Chương 29: The Onryo Virus and the Absolute Ruler

Bam!! The fusuma sliding doors were violently kicked open. Standing there was a man with a heavy, portly build, draped in resplendent noshi robes. This was Fujiwara no Michinaga—the absolute ruler of this era, a man standing at the absolute zenith of wealth and power. Yet, his current state was a far cry from "glorious." Profuse grease-sweat dripped from his brow as his bloodshot eyes frantically scanned the room.

Behind him stood a squad of fully armored samurai bodyguards, but even they were trembling, knuckles white as they clutched the hilts of their swords.

"Hey, Shikibu! Where is the manuscript?!" Michinaga roared as he barged in, his voice cracking with pure panic.

"The Mikado is waiting! Write the continuation already! Make it flashier, funnier—something that will make the Emperor laugh! I have no use for gloomy stories!"

"... I'm doing my best... I'm currently fleshing out the plot..." MURASAKI's lethargic voice drifted out from beneath her futon.

"I don't want your 'best'! Write! If you don't write... it will come!" Michinaga glanced around the room, terror written all over his face.

"Do you have any idea how fast the plague is spreading through the capital lately? It's no ordinary disease. The jealousy and grudges of the people have manifested into a black mist, hunting down victims... Even in my sleep, the vengeful astral spirits of my political rivals haunt my bedside every single night!" Yari leaned in and whispered in my ear.

"It's the [Onryo Virus]."

"A virus?"

"The negative emotions of this era have breached critical mass, materializing into physical energy—or rather, 'noise'—that even gennai's sensors can detect. It's a bizarre affliction that infects a person's mind, inflicts vivid hallucinations, and ultimately drives them to complete mental collapse. That's what Michinaga is terrified of." Michinaga violently kicked MURASAKI's futon aside.

"Listen to me, Shikibu! The physicians and the Onmyoji sorcerers are entirely useless! Our only lifeline left is your 'story'! Write a bright, cheerful propaganda novel to blow away this dismal gloom! Give me a happy ending so blinding that every citizen falls under the illusion that'this world belongs to me alone'!" Tch. MURASAKI gave a sharp, unmistakable click of her tongue. Crawling out from under the blankets, she glared at Michinaga through the gaps of her disheveled hair.

Her eyes were no longer hollow and lethargic. They were the eyes of a wild beast whose pride as a creator had just been deeply insulted. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Is that so, Lord Michinaga?... Well, too bad. It's impossible."

"What?!"

"A story that's nothing but rainbows and sunshine is a total farce. Do you honestly think such shallow, flimsy prose could ever exorcise an Onryo? Spirits are dense, muddy clusters of raw, festering obsession." MURASAKI snapped her folding fan open.

"To cure poison, you must use poison... You can never cleanse dark emotions unless you strike them with an even deeper despair. Not that an oblivious, nouveau-riche elite like you could ever understand."

"W-What did you say...?! Do not talk back to me!" Michinaga flew into a rage, raising his hand to strike her.

"You are nothing but a lady-in-waiting! Just write the sparkling romance stories exactly as I command! Or else—" At that exact moment, the folding fan—her console—in MURASAKI's hand crackled violently with pale blue sparks. The air in the room instantly froze solid.

"... Shut your mouth, baldy." It was a quiet murmur, but one dripping with explicit, murderous intent. With a single flick of MURASAKI's fan, characters of neon-like light surged into the empty air. [Wall] BOOM!! An invisible shockwave erupted right in the space before Michinaga's nose. A literal, physical "wall" had manifested out of nowhere.

"Gwah?!" Michinaga recoiled, falling backward onto his rear with a pathetic thud. The bodyguards scrambled to draw their katanas, but the barrier completely blocked them from stepping forward.

"Oops. My hand slipped.... Why don't you all vanish while you still can? Before my inspiration completely dries up."

"Y-You... using witchcraft...!" Michinaga yelled, his face flushing crimson even as he sat paralyzed with fear.

"Mark my words! If you don't have it written by tomorrow morning, I will have your head on a spike! I'll make sure that impudent mouth of yours never speaks again!" Barking his parting threat, Michinaga and his men fled the room like scolded dogs. Slam! The sliding doors banged shut. As silence reclaimed the room, MURASAKI let out a heavy sigh and collapsed onto the floor.

"... Haa. This is genuinely the worst. Why do I have to write for a piece of trash like him?" She tossed her fan aside and pulled her knees to her chest. Contrary to her fiercely defiant stance moments ago, her back now looked incredibly small, trembling ever so slightly.

"Um... what was that 'word' just now?" I asked. She kept her face buried as she replied." [Reality Writer]. Whatever words I write become reality.... It's convenient, sure, but it drains my mental sanity, so I hate it." Whatever she writes becomes reality. It was the ultimate ability—a godlike power that every story writer could only dream of possessing. Yet, she herself rejected it, refusing to write. It was a complete waste of a supreme talent.

"Prime Minister, what do we do?"

"We have no choice but to make her write." Yari made the cold, calculated judgment.

"Michinaga is right about one thing: the capital's Onryo density has reached a critical hazard level. If we don't use MURASAKI's 'story' to cleanse the collective psyche of this nation, the entirety of Japan will descend into madness and ruin."

"But with her in that state... forcing her won't produce any good writing." I stared at the lump under the futon. She was in absolute shutdown mode. But I understood. It wasn't that she didn't want to write. Her pen had stopped because the "darkness" she wished to explore was being denied, and she was being forced to churn out superficial "light." To a creator, that is nothing short of a death sentence. If that was the case, then this was my cue. As a fellow introvert—and as someone who truly loves stories.

The key to unlocking her sealed heart wasn't the tyrannical order of a ruler, nor was it the cold logic of an AI. It was the pure, unfiltered empathy of a fellow geek.

"... Prime Minister, give me a little time." I spoke to Yari, clutching my bottle of stomach medicine tightly as I steeled my resolve.

"I will become her editor—her partner.... I'm going to make her write the true, raw 'darkness'."