The Great Storyteller. The Great Storyteller - 임한백

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Although the book cafe would normally turn into a bar in the evening, Seo Kwang's mother decided to close the shop early because of a prior engagement with her parents. And knowing that, with his mother's permission, Seo Kwang had reserved the shop to celebrate the accomplishment of his friend in the form of a party. Each of them having come with food and drinks, the club members were ecstatic about the rare occasion. With the candle on the table at the center as the only light source, the club members enjoyed the cozy warmth along with all sorts of food and snacks, carried away by the intoxicating atmosphere of feeling like adults who were celebrating over drinks. "I knew you had it in you. This is my friend!" Seo Kwang shouted, followed by Bo Suk's, "And my hero!" The club members celebrated boisterously, as if letting out all of their pent up frustrations. Then, stuffing his mouth with fish sausage, Seo Kwang asked Juho, "How are things going with the new book?" "It's going through revisions. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to make it today." The manuscript was in Nam Kyung's hands, and the editor would bring up comments on places that were ambiguous or dragging on. The process was more heartbreaking and undesirable than anything. On top of that, Nam Kyung, being the perfectionist that he was, tended to be relentless with his comments. While that meant that he had a sharp eye for compositions and that it would ultimately result in a better product, Juho couldn't deny that it was among the most painful processes of all. "I needed a place to breathe." "Well, you've come to the right place, my friend." "Yeah! That's right!" Sun Hwa agreed emphatically. "Besides, Baron's here, too!" she added, looking in his direction. Juho, followed her eyes and saw the graduate, drinking his orange juice quietly. The club members were incredibly excited to see Baron after he had graduated. To which, Baron responded brusquely, "It hasn't even been that long." "Oh! C'mon, now! Emotions are always stronger than time," Seo Kwang said. "And that's why time flies by when things are good, and long and tedious occasions feel like an eternity. In that same way, time goes slower when we wait for something, but it goes by twice as fast the day before an exam," Sun Hwa added. While Bo Suk clapped quietly at her rather profound remark, Baron couldn't help but smile. "You just wait 'til next year, when the freshmen start coming in. I promise you, it won't even occur to you to think about me. Memories are weaker than time." "Wow, good one." "If anybody were to listen to our conversations, they would know immediately that we're in a Literature Club," Bom murmured. Then, she shouted, "But in here, it doesn't matter who's weak or strong!" She appeared to be in high spirits. Sun Hwa, who was also in high spirits, asked the freshman to put on some background music. Meanwhile, Juho saw the potential customers looking into the shop through the window to see if it was open, and turning back soon after, realizing that it wasn't. For the sake of letting the girls have their fun, Juho decided to keep it a secret from them. Then, putting a piece of sweet and sour chicken into his mouth, Juho watched the club members breaking out into a dance frenzy out of nowhere. "Juho," Bo Suk called for him, observing him. Juho felt her gaze from time to time. "What?" "I have a question." "What is it?" Juho asked as an affirmation, bringing his cup up to his mouth. "How are you so calm?" "Calm?" "Yes. Not only did you manage to win that award over all those incredible authors, but you're also being recognized as a translator for translating Kelley Coin's book. On top of that, you wrote a short story that everyone recognizes, 'River.' And now, you're getting all the attention because of your upcoming book." "Is that right?" Juho said, drinking his soda. "See? You're so calm, even now," Bo Suk said, fixing her eyes on him, looking attentively at his every movement. "I see. So, it sounds like what you really want to know is what I'm like internally, am I right?" "Right." "Then, there's a better way to find out than asking questions." At his response, Bo Suk's eyes sparkled with curiosity, and Juho decided to teach her how Literature Club members could explore their minds when writing. "Empathy." Empathizing allowed a writer to understand their subjects at their hearts, even up to the effervescence of the soda in Juho's cup. The effervescence was filled with joy at the sight of the kids who are also filled with joy, and it also felt joy for Juho winning the grand prize and becoming the translator of the year. "You're not gonna tell me, are you?" Bo Suk asked, pouting. To which, Juho said, "Words are stronger than emotions. One may be sad, but they can always say that they're happy, even when they're anxious and insecure." At his mysterious answer, Bo Suk stared intently at Juho. "It seems to me that you're stronger than emotions." At those glittering words, Juho simply smiled awkwardly. --- In the meantime, having gone home after his visit to the print shop, Nam Kyung hadn't been able to leave his car for several hours after giving into the temptation of reading Yun Woo's manuscript upon arriving at his home's parking lot. It was already dark out, and when the editor checked the time, it was 4:00 a.m. His neck and shoulders felt tense, and his eyes dry. His chest felt tight, and he felt his body stiffening up while he read. "Sigh," he let out a long, heavy sigh. Then, relaxing his tense body, he tried to organize his mind, scattered about by the storm within. However, realizing that it wasn't going to happen, he gave up. "What did I just read?" What had been clear as day while reading had evaporated the moment he looked up from the pages, like a mirage. Yun Woo was like smoke. After writing 'River,' the young author had brought back yet another piece of writing, which was, to say the least, baffling. "Is it falling apart, or did he mangle up the whole thing intentionally?" Nam Kyung asked himself, putting his hand on his forehead. "I don't think this will work," he said. Those were the very first words to come out of his mouth as soon as they met. Looking at the editor's face, Juho noticed that he had a haggard look about him, which told the author how much he had wrestled with his mind until reaching his decision. "In what ways?" Juho asked, and instead of giving an answer, Nam Kyung stared intently at the young author's face. "You should know. Why do you think it's not gonna work?" "It has to be the ending." "That's right." As an author, there was no way Juho didn't know the flaws of his own work. From the weakest part to the most emphasized, the climax, and the scenes that evoke the most desperation, an author was bound to know their work inside and out. Nevertheless, they would lose sight of their flaws while they were busy looking around for incoming danger. After all, they were the creators of their own craft. As an editor, it was also Nam Kyung's job to correct an author's path in their creative endeavor. However, that was also what made his job difficult at times. Never had he came across such writing in his career. "Do you have any idea how lost I was?" Because it was going to be the piece to follow 'River,' Nam Kyung had prepared himself internally as he received the manuscript from the author. When he read the first page, he had felt immediately confident. Fire was a fearsome being in the novel, and the deeds of those who had been affected by the fire were just as fearsome. In what felt like a parade of rage, terror, and doubt, the editor couldn't hold back his excitement. That was until he reached the last ten of the two hundred pages, which he had waited for anxiously. "Frankly, I have no idea how you were able to write that part, Mr. Woo," Nam Kyung said honestly, and Juho simply listened quietly. "I just can't seem to justify it, no matter what theory I use. At first, I just read through them candidly. I thought the scene where all of the characters get jumbled up and become indistinguishable was outstanding. It was to the point of losing the ability to think clearly." However, something had bothered the editor, tugging away at his heart. Something wasn't right. Even though all of the characters were becoming one, there was nothing about it that