I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy-Chapter 39

I asked, somewhat surprised. The princess didn’t seem like the type to leave anything to chance—let alone lose.

“Of course! I’ve beaten her plenty of times.”

The prince nodded with a hint of pride.

“Especially when we bet on rare desserts that even royalty can only have once in a while. Like ice cream made with emerald melons or honey pie from the World Tree’s sap. Whenever we argue over who gets the first bite, I’ve never lost a bet.”

“......”

“Hmm? Why are you looking at me like that?”

I couldn’t help but think that his sister probably let him win on purpose in those cases. After all, Wolfgang is at the perfect age to be infatuated with sweet treats.

‘Then again, it’s often said their relationship is more like that of mother and son.’

The close bond between the royal siblings was well-known throughout the empire. Since their mother, the empress, had passed away early on, Princess Diana had practically raised Wolfgang like her own child.

‘Though she might be willing to give up desserts, it seems her collection is another matter.’

It seemed that Diana was teaching her younger brother a life lesson about loss by taking back her collection. Still, seeing Wolfgang so downcast over losing his treasure was a bit pitiful.

“How about this, Your Highness?” I decided to make a generous offer, as his birthday was approaching.

“You can choose the theme of my next play after Farewell to the Conqueror. Consider it a birthday gift from me.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Of course. Don’t worry about it—just tell me what you’d like.”

“Wow!”

In an instant, the twelve-year-old prince returned to his age-appropriate self, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He clenched his little fists in glee.

“Thank you! Really, thank you, Phantom! That would be the best birthday gift ever!”

His sadness over the Double Dragon Sword seemed to vanish instantly.

Indeed, twelve is twelve. He reminded me of my niece and nephew from my past life, whom I often played with.

They were a little strict about schoolwork, especially my sister and her husband. Whenever the kids got in trouble with their parents, they’d come running to me, their “uncle.”

‘Uncle, I got in trouble because my grades dropped!’

‘Uncle, I want a chicken burger, but Dad says it’s bad for me!’

Whenever that happened, I’d take them out for a blockbuster movie or treat them to fast food, cheering them up.

Now, with Wolfgang, I found myself in a similar situation.

“So, what kind of play would you like to see, Your Highness?”

I asked as I touched the white mask on my face, already predicting what his answer might be.

Transforming robots, toy swords, model tanks, or even Kamen Rider—he was at the age where he was probably most interested in adventure, war, and action.

‘He’ll probably ask for some hero-themed play similar to Xiang Yu.’

I pondered possible historical figures to base it on. Perhaps Richard the Lionheart, the famed swordsman of Korea, Choi Chung-geon, or maybe even legendary sniper Simo Häyhä?

As I was mentally organizing candidates, Wolfgang spoke up.

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“Horror!”

...What?

“I want to see something terrifying! A horror play that’s so scary it’ll make my hair stand on end and keep me up at night!”

“H-horror?”

I finally took notice of the prince’s collection, neatly displayed around the room.

Of course, his prized Phantom-related memorabilia was prominently showcased. But behind that, an entirely different genre of items was piled up.

In one corner of the display case, separated from the rest, was a collection of horror-related content: Tales of the Werewolf, Legends of Vampires, Ghoul Sightings, The Exorcism Casebook, and more. The shelves were packed with horror novels and stories that seemed familiar to this world.

Seeing this, I silently clicked my tongue.

Kids these days really have strong preferences, huh?

<><><><><><>

Sometime after my visit to the palace as Phantom the playwright, I found myself wandering near the entrance of the academy, dressed for an outing.

It was midterm season, and most of the academy students had finished their exams. Now, they were busy celebrating the end of their tests, indulging in alcohol and entertainment, temporarily escaping the reality of their grades.

‘...Come to think of it, I hope Professor Gabi really will give me that A+. I didn’t submit anything, trusting her word that my performance as Xiang Yu would count as my midterm.’

Like the students, I was also preparing for a break from it all.

“Horror... horror, huh.”

Tick-tock. Watching the slow movement of the second hand on my pocket watch, I mumbled to myself.

Despite trying to appear mature, Wolfgang was still a child at heart. When I was his age, I was also obsessed with horror comics and movies.

Titles like Scary Things I Love, Ghost Stories from School, and The Grudge brought back nostalgic memories of classic horror works.

While I’ve built a tolerance to such things as an adult, back then, just seeing something spooky would flood my brain with dopamine.

“So, in the end, what the prince wants to see is no different.”

But this would be challenging. Not just challenging—extremely difficult.

My specialty was adapting historical figures into plays, drawing from war, politics, comedy, religion, philosophy, action, and romance. Horror, however, was an entirely different genre from what I was used to.

‘Should I try re-creating the horror films I watched in my past life, like I did with Chaplin’s works?’

There were plenty of famous directors like Alfred Hitchcock, Stanley Kubrick, and George Romero who made horror classics.

...But when I tried to think of specific candidates, nothing felt quite right.

‘What’s most important is what this world’s people actually fear.’

The feeling of fear is surprisingly relative. What terrifies people varies greatly depending on their culture, values, and emotional tendencies.

For example, modern people might be frightened by zombie or serial killer films because those elements feel simultaneously unfamiliar yet grounded in their reality.

