There's an odd feeling to the way the war is over in southeast Asia at the same time it's becoming more intense than ever in Europe. Sarawak is beginning its recovery and return to a peacetime society, but as you've shown, its economy is still geared to war production, which means that it will encounter another shock in a couple of years.
Ooh boy, the ball hasn't dropped for Sarawak yet, and the state isn't completely peaceful by any measures even during this time. The 'post-Sabah-but-not-global-postwar period' is currently dominated by the rush of tribal warfare fanning through north-central Borneo (the Ancur), and Clayton Brooke is currently embarking on pacifying that very threat deep in the interior highlands. But as a whole, the kingdom is winding down from total war and Sarawak is trying to gain the most from current circumstances.
On another note, there will be more than a few Europeans who'll comment how Borneo is relatively at peace while the world is still aflame, and a few authors in Vienna, London, and Rome are hard at work penning as much tropical fiction as they can, just to distract the local public from the rising bloodshed at their doorsteps.
And since Britain is being bled dry, it won't be in a position to help Sarawak's adjustment - but it also won't be in a position to interfere. I wonder if this will be the point where much of southeast Asia asserts its independence.
You actually got it closer than most. The Great War and all its effects are disrupting the very idea of Southeast Asian statehood, to say nothing of the colonies and protectorates whom are being whacked around by their masters. This, coupled with decades of (relatively) increasing local education and a rising awareness of identity, will result in many many... politically inflamed states. The Dutch East Indies shall be hit especially hard; poor Batavia will be hit with the consequences of the War and the Ethical Policy at the worst possible time.
On another note, there will be more than a few Europeans who'll comment how Borneo is relatively at peace while the world is still aflame, and a few authors in Vienna, London, and Rome are hard at work penning as much tropical fiction as they can, just to distract the local public from the rising bloodshed at their doorsteps.
Pengiran Nor Zubaidiah binti Salam (Pontianak: The Love of a Mother, Monsopiad reprint: 2007)
In 1905, Italian forces invaded Tempasok, and Pengiran Nor Zubaidiah’s life changed forever.
The youngest daughter of a Bruneian aristocratic family, her father made the decision to back the neighbouring Brookes of Sarawak as they expanded during the late 1870’s, a decision that ultimately led them to resettle in the town of Tempasok in the Wariu river basin, north of Bandar Charles.
There, her father married a scion of the famous Muda Hashim family to confer protection and status for his own. The Muda Hashims were descendants of the original Pengiran Muda Hashim, the very notable prince whom partnered with James Brooke during the very birth of Sarawak [A]. As a result, Nor Zubaidiah was ennobled with the title ‘Pengiran’ when she was born in 1885, conferring herself and her kin as blood descendants of old Malay royalty (though the Brunei court has since disinherited her family bloodline to this day).
As a result of her high birth, Zubaidiah was uncommonly educated when compared to most contemporary women. Attending Quranic studies, hikayat readings and the local hut school, she became fluent not just in Malay and Arabic, but was also conversational in English and understood the local Rungus dialect. In 1903, she was married in an arranged ceremony to Awan Mustapha of Kudat, a son of a trading Sama-Bajau family.
Due to the increase of lucrative exports brought by international demand, the couple saw no reason to move from Tempasok, which meant they were direct eyewitnesses for the Italian invasion of Sarawakian Sabah, just two years later.
If the speed of the invasion didn’t shock Zubaidiah enough – indeed, her extended family was just contemplating to move out when the Italian forces arrived – the invading commander’s decision to court her kin certainly did. Her family’s notable status (and her husband’s business sense) have made them pillars of the local community, a factor the Italians sought to influence. However, Zubaidiah has heard much of Italian rule in Sabah and she successfully persuaded her husband to refuse their offer. The ensuing house arrest thankfully did not last long; Sarawak retook Tempasok back within a month.
But as the Great War ground on, news began to arrive of horrific bloodshed to the north and east. After some debate, Zubaidiah followed her husband north to see what was left of his family in Kudat, and eventually to the river basins out east.
What she saw there, and the work she helped to rebuild, laid the basis for what is to be her iconic first novel; Pontianak, Kesayangan Ibu – which was to be translated in the first English publication as Pontianak: The Love of a Mother.
Written as a series of short stories before being compiled for publication, the story is based in Malay folktales and Rungus worldviews. Pontianak explores the tragedy of war both on a societal and personal level through the eyes of Melati, a young mother, and Adeh, her 10-year old son. For over a decade, the riverside village of Simpang Sungai was at peace with itself and with the local Rungus community, and Melati’s family seemed to fit the typical Malay household.