felt alien or out of place. In fact, it felt completely natural. Typical Yun Woo: pure and colorful. Despite the appalling, sludgy, and damp content, everything felt natural. "Then, I realized what had changed. It was sneaky of you, but I did notice a change in between the characters. Although, I have no idea if this is even possible to execute…" Nam Kyung said, looking straight at Juho. "Your style." At his answer, Juho nodded, quietly. "Because everything changes at the end." In the novel, everything and everyone changed in the end, from the culprit to the hero, the narrator, and the author. To be more precise, it wasn't the direction that Juho had intended from the beginning. Being shapeless and uncatchable, water took the shape of the container it was in. In that same way, the readers would feel as though things had changed, as if betrayed. And just as Juho had thought, Nam Kyung had a sharp eye for compositions. At that moment, Nam Kyung slammed his hands on the table and jumped from his seat, saying, "It's not that simple. This, this is strange. How can a piece of writing change like that, as if written by someone with a split personality? How could something that should stay consistent from cover to cover in a book, fall away all of a sudden at the end? And why do I find it so charming?" It was as if… "Another person wrote it, I mean," Nam Kyung paused briefly in order to correct the blunt remark he had blurted out by reflex. However, Juho had heard him clearly. As the young author smiled, the editor let out a sigh and added, "OK. Honestly, I doubted for a split second that another person wrote the last ten pages, no more, no less. I thought it was the most logical explanation, although it wasn't long after that that I realized that you wouldn't have a reason for it that would benefit you in any way." It was the explanation that made the most sense, and Juho understood where Nam Kyung was coming from. Then, as if giving up, the editor began to share his honest thoughts. "Did it happen by coincident?" "No." "Was it a breath-of-fresh-air sort of situation while you were wrestling with it?" "I wrote it just as I have always done." "Or were you starting to wear out?" "I jog on a daily basis." At that, Nam Kyung let out a sigh. "So, which one is it? The magical pen, time machine, or doping?" "None of the above." "Then what is it?" "I told you. I changed too, along with my writing." Juho had no recollection of writing with a magical pen or being in a time machine or having used any sort of drugs. Then, putting on a smile, he asked slowly, "Would you like to know the secret?" "... so there is something, huh?" "Sure." "Then, please," Nam Kyung said, looking at the young author over his glasses. Then, after the initial thought of dragging it on, Juho decided to cut to the chase, "I have two different writing styles. That's all." At the baffling answer, Nam Kyung tilted his head, perplexed. "Two. Different. Writing styles," the editor said, furrowing his brow. Then, Juho picked up the manuscript that proved what the young author had claimed. At that, Nam Kyung froze in his place. "Is that possible?" "Apparently, as you can tell," Juho said, drinking his tea. "Huh," Nam Kyung let out. From then on, he wasn't able to say anything for quite a while. As the editor looked through the manuscript over and over, Juho waited patiently for him to finish. Then, by the time he started feeling dazed, the young author asked, "It doesn't necessarily take away from the novel, does it?" "... Hm," Nam Kyung let out as he reconnected with reality. "... are you planning on coming clean about being able to write in two different styles?" "I prefer not to give out too much information when it comes to my work." "Right. Yeah," Nam Kyung concurred, nodding. Significance and symbolism. It was quite a Yun Woo-like decision, and Nam Kyung agreed with the young author that it would be better not to disclose information like that. Then, he thought about the possible consequences that would follow once the book came out to the world. "People will say all sorts of things." "I've been Yun Pil before. I've had worse." "People will start thinking that you hired a ghostwriter." "That's nothing new, is it?" "... You knew?" As the editor kept wrestling with his thoughts, Juho asked, "Is there an issue with how the novel ends?" "No." "Are the sentences not strong enough?" "No." "Is having two styles distracting?" "No, the contrary." "Is it too subtle?" "I think you'd find yourself getting into trouble if you were to make it any more obvious." If Juho were to ask what the issues were, Nam Kyung wouldn't hesitate to tell him. Out of place. Foreign. Chaotic. An ambiguity between coincidence and skill. Excellence. Strictly speaking, Yun Woo's second style was fantastic, and there was a reason that authors romanticized the ability to utilize an array of styles at their disposal. Being able to write according to the overall flow while changing the ambiance was only possible in a fairytale. It was a skill most writers would go to great lengths to obtain, and the thought of it alone made their hearts jump. Being able to write beyond the boundaries of one's self was the ultimate form of art. "Sigh," Nam Kyung let out, failing to calm his mind and simply scanning through the manuscript with raw emotions. The writing style didn't change whenever the plot moved forward or depending on the characters' points of view. However, at the end, at the very end, the writing style changed out of nowhere at the climax, when the message of the novel became the most apparent. It was the scene that would bring about serious doubt on the author, leaving readers to wonder: 'Did Yun Woo come up with the ending and did he write it himself?' The style couldn't fit the overall atmosphere of the novel any better. Even without fully understanding the situation, most people would be in shock. Some would start asking questions and begin to look for answers themselves as they wrestled with their minds, while others would list out absurd conjectures, lacking in any evidence. In the end, people would fall back into the routine of surrounding the mysterious author with all sorts of assumptions and doubts. Then, Nam Kyung looked up, looking much more at peace. However, Yun Woo remained unafraid. After all, he was an author who was well acquainted with those types of circumstances. "Maybe we should give it a go." Perhaps, it would be worth a try.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "How would you like to name it?" "Oh." "You haven't thought about it, have you?" "No." After some discussion, Juho and Nam Kyung left the botanical garden in order to get some food. Walking past the tropical plants, Juho wondered, "What if this place burns down?" "Should we make the title something relevant to fire?" "Sounds good." "All right. Let's see… Arson, flames…" Nam Kyung said, thinking out loud, even mentioning several phrases from the novel. "I'm not sure," Juho said after brief contemplation. As flame began to engulf the entire garden, the unfortunate plants started burning away, unable to run away from the fire. Then, amid the black smoke, the green leaves moved about before falling to the ground, one by one. The thing that both fire and trees needed was water. "Evaporation." "What was that?" "How's that sound? 'Evaporation'" It was the process of liquid turning into gas, and it gave an image that something was fading away. Juho felt like it would suit the ending of his novel quite well. Then, rolling the word around in his mouth for a little while, Nam Kyung tilted his head. Although it wasn't half bad, it still lacked impact. Yun Woo tended to be modest toward his own work, so Nam Kyung shared his opinion, "I keep thinking 'Sublimation.'" "Sublimation?" "Yes, give me a moment." Then, Nam Kyung took his phone out and looked up the definition of the word: A phenomenon which elevates to a higher degree. (Editor's note: In English, this is the archaic definition of the word, but if you look up the word, all other, more current definitions apply as well, which is very clever.) "So, it's often used in describing art. It means to change, so it suits your novel well." "You think so?" "The way I see it, it suits the overall vibe of the novel without any problem. It really accentuates the elements of uncertainty and mystery." While Juho contemplated the idea, Nam Kyung took the opportunity to appeal the title, which he was seemingly quite fond of, to the young author. "It would also serve as a device to keep the readers from having an overly negative view of wrestling with self-identity, so it balances out the novel, which is full of doubt and lies. There's a holy aspect to it too, so it gives that subliminal touch. 