"Have they lost their minds?"
Arthur Conan Doyle had a dream.
It was to write a grand historical novel based on his interest in history, making a name for himself as the Homer of the 20th century.
In that sense, his recent writing life—debuting as a writer, gaining fame, and making money—was unsatisfactory.
It was like his body was getting comfortable, but his mind was growing increasingly restless.
"But that's all over now."
Not long ago, Arthur Conan Doyle made a decision.
No matter what the editor of Strand Magazine, his mother, or other family members said.
He succeeded in completely killing off Sherlock Holmes, the character that was born from him and brought him immense wealth.
... Of course, it was a sudden decision, so it tended to dump everything onto a villain that seemed to come out of nowhere (Deus ex Machina).
That didn't matter much.
Despite the public outcry and rumors of an attack on the publisher, he ignored it all.
Now, he could finally write what he truly wanted to write.
He gave up Sherlock Holmes for that. Arthur Conan Doyle made a promise to himself.
He knew well.
If he cared about things like that, he wouldn't be able to achieve his grand dream.
The thing is, he strangely had no talent for writing historical novels. This was not a guess, but a conclusion based on results.
While he had great success writing something he didn't even want to write, like Sherlock Holmes, he failed completely in his three attempts at historical novels.
The first time, he thought it was possible.
Even monkeys fall from trees sometimes.
The second time, he couldn't help but doubt.
Once is possible, but twice... it breaks your spirit.
The third time, he had no choice but to admit it.
He wasn't good enough yet.
He couldn't write something that satisfied both his ideals and reality...
So he made a resolve.
He would shut himself away and finally bring the best writing into the world.
'Yes, historical accuracy. That's important. And I need to think about the connection to new events. And the writing technique required for that...'
This time, to achieve his long-held desire.
But.
"And now, out of nowhere, an invitation from the Royal Literary Society? Does this make any sense?"
"Well..."
Arthur Conan Doyle's close friend, James Matthew Barrie, spoke hesitantly.
He, too, was a writer and knew well what position the Royal Literary Society held in England.
And he also knew the literary status of his friend, Arthur Conan Doyle.
'Whether he likes it or not, it's a style the Royal Literary Society would dislike.'
If it were historical novels, the Royal Literary Society might reluctantly accept them.
But currently, Arthur Conan Doyle was synonymous with 'Sherlock Holmes,' and the Sherlock Holmes series was clearly a genre the Royal Literary Society hated.
Yet, the Royal Literary Society was inviting Arthur Conan Doyle to be a member...
"... I sense impure intentions, Arthur."
"Why wouldn't they be, Barrie."
Arthur snorted.
He was also a fan of Hanslow Jin. And he had checked out Hanslow Jin's latest work that started recently.
In other words.
"They're probably trying to pit me against Hanslow Jin."
"What will you do?"
"It's a ridiculous notion."
How could a writer, who wasn't even a fighter, represent a group and compete in something unrelated to writing?
That was the job of a warrior or mercenary, not a writer.
They didn't understand that, which is why the Royal Literary Society was in its current sorry state.
Arthur Conan Doyle criticized them, and James Matthew Barrie sighed in relief.
"That's good. So you have no intention of fighting Hanslow Jin?"
"Well?"
"... Huh?"
James Matthew Barrie looked up.
And he saw it. The fire burning in his friend Arthur Conan Doyle's eyes... the so-called writer's unique desire to write.
"Oh no. You said you didn't want to be the Royal Literary Society's mercenary!"
"I did."
"Then why!"
"That's separate."
Arthur Conan Doyle, the most popular detective novelist in London... smiled broadly.
"Even if it's rotten, it's still the Royal Literary Society. If they support me, I might finally write a decent historical novel this time."
"You..."
"I know. I'm still inexperienced."
Arthur Conan Doyle spoke bitterly.
Barrie, knowing how hungry those words were, nodded with an ironic sense of understanding.
Hanslow Jin and Arthur Conan Doyle.
'Tragedy of Blood' and 'Sherlock Holmes.'
From the beginning of their respective serializations, both novels had achieved immense popularity in their genres, establishing themselves as representative works of British literature.
But Arthur Conan Doyle stopped his serialization.
The title of the best detective novelist was too hollow to satisfy Arthur Conan Doyle.
"No matter how despicable they are, they haven't lost their literary knowledge or their historical records. If I can get my hands on those materials... I might achieve perfect accuracy. For my long-held desire, I'd make a deal with the devil."
