The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

As he climbed the platform stairs, Fran looked up at the high ceiling with fresh eyes.

The arch of cast iron and glass is monumental, and the light beneath it magnificently illuminates the space obscured by the steam of the train.

Clayo, who was looking closely at Fran, asked.

"So you must be the first one to join the club."

The Lundane East Station opened while Fran was away from the capital.

"Yes."

"How do you feel?"

"Too showy."

Laughing out of thin lips, Clay lowered his waist and lowered his voice.

"That's your comment. But what should I do? You'll see something even more spectacular if you go out."

Fran left the central hall with a face half mixed with doubt and expectation.

On top of the colorful pillars decorating the front of the station, an overwhelming-sized statue of the goddess of Manemosine lay looking down at people coming and going.

There was a huge clock in the statue's arms. In the transmission of the Dernier Continent, memory was soon left behind, also an area controlled by the goddess.

The delicate watch of the statue of the goddess Manemosine at the entrance to the station and the decorations of the board was the new pride of Lundane.

A 300-meter-long boulevard was drilled from the station in a straight line.

On both sides of the road, new buildings with clean outer walls and shiny iron decorations on the balcony were lined up. The drinking fountain and street trees occupied the front side by side, making it look neat and tidy.

The building on the right end of the boulevard was particularly decorated and had several doors, with a huge banner decorating the walls of the boulevard with the words "Lacenti Department Store Linen Discount Season."

And the building that was built between the forked road was the De Negeuest Hotel, decorated with elegant finishes.

Fran said a short appreciation.

"This is the O'Reillys district, and I can't see the past."

Time leaves a mark of accumulation in a way that only time can do.

Fran was dizzy because the time he left the capital turned out to be a comic book-like dialect.

While walking as Clayo led, he frowned at the street sign at the entrance of the road. The signboard was labeled 'Melkior Boulevard'.

"This is."

"The name of the person who led the metamorphosis of the Australian Earth. Let's go somewhere and talk about the details."

There was no carriage on the wide boulevard, so there were only two vehicles. As a result, there were quite a few passers-by who moved on foot.

In the meantime, Clayo stepped faster, fearing that there might be dangerous comments from Fran. The long man walked along, and Fran also had to follow him by teasing him.

The road was quickly finished.

The Melchior Boulevard, which feels as wide as its length, is divided left and right in front of the Nejuest Hotel, while the right side is left and right side is left and right side is left and right side is west.

Clayo led Fran to the right-hand side of the road and quickly entered a narrower alley.

After walking about a kilometer from Melchior Boulevard, a simple alley appeared, expanding the road and repairing the building.

There were signs everywhere that they put their lodgings, and old people were sitting and chatting on the street.

"The front is that grandiose, but the further away from the station, the more normal it is. It will be easy to find a room because there are accommodations of workers working at the freight station around here. There are so many daily workers coming in and out, so the owners of the boarding house don't ask for details.”

Clayo left a boarding room upstairs and opened the simple pub door. The restaurant was recommended by Gael, the chef of the mansion from Tristane.

Fran was indifferent to eating, so Clayo put the order on his own.

I ordered lamb sausage flavored with Cory and the seed, and potatoes that were boiled and pressed hard to form, and baked crisp on an oiled iron plate. Of course, Ailee also served one cup each.

I heard that potatoes are a point because they are sprinkled with thick red pepper.’

The two sat at a table in a corner under the wall, pushing the outside window open.

There was a lot of traffic on the road, so the conversation was buried by the loud noise.

"I heard that the back of the passenger station is a history of freight, and the traffic is huge, but the area is quiet even though it's busy."

"It's just for today. The Transportation Union declared an alliance strike in support of the railway workers union's reduction of working hours. The carriage and loading dock stop at the same time, let's see... It's time to cross the river to lead the demonstration. I'll make a statement in front of the council.”

There seemed to be a smile of Fran beyond the opaque ale glass.

As he said, the Lundane East Station boasted a tremendous amount of transportation not only for passengers but also for freight. It became the center of industry and logistics as the final destination of trains from the Dubris mine.

The T-Flume processing complex, which was built across Lundane and Selva, attracted young people across the country.

Products and parts that were used for T-flume were transported back to the train from the station, or loaded onto the dock on the Tempus River and loaded onto the ship.

Unlike workers in traditional workmen's unions, factory parks and day-to-day porters had no place to complain even if they were poorly paid and suffered from excessive labor without holidays.

The people's flag leadership has increased its power among them, which is why the strike took place.

'But someone started the fire, and the fire spread.’

One of the causes of the incident is the young man, who is apparently short, who drank only ale without raising an eyebrow.

Thack.

Fran, who laid down the empty glass pleasantly, roughly wiped the beer foam off her mouth with the back of her hand. It was not a habit that arose in a day or two because of its natural appearance.

Strangely out of place with the impression of Intelli.’

It was the first time in two years that he had face-to-face contact, but Clayo was not unfamiliar.

The two have exchanged dozens of correspondence for information exchange, which eventually led to a personal conversation.

Fran has also grown to the point where Clayo's careful goodwill is not thrown off.

Now Clay also knows about Fran.