'Sublimation.' It fits the ending of the novel just right." Juho listened quietly to the editor, who was mildly excited. "It would also feel like your writing has evolved even further since 'River.' I think this is also the perfect opportunity to show those pricks up for thinking Yun Woo wouldn't be able to outdo himself past 'River.' Just imagine, 'Yun Woo sublimates his burden as an author into an art.'" "I'm not sure how I feel about that." "No, no. So-to-speak." "Well, let's think it over while we eat, shall we?" Just like that, after a discussion over a meal, 'Sublimation' was decided as the title of the new novel. "Now, time to have some fun with revisions," Nam Kyung said before they parted ways at the entrance of a park, implying that they should shoot for the stars. --- 'Language of God.' It was a novel about four companions who left on a quest to meet God. A full-length novel, their grand journey had been printed, translated, and spread throughout the world. Many had bought the book, reading, discussing, feeling, and sharing it. The readers of 'Language of God' naturally found themselves asking about the author, and eventually started looking for answers themselves. The easiest way to go about this was to look within the book. The 'About the Author' page. However, as readers overseas opened the book in order to learn more about the author, they only found themselves riddled with even more questions. Debuting at the age of sixteen, and still writing at the age of eighteen. Then those readers moved on to the internet, where a plethora of information about the author was readily available. However, most of the information was far from accurate or reliable. Yun Woo was a Korean author who became known for pure literature before attempting genre novels. There was no information regarding his appearance or the sound of his voice. He was also known as the Kelley Coin Translator, and there were a number of his pieces that were yet to be translated. His most recent short story had been received extremely well in Korea. The senior translator of Fernand, a large American publishing company, was known to be a fan of Yun Woo, and his books had made bestseller lists across the globe, including the US, France, and all across Europe. "At the same time, there are those who don't recognize Yun Woo's work as literature." A thirty-eight-year-old Korean man living in Los Angeles was reading a book while lying down in his room, written by none other than the Korean-born, genius author, Yun Woo. It was 'Language of God.' Despite the weight of the book, the man was quite fond of it. As a fan, the fact that there was more to read was something to be grateful for. The weight was proportional to how much of the author the man got to know, and how much he got to experience of the world the author had created. Living in Los Angeles, the thirty-eight-year-old Korean man was a fan of Yun Woo, as well as an avid fan of 'Language of God.' "Why don't you recognize him as an author?" the man asked his friend, Jay, who identified himself as being anti-Yun Woo. Then, with his mouth full of nachos, Jay said, "He's too young." Although it was a simple answer, it was undeniable since the author was actually young. "But his writing is just out of this world." "That's what I hear. Even critics had a lot of good things to say about him." "Yet, you don't recognize him as an author because?" Then, a faint trace of annoyance appeared on Jay's face. "Why are you so obsessed with that?" I can't stand that kid. He's a show-off." "Who is?" "Yun Woo." It was an absurd and delusional statement coming from a place of jealousy. As the man stared at Jay intently, Jay explained himself in a hurry as if pricked in the heart, "Look, it's not like he's never won any major awards or anything. Besides, what you're saying right now is like calling a burger with a greasy patty and limp pieces of lettuce the best dish in the world, and offering it to me. Sure, it's tasty, but the taste is about the only good thing there is about the burger. It causes all sorts of diseases. As for me, I happen to know restaurants with three Michelin stars that make healthier and better-tasting food." At his friend's answer, the man contemplated something genuinely, thinking, 'How do I get this arrogant bastard to shut up?' "So, Yun Woo's no different than a burger to you?" "So-to-speak." "You just managed insult burgers and Yun Woo at the same time." "Yep, and I hate them both, equally as much," Jay said, the chewing sound reverberating throughout the room. He had mentioned something about an award. "Speaking of awards, are you planning on only reading books written by award-winning authors?" "I was just answering your question, man. You're the one who asked why I didn't recognize him as an author." "Are you saying that authors who don't get any awards are not even real authors?" "No way. That would just make them authors who haven't won any award." "Well, lucky for you, I happen to know just the remedy for that narrow-minded mentality of yours. You know what you need? You need a dose of Yun Woo's books. Once is all it takes." "No, thanks." Although Yun Woo was an eighteen-year-old, bestselling, genius author, he had never won any major awards overseas. Despite having written titles like 'Language of God,' 'Trace of a Bird,' and 'Sound of Wailing,' he had never won an award outside of Korea. "Well, for your information, he did win awards. In fact, he's the youngest winner of two major literary awards in Korea." "In Korea." "Are you talking trash?" "Maybe a little." At Jay's less-than-likable attitude, the man gave in to his frustration and shouted, "Because he's still young! Do you know what the age of the youngest winner of a literary award is in this country? Forty-eight! Yun Woo is only eighteen, and OF COURSE they wouldn't give one to him! This world hates new things, after all. Everyone raves about evolving and moving forward, but in reality, they're all just busy trying to look good on the outside, am I right!? Damn it!" Then, the book in the man's hand fell to his thigh. He had drawn a circle on the page he had been reading, which explained the difference between discrimination and difference. The difference in wealth, position, appearance, and things people were born with. They all changed over time. "All the literary awards that are recognized worldwide are all from the west, anyway. Not to mention, all of the judges are Americans. Do you have any idea how hard it is for an Asian to win that award? I'm sick and tired of scandals that have to do with literary awards! If they are going to judge based on race, gender, and nationality, what's the point in voting? Why don't they just call the author they feel like giving the award to and give it to them? This is the twenty-first century we're living in, yet how is it that there's not a single Asian author who's won the Annular Award, let alone become candidates? Think about it! Isn't it strange? And you talk about the award being recognized worldwide? About burgers? He's never won any major awards? Who are you to talk like that!? What kind of award have you won, huh!?" "Whoa, whoa!" Having been envious of the young author who had succeeded in life at an early age, Jay raised both of his hands and backed off. The Annular Award, commonly known as The Fantasy Literary Award, was one of the four major, international science fiction literary awards given to authors by the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America. Along with a trophy, the winners were given the opportunity to raise their sales across the globe by an astronomical margin. The judges of the association consist of preexisting members, and those authors who wished to join the association had to meet fastidious standards, like having published at least three novels in the past, or having sales above a certain amount. Even then, memberships were divided into levels within the association, making it an incredible challenge to obtain even the most basic membership. Unlike their worldwide recognition, the award was based mostly in the US, and was entirely