Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 39: I Have a Dream
March 16, 4257 of the Era of Light — in the bustling city of White Sand, home to 360,000 citizens, every newspaper, as if by silent agreement, chose the front page’s most prominent spot to report the same astonishing event under varying headlines:
“The Banmubuk Street Sensation — Four Titans Spark a Wave of Charitable Giving”
This headline belonged to the Gospel of the God of News, a paper renowned for its unwavering dedication to accuracy and objectivity. True to its reputation, the paper recounted the events on Banmubuk Street from the perspective of an observer, presenting the scene exactly as an ordinary citizen would have seen it.
The cast of characters was extraordinary: a mysterious veteran Paladin whose deeds were whispered in legend, a prodigiously talented teenage author, a vampire banker whose staggering wealth was as surprising as it was immense, a druid master of the Claws who had traveled from afar with gold coins aplenty, and a group of war orphans whose spirited donations added a poignant human touch… Oh, and the bald, clownish goblin publisher who bounced around the scene, losing every shred of dignity in the process.
Would such an eye-catching ensemble not guarantee record sales for the paper?
“237,403 Lants and 9 Purs”
This was the headline in the White Sand City Morning Post. Its reporters had witnessed every moment on Banmubuk Street firsthand. After detailing the events in glowing, praiseful prose, they concluded with a deeply heartfelt, emotional commentary:
“As a journalist, I have seen far too much darkness and indifference. I once believed our world, our nation, had been forsaken by the gods of Light. But yesterday, on Banmubuk Street, the 237,403 Lants and 9 Purs donated solely for the war orphans made me realize something profound—goodness and light have never left us. They have always been here, buried deep within our apathetic hearts!”
“Thank you, vampire banker Sols!”
“Thank you, veteran Paladin Andrew Carnegie!”
“Thank you, druid master Conchita Bowden!”
“Thank you, teenage genius author Marlon Lister!”
“Thank you to everyone who emptied the last coins from their pockets!”
“It is these people who have returned to us, and to the war orphans, the long-lost warmth and love we all yearn for.”
“I Have a Dream”
This was the headline in the White Sand Daily. Unlike the Morning Post, its reporters were not on the scene. Instead, leveraging their connections with Sols, they tracked down the four most prominent figures immediately after the event.
Sols, preoccupied with banking, had no time to deliver a thought-provoking speech; he offered only a few brief words.
The veteran Paladin refused to comment on his charitable acts.
The Claw Druid master was engrossed in studying further content of The Book of Aery decrypted by Marlon.
Only Marlon, persuaded and pestered by the Daily’s reporters, reluctantly delivered a speech he had hastily modified: I Have a Dream.
“Over four thousand years ago, 307 sages established the Republic of Loring. These sages made a sacred vow: that the people of Loring would no longer be oppressed by nobility, no longer slaughtered for racial differences, and no longer left to starve in the streets.”
“Seventy-seven days ago, the war that nearly plunged Loring into darkness finally ended with the conditional surrender of the Helfa Empire and its vassal states. Yet seventy-seven days later, we face a tragic truth: freedom and happiness have not yet arrived—at least not for the war orphans. They continue to live in destitute slums, trapped in fear and nightmare.”
“…”
“So today, my friends, I tell you, even in the face of hardship and despair, I have a dream. A dream inspired by the sacred vows of our founding sages. I have a dream that one day our nation will become a world where Loring’s citizens care for the elderly, regardless of their family name; where they love and protect children, whether or not they are their own.”
“I have a dream that on the gray hills of Ruwa State, children of all races and classes will sit together at a table of brotherly love.”
“I have a dream that even White Sand City, still called ‘Little Scoundrel Slums’ by some, will one day be transformed into a city brimming with compassion.”
“I have a dream—today!”
“I have a dream that one day, our nation will be a beautiful place where rich and poor children walk hand in hand as equals.”
“I have a dream—today!”
“I have a dream that one day, ‘every valley shall be filled, every hill made low, rough places made plain, and the glory of the gods of Light shall be revealed, and all who have breath shall witness it.’”
Beyond these three major newspapers of White Sand, countless other publications reported on the extraordinary event from different perspectives.
The sales of these papers, however, spoke volumes about the city’s fascination with what had occurred on Banmubuk Street:
The Gospel of the God of News sold 38,000 copies, second only to the edition seventy-seven days ago that had published the Republic’s Chief Executive’s speech marking the end of the nightmarish world war.
The Morning Post sold a staggering 74,300 copies, surpassing even that historic edition.
The Daily was the undisputed winner, selling an astonishing 179,000 copies—almost one for every two citizens of White Sand City!
And almost everyone bought the Daily for the same reason: to read the dreamlike, idealistic words of the slum-born teenage prodigy, Marlon Lister’s I Have a Dream.
Many citizens did not stop at a single copy—they purchased dozens, hundreds, even thousands at a time.
One blind war veteran, begging along the street, emptied every coin he had to buy more than 200 copies of the Daily, which he painstakingly distributed to every passerby for free:
“Sir, ma’am, take a look! See this newspaper! For our Republic, for our… future!”
“‘Loring’s citizens care for the elderly, regardless of family name; Loring’s citizens protect children, whether they are their own…’ Listen, our young Marlon writes beautifully, doesn’t he?”
Another young man, born in the slums and working as a laborer at the docks, walked barefoot for over three hours to reach the Daily’s office. Pulling from his sweaty pocket more than 300 small-denomination bills, he bought a staggering 1,200 copies.
When a reporter, ever inquisitive, asked where he had gotten so much money and why he hadn’t taken a carriage, the young man smiled and replied,
“This money was pooled by all of us men working at the docks, born in the slums, specifically to buy this edition of the Daily. We will post them on ships about to set sail, so everyone will know about our dream. How could I use it just for myself to ride in a carriage?”
Before hefting the thousand-plus papers back to the docks with a rough wooden pole, the sunbaked, ragged young man asked the reporter one final favor:
“If you ever meet our young Marlon, please thank him—for me and all the laborers at the docks—for giving us this dream.”