SHV 03

Chapter 3

Maximilian von Karajan (3)

“Even if he’s a villain, if he’s too obvious, it’s boring. So you should make him something less predictable.”

“Start with a noble cause. At first, he genuinely wants a new world, but as time passes, he becomes intoxicated with power and changes—that kind of development is good.”

“For the first purge, make sure he only targets truly bad people. That way, the villain still feels justified.”

“It’s okay if the targets of the villain are portrayed somewhat simply. If you make everything too complex, it gets messy.”

As I looked at Tonali, I recalled the words my editor once said to me—advice on how to portray Karajan. I didn’t know why those words were coming back to me now.

“You should answer. What’s the point of just staring at someone?”

He was incredibly perceptive. He immediately noticed that I was lost in thought while looking at him. Perhaps that sharp awareness was a politician’s instinct.

“We were discussing what we would advocate if we attended the upcoming Tri-Council meeting. What are your thoughts? For reference, Assemblyman Tonali said he would adjust food prices so that people can live safely.”

The moderator repeated the question to keep the discussion flowing. I mulled over it. It was clearly asking what the public desired—and how well we understood it.

At those words, I remembered a line I had written: “The people suffer due to the food crisis.” It had only been a single line to set the background…

“I don’t want to starve!”

“We’re not asking to be full! Just let us not starve!”

“Let us afford food!”

The party members watching the debate shouted out their pain. I quietly observed them. Many looked as if they hadn’t eaten for days. Despite the cold, they wore tattered, worn-out clothes, barely standing.

Right. This is a world I created. It’s only right that I change it.

“I intend to propose eliminating the root cause of hunger.”

“And how exactly do you plan to eliminate that root cause?”

Tonali immediately seized on my words.

“No, you need to clearly say what you’re going to do like I did. Ah—do you lack the knowledge to explain it?”

As I considered how to respond, he added a mocking tone, as if seasoning his earlier attack.

But it didn’t affect me much. If adjusting food prices alone could solve hunger, the Tri-Council wouldn’t have been convened three times already.

“Are you truly confident that your method can solve our hunger?”

I had taken two hits. Now it was time to strike back.

“Hah! Are you saying there’s something wrong with my method? Wheat prices have skyrocketed, so I’m proposing that the government control them. That way we can buy wheat at stable prices and make bread. Isn’t that right?”

Tonali raised his voice, appealing to the crowd.

“……”

I calmly scanned the audience. In their eyes hung a strange fruit of illusion—that Tonali would somehow save them. And I was about to knock all those illusions to the ground.

“Well… if you impose price controls, sellers will try to buy wheat even cheaper than before. They won’t want their profits reduced. And who ends up taking the loss? The farmers who grow the wheat. In other words, us.”

As I spoke calmly, the crowd began to murmur.

“No! Even if profits shrink a little, wheat becomes cheaper! Everyone’s situation improves!”

“That’s not how it works.”

I continued thinking about how Karajan would leave a strong impression on the masses.

Belief.

A vague belief that Maximilian von Karajan would solve their hardships.

Belief that someone intelligent like him could create a new world.

Today, I would make them believe that I—not Tonali—was the one who would bring a storm of reform.

“Let’s think about what you said. You believe that lowering wheat prices will lower overall prices, correct?”

This was a world I had written. Its understanding of economics wasn’t advanced. There were economists, but their work focused more on controlling merchants than understanding economics itself.

Even a high school level of economic knowledge would surpass anyone here. They probably didn’t even know the concept of the “invisible hand.”

“That’s right! Of course it will!”

“Really? Even if wheat prices fall, production costs don’t decrease. And taxes on farmers don’t go down either, do they?”

“Well, that—!”

Just as expected. Without proper economic knowledge, Tonali faltered.

“Hmph! Then do you have a solution? At least I’m trying to fix things. You’re just nitpicking my ideas!”

He wasn’t going down easily. Instead of attacking the message, he attacked the messenger, trying to present himself as superior. Some of his supporters jeered at me as well.

“What do you think the root cause is?”

I asked calmly.

“What? You don’t even know?”

“I have an idea, but I wanted to learn if you had something better. Though I doubt there’s much to learn.”

“What? Listen carefully. Wheat prices skyrocketed because of the Hayes Treaty with the Kingdom of Bron. So I’ll propose strictly separating export and domestic wheat prices.”

A treaty I hadn’t written about. My head throbbed, but I stayed calm and inferred from future events.

If the treaty had truly caused everything, many characters would have called for its repeal. But I had never written that.

“Wheat was already expensive before the Hayes Treaty.”

“That’s not true.”

“…Assemblyman.”

My tone changed. Tension crept across his face.

“It’s one thing if you don’t understand the people’s situation. But forcing false claims is another matter. We’re here to debate, not to make fools of ourselves.”

“What? Foolish?”

His face flushed red, though a trace of composure remained in his eyes.

“Karajan! If you want to debate, present your own solution instead of attacking me! Otherwise, it just means you have nothing prepared!”

As expected, he wasn’t easily broken.

“I do. At the Tri-Council, I will strongly advocate tax redistribution.”

One of the triggers of the civil revolution was taxation. Under the current system, clergy and nobles paid nothing. Only commoners bore the burden.

War and famine had drained the kingdom’s finances. The king borrowed from nobles and even sold future tax collection rights. Those nobles squeezed the people mercilessly.

People were starving. Yet the clergy and nobles didn’t care.

“Hahaha! Tax redistribution? You want nobles and clergy to pay taxes? Unbelievable!”

Tonali mocked me, and some of his supporters laughed along.

Not a single voice opposed him. Even unjust laws had become accepted as tradition.

But that would change.

“See? You can’t even respond!”

He grew louder, emboldened.

Then I noticed something inside his collar—and recalled a line I had written:

“The red marks on his neck looked like a path for the blade.”

“Red-spotted Torino.”

Tonali froze.

“Ah. That’s right.”

I had written his alias, not his real name.

“Is that why you hate taxation? Because you’re a purchased noble who doesn’t have to pay it?”

I smirked.

“What nonsense! Purchased noble?”

The crowd began whispering. Doubt spread rapidly.

“Why would I oppose taxes?! You’re the one being ridiculous!”

His voice turned desperate.

“Really? Because it sounds like you hate paying taxes—as a noble.”

“I’m not a noble!”

“Hmm. The red spots on your neck… quite distinctive. Hard to forget.”

“Stop talking nonsense!”

He was losing composure completely.

“Françoise Rino Tonali.”

My voice dropped—low, heavy, threatening.

Silence filled the hall.

“Stop deceiving me, our party, and the tens of thousands of people.”

My voice carried overwhelming charisma—Karajan’s innate power.

Tonali trembled in fear. The crowd turned on him with disgust—and toward me with hope.

“…Karajan.”

“Karajan.”

“KARAJAN! KARAJAN!”

Their voices rang out with sincerity.

I smiled confidently.

This is a world I created.

And I will save them with my own hands.