NOVPUBThe room was heavy with silence.
“...What did you just say?”
Violetta’s voice trembled in disbelief.
The others wore similar expressions.
Even though none of them said it aloud, they were clearly offended.
No—beyond offense, there was killing intent in the air.
Finion’s lips twitched. One more word and it looked like he’d be cursing me out on the spot.
‘Boss... what are you doing?’
Hans, standing behind me, flashed an urgent signal, his expression asking exactly that.
He, too, was clearly shaken by what I had said.
He must’ve thought I came here for some peaceful negotiation or civil discussion.
If so, it was time to correct that misunderstanding.
“Seems like [N O V E L I G H T] you didn’t hear me right. So I’ll say it once more—
All of you, come under me.”
Words that couldn’t be more arrogant if they tried.
And the first to show overt disgust was Violetta, leader of the Women of the Black Rose.
“Disgusting.”
She didn’t bother hiding her contempt, firing her words like arrows.
“You took down the Red Society, and I thought maybe, just maybe, you were different if you were willing to talk. But you’re no better than them.”
“No better?”
“You’re trying to dominate us with force. Bend us to your will.”
“That’s what it sounded like to you?”
“...Excuse me?”
I knew exactly what they were worried about.
Of course, I wasn’t demanding blind obedience.
“You’re all running businesses, aren’t you?”
They each maintained their own operations.
They needed money to keep their organizations running, and naturally, they earned it however they could.
But the most profitable ventures had always been monopolized by the Red Society.
What the rest of these three groups scraped by on were mere crumbs—the leftovers of capital.
So— 𝓷ℴ𝓋𝓅𝓊𝒷.𝒸𝓸𝓶
“Don’t you want to earn more?”
I offered them something too tempting to ignore.
“More money, you say?”
“What are you suddenly talking about?”
Naturally, their responses were full of doubt.
Of course. I’d abruptly brought up business, so confusion was to be expected.
I decided to explain, nice and slow.
“Since I crushed the Red Society, I’ve come to possess the many businesses and infrastructures they controlled. But to be honest, managing all of that isn’t realistic. We simply don’t have the manpower.”
Flinch.
Hans reacted visibly, as if struck.
He must’ve been doing his best to keep that weakness hidden from the other organizations—
that our numbers were still very limited.
But this was one of those times where it was better to just lay your cards on the table.
After all, they wouldn’t be able to refuse.
“Our organization is still small. So naturally, there are sectors we can’t cover. That’s why I’m handing those businesses over to you.”
Handing over businesses.
I was offering them the very things the Red Society had once clung to like rabid dogs—
just giving them away.
Shock and suspicion were inevitable.
And indeed, that’s what I saw.
Mastella looked at me with a narrowed gaze.
“What’s your game?”
I shrugged.
“No game. I told you, didn’t I? Join me.”
“So if we come under your command, we get to take over parts of the Red Society’s territory?”
“Even if you don’t join, I’ll hand them over. I don’t need them. What you do with them is entirely your call.”
“...I don’t understand. What is it that you want?”
At this point, they must’ve realized I had some kind of deeper motive.
Telling them to come under me—then offering up territory even if they refused?
That went beyond suspicious.
“As you know, I can’t act openly right now.”
If I operated publicly under the name James Moriarty, the Imperial Security Bureau would come after me directly.
That brat of a detective, too—those kinds of pests were not worth the headache.
What I wanted was to establish a solid, secure base of power.
And I didn’t need pointless enemies to do that.
“I have no interest in meaningless conflict.”
“Oh? The one who obliterated the Red Society says that?”
“Eliminating them was necessary. If left alone, they would’ve caused problems no matter what. It’s best to cut off corrupt roots early.”
“...You’re hardly one to talk, considering you once tried to start a war in the Kingdom of Delica.”
Violetta scoffed.
I simply shrugged again.
“Believe it or not, that’s up to you. But I would appreciate a decision here and now.
Will you take my hand—or walk your own path? There’s no coercion either way.”
Even if they declined, they’d still be receiving assets.
So they really had nothing to lose.
The leaders exchanged glances.
Trying to gauge whether I was sincere—and whether joining hands with me would benefit them.
“Ahem. This business... can you tell us exactly what kind of operation you have in mind?”
Finion finally asked after clearing his throat.
“Finion. What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t butt in, Violetta. Our Kirkus troupe is strapped for cash. If there’s money to be made, we have to take it.”
“You filthy little—!”
“Hey, let’s be real here. In this world, this is what matters.”
Finion made a money gesture with his fingers, swaying them side to side.
“If we don’t have cash, we’re nothing. People like us, treated like dirt—we need money just to live halfway like human beings. You with your lofty talk about sisterhood and ideals wouldn’t get it.”
“You...”
“Anyway, this Moriarty guy—if you’ve got a profitable plan, we’re all ears.”
Even as he said it, Finion still didn’t fully trust me.
“Of course, I’d like to hear the details first. You know, just to make sure it’s not dangerous or something. No offense meant.”