But this peace rests on a great secret, kept shut by everyone whence a foreigner visits or a trader sojourned. For Melati was known to locals as not just a mother, but also something else: a Pontianak. A Malay vampiress.
In truth, she has been dead for over 10 years. A decade ago, she suffered greatly during her pregnancy and eventually passed away of blood loss while giving birth to Adeh. These conditions meant that Melati’s death lasted only moments before she reawakened as a malevolent Pontianak, out to drink the blood of those whom had achieved motherhood. It took a combined effort by both the villagers and the Rungus people to subdue her and drive an iron nail into her spine, thereby pacifying her and rendering Melati back as human and alive, albeit with no heartbeat.
Since then, Melati has been Simpang Sungai’s greatest secret. Since her undeath and return to life, she has been watched over by family members, neighbours, local elders and the Rungus bobolizan – the high priestess, to ensure her humanity wouldn’t be lost. Her exquisite (and unearthly) beauty has remained undimmed over the years and she herself become wary of the many advances by local men, despite still being married to her husband Adam. But despite this, the family lived as happily as they could.
But a call to war by the king of the land forced many adults to fight and to leave their families behind – including Melati’s spouse. For a while, most villagers adapted to their men’s absence and began to share each other’s workloads, but reports from faraway traders began to add an undertow of unease as they tell of the war’s rising bloodshed, as well as reports of random attacks on women and children in nearby villages by “a flying demon.” Suddenly, local attention began to lie on their resident Pontianak.
But such suspicions were soon for naught as the creature itself struck the village as Melati, Adeh, and a few close friends were returning from a check-up with the bobolizan. Despite the dangers of losing her humanity, Melati ripped her iron nail from her body and fought the demon in her powerful vampiress form till it flew away, and – with the help of said friends – only just managed to reinsert her nail before she lost control of herself.
From then on, the demon began to shadow and attack on Simpang Sungai and the surrounding villages, leaving behind dead youths and headless girls, all drained of blood. Along the novel, the demon attempts to attack and eat Melati, Adeh, and their friends and neighbours multiple times before being driven away. In the increasingly paranoid air, the surrounding villages pin the monster as Melati herself, angering those whom she rescued. Meanwhile, the local Rungus longhouse led by Chief Mabok made their own investigation into the matter as their own youths were being attacked.
Eventually, the truth was revealed that the demon was a Manananggal, a Philippine winged creature that acts similar to the local Pontianak in hunting women, children, and the unborn. In particular, the Manananggal was that of a female immigrant that moved with her family to find work in Borneo, only to be all killed in the confusion of the ongoing war. Driven mad by grief and rage, she returned back as a vampiress in her own right, swearing to mutilate every mother and child whose husbands, fathers, and sons are involved with the conflict.
The following climax outside a burning longhouse forces Melati to confront a choice: rip-off her iron nail and turn into a Pontianak forever to defeat the creature, or remain human and have her son and fellow neighbours be burned to death at the Manananggal’s hands?
Adapted into multiple dramas, plays, and the famous 1979 and 2001 celluloid pictures, Pontianak: The Love of a Mother has been hailed as one of the great icons of Sabahan literature. The novel is not without controversy, as many international Islamists have panned it over the decades for its supernatural nature while some Kadazan-Dusun critics looked down on the use of an indigenous high priestess as a ‘magical doctor’. Nevertheless, Pontianak remains a powerful novel for conveying the bloodshed and disaster of the Great War in a unique way, as well as incorporating how war impacts the innocent as much as it does the guilty.
But despite that, the novel also shines in its depiction of hope and the human spirit in times of hardship, and nothing exemplifies this more than the communal bond that was formed across the tale, and especially during its climax…
********************
“The Bisayas?”
The whole congregation was confused, as was I. “Do you mean to say, the demon that has terrorized us so, is a foreigner?”
“Correct.” Chieftain Mabok answered solemnly, his eyes shining by the lamplight. “From what Maraun and the others have told me, the demon is another kind of …vampiress that comes mainly from the Bisaya Islands to the northwest. Our particular monster was once a mother who came from there. They said the peoples call beings like her... Manananggal; the Separating Ghost.”
“What was her name?” I wanted to know.
