Chapter 153: The Voice of the Dead
Over the following weeks, a "Novel Fever" completely consumed the Evernight Empire.
The public notice boards, once reserved for reporting crimes or civic announcements, were now plastered with "frantic demand letters" from readers begging authors for faster updates. The book-selling stalls had evolved from crude wooden stages into a magnificent, three-story stone landmark: The Grand Evernight Library.
The First Floor was the Sales District. Countless shelves groaned under the weight of newly released volumes. Once a reader made their selection, they would pay at the counter, staffed by a group of silver-tongued Ghouls and a row of expressionless Skeleton Soldiers.
The Second Floor was the Reading Room. It was filled with polished wooden tables and cushioned benches, where a portion of the collection could be read free of charge.
The Third Floor was the "Sanctum of Creation." Two Skeleton Berserkers stood guard at the staircase to ensure absolute silence. Here, every contracted author sat, quills scratching frantically against parchment as they worked to meet their quotas.
Kaito was currently blending into the crowd on the second floor, looking like any other ordinary reader, hunched over a newly acquired volume. He read with a look of intense satisfaction.
Hoh... this is quality stuff. Total brain-rot. I love it.
Just then, his attention was caught by a commotion in the corner.
An elderly Dwarf—with a beard so long it was practically sweeping the floor—was clutching a novel, his face a mask of frantic distress as he poked the arm of a passing youth.
"Lad! A favor, I beg of you! Just read me this paragraph... please!"
The young man waved him off impatiently. "No time! Read it yourself!" Without looking back, he sprinted toward the sales counter, terrified the daily stock would run out before he got his "fix."
The old Dwarf's hand hung in the air, trembling. The look on his face was one of absolute, heart-wrenching defeat. He let out a heavy sigh, turning the crisp, new book over and over in his hands, unable to decipher a single glyph. Finally, he slumped onto the stone steps, looking like a child abandoned by the world.
The smile vanished from Kaito's jaw.
He realized then that a significant portion of his empire remained in the dark. Due to their age or origins as refugees, many were illiterate. The "Literacy Boot Camps" at the Academy were moving too slowly. These people were being swept up by the cultural tide, yearning for the stories, only to be blocked by the wall of the written word.
What's the move? Kaito wondered.
Force them to study? No, that's too slow and will just cause resentment. Increase the number of bards? Impossible; the demand is already too high.
Kaito looked at the book in his hands.
The text... it's just the medium.
If I can't use words... then I won't use words!
Kaito stood up abruptly, shoved his book into the arms of a nearby, bewildered skeleton, and bolted for the exit.
"Master! Your book!" the skeleton rattled.
"Keep it! It's a reward for your posture!" Kaito shouted over his shoulder.
The Imperial Ministry of Literature, Minister's Office.
The Skele-Minister was currently using his own ribs as a makeshift abacus to calculate the day's revenue. Because the numbers were so high, he had already detached four ribs to track the digits, whispering feverishly to himself.
Suddenly, the door was kicked open with a thunderous BANG.
The Minister jumped, a rib clattering to the floor and ruining his entire calculation. "MASTER?!"
Kaito didn't waste time on greetings. "What's the current illiteracy rate?"
The Minister scrambled to put himself back together, pulling a statistical report from a mess of files. "According to the Academy's census, approximately thirty percent of our residents cannot read. Mostly the elder Dwarves, Orcs, and the recent influx of refugees from the border provinces."
Kaito nodded. Thirty percent. That was a massive, untapped market of misery.
Kaito slammed a novel onto the desk, his Soul Fire burning with a manic, creative heat. "Turn them into pictures!"
The Minister tilted his skull. "Pictures, My Lord?"
"Yes! Manga!"
"Illustrate the story panel by panel! Even a child or a battle-hardened Orc who's never seen a book can understand a drawing!"
The Minister thought back to the few human picture-books he'd seen. "I see. I shall requisition the illustrators immediately—"
"I'm not finished!" Kaito interrupted. "Drawings aren't enough. I want them... to talk!"
The Skele-Minister's jawbone clicked and literally fell onto the table. He stooped to retrieve it, snapped it back on, and asked in a voice filled with doubt: "Talk? You want the parchment... to speak?"
Kaito nodded. "Exactly. I want every line of text, every dialogue bubble, to be paired with a voice. For those who can't read, they can look and listen."
The Minister stared. Making paper talk? You're asking for a miracle, Master!
"Voice?" the Minister stammered. "Master... how is that physically possible?"