centered around books written in or translated into English. For that reason, there was never an Asian winner of the Annular Award. And after mentioning the award, which any science fiction fan would know, Jay tried to calm the man down. "Hey, relax. I was just poking fun at ya. I know that award isn't the ultimate goal for authors. Besides, even the act of giving out awards itself comes with a world of issues. For example, the Olympics. Referees misjudge all the time, and some results are just blatantly fabricated. Honestly, things like that make me wonder if judging athletes with fairness was ever a priority. But they keep giving out those awards, and glory goes where the award goes. Why? Because in this consequentialist, modern society, getting an award is the simplest, the easiest, and the most convenient way to be recognized." There was glory even in false awards, bringing the winner fame and placing them in a higher social position. Perhaps there was no such thing as a false award in this world, only those who shouldn't be given awards. Those ideas were quite stale, and the man clenched his hands into fists. If he were to admit that those ideas were, indeed, stale, then he, too, would become stale. So, he believed. He believed that 'Language of God' had the potential to transcend such laws. In his years of living in the US, he had never witnessed a Korean novel being sold at the rate in which 'Language of God' was selling at. The man believed in his favorite novel, written by his favorite author. "Let's make a bet." "A bet? On what?" "On something that gives you an advantage. There's not going to be a trace of fairness, and the chance of me losing should be ninety-nine percent. But as you know, I happen to be the type who places his hopes on the one percent." "Well, then, sounds like I've got nothing to lose. What's the bet?" Jay said with a smile. The freckles on his cheeks also moved up as the corners of his mouth turned up. "I know for sure that Yun Woo's books, like this 'Language of God' here, are fully qualified to win the Annular Award because they've been translated into English." "Right." Although the Annular Award was typically known as an award given out to authors of science fiction, they also considered fantasy novels. On top of that, the award wasn't just limited to novels, considering even compositions like screenplays and reviews. The moment 'Language of God' was translated into English, the man started secretly hoping that the book would win the award. Although it might not have been the case for other major literary awards, the youngest winner of the Annular Award was twenty-three years old. There was a chance. "I bet that Yun Woo will be the youngest, and the first Asian, and Korean, to be chosen as a candidate for the Annular Award." "A candidate? Instead of a winner?' "It takes time to get there. The evaluation goes on for a while." "You're already gung-ho about this, aren't you?" Jay said, his smile turning into a mocking snicker. "Well, what's in it for me?" "When I win," the man said, cutting Jay off completely. "If I win, you stand in the middle of a public square and shout "Yun Woo is the best novelist in the world!" three times. Then, I'll record it and put it up on the internet. Also, you eat nothing but burgers for an entire week." "You can't be serious," Jay said, his voice filled with interest. "OK. Well, if I win, you're forever banned from buying, reading, or even making any recommendations of Yun Woo books to me. On top of that, you owe me a meal at a three-Michelin star restaurant." "... Isn't that a bit much?" "At least I'm not putting you through public humiliation. Why? Are you afraid you'll lose?" "Deal." Just like that, the two kept an eye out for news of the Annular Award. --- Coming back from his morning exercise, Juho realized that he had missed a call while he'd been out. It was from Jang Mi, and when he called her back, the voice on the other end of the line was exploding with joy, sounding happier than Juho had ever heard her. The joy was overwhelming, to the point of the editor being completely incoherent in her speech. "Could you repeat that?" Juho asked calmly, and after taking a deep breath, Jang Mi said, "You were chosen as the candidate for an international science fantasy literary award!" "Pardon?" Juho asked again. At which point, she rephrased her words, "'Language of God' might end up getting the Annular Award!"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Dong Baek, the president of the Dong Baek Publishing Company, and Jang Mi, the editor-in-chief, sat opposite of each other, each looking as serious as the other. 'Language of God' had been chosen as the first Korean candidate for an international science fiction literary award. Of the five awarded categories, the novel had been chosen as a full-length candidate. Once the novel had gone through several months of evaluations and was chosen as the winner, the author would be awarded with one of the most widely recognized literary awards in the world, along with the title of being the youngest and the first Korean and Asian winner in the history of the award. "Mr. Young sounded pretty excited, too," Jang Mi said, remembering the voice she had heard during the call. However, after chuckling for only a brief time, the young author went back to being his usual self, as if the news no longer excited him. "It seems like Mr. Woo is much bolder than I thought." Yun Woo was an author with guts, which explained how he was able to write the kinds of novels he had, all with any hesitation. "He's in the middle of revising the manuscript of his upcoming novel, even after writing such an intense short story. He's a true novelist," Dong Baek said with a heavy sigh. Unlike the president of the company and the editor-in-chief, whose hearts were pounding restlessly and whose hands trembled to the point of keeping them from even picking up a glass of water, the author himself couldn't be any more at peace. "Mr. Young scares me sometimes." "I guess that's the kind of person it takes to write novels like that." "I guess so. That also has to be how an eighteen, now nineteen-year-old author was able to be chosen as a candidate for an international literary award," Jang Mi said as her face loosened up by reflex. She was ecstatic even with just the thought of the author being chosen as a candidate and, when she thought of 'Language of God,' she felt confident that it was a novel that deserved more than just the appointment. The delicate settings, the author's distinctively pure writing style, the profound content and the hard-hitting ending. Both critics and readers had recognized the novel and the significance of its mythology, along with the original languages used in the world within the novel. That a novel like that had been chosen as a candidate… Jang Mi began to grasp the unexplainable admiration and joy she had felt when she first came across the novel. 'Language of God' had been a novel worthy of such award all along. "This might sound crazy, but…" the editor-in-chief opened her mouth and said, struggling to say the words. "You don't think Mr. Young would turn down the award or anything like that, do you?" Although that was a thought that would be best left as an irrational fear, based on what the two knew about the author's personality, it was quite possible. Then, Jang Mi imagined the author. The first thing that came to her was his calm, peaceful face, mysterious and impossible to read. The author in her imagination wasn't looking at her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on his manuscript. Then, writing frantically, the author said, "I find this whole thing quite distracting, so I'd like to decline the award. I'd like to focus on writing." A chill ran down her spine. An author had rights to do things like that, and she had no right to stop him. Despite his unassuming appearance, Won Yi Young had an unyielding side to him, especially when it came to writing, and having experienced that firsthand while revising his manuscript, Jang Mi was well aware of that about the author. He tended to be quite stubborn, and it was near impossible to convince him of something, no matter how she phrased her suggestions. After all, even from Jang Mi's point of view as an editor, it made complete sense that the young author was that stubborn. And now, things were no different. To an author, writing came before awards, sales, or