“I think it was… Isidora.” Maraun himself spoke up, half in thought. “Yes, Isidora. Most people I spoke to called her ‘Is. From what I could gather up north, she came here with her entire family in the last few years, trying to find work. (he held up his hand and began to count) There was ‘Is, her husband, and their two young children. The last I heard of her, she was also pregnant with a third.”
At his words, the implication became darkly clear. The whispers around me rose higher and many more kept glancing each other at his words. The floors of the longhouse creaked as more hands were held, more fingers gripped more strongly on their weapons and their handles. My Adeh’s hand tightened in mine, and I squeezed his. I am here. I am here.
I wanted to speak, but Che Fatimah snatched the words. “So, then, she died at childbirth?”
“No.” Maraun shook his head. “Worse. The ones I spoke said ‘the whole family died’. But they also said the family moved east just before this war, so no one was sure how they died.” The man looked to his side. “You went east, did you not, Marajun? Did you find out?”
Only now did I realize how Marajun looked hesitant to speak. It was as if all the knowledge we had discovered were weighing down on the young man, sagging his shoulders. “…I did. I was… are you all sure this is safe? Sharing all of this openly?”
“Speak, my son.” Chief Mabok’s voice attained the weight of a Rungus leader. “We have seen much, and we have done much. All of us are armed, and you have no fear here.”
Marajun blinked several times before he finally began, his voice shaking like a frightened leaf before a gale. “I went as east, as you all told me to. Unlike the north, the villages there are… well, our king’s war wasn’t as kind over there. Burned houses everywhere. I had to track… for a while… to find those who knew the Bisaya family, and even then I had to work for them for a week to earn their trust.”
“What did they say?” I asked. His eyes seemed to speak at something he wish he could forget.
“She, she – Isidora – was in labour when the enemy troops came. No… not the enemy. Local louts whom joined the enemy for pay and plunder. They took everything they had, and they said ‘Is’ husband tried to fight them off. They…”
He looked right at me at the next sentence.
“…They burned her house down with her inside. In labor. With her children.”
I hear the gasps, but it seemed like the world had stopped. To die in childbirth, that was pain beyond pain. But to die like that… horrifying was the only thought I could imagine at that moment. Beside me, I saw Che Fatimah’s hand trembling pale white over her husband’s dagger. “…So …that’s how she became a vampiress? A Manananggal?” she spoke hesitantly. “And why this Isidora is attacking everyone?”
“Almost.” Marajun continued. “I noticed something strange when I headed back. Can anyone remember whom Isidora attacked? The ones from around here, at least?”
A few ways down, Pak Atan croaked. “Of course! First was Melati, Adeh, and Zulaika. Then there was me out in the fields, then Sigunting on his boat, then Kumat and his wife. This longhouse was next, and lastly Miss Fatimah. Why…” And then he stopped, understanding.
It wasn’t just him. I was stunned. Every single person this demon had attacked had a husband, son, or brother in the war. Every bloodless, headless corpse we could identify had a living family member still fighting out there. “This is revenge. Isn’t it? Revenge for all whom have spilled human blood.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Pak Atan was irate. “We didn’t kill her or harm her! Our husbands and sons didn’t hurt her! Why would she mutilate those who aren’t even fighting?”
“Perhaps it doesn’t matter.” Mabok’s wife Salima opined. “Perhaps, to this Manananggal, in her grief and rage, in her death and undeath, she sees all soldiers and their families as the same: as people whom can fight and achieve happiness, while she burned alive with her children and newly-born baby.”
“Still! What about those– ”
But I heard no more, for my Adeh whispered to me. “Mother, it’s too quiet. And I smell something.”
“Dear? Of course it is not qui…” I stopped. While the longhouse gathering was plainly noisy, the outside was silent.
Too silent.
There were crickets chirping when my son and I arrived. There were none now.
And then I smelled it. Oil. Lamp oil. And rotting flesh.
I turned around, and she was there.
Black-yellow eyes stared at me like a snake’s through the spaces between the walls. Her dead skin looked like that of a bloated carcass put to fire and partially burned. Her hair wild and unruly, matted at places with dried blood. Her bat-wings moved silently like the flying beasts that roam the pitch-night skies. Below the navel, her insides and flesh dangled like a piece of raw meat, ridden with maggots.
She pounced.
I remember her claws grabbing my shoulders. I remember releasing Adeh from the shock. I remember being pulled and dragged with inhuman force. I remembered the screams of Fatimah, my son, and the others as I was pulled through the wall. I remember the wooden supports tearing my dress and skin. Undead I was, but I remembered the pain of the splinters and the creature’s claws.
