======

Sing, O goddess, the anger!
The anger of Peleus’ son, Achilles.

His destructive wrath brought countless disasters upon the Achaeans,
and countless brave and steadfast heroes were cast into Hades.

They became, and.
The prey of dogs and birds.

Sing, once more, that cruel anger!

From the day the son of King Atreus,
the noble Achilles, first quarreled and parted ways,
Zeus’ plan would unfold in such tragic fashion.

======

Roseline had another busy day.

“Author! Fancy meeting you! How about your next work?”
“Oh my, Author! Are you going out to eat? How about your next love story?”
“Wow! What a lovely night! Going for a walk? Oh, Author? Where are you going? You won’t get away anyway.”

…It had been a busy day.

And she piled one day onto another.

“…Because you’re a saint, I get to see it first, huh…ugh…”
“Hehe! Don’t worry! I swear to the goddess, I’ll never reveal any secrets, even if I’m not in a confessional!”

In the end, Roseline got what she wanted.

But.

“A love story… haha, yes, the next work is about love.”

It was entirely Kim Yul’s fault.

Had he said he was writing something other than a love story, she wouldn’t have been this fixated.

You tempted her first.
You promised to write an erotic novel first!

She hadn’t wasted her precious divine power treating Kim Yul cleanly for nothing.

Her hands, stiff from gripping a wooden staff too tightly,
…would have interfered with his writing otherwise.

A perfectly reasonable reason to wield divine power.

Behold.
If divine power is misused in the wrong way, it would never be replenished—but now, it was so abundant.

Love everyone and give generously.

The practice of doctrine itself!
A model saint of the Holy Kingdom!

That was Roseline.

“Elaine?”
“Yes, Saint.”
“Is that dangerous element still breathing?”
“I will correct it.”
Grrrk…! Kuuh, ugh!

Thus, this was a just execution of justice.

Glancing at the frail, corrupted lambs currently experiencing Water Knows the Answer to atone for daring to threaten the life of Kim Yul, the future master of erotic novels,
she began reading the freshly seized—no, donated—new work.

Unfortunately.

Kim Yul had opened a version of The Iliad in the original Greek, cross-referenced it against historical accounts,
and compared it with Greek & Roman Mythology in One Volume for public readability, carefully preserving accuracy while adapting the epic.

“Hmm.”

But to Roseline, the love-obsessed woman, the intro held little appeal.

Yet, flap, flap.
As pages turned.

“H-Helen…? No way, here, now?”
“No matter that she owns the Golden Apple, if Paris acts like this here…!”

A rational reader might have thought:

Hera, promising wealth and power.
Athena, promising wisdom and victory in all contests.

They would call Paris foolish for choosing Aphrodite, who promised the most beautiful woman, over the other two.

But.

Even while understanding him rationally,
“Right, that’s love…!”

Roseline, half-brain-melted by the love story, could only cheer for Paris’ choice.

Of course.

“Paris…! You can’t…! Then Paris…! He’ll be in danger…!”

When Paris had been a shepherd, he had married a nymph.

Perhaps due to incomplete revision, the name Oenone and Oinone were mixed in his wife’s dialogue, trying to stop him.

Though adultery could be deemed sinful,

“No divorce… so, polygamy… right?”

The goddess cult endorsed polygamy.

To Roseline, whose brain was half-melted on dopamine, it posed no problem.

If polygamy were truly an issue, books about Zeus alone would have been labeled heretical and burned in flames.

Thus.

Although Kim Yul, or rather Homer, intended an epic,
Roseline’s mind began weaving a romance fantasy centered on Helen.

“Kim Yul hasn’t been seen recently…”
“No next volume…?”
“Come now, Zeus’ children alone number many gods and heroes! They’ll all bring their stories, just like Hercules!”
“Yet, the next work…”
“This guy… where did the patience to wait a year for a novel go? Up until now, his publishing pace was unusually fast.”

By now, the writers, immersed in Olympus’ tales, comforted their solitude with wine.

After all.

Most of the literature they had enjoyed followed a single pattern.

A fallen noble rises and avenges those who wronged him.
A hero of common birth defeats the demon lord in uncharted realms.

Only the protagonist’s traits differed slightly; plots were largely the same.

Even if they had been voracious consumers of literature, things were now different.

Prepared meticulously, the work was vast, internally consistent, and balanced from sensational thrills to touching moments, all in a single flow.

They had been drawn deeply into Olympus’ story, feeling intellectual superiority compared to works from other mid-sized cities.

“Decay drift…”

“Aha! Finally, the narrative is complete as tragedy! Ultimately, Hercules became a god, a god!”

