Myths Reawakened

November second, night.

Erland Sea, cruise ship.

Wayne had once headed to the Republic of Erland by sea, sailing through the Erland Strait to reach the Dulin Port in the republic. As the second biggest city in the Windsor Federation, second only to Londan, Dulin had a solid historical background and a rich culture. With its mild climate and beautiful scenery, it stood out as a tourist destination.

The last time he was here, Wayne had been in a hurry to raid the Snow family in Fawst in Northern Erland, so he had only stayed in Dulin long enough to transit. This time, he planned to stay a few nights, as he had come with his lady and secretary on a fully reimbursed trip.

How wonderful!

On the peaceful sea, a cruise ship owned by the Bedford family sailed slowly. Salty wind gently blew as the vessel glided across the surface of the sea, leaving a long trail in its wake. The lights on the ship flickered. Under the moonlight, the vessel could be vaguely made out amid the rippling water. The shimmering lights and shadows painted a captivating picture.

With the sound of waves lapping at the vessel as a backdrop, the trio of investigators in the luxury suite exchanged pointed glances.

“It’s time to rest, Kristen. We have to work tomorrow!” Wayne held Kristen’s gaze solemnly. Behind him stood his loyal secretary, Mona.

Though his expression was as serious as a hero fighting evil, Kristen was no longer the magical girl giving herself away freely that she had been. She saw through his plan immediately and shook her head.

“No, I’m pulling an all-nighter to write my novel tonight. I’m not going to rest!” Kristen enunciated every syllable, warning the shameless man to give up.

Mona stood silently behind Wayne just like how Megan stood behind Auston. She shared Kristen’s sentiment and found Wayne’s plan shameless. She could go one-on-one all day, but not a group fight. However, she kept her opinions to herself, acting meekly without enthusiastic consent or rejection.

She had to be sick. Ever since her evolution, she had been feeling repulsed by intimacy with Wayne, which had been unthinkable in the past. She couldn’t identify the cause of the illness, but didn’t dare to spell it out, worried that Wayne would misunderstand her. Therefore, she decided to suppress her condition with a heavy dose of even more intimate interaction.

That would be her punishment!

She felt embarrassed when she thought about it. Oh, how she had fallen.

“Kristen, pulling all-nighters to write is bad for your health. Trust me. You are talented, so you can afford to write tomorrow.” Wayne grabbed Kristen’s manuscript from her. Flipping through, he was impressed by the rich content and exciting setting. Basically, it was a load of nonsense that left the reader with nothing but a massive headache—the opposite of a page-turner.

Wayne opened his mouth to say something, but reconsidered his wording and went for an indirect approach in the end. “Have you considered a different career, Senior?”

“Why, is it not good?”

“It’s crammed full of rich plotlines, and the simple writing contained deep philosophical musings. It’s an excellent romance novel,” Wayne said with a tight expression.

“Wayne, I’m writing a detective novel.”

“Same difference. Investigating a case doesn’t prevent one from having a relationship.”

Kristen sighed. “Just be honest with me. I don’t have talent in writing, do I? Vera would agree with you.”

“What does Vera know about novels? Don’t listen to her nonsense. If you don’t believe me, ask Veronica for her opinions.”

“Veronica said that your diaries are a better read.” Kristen looked at Wayne pointedly. “I’d like to reference your diaries, but Veronica refused to let me read them. You’ve written several volumes for her, yet I’ve never seen even a word you wrote.”

Her voice was dripping with the sourness of envy. It smelled like lemon here!

Wayne pulled her into his arms when he saw her petulant expression, coaxing her with scummy lines he had at his disposal.

Kristen was no longer a magical girl who loved hearing her lover’s sweet nothings. The magical mistress preferred actions. Since Wayne was so good at writing diaries, he should help her produce something publish-worthy.

She presented her manuscript to him, asking him to revise it for her.

How? Everything other than the author’s name needs revision.

Wayne blinked and wheedled, “Kristen, have you considered that the label of detective novel has limited your talent? You should write in a different genre.”

“For example?”

Power fantasy!

You write like a primary school student, so it’ll be a shame not to write power fantasies.

Wayne thought for a moment. The power fantasies he knew didn’t fit the Chosen Land in either the time period or the social structure, so he couldn’t just tell the stories for Kristen to copy—ahem, to reference.

“Oh, there is one,” he mumbled, tossing away the manuscript. He said with a raised eyebrow, “Kristen, I’ve thought of a story. It has engaging plots full of twists and turns and rich characters. Not only is it a thrill to read, but it’s also good literature.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s a revenge story.”