popularity. A good piece of writing tended to sell and grow increasingly popular, but sales and popularity weren't necessarily a reflection of quality. Therefore, if the author were to actually say what Jang Mi had imagined him saying, she would try desperately to convince him otherwise, only to end up respecting his choice in the end. And it would be no different for the president. Shaking his leg anxiously, Dong Baek said, "But, this is Annular Award we're talking about. Didn't you say it was one of the world's four major literary awards?" "Yes, but you know Mr. Woo wouldn't even flinch." "He's in the middle of revisions, isn't he? He's not writing, so he might listen." "Right? It's just an irrational fear, right?" At her question, Dong Baek hesitated for a brief moment, and the air sank into a heavy silence. Yun Woo turning the award down would be the worst possible scenario from the company's perspective. "... We're seeing him tomorrow, right?" "Yes. The reporters are surrounding the building entrance, so we'll have to go to the botanical garden." The news of Yun Woo being chosen as a candidate spread quickly. Sitting in the conference room, Jang Mi looked at the laptop placed in the middle of the desk, reading through the articles that were coming up on the internet. "He's Done It!" "Won Yi Young Finally Earns Worldwide Fame." "Won Yi Young Moves the Hearts of Men Across the Globe." Every single one had an exaggerated title, yet there was not a single person pointing that out in the comments. Everyone was ecstatic, proud, admiring and rooting for the Korean author. At the same time, they were curious and looking forward to the author getting the award. "First off, why don't we make it so that Mr. Young can't really chime in?" Dong Baek said, making a cheap suggestion. The author was nineteen. He had the mentality of a middle-aged man, but nevertheless, he was a nineteen-year-old teenager. Although Yun Woo was yet to have said anything, as president, Dong Baek had the responsibility to prepare for the worst. Once Yun Woo spoke, it would be too late. Then, without complaining, Jang Mi agreed to her boss' plan. She, too, wanted to see the book edited by her and published by her company receive an international literary award. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. "What about some party poppers? As soon as he walks in, we pop 'em." "Sounds good. Should we just burst out into tears, too, while we're at it? If Mr. Young sees us crying, he might not be so heartless toward us." Once their discussion went as far as preparing artificial tears, the two sighed out loud together. The author had no clue of what the people around him were going through, and how tricky and difficult of a person he was. --- "Congratulations, Mr. Young!" "Marvelous! I'm so proud of being your editor. I've already told all of my family and friends about it. Thought I should get it out of the way!" 'Bam! Bam!' Juho grabbed the colorful pieces of paper on his head. It was quite noisy, and for some reason, Dong Baek and Jang Mi were making a bigger fuss than usual. There was a box with cake in the president's hands, probably in celebration of the author's achievement. "Thank you," Juho said, looking at the cake, which had been placed on the table. "Should we all eat it, now?" "Oh, in here?" "Yes, of course. It might not seem like it, but we use this room as a lounge, too, so we have everything we need, like disposable chopsticks." At that, Juho rose from his seat, reached over and looked through a box that looked like a bonsai tree had been stashed in it. Then, amid all the straws, a pair of wooden chopsticks appeared. "Ta-da!" Juho said, waving his find, and the two smiled brightly. Juho observed them slowly, yet subtly. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something unnatural about their behavior. Then, thinking that sweets would help him think straight, the young author began to set up the cake on the wooden table. "This is a good cake," Juho said as the sweetness of the cream, the sponge, and the fruit spread in his mouth. "Do you like it, Mr. Young? We got it from a famous bakery," the president said, chatting up the author. Then, while eating the cake, Juho felt a burning gaze on him. "What is it?" "How do you feel? You're chosen as a candidate." At that, Juho chuckled quietly, and said, "I feel good." At his brief response, the president and the editor-in-chief locked eyes quietly. It was a more positive response than they had anticipated. However, nothing else followed. That was the extent of his happiness. "Is that it?" "What else should I be feeling?" "Well, maybe you could be looking forward to the award, or even feeling anxious." At that moment, Dong Baek tapped Jang Mi's foot under the desk, reminding her that there was no benefit in bringing anxiety into the conversation. Then, the editor-in-chief added candidly, "Or how you plan on overcoming that anxiety." "No, not really." Despite her attempts, only a bland answer came back. Then, taking his eyes off the cake, Juho looked up all of a sudden, looked at Dong Baek and said, "Speaking of which, I'd like to decline my candidacy." At that statement the two had dreaded hearing the most, their faces turned deathly pale. "... Was that what you were expecting me to say?" "... Pardon?" Juho chuckled light-heartedly. 'I knew something was off,' Juho thought. They had been worried about what he had just said. Observing the look on their faces, Juho saw both anticipation and anxiety. However, what the young author had observed even before those two emotions had been their excitement of experiencing something new. A new attempt brought about a new set of processes, and the only way to find out whether there was success or failure at the end of the path was to go all the way to the end. "I won't turn down my candidacy, so you can enjoy the moment in peace." "... You have a terrible sense of humor, Mr. Young." "I'd noticed that something was off, so I thought I should lighten things up a little." "Your perception is impressive." Although Jang Mi's eyes changed as if looking at something special, Juho was completely oblivious to it since he was occupied with eating his cake, "Besides, it's not like I'll be all that busy, either. It's the judges who are doing all the work." "That is true. You don't have to worry about getting hassled by reporters, either. If someone, we're the ones who are running around like headless chickens. Everyone's busy talking first this and first that." "People seem to be making a big fuss about it when I haven't even gotten the award yet." "Oh, you don't have to be so modest now, Mr. Young. You were chosen as a candidate out of all science fictions novels written in English. On top of that, it's your book! An Asian and Korean novel! This is huge!" Then, Jang Mi lowered her voice to a whisper, murmuring, "Speaking of which, the award tends to lean too much toward one side. They love stories that are based on the Eastern culture, yet they only consider works written in English." "Sad realities," Dong Baek said with a bitter smile. No matter how much one grumbled about it, the fact that the Annular Award was a literary award of international recognition remained unchanged. With the award, came the recognition of the entire world, as well as an astronomical boost in sales, popularity, and social status. Being an award with half a century of history, the Annular Award carried quite the weight and power. If Yun Woo, or Won Yi Young, were to win an award like that… Dong Baek cleared his throat as he felt something welling up from within. He couldn't help but imagine and look forward to it. Then, looking up at the author, he wondered, 'How can he be so calm? What a specimen! He's just as incredible as his writing.' "Well, first of all, you're gonna have to make a brief statement about your candidacy." "What statement?" "How you feel, and so on. Your readers are dying to know what you're thinking, and I'm sure that curiosity spans the globe, now." "... But I'm in the middle of revising a manuscript." 