The doors of Salon de Blanc opened with a cheerful jingle.

Entering was the city’s leading literary critic, Heinz.

Usually solemn and composed, today his expression oozed desire and obsession.

Other writers, aware Heinz reacted this way when eager to boast, tried to ignore him.

“Hehe, hehe… the new Olympus story is out…!”
“What?”
“Gah!”
“Finally!”

Heinz’s broad provocation shook the entire salon.

“Let me see it too!”
“Not the time. To the bookstore…!”
“Argh, can’t wait…!”

In an instant, the salon descended into chaos.

.
.
.

After the crowd dispersed.

One way the salon enjoyed literature—
A reading session began.

“Hercules spared only the youngest prince, Podarkos, and annihilated everyone else. Podarkos survived, later renamed Priam, becoming king of Troy… the last king. This story tells how Troy fell to ruin.”

The tale naturally revisited Hercules’ deeds from the previous work, flowing seamlessly into the wedding of Thetis and Peleus.

“The goddess of strife, Eris, was enraged at not being invited. On the wedding day, her gift arrived: ‘To the fairest goddess, I dedicate this golden apple.’ Simple words, but weighty. Three goddesses attended: Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite.”

“Wait a minute, excuse me…!”

One writer, owner of a large fruit shop, rushed off at that line.

Everyone could guess:
From now on, all under-ripe apples sold in the city would bear the name ‘Eris’ Golden Apple.’

Despite the minor disruption, the reading continued.

The scale grew.

Zeus remained strictly neutral as chief god, but the others chose sides according to their interests, heroes clashing as divine proxies.

Skirmishes and conflicts.
Despite Zeus’ mediation, Hera and Athena’s stubbornness continued war without truce.

“Hector….”
“Even Achilles…?”

Even the deaths of leading generals from both sides were recounted.

Each development gripped the audience with tension.

How could all of this spring from one person’s imagination?

It inspired awe beyond admiration.

.
.
.

The reading, beginning at noon, continued until sunset.

Finally, the conclusion.

“Who could describe the night of disaster and slaughter? What tears could explain such suffering? Troy, long-standing, was crumbling.”

“Ah…”
“If only Helenos hadn’t been captured…!”
“Hector, Hector should have lived!”

Those cheering for Troy sighed.

“Odysseus, I trusted you!”
“Indeed, might cannot overcome wisdom.”

Those cheering for Greece applauded in admiration.

With only the final page remaining.

“……”

Heinz froze, hands trembling, words stopped.

Those who patiently waited thought: Ah, he’s savoring the aftertaste again.

“Why so?”
“Is there a shocking twist?”
“Mr. Heinz, what’s the matter?”

Despite urging, Heinz could not speak.

“Gah, give it here!”

Unable to bear the pause, Heinz’ friend grabbed the book.

“……”

Like Heinz, he simply froze.

What could be written there? What story continued?

Unable to resist curiosity, people gathered in small groups.

They witnessed it.

Someone read aloud the final words in a trembling voice.

“The Olympus story series ends here. Thank you for your support.”

“……”
“……”

.
.
.

That night.

“Boss, come out!”
“Are you insane? This is the last one?”
“What is the publishing company even doing? Canned immediately!”

A mob of angry torchbearers descended on the publishing house.

“Hmm.”

Leaving Camellia, a city he had grown fond of.

From afar, fireworks flickered—some festival, perhaps.

A fleeting regret passed: maybe he should have enjoyed the festival before leaving.

.
.
.

“Oh…”

After a night-long journey, at dawn.

Stepping off the train, the atmosphere of the town felt entirely different.

Camellia had been medieval in feel,
but the imperial capital, befitting a capital, was vast, dazzling, and shimmering with magic.

The difference was akin to Sokcho versus Incheon, Korea’s top city.

“Extra! Extra!”
“Smart Crystal District in Wonderland! Hot new release!”

Even more.

Camellia had only weeklies; here, dailies flowed constantly.

Most pedestrians carried a newspaper.

Indeed, the future of novels seemed to lie in newspaper serialization, not book publication.

“One copy! Thank you!”

Handing a coin to a child hawking papers, he bought a newspaper and opened it.

Originally, he would have checked the serialized novel first, but
a strange article caught his eye.

[Olympus Story. Novel or Prophecy?]
[Not long after news of the Hundred-Faced Dragon in the demon realm spread, another piece of good news arrived. Early yesterday, a black mage attempted to smuggle cursed items into the border city of Antaron, but Captain Ransel, inspired deeply by the story, stopped him…]

“……What now?”

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