How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World-Chapter 457: Sequel (4)

I looked at the man in front of me who had a dazed expression on his face.

He seemed flustered by the unexpected summons, his eyes darting around, unable to meet mine.

He had his hands neatly folded on his lap, and I noticed a bead of cold sweat trickling down his cheek from nervousness.

Overall, he looked just like Mario.

That iconic mustache, his round, innocent-looking face—he resembled Mario through and through.

Even his outfit was overalls, and his hat looked like one that a painter might wear. A spitting image.

His name is Karls Zubasa. He’s one of the painters who rose to fame rapidly after participating in the Zenon Festival a year ago.

He’s the one who painted the famous Hectopascal Kick just the way I envisioned it. I was so impressed I even mentioned his name in a letter.

After I mentioned him, nobles and artists alike began to swarm around. I didn’t realize it at the time, but found out only later.

“Your name is… Karls Zubasa, right?”

“Y-Yes! Th-that’s correct!”

When I asked for confirmation, Karls responded in a trembling voice, loud and clear—like a rookie soldier standing before a general.

Given how sky-high my reputation currently is, that kind of reaction was only natural. It’s something I’ll need to get used to, though it still feels awkward.

People don’t change overnight, after all. I still carried my modest, commoner’s heart.

And perhaps because of memories from my previous life, it made me uncomfortable when someone older than me bowed too deeply.

Of course, if someone were rude, I’d respond in kind—but Karls wasn’t like that. We might need to work together, so I had to approach him as an equal.

“There’s no need to be nervous. Please, feel free to speak comfortably.”

“Th-thank you very much.”

Even with that, Karls probably wouldn’t be able to treat me casually any time soon. This kind of atmosphere would likely continue for a while.

Just as a single mention of his name by me shot him to fame, the reverse could just as easily happen.

So from his perspective, he had to be careful with every word he spoke.

“Have you been doing well? I heard you’ve been quite busy since the Zenon Festival a year ago.”

“Ah, yes! Yes! Thanks to you mentioning my work, things have become much easier for me. I don’t even know how to express my gratitude…”

“Gratitude” might be a bit much…

His nervousness quickly gave way to shining eyes full of gratitude, and I let out a small laugh.

It’s true that he gained recognition because I mentioned him—but everything that followed was thanks to his own effort.

After looking into him, I discovered that his art style was somewhat different from the current age.

Now could be considered a Renaissance era, and most artwork reflected that style.

But Karls’ paintings were noticeably different. To someone like me, who remembered a past life, they looked very familiar—

Even though he used paint and brushes, his artwork was perfect for “illustration.”

‘Didn’t people say other painters looked down on him for that?’

Even if he became famous through my mention, Karls’ work wasn’t quite aligned with fine art.

It could gain popularity, but lacked the kind of refinement to be considered prestigious.

Most notably, he didn’t paint first and receive critique later—instead, he took commissions and painted based on them.

In other words, he was more like an illustrator from my past life.

Because of this, many people quietly looked down on him, claiming he devalued the worth of art.

Karls seemed to understand this and kept quiet, just focusing on his work. Still, he had no trouble financially since there was strong demand for his illustrations.

“Mr. Karls, unlike other painters, you paint based on commissions, right?”

“Yes. Unlike others, I lack artistic sensibility, so…”

Karls gave a sheepish laugh and scratched his head. His appearance really made him seem like a pure-hearted country uncle.

That’s not to say painters don’t accept commissions—after all, nobles and royals often hire painters for portraits.

But outside of those cases, most prefer creating “art” on their own terms. Commissions—especially like Karls’—are nearly unheard of.

Maybe it wasn’t always like this, but at least after 1900, it wasn’t unusual.

Even Hitler is famously known to have tried to live off of his artwork. Too bad he failed art school.

“But you’re confident in portraying people and scenes if you’re given a clear description and a fair price, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Could you tell me what you’ve painted since the Hectopascal Kick?”

Honestly, that one painting alone was proof of his skill—the composition, the expressions, the characters. Everything was perfect.

It was so well done, I wondered if he, too, had been reincarnated like me.

“As you might expect, most commissions have been related to the Chronicles of Zenon. Since you mentioned me directly, there’s been a lot of interest in that area.”

“Can you give me some examples?”

“Well, things like the fall of Sakran, Kair’s flashback scenes, Jin’s awakening… There are too many to name offhand.”

Just hearing about them didn’t give me a clear picture. But I couldn’t ask to see paintings that others had already commissioned.