'In here? Now?' Dong Back thought, fighting desperately to keep his expression calm. "It doesn't have to be that long. You said you felt good about it, right? What if you deliver that to your readers, somehow?" "Yes, thanking and appreciating them, while you're at it," Jang Mi added. At her suggestion, Juho contemplated the idea for a brief moment. A thankful heart. A word to those who read his novels. "When do you need it by?" "There's no rush, but the sooner, the better." "... Then, I'll send it your way by the end of this week." At Juho's affirmative answer, Dong Baek thanked the young author, and after a brief thought, he asked, "In my opinion, I don't think it would be such a bad idea to update your readers on the sequel to 'Language of God.' What do you think?" A sequel. It was a topic that had been discussed at length. The readers and the editor shared a similar opinion. The readers wanted to interact with the world within the novel at a deeper level, while the editor thought that it was too early for the series to be over. Everyone wanted a sequel. However, Juho tilted his head. "I'm not sure. Nothing's set in stone yet, so that might be a little tough. I'm honestly not sure if I'd be able to write a sequel." "If you do, you mentioned at one point that you'd be talking about the past, right?" "Yes, I did." The origin of God. The mythology that One had studied and its birth. The language incomprehensible to humans and the traitor of the animals. Juho did recall wanting to discuss those things in more detail. "Well, I'm sure I'll get to it, eventually," the young author said. When the inspiration called out to him in a louder voice, only then would he respond. Then, remembering what he had heard in the past, Juho asked, "What about the interview requests that have been coming in from overseas? Are you getting them, still?" "Of course. I'm sure it'll go on for a while. Rest assured, Mr. Young. We've been turning down every single one of them." Then, at the mention of a famous broadcasting station in the US, Juho thought to himself, 'I'm sure he knows about me by now.'

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Kelley Coin," Isabella, the editor in charge of him, called out to the author in an anxious, distrusting voice. Then, a horn sounded twice in the distance. Inside the car, Coin looked ahead after looking out the window for a little while and saw his editor, whose facial expression was anything but calm. "I beg you, can we PLEASE do this without causing any trouble today?" "We never caused any trouble." "Yeah, because you were never there." At that, Coin waved his hand in denial, indicating that he no longer wanted to waste his energy in the meaningless conversation. Then, swiftly ignoring his gesture, Isabella said, "No disappearing in the middle of the event, punching, or cursing during the interview, got it?" "Sigh," Coin let out, taking a big swig of the supersized coffee in his hand, which was already half-empty. Because of the bumpy ride, the advice of his distrusting editor, and the massive hassle that was the interview, the author grew increasingly irritable. However, the biggest factor contributing to his irritable mood was Yun Woo. Coin had heard the news that the arrogant boy had been chosen as a candidate for the Annular Award. The questions in 'Language of God' were directed toward God. Along with the message of 'nothing lasts forever,' the novel portrayed an ever-changing world, and the dimensional characters living within that world who were being affected by it. With a world that consisted of facts and languages that were scientifically and historically sound, 'Language of God' appealed to the readers with its quality. It was more than good enough to be chosen as a candidate for the award. "Are you bothered by the news about Yun Woo?" Isabella asked, interfering with his thoughts. Then, his face twisted into a scowl ever so slightly, and he said, "If you already know, then be quiet." "I'm trying to talk to you BECAUSE I know. Well, what do you think? Do you think he'll win?" "Who gives a crap?! I'm sure the judges will take care of it." "I think he might." At that, Coin glanced over at Isabella, who seemed quite certain that the young author would win. "Besides, it's about time we have an Asian winner. Although, I was keeping my eyes on some of the Chinese authors, it seems like Yun Woo beat them to it." "Well, lucky for them that I was concentrating on pure literature this year," the author said, making quite a pretentious remark. However, Isabella didn't deny it since Coin was a four-time winner of the Annular Award. Then, she added, "Who was the guy that grumbled the entire time he was getting his award?" "I just couldn't stand those arrogant bastards, is all." "Don't ever say things like that during the interview." "I decide how I answer my questions." "You mean your brain." At that moment, the car came to a sudden stop. It didn't matter whether it was Yun Woo or some Chinese author who was getting on his nerves. No matter how great or massive the award was, it could never supercede a well-written piece or its author. That was just about the value Coin placed on the Annular Award. The thrill and the joy of receiving the award was all but a moment, and the trophies and medals collecting dust in the storage room in his house were proof of that. Though it drew attention, the ribbon holding the medal was bound to come untied at some point. After all, what the people who chose to read the book kept with them until the end was the book itself, and not the ribbon tied to the medal. As long as the writing stayed alive and well, the readers would always have access to the touching moments they had experienced by reading the book. "We're here," Isabella said, and the two got out of the car. --- "Hello," the author exchanged a brief greeting with the interviewer, resting his chin on his hand with his legs crossed. Camera and lights. Couch and rug. As if he had expected it, the interviewer paid no attention to the author's attitude and prepared for taping. As his premonition told him that the interview was going to be long and tedious, the author drank his coffee from the cup he had filled ahead of time. Then, when he looked toward a camera, he saw his editor, Isabella, standing behind it, narrowing her eyes and mouthing words at him. He had no interest in what she was trying to tell him. "Kelley, it took a while to have you sitting on that couch," the interviewer said, sounding slightly excited. Then, Coin nodded his head with indifference. "Yes, because I didn't want to be here." At the author's edgy remark, the interviewer laughed, and Isabella's brow furrowed. "I guess we can't always live our lives the way we want to, even somebody like you." "That's a big misunderstanding. I'm getting off this atrocious-looking couch the second I realize that this interview is not worth my time." "Oh, no. We can't let that happen, can we? I'll do my absolute best." With the author's edgy sense of humor, the set grew clamorous. Then, at the director's signal, the set sank back into silence. With a formal, opening phrase, the interviewer led the interview in the direction of Kelley's works. The most recent. The biggest hits. The most memorable and some well-known anecdotes. Questions followed after questions, showing the interviewer's will to get as much about the author's life out of him as possible. Understanding an author's life was an incredibly helpful tool in interpreting their work. The interviewer dug deeper into the author's life and upbringing, including environments or people he had been influenced by, as well as authors of the past and the present who could have shaped Coin as an author. Then, leaving out the core of the answers to those questions, Coin kept spewing out pieces information as if luring the interviewer into distraction, drawing the interview further away from important truths. It was subtle, yet crafty. "Recently, there was a time when you became the target of criticism, and your career stalled a bit as a result. Needless to say, you managed to overcome it like a champion. Was that when you visited Korea?" "Yes, that happened. Frankly, those criticisms had no effect on me. Those who are generous to themselves while being merciless toward others are not worth listening to. They're kind of like a crying baby. Feed me. Change my diapers. When in reality, they're just after what's convenient for them. No matter what kind of image others put on me and my work, my work will never change. It'll always stay the way it was printed," Coin said, filtering his words as much as possible to avoid any harsh, offensive statements. Although the look on his editor's face didn't look any better, the interviewer continued with his question, "So, what brought you to that country?" "I wanted to meet this one author who'd been on my mind. So, I visited him, making a vacation out of it while I was at it. