arzen snapped his neck to the side a couple of times.

After taking a catnap for an hour or two, his body usually felt even more sluggish than before he went to sleep, but today it felt miraculously light.

His eyes weren’t dry, and his mind was clear. Above all, the dull, foggy headache that had felt like it was shrouded in a thick mist was completely gone.

“I… slept.”

He took off the sleeping cap that had been hanging precariously on his head, and also pulled off Henderson’s handmade ‘good-sleep red bean scarf’—a name Henderson himself had given it—that had been wrapped around his neck.

The clock hanging on the wall pointed to almost 2 PM. For the nobility of this country, it would be about time to slowly open their eyes and start the day, but for Arzen, it was a time that delivered the shock of half his day having already flown by.

He had definitely gone to bed just past 12 AM. Since it hadn’t been long since he remembered being awake after that, he must have fallen asleep before 1 AM.

“Twelve hours….”

He had slept for more than twelve hours. And he had slept without waking up even once.

Arzen turned his head. A book was resting on the bedside table, with a ribbon bookmark sticking out from underneath. It was undoubtedly the ribbon that yesterday’s bedtime attendant had tucked in.

Arzen’s eyes gleamed sharply, just like when he discovered an enemy commander on the battlefield.

Elliot Brown. It had worked.

∞ ∞ ∞

Sitting in a sealed private room deep inside the cafe, Elliot suddenly felt a chill and shivered all over.

“What’s wrong, author?”

“It’s nothing. Just… I suddenly got the creeps.”

“Because of my good looks?”

“Property values aside… haha, yes, yes, customer.”

As Elliot forced a soulless laugh, Generwin chuckled.

After taking a final glance over a paper jotting down the names and addresses of the new women he had met, Generwin handed it to Elliot. Four names and four addresses written in an exquisite handwriting.

“Weren’t there five?”

“One of them says she’s getting married soon. I don’t mess with married women.”

“Oh… is that some kind of personal ethics?”

“Huh? No, it’s just too much of a hassle.”

Elliot wanted to flick Generwin right on his bright, smiling face. However, laying a hand on a customer who was practically heaven was completely out of the question, so he pacified his violent urges by flashing an exaggerated, overly sweet eye-smile.

“You know the rule, right? Just write the kind of stuff that a guy who’s completely out of his mind over women would say.”

Elliot nodded.

It was a topic briefly mentioned in the original work, so he knew about it.

Sweet, foolish, intuitive, and lighthearted love whispers like casual jokes. The length shouldn’t be too long, because it would spell trouble if the other person mistook it for genuine sincerity. At the same time, it shouldn’t be too short either; if it looked like he didn’t put in any effort, the women might get angry or leave.

Even the current Elliot felt he could handle this much. He had never been in romantic relationships before, but as long as it didn’t require pulling off flowery rhetoric or pouring his heart out into a deeply sincere confession, it should be fine.

Finally, Generwin slid over a heavy pouch filled with gold coins and a bottle of perfume.

“Your pay for this month. And this is the perfume I use these days. Spritz it inside the envelopes.”

As an Elliot who had never been in a single relationship in his life, it was a trick that had never even crossed his mind. Looking slightly exhausted by Generwin’s meticulous scheming, Elliot packed away the money pouch and the perfume.

“Like we’ve done until now, we’ll practically never meet in person from here on out. Just exchange the letters through the cafe owner.”

Elliot didn’t know much about ‘until now,’ but he got the general picture.

If he wrote the letters and left them at the cafe, the cafe owner would send them out under Generwin’s name. Then, a postal worker they were in collusion with would intercept the women’s replies and bring them all to the cafe. Elliot would come in and copy the replies over. Generwin would take the originals.

Sometimes Generwin would leave behind notes detailing his encounters with each woman. Elliot would use those as reference to write the next letter. After that, it was repeat, repeat, repeat.

This was their love letter ghostwriting system.

“There’s something I’m curious about….”

Elliot hesitated for a moment before asking.

“Why don’t you write them yourself, sir? If it’s just light conversation, you could easily write it yourself. Your handwriting is nice and stylish, too….”

Elliot recalled the handwriting from the note he received yesterday and the address book he had just been handed. Now that he thought about it, it really was puzzling.

However, Generwin just burst into a hearty laugh, as if he had just heard a hilarious joke.

“Would my brother just stand by and let me sit around at a desk? If I open a book, he’d burn down the library, and if I write a letter, he’d be the kind of person to tear down the recipient’s family name.”

There wasn’t a single shadow of worry on Generwin’s face as he said that.

“Even if it’s just a love letter?”

