Chapter Sixteen: You’ve Been Reading Too Many Comics, Haven’t You?

Page 1/3

It turned out to be the Language of the Book of Fate!

Eria’s surprise remained unspoken because he quickly noticed that the two words Galle had spoken were not pronounced quite correctly. To illustrate, it was like Eria speaking English but exuding an unmistakable sense of unfamiliarity, as if saying, “We hardly know each other.”

Clearly, Galle had learned it later in life.

As for where he learned it… Eria had a suspicion—it was probably related to himself.

Of course, Eria had no memory of any intimate family moments with his illegitimate son, so the “he” in question was actually “Eria Esposito.”

With a reasonable guess established, Galle’s small trick didn’t faze Eria at all. Calmly leaning back, he nodded slightly and switched to the Language of the Book of Fate himself:

“What is your purpose in taking Ophelia? Where are she and that boy named Miles now?”

As he spoke, his human appearance gradually faded, revealing a sincere intention to be frank. The thing was, Galle’s earlier attempt at those words had been mediocre, indistinguishable from any other language, almost making Eria forget that when it was his turn to speak in the Language of the Book of Fate, it carried an inherent intimidation.

Those few words struck like lightning tearing through the sky, stones shattering the air, as if wielding a terrifying power that pierced the mind. Galle, bound to a chair, pursed his lips and clenched his tightly bound hands behind his back. Yet his reaction was far milder than an ordinary person’s—perhaps from repeated exposure, he had developed some resistance.

Not wanting to appear weak, Galle lifted his head as best he could, glaring at Eria with bright blue eyes. After a brief pause, he stammered in the Language of the Book of Fate:

“I just wanted to meet you, Father.”

It was a lie.

And a very obvious one.

But Eria did not get angry. For the first time since his transmigration, he felt a sense of being back on familiar ground—finally, someone was speaking a language he was fluent in, and yet their proficiency was even worse than his English!

This rare reversal of fortunes brought Eria a peculiar ease and made him far more affable than usual. Though his human form was gone and this could not be seen, the tone of his voice betrayed a hint of amusement:

“You’re lying, Galle.”

He spoke calmly.

“All your actions, rather than bringing us together, seem designed to make me appear in public. Whether it was using Ophelia to lure me onto the cruise ship in the middle of the western river, placing an ordinary cleaner on the ship, or brazenly crashing the Batmobile into me knowing it wouldn’t work…”

“You seem eager to cause a stir among the crowd.”

Ordinarily, such behavior was typical of chaotic troublemakers who craved fame—like notorious supervillains who killed for showmanship, or the Riddler who set traps without regard for others.

But Eria felt Galle wasn’t that sort of person. Though his goals and the price he paid seemed frivolous, Eria sensed a deeper motive behind it.

Galle continued to glare at Eria. Cold sweat trickled from his neck down his hair, making him look like a drenched puppy, yet Eria remained unmoved:

If a cheap daughter cries, the old father may relent, but if a bastard kidnaps his half-sister, shedding a little sweat is nothing to soften the heart over.

They faced off for a while longer. Just as Eria was about to speak again, Galle shuddered and reluctantly said:

“Because I want to be famous.”

Page 2/3

“Only famous people can be recognized by the ‘Editorial Department’ and become ‘protagonists’ capable of controlling their own destiny.”

There were two words in the middle that Galle didn’t know how to say in the Language of the Book of Fate, so he switched to English.

This left Eria utterly confused. He listened carefully twice but still couldn’t grasp what Galle meant, so he asked, “What is the ‘Editorial Department’?”

“…”

Galle clenched his breath and refused to answer, his face flushing red.

Eria caught his expression and felt he’d hit a nerve. He instinctively reached for the staff that the Language of the Book of Fate transformed into—much more intimidating than slippers—but as he touched himself, he remembered the Book of Fate was still binding Galle.

Galle watched Eria’s movements closely, shuddering again upon sensing his father’s obvious prelude to violence.

Lowering his eyebrows, Galle mixed two languages as he explained:

“The ‘Editorial Department’ is the ‘Editorial Department’—an existence that transcends the rules of the universe. If our world is a book, or a series of comics stitched together, the ‘Editorial Department’ is the entity that decides who is good, who is evil, who is protagonist, who is antagonist, who dies, and who lives…”

Eria straightened involuntarily, utterly stunned!

He had never considered such a concept. Suspiciously, he asked Galle:

“You can break the fourth wall?!”

The so-called fourth wall refers to the invisible barrier between the characters on stage and the audience. The audience watches the story unfold through this wall, while the characters pretend not to be aware of the audience’s existence. When characters communicate directly with the audience through a lens, page, or screen, it is called breaking the fourth wall.