“There are too many stories about princes getting their revenge. It’s not as popular as stories about knights.”

“Same difference. It’s the same kind of thrill.” Wayne coughed into his fist and told the story: “The male protagonist was a sailor, at the bottom of the social ladder. He had a beautiful fiancée. Through hard work, he was about to make a leap in his career...”

“His success in both work and love attracted jealousy, and a group of people came together to frame him, sending him to jail. He lost his promoted job, and his romantic rival stole his fiancée from him.”

“The protagonist reflected on himself and came to an epiphany. He decided to have his revenge. In the prison, he encountered elites from different walks of life, even acquiring a treasure map...”

“After being released from prison, the protagonist found out that those who had framed him had either become billionaires or at least rich and powerful. He, on the other hand, had nothing but knowledge.”

Wayne paused. “The buildup should be as depressing as possible. Make the readers resonate with the protagonist and hate the villains by making the protagonist suffer. Later, the protagonist will rise against the odds and have his revenge, crushing his enemies. The contrast is crucial for the readers to feel the endless catharsis.”

Kristen nodded. “Teacher Wayne, I know the gist of the story and the characters, but where does the literary value lie?”

“That’s simple.” Wayne took his student’s hand and led her to the bed, putting an arm around her shoulder. “About the script—the literature, I mean, we can explore the nature of humans.”

“Can you go into more detail, Teacher?”

“Use the great personality change the protagonist undergoes to portray a tragic figure whose kindness has been engulfed by the fire of revenge...”

Wayne placed a hand on his student’s waist, rubbing it with his fingertips. He whispered into her ear, “He started out kind and compassionate, smiling despite the difficulties he faced and believing that hard work would bring him success. Later, he became a shrewd, cunning man skilled at exploiting the weaknesses of human nature. He was almost omniscient and omnipotent like a demon in Hell, tormenting his enemies until they were utterly destroyed.”

Mona frowned and took two steps forward. “Isn’t that inappropriate, Boss?”

Kristen nodded in agreement. Demon? Wouldn’t that set a bad example for the children?

“That’s easy enough to solve. Just redeem the protagonist in the last chapter.” Wayne waved at Mona. Once she took a seat, he openly embraced both women. “The protagonist stopped at nothing to have his revenge, hurting many innocent people. After his revenge, he suddenly lost his way. Looking back at what he’d done, he reflected on himself before God. In the end, he chose to leave his life behind, never to be seen again.”

Yes, Wayne was copying The Count of Monte Cristo, the well-known forefather of power fantasies. Acquiring knowledge and a treasure map in prison was akin to picking up an overpowering cultivation method after falling from a cliff.

Since Alexandre Dumas didn’t exist in this world’s Franc, he felt no shame in plagiarizing the classic. He told the story first.

Mona nodded. The confession in the end and the protagonist’s desolate ending gave the story a somber conclusion, making it better literature.

Kristen also nodded, asking unabashedly, “Teacher Wayne, how do I write a demonic protagonist?”

“That’s simple. Just reference people around you. You must have met your fair share of bad people. Use them as examples.”

Kristen blinked and nodded at Wayne. She found the demon!

“You seem to be having rude thoughts.” Wayne huffed. Since she was his, he would let the slight slide. “I’ve worked hard every day and written diary entries all the way to the year 1942. Through producing a great volume of writing, I’ve concluded several writing techniques that make best-sellers.”

Kristen’s eyes lit up. Teacher, she wanted to learn that.

“No rush. Let’s talk tomorrow. We should be resting this late at night.” Wayne revealed his true intention quickly, as usual.

Kristen rolled her eyes, pushing the hand on her waist off her. She would be writing next door tonight. He shouldn’t knock on her door unless there was an emergency.

With that, she jogged out of the room, giving the pervert no chance to take advantage.

“But you’re fine with Vera...”

Wayne turned to an expressionless Mona, inquiring with a look the reason she hadn’t pinned Kristen down. It was a secretary’s duty to play the bad cop.

Mona blushed slightly under his gaze, turning away and biting out, “I’m going to rest as well, Boss. Don’t stay up too late. We have an investigation to conduct tomorrow!”

Oh, you’re getting better and better at this!

Wayne didn’t know about Mona’s condition, and they had been role-playing with her putting on a look of disgust at him. Praising her silently, he grabbed Mona with great enthusiasm.

Outside, the waves around the cruise ship grew stronger because of the wind.

Later that night, another source of waves joined the chorus.