The only son of Count Werner Nils Haydite liked ale, not drinking a drop of wine, most of which enjoyed the spring beer.

The "memory" of "Promise" reminded me of every single phrase of Frank's private letter in blurred ink.

"Wine is so high that it's distracting, and I don't want to smell it because it's a drink for the bourgeoisie. Oh, how can you be so picturesque?’

asked Clayo, who killed him with a smile.

"This ale here is soaked every spring and called 'March Rabbit ale.' It has a lot of scent and it's nice, right?”

"Well, that's pretty good.”

The horse seemed to like the sight of him going straight to buy a new drink as soon as he put his glass down.

Fran, who brought two pints of March rabbit ale, popped out a glass in his right hand to Clayo.

"This cup is on me.”

"Oh, thank you.”

"Well, in terms of reason, I should be the one to say hello."

"What are you talking about? If it wasn't for your investigation, everything would have gone awry."

Clayo gave a brief account of what Arthur and his friends had been through. The more he continued to speak, the more his face became red and his neck became stiff.

His blood pressure seemed to rise on his own when he was told by Melchior that he had nothing but hatred, and that the prince admitted to neglecting him even though he knew the circumstances of the human experiment.

"Is that him again? a dirty and cunning person Yes, no matter how powerful she is, she's a queen who has no roots in this country, and it doesn't make sense if the acting king and his sons can't smell the slaughter."

In the face of Fran's legitimate anger, Clay has no choice but to pretend to drink beer and avoid his eyes. In front of him, Clay was not innocent either.

"…and to add, I'm sorry to end up using your investigation politically. It's like we've spread the issue to get Arthur out."

Only because of Fran's tip-off, he was able to make operations using the media.

Fran picked up a new cup without saying much.

It was tacit tolerance. Clay felt a lump that had been pressed heavily in the corner of his mind.

As I watched Fran gulping down ale, Clayo also pulled the liquor and put his mouth on the glass.

Because of the fast drinking, the refreshing feeling of carbonic acid and alcohol, which scraped the esophagus along with the dizzy feeling of the head, was brought in.

"I'll correct what I said earlier. This ale is pretty good, not quite. The white ale in the east wasn't bad, but... I missed Lundane's ale."

Though young, Fran is also an adult, feeling his hometown from the taste of alcohol. Clayo opened his arms slightly with a smile on his face.

"Welcome back to Lundane. I'm so glad you're back safe."

No matter how much funding you have, it would not have been easy to trace strange events wandering around the countryside alone.

They sleep in one place, sometimes on errands or on messenger business, and among the people. So he wandered around the employment agency and cut off his aristocratic accent.

'What about the form you order from Pub? It looks like an apprentice to any workman.’

The atmosphere of the last time we drank together was nowhere to go, and now Fran is mixed with the cozy air of the bar.

It was a matter of course.

Beer was more of a social drink for workers than a drink. In any region, guilds and unions set up a pub and held a meeting of technicians and introduced jobs.

During the journey of examining Hydra's poison, Fran was able to blend in with people in his own way.

"In a sense, she is the perfect match for the modern protagonist award... I happened to be born in a world still controlled by the muse.’

"I'm on strike. How did you get to meet me on time?"

"I came here by bicycle. I put it behind the station and I'm going to come back later. Thanks to that, I saw the posters of St. Paul's on every road."

"Hmm."

Clayo, who emptied his glass completely, asked with a slightly excited look.

"Looking at it, I think I know who St. Paul is."

"I'm free to speculate, but there's no basis.”

He didn't say no, so he was right.

"You don't have to go into details. Who's good?"

Fran's hand held the glass and his eyes glazed away.

Clayo remembers when that hand wasn't there. The night often came to mind after Arthur's recent work.

An event that has already been erased from Palimpsest's surface and remains in Clayo's memory.

The king's forest was dark and it was chilly autumn.

Clayo didn't see how the Frane's stigma moved. Nor was it recorded in the manuscript.

"It's not known knowledge that you can't deprive your body of sexual scars."

Bigfoot Bill and Javan Paul cut Fran's hand because they didn't know that the scar was moving. The forest was dark and they were not ether-sensitive, so they would not have realized that the scar had disappeared from their bloodstained.

'They're two people who are far from the records of the Holy Sepulcher, and they didn't even know Bethna.’

If it's sexual scars that can only be deprived of death because they don't disappear even if they cut off their arms, it may paradoxically protect Fran's life.

"Franc's and Melchior's are the ones that cause collisions because of their incompatibility."

Skilled brainwashing may also work temporarily, but it has not been sustained in the long run by a person who has been disobeying the example so far.

The prince knew well about Fran. The expression, "He is an ideological activist, and the kind of man who will never fall for conciliation unless he truly convinces him," was very accurate.

A unique being that cannot be killed or brainwashed but has the necessary skills.

If so, it was highly likely that Melchior would not try too hard until the decisive moment came.

Over the past year, Fran has been carefully single-handed, and it has been found that there are no forces following him right now.

"Maybe, if the prince himself was too strong to use, he would have thought no one in the world could use it."

It was a judgment that could be made because empirical information about Melchior accumulated.

So Clayo called Fran to the capital.