Many works use breaking the fourth wall to enhance drama; Eria had heard of it.

But Galle shook his head and said:

“No, I can’t. I can’t go to the higher dimension where the ‘Editorial Department’ exists, nor can I communicate with the beings there… I only learned about the ‘Editorial Department’ through some means, and I can vaguely perceive its inner workings. When I observe the ‘Editorial Department,’ I can exert a slight, negligible influence—akin to the observer effect in quantum mechanics.”

Even ignoring any loss of meaning from switching languages, Galle’s explanation was abstract.

Eria tapped the edge of the pool table with his finger, pondering, then asked:

“What kind of influence can you have on the ‘Editorial Department’?”

Galle straightened slightly.

He said seriously:

“I can make the ‘Editorial Department’ notice marginal characters appearing in the ‘personal storylines’ of existing ‘popular characters’ and consider giving those characters their own ‘personal series.’”

Eria: “…”

The solemn atmosphere suddenly took on a touch of absurdity.

He looked seriously at Galle, who looked back equally serious. They held silent eye contact for a moment before Eria said:

“Are you sure you haven’t read too many comics and gotten delusional?”

This called for an explanation of the American comic serialization model. Unlike Japanese manga, which typically features a single author, a single protagonist, and a story centered around that protagonist, ending definitively, American comics in the 21st century often run for decades within the same universe. Different editors and artists design characters and storylines in different periods, and decisions about a character’s future depend realistically on popularity and external factors like politics.

Characters with low popularity might suffer outrageous events.

Those who can carry the title and withstand sales pressures often become editorial favorites.

Popular characters in team publications likely get assigned separate editors and artists, spawning standalone series to tell their own stories.

Sometimes, it’s the other way around: a solo series comes first, and if it sells well, the character is then integrated into team crossovers.

Page 3/3

In any case, all copyrights are held by the same company, so they can play however they want.

Returning to Galle’s words, he was essentially implying that their world was a comic universe. To escape being toyed with by the ‘Editorial Department,’ one must strive for fame, boost real-world comic sales, and fight to become a hot character!

Eria found it hard not to suspect that Galle was mentally unwell.

Either he’d read too many comics, or too much fanfiction of a certain genre.

But Galle didn’t think he had a problem; he didn’t even consider they were talking about ‘comics.’ He regarded the ‘Editorial Department’ as some ineffable higher-dimensional entity, viewed his influence on it as an observer effect, and considered a character’s ‘popularity’ as a quantum entanglement of fate in time and space. The ‘personal series’ was like the Auger effect on a macro level: when a low-energy life form is removed, leaving a vacancy, a higher-energy life form fills that void, releasing energy to the universe to enhance overall prosperity.

Eria: “…”

He was deeply shaken, repeatedly confirming with his adopted son, and concluded—Galle was not joking.

He truly believed this.

“So why do you use terms like ‘Editorial Department’ and ‘personal series’?”

“Because it’s easier for others to understand.”

Galle remained very serious, perhaps overly so, as if they were discussing a Nobel Prize-worthy physics topic.

“Otherwise, if I said I am trying to cope with the mental invasion of higher-dimensional outer gods and predict two incompatible observable quantities in time and space to better survive… ordinary people definitely wouldn’t get it.”

Well, at least you have some self-awareness!

Eria was unsure whether Galle was an organized madman or a prodigious case of adolescent delusion. He reserved judgment on Galle’s words and, until he personally witnessed this so-called ‘Editorial Department’ and ‘personal series,’ treated these claims as a criminal’s excuse.

Naturally, even if these things existed, they would not excuse Galle’s crimes.

With that in mind, Eria realized there was indeed some traceable motive behind Galle’s recent provocations.

To confirm his suspicion, he continued the interrogation with a stern face:

“So, you want to become the protagonist of a new comic, with your own personal series?”

“Exactly.”

Galle straightened his chest again, but when Eria reached for a nearby mop handle, he slumped back down, his voice dropping.

“So I tried to ‘borrow’ the International Gang from Morgan Edge.”

A good popcorn comic protagonist, of course, needs a business.

“The Batmobile was bought from Gotham City’s supervillain Red Hood. By chance, I discovered both Batman and Red Hood are highly valued by the ‘Editorial Department.’”

A good popcorn comic protagonist borrowing popularity from other hot characters isn’t excessive, right?

That’s called a cameo.

“I kidnapped Miles Morales because one of my underlings found his abilities resemble Spider-Man’s.”