Surviving as a Writer in the British Empire

one month later

I opened my eyes in the damp darkness.

The whole body is cold and sore. As if he had taken on all the sins of the world, the muscles in his shoulders, neck, and back screamed.

What is all this for?

“What is it? It’s because I knocked on it all night for three days…”

I had to get out of bed and twist my stiff limbs and back. If I didn’t do that, my eyes would go dark any moment and I’d sit back down and faint.

thump, thump. thump.

I am confused as to whether the joint is bent or broken. Fortunately, however, the body is relaxed somehow, and the unfamiliar sense of vitality returns.

I sighed deeply and opened the curtains on the window to peek outside.

The sun was already up in the middle of the sky.

If you go down, you’ll probably get something to eat. Come to think of it, I was able to realize that I hadn’t properly put anything in my mouth besides coffee and bread for about 80 hours.

As a bonus, the glamorous life in London.

It’s already been a month, but it still feels like a few days ago.

I returned to Ashfield three weeks ago.

Normally, he should have come down later, but thanks to Mr. Miller suddenly making a fuss and making a fuss about going down, the old man was able to come down without being completely dead.

Anyway, after that I went into self-canning.

In London, I began to write frantically, combining inspirations that popped into my head, centering on memos I wrote as I came to mind in my spare time.

In fact, that is what writing is all about.

When I have no idea, it’s common to just leave the monitor on and wait 2-3 hours in a daze, then write off and erase this and that, wasting time.

‘Usually it’s mostly thanks to Lloyd’s buff, but…’

Anyway, this time, like the first time I picked up the pen, I felt my whole body itching to write for the first time in a long time.

I wonder if I can see that these and other experiences in London have left a deep impression on me.

Well, in the end, inspiration and translating it into writing are completely different matters, so it took time to sort through the boulders among the newly acquired ideas and match them appropriately.

I couldn’t help it because I wasn’t such a genius who turned the inspiration in my head into a manuscript right away.

Rather than lamenting the lack of talent, the only answer is the skill and effort trained as a champa.

anyway.

“Looks like the hard work is worth it.”

I looked over the desk.

There were two bundles of manuscripts there.

One of them is the manuscript of the third volume, ＜Peter Perry’s Weird Wedding＞, completed with a handful of inspiration and 99% effort.

Just yesterday, it sucked up my energy and was completed.

It can be said that it is the crystallization of my childbirth, but now it just looks like a magic book like the Necronomicon or Cheonam Secretary. Sucking the master’s blood is magic work, is it anything special?

“Anyway, I’m going to play around with this for about three months and then eat it… Big hmm.”

Oops, that voice sucks. It is as if they are being scraped out of that deep jade cave. Come to think of it, maybe I just woke up, so my throat is a bit sharp.

And, as soon as I started recognizing that, I became hungry.

Come to think of it, I hardly even ate, right?

“I’ll have to go down and drink something…”

I tried to go downstairs, shaking my body from side to side.

Half-closed eyes, untied legs.

Not being able to properly apply strength to his entire body made him look like a zombie wandering around looking for food instead of going to the kitchen to drink water.

I can’t. I can’t turn my head because I’m tired.

I put my head in one hand and reached for the part where the railing should be.

Then, at that moment, the unique texture of pottery felt cold on the fingertips.

“Are you okay, Hanseul?”

“Ah, madam.”

It was only then that I realized that Mrs. Clara had brought the water cup herself.

I hurriedly and politely took the glass of water and drank it without delay.

Cool cold water that is like life.

“······nice! thank you I thought I was going to die.”

“Have you been overworked? You’ve never been so secluded for days.”

“No, what is that?”

Clara’s eyes were full of worry.

Perhaps they mistakenly thought that I had not had time to write because I had abandoned my manuscript and was on a business trip to London.

I quietly averted my eyes and smiled.

“Yeah, creators sometimes do that. Those times when you can’t control yourself, so you don’t cover your body and you hold on to the words for days.”

“is that so?”

Mrs. Clara tilted her head. Although he seemed to be convinced, his face was still full of worry as if he were looking at a drowning child.

Is it because of Asians’ distinctive baby face? When I see this person sometimes, he treats me like his children… When he plays with Madge, he has warm eyes as if he is looking at an honorable first child taking care of his younger siblings.

anyway.

“Yes, you don’t have to worry because I can’t control my excitement.”

“You speak proudly. It doesn’t sound good to me at all, from what I hear.”

“There is a saying that you can go through hardships while you are young, madam. Ha ha ha, I don’t have to worry.”

I smiled and looked around. Come to think of it, why did the madam bring this to you? What about Jane the cook and the maids?

As if noticing my appearance, Mrs. Clara said with a faint smile.

“Nanny is taking care of Mary. Jane is preparing lunch.”

“The kids are probably going to school.”

“yes.”

Mary is the late youngest daughter of the Miller family. Mary Clarissa Miller.

He was born shortly after I came, but is he only three years old now?

It’s an age when cuteness explodes because it’s all messy and plump.

Even the kids followed their younger sister, who was 10 years younger than her, to see if she was cute. So even though he played with me relatively less.