I was thrown onto the ground as the demon released me. The smell of oil mixed with that of the earth as I shut my eyes from the force and pain. I heard the crash of broken glass, more screams and a flash of bright light. I opened them, and saw terror; the wooden pillars and underside of the longhouse were aflame!
Then a clawed hand swiped at my face.
I was already hurting, but the gashes that tore through my right cheek was unlike anything I felt, not even in our past duels. Then those claws turned to fists and my head and neck were bombarded with blows, the nails clawing off pieces of my flesh with every swipe and strike. I cowered and huddled, and pushed my left foot out with all the strength I could to kick my attacker. The blows stopped, but not the pain.
As I writhed around, I realized there were no watch-guards to help me, or rescue the trapped souls from the burning longhouse. The creature must have killed the guards, found their oil lamps, gotten into the tribe’s oil stores, and soaked the pillars before throwing the lamps to set them ablaze.
Her face was loathsome as she hovered before me.
“You!” The Manananggal – no, Isidora. ‘Is. – screeched. “You! You are just like me! And you gained happiness?! How dare you!”
I slowly rose. The iron nail at my neck throbbed from the fall. My face and body were gushing too much precious blood. My eyes found hers, and I understood. Salima was almost right. This woman had suffered the worst of fate, and she is angry. So, so angry. Angry at her death and those of her children and husband’s. Angry at the louts whom did this to her for nothing more than malice. Angry at the soldiers and the king for making this horror possible, and angry at their families whom have achieved the motherhood that was taken from her. But she was furious at me.
I could almost hear it, but her eyes spoke enough. How dare I found happiness, even after death! How dare I have a still-faithful husband and an understanding son! How dare I have neighbours, friends, and people who cared for me and made me human again, to replace my iron nail as it rusts, to help me walk and restrain myself in anger, to be there for me even as other villages tried to kill me! How dare I, as a Pontianak, be loved and accepted into motherhood!
I knew then that ‘Is would not let me go. She would not let all of us go. If she was denied the happiness of life whilst I could, then she will do anything to kill me and everyone around me. She would try and try until we all would be drunk dry from her mouth and rot beneath the earth, or be burned alive as it were.
The screams from the longhouse were becoming frantic through the smoke. Isidora was blocking my way.
How dare she. How dare she! How dare she hurt those whom are innocent of crime! How dare she assume the worst of humanity and act out in revenge and inconsiderate terror! How dare she took her grief and used it to hurt my neighbours, my friends, and my son! I almost felt pity when I first saw her, during the first attack. A horrific consequence of a horrible war. That was gone now.
I stood to my greatest height, and said those final words. “You will never harm us again.”
And in one move, I swung my right hand to my spine and ripped out the iron nail there.
____________________
I may have gone on a bit too long at this piece. At least now I can say I experimented with my timeline by writing an in-TL thriller/horror novel!
The image of the Manananggal is courtesy of jogihoogi.
(A) Pengiran Muda Hashim is a person that goes waywaaaaayback to the very beginning of this TL.
Will this novel take Dracula's place in popular culture, or will it coexist with it, since Dracula was written a few years prior, and half a world away? Having eastern and western blood-sucking creatures of the night be equally well-known could have interesting consequences for horror literature down the road.
We may see some of that in the future, though Sarawak’s tropical climate and (relatively) poor soils make it a non-starter for large-scale agricultural settlers. Plus, Australia’s really close by.
I dunno much about the latter, but if you mean the former as thisxxxHolic, then 1) ohmygodIfoundafellowreader And 2) the vampire story does kinda fit into the manga’s magical/supernatural setting of wishes and youkai, only this story is from a supernatural creature’s own perspective!
Fun fact: While the above story of Melati is a recent development, I’ve always had this idea of a protective Malay vampiress for many many years.
A long time ago when Malê Rising was still in progress, @Jonathan Edelstein mentioned West African and Malay horror as taking center stage in that world. After some fanboying and idea-chucking on that thread regarding the genre, I discovered that the thought of a protective Pontianak, a horrific creature that is also a mother, was a potentially good story that could seriously be explored.
Now I can finally say I have fulfilled my dream! As for Melati… let’s just say we have different views on her ending and leave it at that.
Will this novel take Dracula's place in popular culture, or will it coexist with it, since Dracula was written a few years prior, and half a world away? Having eastern and western blood-sucking creatures of the night be equally well-known could have interesting consequences for horror literature down the road.