“Even if it’s just a love letter. Because he’s the kind of guy who assumes I’m plotting all sorts of terrible things behind the scenes.”

His older brother only left him alone when Generwin was rumored to be wasting his money and time completely obsessed with women. The moment he actually brought someone directly to the mansion, the brother would suddenly grow suspicious and start investigating that woman.

“Seriously… what a troublesome person.”

As Elliot clicked his tongue in disbelief, Generwin stared at him in a daze for a moment before bursting into loud laughter.

“A troublesome person, yeah, that’s right. My brother is a truly troublesome person.”

Generwin crinkled the bridge of his nose as if he were thoroughly amused. He nonchalantly tossed a rose-shaped sugar cube sitting in front of him straight into his teacup with a plop and stood up from his seat.

At that carefree and breezy declaration of departure, Elliot scrambled to finish his remaining tea in one gulp and stood up as well. Generwin playfully pulled back the curtain covering the entrance of the room with a theatrical flourish and bowed slightly at the waist.

“Let’s go, my author.”

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t call me author, sir.”

“Oh? Then why don’t you start by dropping that cold ‘customer’ talk yourself? Call me Generwin.”

“That’s quite alright, sir. Please feel free to call me whatever you wish, sir.”

Elliot smiled brightly.

Just as Generwin, finding something amusing, bit his lip and started to laugh again—

“Elliot Brown?”

A man’s voice called out from behind.

Why are there so many people who recognize this body? Elliot turned around with a creaking motion.

To his surprise, a familiar face was standing right there. Not just familiar—an unforgettable face, the most famous person in this world right after Arzen Teron.

“…Hello, sir.”

It was customer Loran Pedet.

∞ ∞ ∞

Led by Loran’s grip, Elliot was dragged right back into the room they had just stepped out of. Generwin tried to follow them inside with an intrigued and giggling expression, but he was blocked by Loran’s escort knights. Running into Loran was troublesome, but seeing Generwin look so glum as he turned away was a rather pleasant sight.

“Now, sir—”

“I heard you were an alcoholic, but has your brain completely fried?”

Loran stared fiercely at Elliot as he spoke.

It’s… it’s chilling.

Elliot nervously rubbed his chest.

“You flatly rejected my commission, making a huge fuss about quitting writing and all sorts of melodrama, but I guess you’ve been keeping up your business with Young Lord Tulion all along.”

“Well… it just sort of happened… I am truly, truly sorry, sir.”

Faced with Elliot’s flawless apology, Loran let out a long breath, seeming to lose his momentum. He leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms.

“Is it about the money?”

“Pardon?”

“Did Young Lord Tulion outbid me? Is that why you’re continuing to ghostwrite for that idiot?”

Loran’s bold choice of words was something Elliot could never get used to, no matter how many times he heard it. Elliot chuckled awkwardly and shook his head.

“No. Customer Generwin Tulion is a VIP who has maintained a relationship with me for over a year based on deep trust. In the case of customer Loran Pedet, since you are a new customer, unfortunately, VIP benefits are currently unavailable—”

“What on earth are you blabbering about?”

“I am truly, truly, and sincerely sorry, sir.”

Elliot bowed his head as if he were about to slam his forehead straight into the table. If necessary, he was completely prepared to kneel or clasp his hands together and beg.

To him, things like that were nothing.

Back when he was Lim Seongsik, he had once performed a full prostration (oche-tuji) in front of a department store VIP customer. The reason? He had accidentally handed them a clothing item that was one size too big.

‘Kneel, right now!’

The manager standing next to him had dropped to their knees first. So he had to go one step further. That’s why he knelt and pressed his forehead to the ground, repeating how sorry he was at the top of his lungs over and over again.

He had been twenty-one years old back then. Having survived that nightmare customer—one who made every single staff member’s skin crawl—he had completely cast away all his pride.

Whether his neck was bent or his knees crawled in the dirt, those were just body parts. If a single motion could appease a customer’s anger and get him out of a tight spot, he could humble himself and prostrate as many times as it took.

“If you wish, I will gladly get on my knees.”

Elliot spoke with profound gravity and absolute sincerity. At that, Loran let out a scoff.

“If you’re planning to kiss my feet, cut it out. I already got that from three other people on my way here.”

“Y… Yes?”

Incredible. Theistic world of a virtual medieval-fantasy romance-bl novel.

For Loran, the ‘Sculpture of the Gods,’ that sort of thing was practically an everyday occurrence. Elliot had never actually kissed a customer’s feet before.

“Forget it. I didn’t stop you just to ask you to ghostwrite for me again.”

Then why on earth did you stop me and set this heavy mood?