So I asked to see the ones he had drawn casually on the side—essentially, his portfolio.

The concept of a portfolio doesn’t exist yet, but he had enough leftover sketches that preparing one shouldn’t be difficult.

As I expected, Karls began showing me his prepared illustrations one by one.

“This is…”

“A steam locomotive. It was already mentioned in the Chronicles of Zenon, but I added more detail.”

Among the impressive works, the one that caught my eye was the steam locomotive.

It was far more developed than the one illustrated in the Chronicles.

Back then, I added a steam locomotive drawing for the readers’ understanding, but as an amateur, it had many flaws.

Karls, however, had refined it into something vivid and realistic. The smoke puffing from the chimney, the wheels driven by steam—

It was exactly the style I had always envisioned, something I could never achieve with my own amateur skills.

“And this one is… actually, never mind.”

As I was admiring the locomotive drawing, Karls hesitated when pulling out the next piece and put it back instead.

Ironically, that only drew more attention to it. I put the current illustration down and asked,

“What’s that one?”

“That is… a bit inappropriate to show right now…”

“It’s fine. Please, show me.”

Perhaps my words came off as pressure, because Karls reluctantly pulled out the drawing. I accepted it without much thought.

But then I realized why he tried to put it away.

“…”

“Ahem. Ahem.”

As I stood speechless, stunned, Adelia—who was standing behind me—cleared her throat in embarrassment.

Karls, unable to meet my eyes, fidgeted with his mustache.

The reason for everyone’s awkward reactions?

It was because the painting depicted Jin and Lily’s wedding night.

From Jin’s point of view, Lily’s nude body was portrayed.

Her golden hair was spread lavishly over the bed. Her cheeks were faintly flushed with embarrassment, but her eyes stared straight ahead.

One hand shyly covered her ample chest, while the other rested on the bed.

Naturally, her lower half was completely exposed.

Anyone could see it was a bride awaiting her first night.

‘…Man, he was really born in the wrong era.’

Karls’ paintings mix realism and comic style in just the right proportions.

As you know, that kind of art style is something that only appears generations later.

What’s even more amazing is that it was all done with just a brush and paint.

No computer or tablet—creating a masterpiece like this under those conditions is truly impressive.

I may not know much about art, but one thing’s for certain: he was born in the wrong era.

“…Mr. Karls.”

“I’m sorry. Did I offend you…?”

“Since when have you been using this kind of style?”

“Huh?”

Karls had been about to apologize but instead widened his eyes in surprise.

Looks like he thought I was about to scold him.

I casually set the painting to the side (just in case, I flipped it over) and spoke softly.

“Mr. Karls, your style is quite rare. I was just curious about where you learned it.”

“Rather than learning it… I’ve just always drawn like this. As I mentioned earlier, I lack originality compared to others. Especially with realism—if it’s not perfect, it ends up looking unpleasant. So I tweak it a bit.”

“Isn’t that what originality is?”

“Y-you think so? Most other artists say I lack originality, so…”

Despite the compliment, Karls gave a sheepish laugh, clearly unconvinced.

I nodded thoughtfully as I looked at him.

The more popular mass culture—like comics, novels, and animation—becomes, the more his art style will be appreciated.

But the problem is, this isn’t that kind of era.

Worse yet, he’s a few centuries ahead of his time.

It’s only because I reincarnated here and wrote The Chronicles of Zenon that he’s not completely overlooked as just another average painter.

‘I should’ve met him sooner.’

I could’ve included more fitting illustrations in each volume of Zenon.

Calling the hectopascal kick a coincidence was a mistake.

It’s fine if the illustration is large—we can just use a shrinking spell and print it afterward.

Looking at that… ahem, that earlier drawing, it’s clear how delicate and detailed his work is.

He’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.

‘But character and scene portrayal are different. I need to keep that in mind.’

World War II isn’t just about the characters—it’s about the atmosphere.

The tanks storming across the land, the fighter planes dogfighting in the skies, and finally, the fierce naval battles sprawling across the seas.

We’ll have to see if Karls can capture all of that.

Thankfully, I can draw the rough drafts myself.

If he just fills them in with detail, the illustrations will be complete.

“Well, I suppose it’s time to get to the point. The real reason I called you here, Mr. Karls, is to offer you a commission.

It’s similar to the ones you’ve had so far—but also different.”

“Different how…?”

Maybe because it’s a request from the famous Zenon himself?

Karls asked quietly, his face full of surprise and curiosity.

Accepting the job is just a matter of signing the contract, but he seems to sense that this is something else.