Dracula is… something I’m not certain of. Vampire legends have been circulating around Europe for decades now, but the novel took shape primarily out of Bram Stoker’s meeting with the Hungarian Ármin Vámbéry, who regaled him with dark tales of the Carpathian Mountains; Vámbéry may have stayed elsewhere in Britain during the 1890’s ITTL. I can see some form of vampire fiction taking shape in England or Europe, but the archetypical bloodsucker up there may be of a different sort than our own Transylvanian count.
In any case, the Pontianak in the R&H-verse shall become a famous archetype of eastern and [to a lesser extent] Islamic horror, as will tales of myths and monsters from Borneo and Southeast Asia (though western movies have a high degree of cultural botching in regards to their adaptations). With this said, the story of Melati is less horrific and more tragic in scope, as (a) the protagonist is a vampiress who wants to protect her human son [fun fact: some Pontianaks can bear human children] and (b) the antagonist is a product of war and its deadly consequences on the innocent. This may or may not be understood by the directors: the 1979 celluloid picture was a gorefest while the 2001 flick emphasised the tragedy and pathos of the whole ordeal. Locally at least, the Pontianak and Manananggal are seen as both loving mothers and horrifying monsters; you don’t want to block across them and their families.
(Also, if you’re really a hipster for stories ITTL, then you’d probably exalt the stories of Pontianak city, whose history literally rests on a foundation myth that a vampiress fought with a sultan! I’m also thinking of making an in-TL tale about that (with a twist!))
For myths about the Pontianak and other Malay/Nusantaran/Dayak horrors, the jungles and villages of Southeast Asia would absolutely form the archetypical setting for such fictions, though some artists have tried bringing the horrors to the cities in more recent movies.
Also, and shameless plug admittance here, but if you want to see some good Malay horror, I'd recommend Roh (soul). It's set in an isolated village in the past and is a good introduction to the Malay supernatural scene.
I discovered that the thought of a protective Pontianak, a horrific creature that is also a mother, was a potentially good story that could seriously be explored.
Whats next, Hantu Penanggal* who are pious virgin girls?!😂🤣😂🤣
*for non-ASEAN, Hantu Penanggal is a head of a woman with guts, heart and lungs flying around drinking blood that came out from pregnant woman during giving birth of their child. Due to traditional homes were built above the ground and made of wood, the penanggal can sneak below the house and drink the bloods from birthing process that were spilled on the floor and dripping to the ground through the crack of the floor.
If I were to reimagine the Penanggalan, it would be a sorceress whom craves blood not out of malice, but out of a deficiency in her own blood or bone marrow that regular sorcery can't fix. Adds a lot more drama and deep conflicts than the typical "flying-head-with-entrails-and-organs", that we all know and love.
Also, if you think that's ironic, I remember reading in a newspaper of a ghost anthology being published in which one story features a Jiang Shi (Chinese hopping corpse/vampire/zombie) falling for a Malay man and so prepares his food so that there's no pork. Now that's ironic.
Do you know that the 'original' reason for it was because the woman want to attain/mantain youth through black magic, and becoming Penanggal/Penanggalan and drink blood is just part of the process?
So 'deficiency' is already covered. The rest of 'drama' is just wether or not she can live her life without need to mantain her youth, and thus, need to become Penanggal in first place.
And 'conflict' is tried not getting caught in the first place. Practicing black magic itself is wrong enough, being Penanggal is LUCKY considered theres a TON of being fucked by the deal that were make or break by the practitioner. "Dont make deal with the devil/genie" is an actual warning.
Also, if you think that's ironic, I remember reading in a newspaper of a ghost anthology being published in which one story features a Jiang Shi (Chinese hopping corpse/vampire/zombie) falling for a Malay man and so prepares his food so that there's no pork. Now that's ironic.
NickBana’s comment first, then on the in-TL story.
I dunno much about the latter, but if you mean the former as thisxxxHolic, then 1) ohmygodIfoundafellowreader And 2) the vampire story does kinda fit into the manga’s magical/supernatural setting of wishes and youkai, only this story is from a supernatural creature’s own perspective!
Fun fact: While the above story of Melati is a recent development, I’ve always had this idea of a protective Malay vampiress for many many years.
A long time ago when Malê Rising was still in progress, @Jonathan Edelstein mentioned West African and Malay horror as taking center stage in that world. After some fanboying and idea-chucking on that thread regarding the genre, I discovered that the thought of a protective Pontianak, a horrific creature that is also a mother, was a potentially good story that could seriously be explored.
