I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy-Chapter 28

The Demon Lord, watching with a look of disbelief, muttered under his breath.

“Humans these days seem to be choosing just about anyone as Hero Candidates. Have they all gone mad?”

“Perhaps it works in our favor,” said one of the Demon Lord’s aides. “If they are indulging in such farcical titles, it must mean that the south has grown complacent.”

The Demon Lord clenched the armrests of his flaming throne and replied, “There is no need to concern ourselves with a Hero Candidate of the Pen. What of the Sword Candidate?”

“The half-elf girl, my lord? Rest assured, she continues to wander aimlessly for now.”

The Sword Candidate, Phantom’s contemporary, was another Hero Candidate the demons were keeping a close eye on. Although her exceptional talents had yet to fully blossom, the demons were wary for another reason.

“...Keep a close watch on the Sword Candidate,” the Demon Lord said, rising from his throne and moving toward a crimson crystal in the corner of the room.

“That girl is not normal. Perhaps it’s because she’s a filthy hybrid, carrying the blood of both humans and elves. They say she’s lacking something essential, like a mule born from two species.”

He touched the surface of the blood-red crystal, its ominous energy swirling as he spoke in a grave tone.

"However, under the right circumstances, she may very well align with us, embracing the path of destruction and slaughter."

“Balthazar Arture, are you paying attention?”

Smack!

“Ow!”

A playful flick to the forehead jolted me out of my daze.

When I finally turned my attention back, I saw the culprit standing right in front of me.

“No matter how boring the lecture is, it’s rude to ignore your teacher, isn’t it?”

Her hair was a deep violet, reminiscent of violets in bloom. Her eyes sparkled like amethysts, and she wore a black eyepatch over one of them. Her long, pointed ears marked her as an elf.

This was Professor Gabi, an elven woman teaching at Bronde Academy.

“Come on now, you’ve known me since you were a first-year. Are you going to keep treating me like this?”

“I—I’m sorry, Professor…”

My words were garbled as she pinched my cheeks in a teasing manner.

The lecture hall filled with laughter as the other students joined in, enjoying the spectacle.

Then, letting go of my cheeks, Professor Gabi addressed the class.

“I know it’s hard to focus right after lunch, but at least today’s not a double lecture, right? If everyone stays focused, I’ll end class ten minutes early. How’s that sound?”

“Professor, you’re the best!”

“We love you, Gabi!”

“Alright, alright. Now let’s move on to a brief lesson about elven art, shall we?”

Professor Gabi turned back to the blackboard, picking up a piece of chalk with her left hand. Most people would naturally use their right hand to write, but she didn’t have that luxury—her right arm had been severed in battle long ago.

The empty sleeve of her robe swayed as she moved, a testament to the losses she had endured.

Despite these hardships, Professor Gabi maintained an energetic and upbeat demeanor, which made her lectures incredibly popular. Every semester, students would rush to sign up for her classes, and even the same students who had been waging their 'rating wars' were now peaceful and enjoying themselves in her class.

“Now, pay attention. This is what landscape painting looks like among the elves. As you can see, it’s quite different from the human style.”

She unfurled a scroll she had brought for the lecture, explaining its content in simple terms.

“Elf paintings typically emphasize stark contrasts between black and white, as well as harmony with nature. Instead of oil paints, elves prefer ink and hwaseonji (fine rice paper).”

Black-and-white contrasts, harmony with nature, ink, and hwaseonji.

Any modern person listening would immediately recognize it.

Surprisingly, the elves of this world shared many cultural similarities with the East.

Even Professor Gabi herself dressed like a character straight out of a martial arts novel.

Her course, Cultural Exchange Between Elves and Humans, was a precious opportunity for students of this Western-style fantasy world to learn about Eastern-style customs and art.

‘That’s why her classes are usually so fun.’

I mean, how could I resist? A beautiful elf teaching us about Eastern fantasy culture? It was an irresistible combination.

But today, my thoughts kept drifting elsewhere.

‘…So, how am I going to write my next play?’

I had settled on the idea of an action-packed and romantic hero, different from the noble ones in previous works. However, there were too many candidates to choose from. Each one seemed suitable, which only made the decision harder.

Should I focus on Achilles, the hero of the Trojan War?

Or perhaps Alexander the Great, who built an empire across Eurasia?

Maybe I should go with Richard the Lionheart, who ruthlessly crushed the Muslim forces?

“Hmmm. Why does none of them feel right?” I muttered quietly so no one else could hear.

Thanks to the Philosopher’s Stone, my writing speed had dramatically improved. But even with that, I still needed the perfect idea to turn into a play. It had to be just right, something that would make the audience think, ‘Yes, this is it!’

As I mulled over possible candidates, Professor Gabi’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Now, let’s talk about traditional elven performance arts. Recently, plays by the playwright Phantom have become wildly popular, haven’t they?”

She rolled up the scroll as she spoke.

“It’s gotten to the point where you can’t even have a conversation with young people unless you’ve seen his latest play. I’ve been keeping up with them too, even though I’m an old elf. After all, I need to be able to talk to my teaching assistants, right?”