A devious grin touched Kaito's jaw. "Do you remember the Arcane Legion's research on Mana Storage?"
The Minister blinked, then his Od flared with realization. "You mean... storing the sound within the fibers of the paper?!"
"Bingo. Record the voice for every segment. The reader only needs to touch the page to trigger the playback."
Before the Minister could even reply, Kaito turned to leave. "Go to Avarice and Lust. Tell them I want a prototype 'Talking Manga' on my desk in seventy-two hours."
"At once, My Lord!"
Kaito reached the door, then paused as another "modern" idea hit him. He turned back.
"And another thing. Issue a continent-wide recruitment notice. I need artists—any race, any style, as long as they can draw. And..."
He scrawled a term onto a piece of paper.
"I need VAs. People with pleasant voices and clear diction to record the lines. We'll call them 'Voice Actors.'"
The Minister took the note, nodding frantically. "Understood, My Lord!"
As Kaito vanished into the hall, the Minister stared at the empty doorway, muttering, "The Sovereign is truly... built different."
Three Days Later. Arcane Legion Laboratory.
Avarice and Lust stood before a massive workbench covered in magical diagrams and discarded beakers. Kaito stood behind them, accompanied by a young Elf girl holding a completed manuscript. It was the first volume of Elia's Journey of Freedom.
The art was exquisite, the paneling fluid. But it lacked the final spark.
Avarice looked up, his Soul Fire glowing with a manic pride. "Master, we have successfully modified the Mana-Retention Array. By converting auditory vibrations into specific Od-fluctuations, we can store them within treated parchment."
Lust chimed in. "The reader simply touches a designated 'Trigger Zone' on the page. The contact activates the stored Od, releasing the sound. And," she added with a smug look at Avarice, "I added a 'Repeat' function. The voice won't fade after one use."
Kaito's Soul Fire pulsed. "Excellent."
He placed the manuscript on the bench. "Commence recording."
Avarice produced a small, silver magical device. He leveled it at the first page and nodded to the Elf girl. She took a deep breath.
"My name is Elia," she began. Her voice was clear and melodic, possessing a natural, soothing quality. "I am a wandering minstrel of the Great Forest."
Avarice activated the device. A faint, silver light shrouded the page for a few seconds before vanishing.
"Recording finalized," Avarice stated.
Kaito reached out, his finger gently brushing the top-left corner of the first panel.
The next second—
A clear, youthful female voice emanated from the paper.
"My name is Elia..."
The sound was crisp, devoid of any magical static. It sounded as if the girl were standing right beside his ear.
Kaito's Soul Fire roared with triumph. "It's a hit!"
One Week Later. The Grand Evernight Library.
In the center of the main hall, a massive display stage had been erected. Upon it sat a dozen gleaming new volumes. On every cover was a bold, silver-stamped logo: [TALKING MANGA].
A mob had gathered. Literate and illiterate alike, they stared at the books, whispering in hushed tones.
"What is this new sorcery?"
"I heard you don't need to know letters to understand it."
"Nonsense. How can you read without reading?"
Just then, a Ghoul stepped onto the stage and roared:
"CITIZENS!"
"Behold the latest innovation from the Ministry of Literature: Talking Manga!"
"Reading is no longer a requirement for adventure!"
He picked up a volume and slapped the cover. "Every page is possessed by a voice! Simply touch the art to hear the story!"
The crowd exploded.
"Is it true?!"
"Let me see! Let me hear!"
The Ghoul grinned, handing the volume to the elderly Dwarf from the week before. The Dwarf took the book with trembling hands, carefully turning to page one. He couldn't read the text, but the art of the Elf girl staring at the horizon spoke to him.
He touched the corner of the page as instructed.
"My name is Elia. I am a wandering minstrel of the Great Forest..."
The Dwarf's eyes went wide. He touched it again. The voice repeated the line.
His hands began to shake. He turned the page and touched the next panel.
"It has been three years since I left my home. I have seen the ends of the world... but I am still searching for an answer."
A tear rolled down the old Dwarf's cheek and soaked into his beard. He clutched the manga to his chest, his entire frame vibrating.
The crowd, witnessing the miracle, went into a total frenzy.
"I WANT ONE!"
"GIVE ME THREE!"
"HOW MUCH?!"
The Ghoul roared over the noise, "TWENTY COPPERS A VOLUME! LIMIT ONE PER CUSTOMER! QUEUE UP OR BE PURGED!"
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