“I understand.”
I nodded.
I understood Finion’s attitude. He lived with dwarfism.
And the group he led—Kirkus—was composed of others like him, individuals with disabilities.
There’s a term for it: Freak show.
An exploitative display where people with unique conditions are shown off for money in circus performances.
Historically, these were popular in 18th-century Europe, before the concept of human rights had even taken root.
‘In fact, even into the 20th century, some zoos in Europe were putting humans of other races on display.’
Kirkus was modeled after those freak shows.
‘The difference here is that the ringmaster himself has a disability.’
Finion wasn’t using people like him.
It was because they wouldn’t survive otherwise.
Because freak shows were the only way for them to earn a living in this world.
“I promise you this: I won’t involve you in anything that puts you in danger.”
“...Heh. That’s not what I expected to hear.”
Finion looked genuinely surprised by my words.
“So... can we hear more details about this ‘business’ of yours?”
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
“Of course, Director Finion.
Do you know what kind of entertainment nobles enjoy?”
“Well, that’d be... opera or music, I guess.”
What’s commonly called opera is the primary form of culture among the nobles in this era. Not just the aristocracy—wealthy elites enjoy it too.
Majestic tales of gods and heroes.
Boring, stale stories rooted in the tragedies of ancient kingdoms.
“And why are you asking? Don’t tell me you expect our Kirkus troupe to perform that stuff?”
“Of course not. Isn’t what the nobles enjoy these days just a bit too antiquated?”
“Oh. First time I actually feel like we’re speaking the same language, brother.”
“What I’m suggesting goes even higher than that.”
“Higher, you say?”
“More dazzling. More fun.”
Finion didn’t seem to understand what I was getting at.
Naturally so.
What I was about to introduce was a word still unfamiliar in this world.
“Have you ever heard of something called a musical?”
“Mu...sical?”
A flashy performance that blends singing, dancing, and acting.
Lighter and bolder than opera, more free-spirited, and perfectly suited for them.
“It’s a story told through a balance of theater and song, made entertaining with stage lighting and dance.”
“And how’s that any different from what the nobles already enjoy?”
“It’s freer. You don’t have to sing everything. What matters is harmony. And yes, you can dance too.”
“...And we’d be the ones doing that?”
“Yes.”
I remembered my early days in Rederbelk, wandering the city.
Watching people singing and dancing on the street—what some would call busking.
This world already had music, dance, stages, even musical plays.
That’s why I seriously considered introducing musicals.
To them, it would be a whole new genre of art and culture.
“You think something like that will work?”
“I do.”
And I was confident—because history said so.
Looking at how this era’s culture was developing, musicals would naturally emerge sooner or later.
Maybe not now, but most likely within the next ten years.
In other words, what I’m doing isn’t creating something from nothing.
I’m just reaching into the soil and giving an already planted seed a little push to sprout faster.
“Starting to sound interesting?”
“Hmm. Still not entirely sure.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll show you the material I prepared in advance.”
Of course, there would be backlash at first.
People who scoffed and called it low-class. Cheap.
But as history shows, the rise of popular culture was never something a few elites could suppress.
I took out the script I’d prepared and handed it to Finion.
He grabbed it immediately and flipped through the pages with sharp, practiced fingers.
The sound of pages turning slowed, then stopped.
Finion spoke.
“You really do have a vision, don’t you?
Alright. Let’s give it a shot.”
That was as good as saying he’d taken my hand.
“...Unexpected.”
Mastella and Deon, leaders of the Old Kids, looked at me with slight disbelief.
Maybe they’d assumed I’d try to dominate them through sheer force or charisma.
And after I’d obliterated the Red Society in full view, it wasn’t exactly an unfair assumption.
“Mr. Moriarty, what exactly is it you want from all this?”
“Change.”
I answered without hesitation.
The industrial district, home to most of the city’s commoners, had a rotten reputation.
A part of the city abandoned and ignored. The only path for the people living there led to factories choked in smoke and dust.
Over eighteen hours of grueling labor a day.
A joyless world smeared in gray. A bleak future.
I want to change that.
“I want change.”
And if I can manage that, the Forges district will become Rederbelk’s Broadway.
And the ones who’ll help build it... are the ones gathered here.
The first production... yes.
Rederbelk’s very own West Side Story would be a good start.
“There will be no more old back alleys.
This place will change.
It won’t be a damp, dark, festering slum anymore—
It will become a place where people can live.”
We can’t forever divide the world by class and level.
What people need to look at
isn’t the rotten mud pooling at their feet—
But the sky above.
“I’ll help you.”
What I was offering wasn’t just business locations.
It wasn’t just money.
I was offering hope.
And to those sitting here... that hope would look sweeter than anything.
“Of course, I’ve got business ideas for the other groups too, not just Kirkus.”
A strange spark of desire flashed through the eyes of Violetta and Mastella.
“So—are you finally ready to take me seriously now?”