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that I met him while I was on a trip," Coin said, adding the latter half in a hurry. "And who was this author who'd been on your mind?" The answer was not a difficult one. "Yun Woo." At that name, the filming staff responded with excitement, and the interviewer also nodded affirmingly. "He's one of the authors chosen as a candidate for this year's Annular Award, but there was news of him long before that. His skill and potential as an author defy his age. Well, what do you think, Kelley? How was he like in person?" "He was just a kid who spoke decent English." "What was that?" the interviewer asked for him to repeat. At which point, Coin added, "I never made plans to meet with him. I mean, I was already in Korea before my publishers even found out. Then, when I got there, I found myself in desperate need of coffee, so I just asked a random pedestrian to take me to my favorite coffee shop, and it just so happened that pedestrian was the person I came across at the company building of the publishers responsible for translating my books in Korea." "Wait, hold on. You mean, that was Yun Woo?" "Yes." The interviewer was fascinated by the author's story. "So, what you're saying is that you ran into Yun Woo without even knowing, right? Did Yun Woo know that you were Kelley Coin?" "Of course." "Right, obviously. Haha, man, this is incredible!" Then, the interviewer moved on to asking about how the author came to request that Yun Woo become his translator. "I told them to let Yun Woo take the gig if the spot was still open," Coin said, giving the interviewer a brief summary of what had happened. From then on, the interviewer attempted to get more out of the author, but to no avail. "What does Yun Woo look like? Of course, I'm aware of how strange and ridiculous I sound when I ask this, but I gotta know." "He was a person, with a pair of eyes and a nose." "Were you ever invited to his home or anything?" "No." "Has Yun Woo ever visited the States?" "How should I know?" In the end, the interviewer put both of his hands up as a gesture of surrender. "But it seems like you still recognize Yun Woo for his language skills, am I right?" "Enough to write 'Language of God.'" "And clearly, he had the skills to translate your book. So, there's a reason for everyone to call him a genius." Then, the interviewer asked light-heartedly, "Did you ever feel threatened by him?" At his question, the corner of the author's mouth twitched by reflex. "Threatened? How would that be possible? Writing is not a competition." "But I'm sure you felt like there was somebody else better than you at some point. No, writing is not a competition, but it's not limited to the writer alone, either. As you share your work with other people, you find yourself getting jealous of your colleagues." "Is that from experience?" "Of course! Interviews are not competitions either, but I get envious of my colleagues all the time." "Haha. You must have forgotten it while we were talking about Yun Woo, but I believe the person you're supposed to be interviewing is me, Kelley Coin. If I thought my writing fell short of Yun Woo's, I wouldn't have had the time to spare on some interview." At the author's edgy attitude, Isabella waved her hand, gesturing him to take a deep breath. However, when Coin ignored her altogether, the editor went over to one of the staff members and started talking to them. She had to be asking them to be mindful of the questions they were asking. Usually, when Coin met with an experienced interviewer, things like that happened frequently. Then, in order to adjust the flow of the interview, the interviewer asked another question, "What kind of conversations did you guys have?" "Hm. About paprika and unicorns." Although the interviewer's eyes narrowed as a gesture of confusion, the author didn't change his answer. "So, are paprika and unicorns primarily what you guys talked about?" "We talked about alcoholism, primarily." "In that case, I figure that it wouldn't have been much of a conversation since only one of you could speak on the subject." "I have no intention of sounding like a broken record here, but I'd like to say that it wasn't half bad." Then, after raising a mug in order to quench the thirst, the interviewer sat up and looked straight at the author. "So, what was Yun Woo's opinion of you?" How did Yun Woo feel about Kelley Coin? Jealous? Inferior? Perhaps he snickered arrogantly? Coin gave no answer, and the interview immediately caught on to the reason for his silence. "Did he ever tell you?" "No," Coin said, immersing himself in thought. He knew nothing about what Yun Woo thought of him. He had never bothered to ask, and Yun Woo would never give an answer to a question that had yet to be asked. Even when the young author met him, Yun Woo had pretended not to know him. Then, the interviewer's question began to stir up interest in Coin's mind. What did Yun Woo think of him, the author Kelley Coin? Coin had been conscious of Yun Woo to the point of visiting him all the way in Korea, but what about Yun Woo? "Maybe I should ask." "Pardon?" "Why don't we ask him, right now?" At that, the interviewer's mind worked busily, thinking, 'Did he just…' "Now, where was my phone?" Coin said, suggesting that he was going to call the young author. The anonymous, mysterious Yun Woo. It was that very author that Coin was looking to call. Then, with their eyes wide, the interviewer locked eyes with someone from the staff standing behind the camera, who also had a nervous look about him. The interviewer's blue eyes moved as busily as his mind in order to seize the opportunity, while Isabella was giving the author an appalled look. The only person who was calm and indifferent on set was Kelley Coin. "Uh…" the interviewer let out, but just as quickly, closed their mouth. 'There has to be a significant time difference between here and Korea. Can we really call him like this? Did anybody get permission from Yun Woo?' Although the questions traveled all the way up to the interviewer's throat, he managed to swallow them. If that opportunity were to be lost, the interviewer felt like he would lose many nights of sleep in regret. Click. A faint sound came from the receiver of the phone next to Coin's ear. At that, Coin answered, and everyone on set listened quietly. "Hey, what do you think of me?" There was a response to the author's absurd question, but unfortunately, it wasn't very audible. Although the interviewer felt the urge to place a microphone next to the receiver of Coin's phone, he couldn't dare take the phone away from the author. The staff on set moved busily in order to capture Yun Woo's voice, and after a few sentences, Coin said, "Me? I'm in the middle of an interview."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Do you have any idea of what time it is here?" "No clue," the confident voice sounded from the receiver of Juho's phone. Then, chuckling, Juho accepted the situation, thinking, 'At least he doesn't know.' "Any time, now," Coin rushed the young author for an answer. Having answered the phone while he was still half asleep, Juho remembered hearing Coin asking a strange question in English: "What do you think of me?" Then, rubbing his eyes, Juho asked, "Well, what are you doing right now?" "Me? I'm in the middle of an interview." "... Am I dreaming?" In which case, it had to be a nightmare. 'If I am dreaming, shouldn't I be flying or something, at least?' Juho asked himself while his body only felt heavier. As if that wasn't enough, Coin's coarse voice murmured through the receiver, "Who gives damn? Answer the damn question and go back to bed." "... You're in the middle of an interview, huh? Oh, are you on break?" "No, the cameras are rolling." "... Are you sure you're calling the right person? Maybe you misdialed some other colleague you're close to." "I don't have a colleague I'm close to." "Hahaha." Juho had no choice but to accept the situation. The person on the other end of the line was, indeed, Kelley Coin, who was being interviewed on the other side of the planet and who, for some reason, was calling the young author with no regard for him. 