Laughter erupted once more, and Professor Gabi raised her hand to quiet the class before continuing.

“Elven performances differ quite a bit from human ones. For one thing, elves enjoy elaborate choreography and exaggerated costumes. It’s also common for the actors’ lines to be restructured into musical compositions.”

“Restructured into music? What does that mean?”

“Does she mean writing lines in verse? Humans do that too, though.”

The students looked puzzled, unable to fully grasp what she meant.

Seeing their confusion, Professor Gabi smiled and cleared her throat.

Then, she began to demonstrate what an ‘elven performance’ sounded like…

“What… what is that?”

“Pfft, it sounds weird! Like a mosquito buzzing!”

“And the rhythm is all over the place. Is that supposed to be a song or a line of dialogue?”

The students either grimaced or burst into laughter.

The way Professor Gabi spoke was more like singing than reciting lines, her voice cracking in a forced falsetto that sounded downright bizarre.

“Uh… what?”

Unlike the rest of the class, I couldn’t react with amusement.

Because, truth be told, I had seen that exact singing style in my previous life.

‘That’s jingju style!’

It was a traditional Chinese opera style, not unlike Korean pansori.

Also known as “Peking Opera,” it was a performance art I had encountered in old films during my time as a media enthusiast.

No matter how much this world’s elves were inspired by the East, I never expected them to adopt jingju.

“Well, what do you think? Quite different from the human way of doing things, isn’t it?”

Professor Gabi smiled as she brought her hand to her face and added, “But that’s not all there is to elven theater, everyone. We can’t forget this flashy trick either.”

Shwish!

A crisp sound like crumpled paper unfolding.

And then, students gasped in amazement.

“Whoa, what’s that?!”

“Is it magic? How did she do that?”

“That’s so cool!”

A mask, made of what looked like paper, had suddenly appeared on Professor Gabi’s face. The mask hadn’t been there just moments before.

But her performance didn’t stop there.

Shwish! Shwish! Shwish!

“Huh?!”

“Amazing! She’s barely even touching it, but the mask keeps changing!”

“What’s going on, Professor? Are you actually using magic?”

With a simple flick of her hand, Professor Gabi changed her mask, swapping it from red to yellow, then black to green. It was as if the masks were teleporting onto her face.

Even though magic existed in this world, it was rare to see someone using it so effortlessly.

So, naturally, the students were thrilled to witness such an exciting and unexpected trick.

…And I, too, was utterly floored.

‘Isn’t that… bian lian? The face-changing technique?!’

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Originating from the Sichuan Opera in China, bian lian was a highly skilled performance where performers changed their masks without touching them, often using concealed strings.

It looked like Professor Gabi had added a bit of magic to her version of the trick.

“Well, how was that? Impressive, right?”

She removed the final blue mask and smiled.

“I said I’d let you out ten minutes early, so that’s all for today. Next time, I’ll show you even more fascinating aspects of elven culture. Class dismissed.”

“Yay!”

“Professor Gabi, you’re the best!”

She gave a graceful bow, like an actress on stage, and the students erupted into applause.

I, too, joined in the clapping, but inside, I was cheering for a different reason.

Watching Professor Gabi’s demonstrations of Eastern performance techniques had finally given me the inspiration I needed for my next play.

‘Of course. How could I forget that person when talking about action and romance?’

The unrivaled strategist, the man who coined countless idioms like “stand by the precipice” and “overwhelming odds.”

The one who swept through the central plains with just a single sword, and who, despite his adversaries, remained loyal to one woman for his entire life.

“…It was not my lack of skill that caused my defeat, but heaven itself that doomed me!”

Murmuring one of his famous lines under my breath, I stood up from my seat.

Though he had been defeated, through the lens of history and retellings, he became a legendary figure.

Now, it was time to turn his dramatic life story into my next play.

A few hours later, in the late evening, after the sun had set.

Having finished her hot bath, Gabi emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head, wearing a bathrobe as she stepped into her cozy living room.

It was a comfortable space provided to all professors at Bronde Academy, one she had been using for over ten years since accepting her teaching position.

“Ahh, that was refreshing.”

She sat down at her desk, which was piled high with letters. Her last task for the day was to sort through the various pieces of correspondence she had received.

As usual, most of the letters were of a similar nature.

Tax notifications from the Empire, greetings from her kin of the World Tree, and a few love confessions from young male students who secretly admired her.

…But the message she had been hoping for all these years still hadn’t arrived.

‘That girl still hasn’t contacted me.’

A former student who had once shared a sacred bond with her, but whose connection had tragically been severed.

Sighing, Gabi rubbed her forehead as she thought about the girl who had left her side.

“I hope she’s at least eating properly. I wonder if she’s getting enough food.”

Resigned, Gabi was about to classify the day’s letters as more of the same. She planned to retire to bed early if nothing unusual came up.

But then something peculiar caught her eye.

“Hm?”

One of the letters buried under the pile had an unusual red wax seal shaped like a mask.

Intrigued by the unfamiliar symbol, Gabi carefully opened the letter and began to read.

“A request for expert advice on elven theater production… from the playwright Phantom?”