"This story won't sell well."
The First Consul of France, who had once written an unpopular novel, said.
"Why?" Georgiana set down the book, looking eager to argue with him.
"He should have written about how he cleverly escaped, not about being captured and interrogated. That's what people want to read," Bonaparte said.
"But that wouldn't be the truth," Georgiana said.
He seemed to find her utterly unreasonable.
"I know someone who was a bestselling author and knew how to write stories that people 'wanted to read.' But guess what? Other than the Most Charming Smile Award, every bit of it was fake."
He did not wish to continue discussing the subject. Georgiana could not be bothered with him either. Lockhart ought to have been in a madhouse by now, while this man before her had put someone who wrote poems satirizing him into an asylum.
"No one believes there are really monsters in this world," Bonaparte muttered.
"What?" Georgiana put down her book again to argue with him.
"Sea Hags, vampires—those things only appear in storybooks. If he intended to write a travelogue with any real value, he shouldn't have included such things."
"If that were the case, this book should have had a different name." Georgiana flipped to the cover and found that it had no title. Then she went on chattering, "The author should have used his own name too, rather than a pseudonym."
He seemed to have had an "epiphany."
"Do you know Nicolas Flamel?" Georgiana asked, somewhat smugly.
He did not answer.
"He used the same 'Nick' as the author of Nick Polo. It was precisely because he made the Sorcerer's Stone that people rushed to imitate it, accidentally improving gunpowder in the process. And gunpowder had originally been invented to make the Elixir of