Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 617 - 431: John Wick (1)

Chapter 617: Chapter 431: John Wick (1)

"Is there really such a rule?" Malin turned to look at the secretary lady, who nodded, "An author without romantic experience tends to idealize love almost obsessively, which makes them quite suitable for writing romance novels. Everyone can see it’s fake and it won’t cause widespread dissemination or a strong resonance."

"This isn’t about Sinspawn, is it?" Malin felt it was unfair to pin this on Sinspawn, as what they sought was sensual stimulation, not the pure love story written by a virgin.

"Ah, who said this is what Sinspawn likes? These Evil Gods only enjoy intensely strong sensual stimuli; the purest love between young people is blander than water to them. The reason we do this is that we have a local Evil God, the Lord of Love, whom you probably haven’t heard of."

"Indeed." Malin admitted he hadn’t heard of this so-called Lord of Love.

"It likes the purest form of love, and pure emotions bring it joy, and once it’s joyful, it wants to bless people."

"And then people become twisted?"

"Yes."

Malin thought for a moment, "The love I have with my lovers is also very pure."

"This Evil God doesn’t have a personality; it’s just a pure entity of longing, a very weak Evil God. It only blesses those who are equally weak, and since you’re under the patronage of those two, it instinctively ignores you," the secretary lady explained.

Faced with this answer, Malin slapped his face—so the one who blessed that brother wasn’t what Malin had thought to be Jianqi or Sinspawn, but such a weak being?

"Is there any way to combat it?" Malin asked.

"No, it’s too weak, and it only responds to the weak on emotional matters. Most of the time, it won’t even respond to apprentice-level children. We’ve never been able to truly observe its existence; we only know it exists, that’s all."

Malin scratched his head in response to the secretary lady’s explanation—was an Evil God really this weak?

"Such a weak Evil God," Malin remarked.

"Regardless of being strong or weak, acting against the norm is the innate survival instinct of a Chaos Evil God. Because it’s so weak, it only causes very little harm each time. There’s differing opinion in the Supernatural Realm on whether it can be considered a Chaos Evil God. Some nearly Legendary individuals don’t think the Lord of Love is an Evil God at all, while others believe it could very well be a minor aspect of Sinspawn."

Malin felt this theory sounded reasonable no matter who spoke it, but one thing kept puzzling him: the child wasn’t noticed by Sinspawn. "By the way, I have a question. I’ve heard a theory that Mimicking Birds are delighted by knowledge, is that true?"

"Not at all. Mimicking Birds fancy intrigue and deception, not pure knowledge. Although it once usurped the powers and aspect of the God of Wisdom, with Nameless’s assistance, the God of Wisdom reclaimed his aspect. So if you think that knowledge would strengthen Mimicking Birds, you needn’t worry. In this world, knowledge is still our most reliable power."

"Then why are there still so many fools in this world, and so many without access to basic education?"

Malin was surprised, as the knowledge he gained today seemed somewhat different from what he knew and understood.

"The Church seems to have not updated their books for many years. The things you understand were indeed truths in the last century. But with Nameless’s assistance, we humans have come a long way from a century ago," said the secretary lady with a smile, "Don’t you find it strange?"

"Yes, it’s strange. If knowledge cannot be tainted by Mimicking Birds, why not teach knowledge to the common people? In those villages, how many are led to join the Chaos Cult or outright deceived and sacrificed because they lack knowledge?" Malin expressed his curiosity.

"Because there’s no money, Mr. Malin," the secretary lady provided a very simple and understandable answer.

Malin fell silent, then chuckled and nodded, "I see."

It looked like yet another reason to make money had emerged.

Yes, besides money, there must be a great shortage of teachers. Who could teach knowledge to those ignorant ones? Only those instructors loyal to their own races. And who could become such instructors?

Malin thought of the orphanage under old Hoffman’s sect.

Um, still a lack of money. When it comes down to it, you can never have enough. It seemed like asking his undead friends for money had become a matter of urgency again. What should he do this time?

A good method must be found.

Thinking this, Malin noticed the young man storming out, "I said it! I won’t write romance stories! You’re asking someone who’s never been in love to write this! Are you trying to starve me?!"

Then the president also came out, standing at the door, "You ungrateful young man, don’t you know? Even if I wanted Malin here to write, I wouldn’t let him!"

Malin was caught in the crossfire, but all he could do was smile and wave his hand, "Indeed."

