Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 14: The Scholar
Having signed the Voluntary Severance of Father-Son Relationship and pocketed that “huge sum” of one hundred Lants, Levi-Ianwan—full of rage he couldn’t even express—turned his back and left the house, vanishing without a trace.
Even Levi-Ianwan knew that Marlon would surely move out with his son, little Anvi.
But this house had long been stripped of anything of value by Levi-Ianwan himself, so he couldn’t care less about what Marlon might take.
Now, Marlon was alone in the attic, packing up his belongings. The fox-like uncle… no, rather, Sheriff Bernard, having formally ensured little Anvi willingly swore to live with his cousin, Marlon Lister, appeared at the narrow staircase leading up to Marlon’s attic.
“Hey, kid, where are you planning to move?”
The low ceiling of the attic forced Sheriff Bernard to stoop, careful not to bump his head—or his ears—against the roof.
“Hmm, somewhere with better security. Just renting a place for now.”
Marlon replied casually while sorting through stacks of manuscript paper, each page covered in dense writing.
Bernard peered over Marlon’s shoulder at the piled-up manuscripts, his expression tinged with surprise. “These strange squares… what language is this?”
“Chinese characters.”
Marlon answered offhandedly, already bundling about half a meter of manuscripts with a thin rope. More pages, equally packed with writing, waited patiently nearby.
Over the past twenty days, Marlon hadn’t just copied The Little Prince, a mere few tens of thousands of words.
Every sheet of manuscript was painstakingly handwritten by Marlon during long, tireless nights. Although his mind clearly retained the details of every novel, movie, magazine, and song he had ever seen, what if one day he woke up and forgot everything?
These manuscripts were Marlon’s greatest asset in this steampunk-fantasy world. How could he not painstakingly transcribe them onto paper?
As the saying goes: a sharp mind is no match for a diligent pen.
“Chinese characters? What… which country?” Bernard blinked, puzzled. He had heard of Roling script, Elven script, Goblin script, Serpa script, Oshan script, Helfa script, Virlia script—but never of Chinese characters.
“Oh, Sheriff, you can think of it as… an ancient script passed down from the old ages.”
Marlon glanced at the bewildered sheriff and casually told a harmless half-truth—the Chinese characters were indeed an ancient script, though their ‘ancient’ had nothing to do with the ancient era of this steampunk world.
Yet Bernard’s reaction was one of deep respect: “You’re a scholar?!”
In this steampunk civilization, basic public education was far from widespread. The few elite academies only admitted students who were either wealthy or exceptionally intelligent…
So in Bernard’s eyes, a boy who could fill thousands of pages with a completely unknown ancient script like Chinese characters had to be a scholar.
A scholar, in modern Earth terms, was like a rare animal—a university student of the 1980s or a ‘sea turtle’ of the 1990s. In short, a high-level intellectual whose future was secure.
And considering Marlon was barely thirteen or fourteen, how could Bernard not be impressed?
This was also one reason why, when Marlon negotiated publishing conditions with the red-haired Queen Ivna of Emerald Crest Publishing, she had voluntarily offered such a high price.
In a world where knowledge was still concentrated in the hands of a few and only beginning to spread, a prodigious young literary talent would naturally draw massive attention and celebrity-like fame.
In fact, while Marlon spoke with Bernard, Ivna at Emerald Crest Publishing was introducing Marlon and his tireless manuscript of The Little Prince to a few journalists affiliated with her publishing house.
Marlon didn’t know that among those invited journalists was a familiar acquaintance… no, a familiar elf.
Yes, the same elf—the one Marlon and Ester had encountered while hiding from bank robbers, at the treetop restaurant in Eshilia’s Light, a psychic of unknown identity.
But for now, Marlon remained completely unaware, busy packing all his manuscripts.
Out of respect for Marlon’s scholarly status, Sheriff Bernard even joined in to help. Soon, a portrait of a man in military uniform, previously hidden under Marlon’s bed, was pulled out by Bernard.
“This is…”
If Bernard’s expression had been merely curious at the Chinese characters, now it was astonishment upon seeing the man in the portrait.
“Marlon, who is he to you?!”
Startled, Bernard grabbed Marlon and demanded an explanation, pointing at the portrait.
“He’s my…” Marlon glanced at the painting, hesitated, then whispered, “Father.”
Though it was just a soul transfer, and this body should indeed call the man in the portrait ‘father,’ for Marlon it was difficult to utter the word for someone he had never known.
Yet recalling stories from online novels, where travelers often found themselves with living parents after body-switching, Marlon felt a sense of resignation—he was dead anyway; it didn’t matter what he called him.
No sooner had Marlon answered than Bernard’s iron-like hands gripped his slender shoulders tightly.
“You’re Byron Sakinson’s son? How is this possible?!” Bernard’s eyes brimmed with confusion. “If you’re Byron Sakinson’s son, why is your surname Lister?!”
“Simple. My father’s real name is actually Nelson Lister, and Byron Sakinson is my… uncle.”
Marlon, inheriting Marlon-Lister’s memories, could explain Bernard’s doubts—Byron Sakinson, weak and sickly since childhood, was supposed to be conscripted as a soldier. Nelson Lister, however, took his young nephew’s place and joined the army instead.
Such a thing wasn’t unheard of on Earth during wartime—like Mulan disguising herself as a man to take her father’s place in battle.
“Sheriff, could you let go of my shoulders?”
Marlon tried to move, but Bernard’s strength far exceeded what this small body could resist.
“I see… I see.”
Bernard, now in a daze, muttered, “I knew it! I knew it! How could the records possibly show that Byron Sakinson’s entire family died in that cross-sea bombing by the Helfa Empire?!”