Looking at his face, which could pass for Mario’s, I gave my answer.

“You may not know yet, but I’m preparing another work. It’s a completely different world, so illustrations are essential.

Remember the steam locomotive in Zenon?”

“Of course.”

“It’s similar. Drawings to help the readers better understand the content. But my strength is writing, not drawing. That’s why I want you to handle the illustrations.”

“…Huh?”

Seems he finally got it. His eyes—Mario’s, I mean Karls’—went wide.

It’s a request, sure, but it’s basically a job offer.

“I can send you the rough drafts. They’ll serve as the skeleton, and you can add the flesh.”

“If it’s like that, wouldn’t it be better if you just did it yourself, Lord Zenon…?”

“No. My drawing skills are terrible. The steam locomotive was a structure—simple enough.

But for characters? Forget it. My figures look like logs even if the faces are decent.”

That’s why I want him to do the drawings. His style is perfect for it, and it suits his previous work too.

Anyone else would’ve dragged their feet.

“Anyone would accept a request from Lord Zenon, though…?”

“But only you are guaranteed to do it well. So—will you accept?”

“……”

Karls looked conflicted, pulling gently at his mustache.

While he mulled it over, I glanced at Adelia behind me.

She nodded and brought over a prepared item.

As the item was placed on the table, Karls seemed to finish thinking and quietly responded.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can accept.”

“Why not? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No—it’s just not realistic. You publish new books nearly every ten days.

Even if you send me rough drafts, I doubt I can keep up.”

“Hmm.”

I nodded, acknowledging his valid point.

His production speed might not match mine.

“Then, with rough drafts, how long does it usually take you?”

“At the fastest, a week. If I take my time, around two weeks.”

What? That’s insanely fast.

In a world without computers or tablets, that’s unbelievable.

Besides, this new project won’t be released as quickly as Zenon.

It’s not just about the war’s progression—I have to explain the social and political contexts of each country, plus the suffering of civilians and the war crimes committed.

Even I can’t remember it all clearly—I’ll need Mora’s help.

So naturally, the writing will be slower than Zenon.

“Actually, that works better. This project will take longer to write than Zenon, so there’s no pressure.”

“I-Is that so? I’m glad to hear that. Then I’ll gladly accept your commission.”

“Good. Lastly… Adelia?”

As soon as I called her, Adelia placed a square box on the table.

Karls’ eyes instinctively followed it.

It looked like an ordinary box, but I knew what was inside.

Just before opening it, I looked at the bewildered Karls and asked softly:

“Mr. Karls.”

“Yes?”

“When you usually take commissions… how much do you charge per piece?”

“Usually about 5 gold coins per illustration…”

That’s about 500,000 won in Earth money. Pretty standard for quality illustration work.

But considering Karls’ talent and skill, it’s actually quite low.

Again—he was born in the wrong era.

He’s a monster who can create artwork rivaling illustrations from my previous life using nothing but paint and brushes.

The drawings I had next to me were proof enough of his ability.

“5 gold coins… that’s more expensive than I thought.

Unfortunately, I don’t have that much cash on hand right now.”

“Then… how would you pay…?”

Before he could finish, I opened the box.

Karls’ gaze instantly dropped to the contents inside.

“How about gold bars instead?”

Inside the box were stacks of gleaming gold bars—plenty of them.

Adelia could carry them with ease, but any ordinary person would’ve struggled to even drag the box.

Karls stared, completely entranced by the golden glow.

The gold bars reflected in his blue eyes like mirrors.

“I’m not giving all of this right away. We need to sign a contract, and I have to test your skill first.”

“……”

“I’ll give you one rough sketch and its explanation. Finish it within two weeks. If I’m satisfied, you may take one of these gold bars.

Once we sign a formal contract… I trust you understand.”

Even if art is a starving profession—

“I’ll devote myself to you.”

—no one resists money.

Roughly two weeks later…

[Introducing the original character art of our new protagonist: Adolf Hitler!]

[A middle-aged man with a distinctive mustache. How will this man save the world?]

[What could the mark on his arm mean? Many say it represents his affiliation…]

The character art of Hitler, prepared for early preview, was distributed across the world.

Naturally, people everywhere took interest.

[His unique mustache is creating a sensation. Even among nobles, there are those…]

[More and more people are trying to imitate the protagonist’s look…]

[Another case of motif controversy? But since this is a fantasy world, unlike Zenon, it’s unlikely to cause much trouble.]

I just poisoned the world.