"Eh, why?" The young man became curious—after all, Malin, as a renowned author, was universally recognized in the circle; if he couldn’t write, why could he? "Can any of you answer this for me?"

"Lady, won’t you explain?" Malin turned to the secretary.

She nodded and repeated the explanation of why he could.

"Even if I starve! Even if I leave here and get run over by a carriage! I won’t do it! You old man, you’re not human!" After that, the young man ran away crying.

"You really are inhuman," Malin said to the president with a sarcastic tone.

"Don’t think you’re something special just because you killed forty thousand Orcs. Tell me, what are you writing this time?" The old man took Malin and the two girls he brought into the office, switched his glasses, and glanced at Matilda and Rewo, "How come you bring a different girl every time?"

"Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m writing?" Malin said with a smile, taking a sip of his tea—ah, this time with a splash of whiskey.

"I am listening to your explanation, aren’t I? Come on, tell me, are you planning to write about a young girl, how she faces various deceptions and protects herself?"

"No, I want to write a love story," Malin stated.

"No way, you with all your romantic experience should stay away from that stuff. Watch out, or some fella might bless you," the club president rejected the idea without a second thought.

"Just take a look at the outline of the story, will you?" Malin said with a grin, pulling out his outline as Fio brought it over to the club president.

The old man shook his head, "I’m not going to agree, but out of respect for a hero, I can read through this outline."

On the other side, the secretary, carrying a bunch of drinks, asked Big-eared Fox and Rewo, "What would you like to drink?"

"Water," Matilda said.

"And for you, Mrs. Rewo?" the secretary inquired.

"Rum," Rewo responded with a smile.

"Don’t let her drink alcohol; she’s still a child," Malin shook his head, "Give her milk."

Rewo was unhappy.

"Add more sugar," Malin added.

Rewo’s eyes narrowed happily upon hearing about the extra sugar—this girl’s favorites were rum and anything sweet. After much thought, Malin concluded that the high sugar content must make her feel much better.

Typical Domestic Fairy.

After sipping more tea, the club president put down the outline and the first thing he said was, "Does the Lord of Love have a grudge against you?"

"A bit, that guy blessed a poor kid, and that poor kid was my hunting target. For the sake of this world, I had to kill him. So, after I realized it all was the work of the Lord of Love bestowing his so-called blessing on the child, I felt I should write this story," Malin explained.

"I need to ask the keepers of the God of Wisdom, what do you think about leaving this outline with me?" the old club president said, and Malin laughed, "See, I can write a good love story."

"That’s no love story, it makes me want to throttle you," the old man sighed after saying so.

He seemed to recall something, removed his glasses, and wiped the corner of his eyes.

"Alright, take the drinks and off you go. In a week, a messenger from the publishing house will come to you," the old man shooed them off. Malin tossed back the rest of his tea, took the water and sweetened milk packed in to-go cups from the secretary and handed them to Matilda and Rewo.

"Old man, I’m off," Malin said.

"Scram! Or I really will lay into you!"

Hearing that, Malin turned at the door with a laugh, "Could you really beat me?"

"Then put me out of my misery!" Without a second word, the old man started playing dead.

Malin, chuckling, took his girls and left the office.

The secretary followed out, "The club president doesn’t seem too happy. What on earth is in your love story?"

"It’s about the purest emotions of youth," replied Malin earnestly.

"Then, can you tell me the title of the book?" The lady looked full of curiosity.

"Hmm... ’5 Centimeters per Second,’" answered Malin.

"To make the president make an exception, what you’ve written must be really good. I’ll be looking forward to it," the secretary said, smiling as she returned to the publishing house.

Matilda, left behind, glanced at Malin, "Malin, the story you’re talking about doesn’t seem like a love story."

"How is it not a love story? Look, the protagonists Logan and Miriam met as children at the Church. There really is a cherry tree from Thainan in front of our Church, and those petals do fall at a speed of five centimeters per second," Malin defended with a pat on his chest.

"No, I mean, they end up separating. How could that be a love story?" Matilda looked genuinely concerned about the story Malin was telling.

"Writing it this way, won’t you get cursed out by angry readers?"

"Let them curse; I wrote this to annoy that Evil God. He wants love? I’ll give it to him!" Malin huffed, "As for those thinking about hitting me, well, I doubt anyone who can beat me has even been born."

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