Now I can finally say I have fulfilled my dream! As for Melati… let’s just say we have different views on her ending and leave it at that.
Dracula is… something I’m not certain of. Vampire legends have been circulating around Europe for decades now, but the novel took shape primarily out of Bram Stoker’s meeting with the Hungarian Ármin Vámbéry, who regaled him with dark tales of the Carpathian Mountains; Vámbéry may have stayed elsewhere in Britain during the 1890’s ITTL. I can see some form of vampire fiction taking shape in England or Europe, but the archetypical bloodsucker up there may be of a different sort than our own Transylvanian count.
In any case, the Pontianak in the R&H-verse shall become a famous archetype of eastern and [to a lesser extent] Islamic horror, as will tales of myths and monsters from Borneo and Southeast Asia (though western movies have a high degree of cultural botching in regards to their adaptations). With this said, the story of Melati is less horrific and more tragic in scope, as (a) the protagonist is a vampiress who wants to protect her human son [fun fact: some Pontianaks can bear human children] and (b) the antagonist is a product of war and its deadly consequences on the innocent. This may or may not be understood by the directors: the 1979 celluloid picture was a gorefest while the 2001 flick emphasised the tragedy and pathos of the whole ordeal. Locally at least, the Pontianak and Manananggal are seen as both loving mothers and horrifying monsters; you don’t want to block across them and their families.
(Also, if you’re really a hipster for stories ITTL, then you’d probably exalt the stories of Pontianak city, whose history literally rests on a foundation myth that a vampiress fought with a sultan! I’m also thinking of making an in-TL tale about that (with a twist!))
Well, the main antagonist isn’t technically from Borneo.
For myths about the Pontianak and other Malay/Nusantaran/Dayak horrors, the jungles and villages of Southeast Asia would absolutely form the archetypical setting for such fictions, though some artists have tried bringing the horrors to the cities in more recent movies.
Also, and shameless plug admittance here, but if you want to see some good Malay horror, I'd recommend Roh (soul). It's set in an isolated village in the past and is a good introduction to the Malay supernatural scene.
Yes, I do mean ×××Holic. Yes, I am a fellow reader. By the way, this TL is probably the reason why I headcanon Landon Reed (father of Clow Reed) as having lived in Sarawak and having worked for James and Charles Brooke. This will show up in the Encylcopedia of Modern Magic once I get around to it.
It was a long time ago when I read the piece, so I can't distinctly remember much beyond "Chinese dead girl falls for Malay boy". I think it was The Heartsick Diaspora, though I'm far from convinced this is the book.
Yes, I do mean ×××Holic. Yes, I am a fellow reader. By the way, this TL is probably the reason why I headcanon Landon Reed (father of Clow Reed) as having lived in Sarawak and having worked for James and Charles Brooke. This will show up in the Encylcopedia of Modern Magic once I get around to it.
They definitely add a lot more colour to a world when compared to dry summaries or article excerpts, and they are a lot more fun to think up than making Point-Of-View snippets.
After this, the update path branches a bit: either we go to Dutch Borneo and the Indies to see what is happening there (which will be important for setting down Southeast Asia's future), or go straight to the Brooke family's long-overdue marriage circus. I'm still thinking about it.
It was a long time ago when I read the piece, so I can't distinctly remember much beyond "Chinese dead girl falls for Malay boy". I think it was The Heartsick Diaspora, though I'm far from convinced this is the book.
Yesss, I am influencing others in their own works. Go forth and edit Landon Reed to this universe!
He was not “edited to this universe”. It is just that oRaH got me interested in the history of this area , and made me realise that Sarawak was the obvious location for Landon Reed’s home base. The world of Encyclopedia of Modern Magic is entirely a secret history of OTL until ~2008, when the masquerade starts to fall apart.
After this, the update path branches a bit: either we go to Dutch Borneo and the Indies to see what is happening there (which will be important for setting down Southeast Asia's future), or go straight to the Brooke family's long-overdue marriage circus. I'm still thinking about it.
Yes, I do mean ×××Holic. Yes, I am a fellow reader. By the way, this TL is probably the reason why I headcanon Landon Reed (father of Clow Reed) as having lived in Sarawak and having worked for James and Charles Brooke. This will show up in the Encylcopedia of Modern Magic once I get around to it.
xxxHolic...now there's a blast from the past I used to read it back in the day. It and Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles. Loved them both, but never got to the actual end...