But would people in this medieval world even view such things as ‘horror’?

Zombies, here, would just be considered undead—targets of disgust, not fear. And the concept of a serial killer hasn’t even fully developed yet.

In my experience, the one thing people in this world feared the most was...

‘Demons.’

Demons were fundamentally different from the northern tribes of monsters.

They were beings of pure evil that crawled out of the pits of Hell itself, far beyond the reach of human comprehension.

Unpredictable and terrifying, demons were believed to be so dangerous that only the one true god, the Heavenly Lord, could oppose them.

They played with humans like toys, drove them to madness, corrupted their souls, and used them to spread chaos and destruction throughout the world.

In the face of such a demon, humans were no more than insects in a storm. Without divine protection, they would go insane and collapse, weeping in terror.

Even Wolfgang’s horror collection was filled with books on demon sightings and bizarre depictions of Hell painted by religious artists.

‘So, in the end, the kid probably wants to see a terrifying story about demons...’

But if that’s the case, being from modern Earth might actually be a disadvantage for me.

To put it bluntly, unless you were a devout religious person, what modern human still feared demons?

Most people didn’t even believe in the existence of demons anymore.

Sure, demons occasionally appeared as plot devices in horror movies, but very few works focused solely on demons as terrifying beings.

“Hmmm, what to do...”

I didn’t think I had the ability to analyze and portray demons better than someone from this world.

In the end, I’d probably have to borrow the life story or work of some historical figure from my past.

‘Now, who among the historical figures I know either had a connection to demons or at least portrayed evil in a uniquely terrifying way?’

Hieronymus Bosch, the painter known as the master of Hell?

Francisco de Goya, famous for Saturn Devouring His Son?

Or Aleister Crowley, the notorious occultist who laid the groundwork for modern black magic?

I chewed on my lip, deep in thought.

“B-Balthazar!”

“Oh! Senior Rosalyn, you’re here?”

“Huff... I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“No, not at all. I just got here myself. But wow, Senior...”

I couldn’t help but let out a small gasp when I saw her.

Her red hair, neatly combed and tied back with a delicate hairpin. The shimmering earrings and necklace adorned with glittering jewels. And her dress, soft and flowing, yet perfectly fitted to show off her figure.

“You put so much effort into getting dressed today. It was worth the wait.”

“Oh, um... really? That’s a relief, hehe.”

“Who are you trying to impress, looking so lovely? Maybe me?”

“Huh? I... uh, that’s...”

“I-I’m just joking. Sorry.”

“N-no! No need to apologize!”

As I watched her blush deeply, I awkwardly mumbled an apology.

After all, things had been a bit awkward between us ever since the Farewell to the Conqueror production.

It wasn’t that we had grown distant.

We were still close—closer than most friends, really.

But I could feel that Senior Rosalyn had become more reserved around me, especially after that almost-kiss scene was added unexpectedly.

Although she’d insisted it was fine every time I apologized, I could tell that as a proper lady, she had found it both embarrassing and unsettling.

So, I decided to give her some time to process everything and wait until she felt comfortable again.

“Shall we go? We promised to meet Morris and Julian at the venue, right?”

“Yes, let’s go, Balthazar.”

Rosalyn slid her arm through mine, adopting the proper posture of a lady being escorted by a gentleman.

The only difference from before was that instead of laughing and chatting as we walked, she now blushed and subtly avoided my gaze.

‘Looks like it’s going to take a while for things to go back to normal.’

Still, I was grateful that Senior Rosalyn was kind-hearted enough not to push me away. Despite her discomfort, she didn’t distance herself from me.

We were on our way to see a traveling theater troupe that had recently arrived in the capital.

With midterms almost over, we had decided to celebrate by watching a performance together. Morris, his girlfriend Julian, Senior Rosalyn, and me.

Morris had jokingly called it a “double date,” but considering the current awkwardness between Rosalyn and me, it didn’t feel like a date at all. I could only laugh at my roommate’s teasing.

‘By the way, wasn’t this traveling troupe famous for their puppet shows?’

If I recall correctly, the troupe’s name was something like “Wanderbühne.” I wasn’t too familiar with them, so they must have been relatively new on the scene.

From what I’d heard, their puppet shows were considered the best in the empire. Even Morris, who was practically a Phantom fanboy, had insisted we go see it together.

‘But no matter how great a puppet show is, it’s still just a puppet show, right?’

I wondered what kind of performance could make everyone so excited.

<><><><><><>

Soon after, we arrived at the large tent where the traveling troupe was performing.

Rat-a-tat-tat! The sound of drums filled the air, followed by a loud voice from the other side of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome one and all!”

Then, boing! a woman leapt onto a raised platform.

“The one and only Wanderbühne, the pinnacle of puppetry, unmatched in all the land! You’ve stepped into a world of danger and wonder, where fantasy and fun never cease!”

With a flourish, she tipped her wide-brimmed silk hat to the audience. Perched atop her light brown bobbed hair, a pair of rabbit ears twitched cutely.

This was none other than Fluffy, the head of the traveling troupe we had come to see—a rabbit-human hybrid.

She looked like an adorable little girl dressed in a magician’s outfit for a school play.