"You really want to do this."
"Sometimes you just have to."
"Fine, do as you wish."
"That's the plan."
Arthur Conan Doyle said with a beaming smile.
Barrie looked at him with a bitter smile. He was quite worried, but he said nothing.
After all, he was a writer too. He understood the desire to succeed with the writing you wanted to do.
He himself wanted to succeed with an adventure novel about fairies, like 'Peter Pan.'
"Just wait and see! I'll write a masterpiece that will flatten the noses of those hooligans who are trying to kill me just because I finished one novel."
Arthur Conan Doyle declared confidently.
***
The hope of 'How can we make children interested in studying?' wasn't originally exclusive to Lewis Carroll.
Rather, it was something Asian parents excelled at.
Among them, the educational fervor in South Korea was known to be extremely intense.
They even went so far as to burn books and bury scholars, like Emperor Qin Shi Huang, calling comics and novels 'decadent culture.'
And the way to align with this, to escape the label of decadent culture, was...
"Educational books."
"E-Educational b-books?"
"Simply put, it's about inserting the knowledge you want to teach kids into the novel."
Well, comics would be easier, but in this era, there were only single-panel satirical cartoons.
Not even full-fledged comics, more like caricatures.
But I wasn't skilled enough to make comics anyway. You have to eat pine needles if you're a pine caterpillar.
And educational books didn't lose their impact to educational comics either.
In reality, even a long series of educational books that only included character illustrations sold tremendously well.
"To, to, to melt knowledge into the story... wouldn't that mean only using very basic things?"
"That's the point. If it's fun, that's all that matters."
I said confidently.
Of course, this was a case of educational comics, not books, but the math educational comic I enjoyed the most used high school math concepts like sets and propositions.
It didn't just stay confined to the framework of educational comics but made the story thrilling as a dark fantasy, well blending the philosophy of mathematics, and harmonizing both aspects. It was a masterpiece that could stand as an isekai fantasy work.
"Personally, I don't think it's good to take a condescending and patronizing attitude just because it's a fairy tale and you're trying to teach kids."
"Is that directed at, at me?"
"You didn't write the Alice series in an easy manner, did you, sir?"
What? Why is he so shocked?
Lewis Carroll muttered, "Was it difficult...?" and I could confidently respond to that.
"Yes."
In Korea, they cut out all the sentences in the translation of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, so it appears as just a simple story.
But the original text is fundamentally a masterpiece that maximizes the features of 19th-century English literature, which emphasizes rhythm.
In other words, it was like a word puzzle made into a novel, gathering language play like "Was it a cat I saw?" and nursery rhymes like Mother Goose, arranged mathematically to create a unified storyline.
Of course, even with a perfect structure of beginning, middle, and end, the translation that killed all the rhythm and wordplay is still considered a fine fairy tale, which shows how much of a genius Lewis Carroll was...
Anyway, the important thing is to make it enjoyable for the reader at their level.
"Of course, you have to start with basic knowledge, like the four basic arithmetic operations if we use math as an example. Then gradually include fractions and decimals, and then move on to equations... that's how you build it up step by step."
"It sounds like a long-term project."
"Well, studying is a lifelong activity."
I shrugged my shoulders as I said this.
Lewis Carroll nodded vigorously, seemingly impressed by my words.
"Studying is a lifelong activity... Is that the kind of education they do in the East? That's impressive."
Hmm, he seemed to have a bit of a misunderstanding... Though I introduced myself as coming from Joseon, I had no idea what education was like in this era.
Anyway, looking at it from a Confucian perspective, it's not wrong, so it should be fine?
"Well, let's say it's something like that. Anyway, what do you think?"
"Sure, it's a good idea. It might not be familiar... but it would be interesting."
"Good. Then..."
Now, it was time to achieve my goal.
I grinned as I handed a document to Mr. Lewis Carroll.
"Now, you should think about how to sell it."
"Sell it? It's for the children, and you're talking about money..."
"We all need to make a living."
If it were simply for the children, I wouldn't have come to meet Lewis Carroll.
"Lifelong learning means... lifelong consumers buying your works. Of course, it makes money."
"What, what kind of money-grubbing nonsense is this!!"
"Well, a good deal is a good deal."
Labor should always be compensated, right?
I laughed heartily.
It might threaten parents' wallets a bit, but it wouldn't be too bad.
It's not like private education that preys on public education with fear marketing.
"It's fine. It won't harm the children, it won't."