Anyway, it’s lunch… then what time is it now?

Looking at the grandfather clock, I realized that it was almost noon.

······What, you didn’t wake up too late?

Of course, I haven’t been like that since I came here, but when I was in Korea, there were many times when the night and day changed.

“Good for you. I’ll tell Jane, would you like to dine with me?”

“Thank you, madam. I almost died of hunger.”

I said with a wry smile.

Mrs. Clara is such a person.

No matter how close they are, a noble lady who treats people who are merely servants and people of color as if they were lodgers… no, more than that, like family.

It’s understandable that Mr. Miller is out of his arms. She’s such a kind and pretty wife, but she’s even a childhood friend. It has to be a beautiful pure love.

Anyway, thanks to that, I was able to fill my stomach.

I avoided bread or meat because it was bad for an empty stomach, and instead served cream soup with salad, but on an empty stomach, I definitely received this better.

Of course, it’s a bit ambiguous to say which is better for digestion after emptying three bowls of soup.

What can’t you do? Because I almost died of hunger.

And while they were finishing their stormy meal, Madge and Monty returned home before they knew it.

“I’m home!!”

“I’ve been there.”

“Welcome, both of you.”

Madge is 14 years old and Monty is 13 years old. In Korea, it is the age of 1st in middle school, 6th in elementary school.

I skillfully received my two children’s school bags. Then, the eyes of the two children who saw me widened.

“Hanseul! Are you out now?”

“long time no see!”

“Lady, Bocchan.”

Tears welled up at the sight of the two children rushing at each other.

Yes, I change diapers just because my little brother was born, and the hearts of the children I raised don’t go anywhere…

“I thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, I heard a strange noise in the room, so Hanseul said he was in a lot of pain!”

“…Who did that?”

“Dad!”

Oh, too.

I quietly turned my eyes to Mr. Miller’s room.

Let’s see, maybe there’s a cricket bat in that room that I bought with great enthusiasm in London?

***

Anyway, so the two children thought I was really dying and tried to nurse them.

They are really kind children that bring tears to their eyes and are too good for their father.

I stroked the heads of the two children and said.

“it’s okay. It hurt and I almost died, but I didn’t die.”

“Where did it hurt so much?”

“Can I call you? ho~”

“thank you. young master.”

From noble mtl dot com

The hearts of children are truly grateful. But when I received it from elementary school kids, it felt like something was ending socially, so I only received my heart.

“Rather than that, I’ve finished writing this manuscript… who wants to read it first?”

“me! me!!”

“I will read it first!!”

When the book came up, the two people’s reactions changed to enthusiasm. That’s right, because these two were the first readers of ＜Peter Perry＞.

“it’s me! You read it first last time!”

“What is this, my habit of talking to my sister!”

“A sister should act like a sister to become a sister!!”

“now. two minutes.”

The only problem is that, like children, they burn quickly. I quickly dried them both.

“You do it like this. Go, drop your bag, wash your hands, change your clothes and come down. Then I will go upstairs with tea, snacks and manuscripts and read them to you.”

“Really?”

“Which cookie?”

“It’s brioche.”

The children cheered. The snacks that the Daughter of Evil liked were certainly well received by British children.

After a while, the children and I found ourselves in a nice sunny spot in the gardens attached to Ashfield Manor. If the private property is large, this is really good.

“How far did you read last time?”

“bowwow!”

“The bad dog bit Ruri!”

“aha.”

It was that episode.

I smiled and looked at the manuscript. The ink was already dry.

“This is a monograph manuscript. Peter and his friends are in the third year of Oberon Academy. That year, Peter invited the water nymph, Drake, to the wedding of the water nymph, a new marriage in the spring when all life sprouts, the fairy’s Yak Festival, when new life is born and animals wake up from hibernation in the ground. I receive…”

The loud voices of the two children gradually drowned out my voice. It’s not about reducing the volume. It is to kill even the sound of breathing and fall into my story.

I grinned. The four pupils were shining like jewels.

My beautifully embodied story of pure admiration, admiration and rich imagination shimmered in the jewels.

I don’t know if the story I made up leads to its implementation, or if I just dictated the story that was implemented. That’s what philosophers do.

However, the important thing to me is whether these children are having fun or not.

And looking at this reaction now, it was definitely a success.

That was what made my writing worthwhile.

***

“…Really, this writer.”

London, Bentley and Sons Publishing House.

Richard Bentley Jr. gulped.

His eyes were sparkling the same color as Frederic Alba Miller’s two children.

admiration and admiration.

And as it is the expert’s eye, it was more sophisticated even if it did not have the innocence of children.

The first volume, ＜Peter Perry and the Fairies’ Forest＞.

The second volume, ＜Peter Perry and the Darkness Door＞, has been on the market for some time.

And this is the third book.

The more you read the book, the more fun it gets. exciting. Vivid stories run through my head.

Even the writing comes out so fast that there is no point in setting a deadline! Is there really more value for money than this?

“Really.”

Bentley smiled.

It was a smile full of pride that he signed with the best writer.

“If it went on like this, I wouldn’t have any wishes.”

His wish did not come true.