'I'm sure the cameras are still rolling.' It was something Kelley Coin was more than capable of doing. "Your interview's not going live, is it?" "Nope." No broadcasting station would have the guts to air Kelley Coin's interview live. First off, Juho got out of bed and turned the light on. Then, he picked up the cup of water from his desk and drank it in order to wake himself up. "So, you were asking what I think of you?" "Yeah. What do you think of me as an author?" "I look up to you." "Bullshit," Coin said, immediately doubting Juho's answer. Then, resisting his urge to yawn, Juho added, "I mean it. The number of works you've published alone impresses me." "What else?" Coin asked shamelessly. Though briefly thinking about hanging up, Juho was afraid that the ill-tempered author would fly to Korea just to punish him personally. "Why aren't you saying anything?" "I'm still half asleep. Cut me some slack, will ya?" Kelley Coin, an internationally recognized author. Although Juho had barely been chosen as a candidate for the Annular Award, Coin had won the award four times throughout his career. On top of his indiscrimination toward genre, he was a fierce writing fanatic. Despite his notorious temper, there were countless people who were desperate to interview him, as well as those who wanted more of his books. Juho happened to be one of those people and, from author to another, Juho looked up to him quite a bit. After having immersed in thought, Juho opened his mouth and said, "So, it occurred to me while I was translating your novel." "Go on." Juho had realized deep down. "You're, seriously, an incredible writer." "..." Unlike usual, Coin remained silent. Then, while the young author blinked his tired eyes, the voice on the other end of the line suddenly exploded into laughter. Juho had never heard Coin laugh before, and the sound of it woke him right up. "That was the most pathetic opinion of me I've ever heard." How unfortunate. "That's unfortunate. Well, ya happy?" "Yeah." "Also, I'm wide awake now, thanks to you," Juho said, opening the window. As a cold breeze rushed into his room, the situation dawned on him, enabling him to imagine the look on the faces of the filming crew on the set. "Well, what are you gonna do about this? Thanks to you, I ended up revealing my voice." "Don't worry about that. I'll tell them to edit it out," Coin said, and Juho heard a commotion break out in the background. Amid all the voices talking over each other, Juho heard what sounded like Isabella's voice. The commotion went on for a while, which only made sense. "Hey, Coin?" Juho called to the author on the phone, and Coin answered with a slight annoyance in his voice. "Well?" he asked briefly, but with the certainty that Juho would know the situation he was in. The filming crew wanted to hear Yun Woo's voice, while Coin, himself, was waiting for an answer from the mysterious, young author. If Juho were to refuse, Coin wouldn't allow the filming crew to keep a recording of Yun Woo's voice, even if that meant the ill-tempered author had to break the cameras into pieces. Then, feeling the cold wind rushing in through the window, Juho looked at his desk, where the thank-you message for his readers for the publishing company lay. 'Maybe I should just read it out loud while I'm at it,' Juho thought as he paused briefly in the middle of the conversation with Coin. "All right. It's just my voice." At the young author's answer, the commotion grew even louder. And after a little while, another voice, speaking in an accent Juho wasn't familiar with, sounded from the receiver of his phone, introducing himself as Kelley Coin's interviewer. The excitement in his voice was quite noticeable. "Yes, hello. Yun Woo speaking." "Oh, my! I can't believe I'm actually talking to you! Uh, would you mind if I asked a few questions?" "Sure, not too many, though." "I'm sure it's quite late there, so I won't take up too much of your time," the interviewer said, speaking faster and faster. Then, searching desperately for meaningful questions, he dragged on for some time, all the while adding that he had read the young author's books. "Your stories were just beautiful. The popularity of your books, especially in this country, is an anomaly in and of itself. Are you aware of this?" "Yes, so I've been told by my agency." "In my opinion, the one thing people pay the closest attention and are most impressed by in 'Language of God' is the language. Even linguistics experts acknowledged that they were linguistically sound. Now, I must ask, did you actually create them? There weren't any other experts involved in the process?" "Yes," Juho answered briefly. Then, after a brief silence, the interviewer asked again to confirm, "Does that mean there was nobody else involved in the writing process of the novel?" "That's correct. I never sought outside help in the construction of the language while writing 'Language of God.' Although, the languages that are used within the novel are all languages based on languages that already exist throughout the world, so from a very broad perspective, it wouldn't be an understatement to say that I received help from the all of humanity." "... Wow," the interviewer let out quietly and moved on to the next question, "Are you really eighteen?" It was a question the young author was all too familiar with. However, he was never asked the question in an official manner. Then, chuckling quietly, Juho said, "Yes, I am." At his brief answer, the interviewer grew silent once again. Then, he filled the gap with his own voice. "So, this is about 'Language of God.' You're currently a candidate for the Annular Award in the full-length novel category. If you were to win this award, it would make you the youngest and the first Asian winner of a literary award of international recognition with more than half a century of history. How did you feel when you first heard the news?" "I was happy." "Was that it?" "Hm. Well, when I got the news, I was in the middle of something, and I was also dealing with an important matter. In any case, other people decide who gets the award, so there was no need for me to do anything else." "... I have so many questions to ask you. If you were sitting in front of me, I would have asked at least twenty more questions, back to back. But, I'll save you the trouble and ask you one more. What was more important than the news about being chosen for one of the four major, internationally recognized, science fiction literary awards? That is, the Annular Award?" "Uh, I won't get in trouble for saying this, will I? I was working on a manuscript back then, which is currently being revised." "... Which means?" "I can't say when, but it means I'll be coming out with another book." "I heard that you published a short story in Korea recently and I heard lots of great things about it." "Yes, it was well received, thankfully, but it didn't keep me from writing." After the latter half of the young author's answer, what sounded like a faint sigh came from the receiver. "Speaking of which, I'm in the middle of working on a thank you message for my readers. I accepted your request because I thought I might as well thank and show my appreciation toward them in person. Is that OK?" "Oh, yes! Of course!" Then, clearing his throat and putting pressure into his abdomen, Juho said in Korean, "To all readers of my books, I thank you from the bottom of my heart." At that, the interviewer knew by instinct that the young author was making a closing statement. Then, after a brief goodbye, the phone was returned to Coin's hands, and after telling Juho to go to sleep, he hung up. At which point, Juho stared intently at the phone in his hand for a little while, turned off the light, and went back to bed. --- "Yun Woo's making an appearance." James, a high school English teacher in Korea, heard the shocking news from his friend who had recently become a Yun Woo fan. And it was that Yun Woo that would be making an appearance in the interview of the internationally recognized author Kelley Coin. The station that carried out the interview had advertised the news extensively, and the crew that was present at the taping of the interview testified the truth. Accurate information regarding Yun Woo was difficult to come by because the young author never spoke first. After being chosen as a contestant of an internationally recognized literary award, the media overseas began to take interest in the young author. Articles claiming that they attempted to contact him directly were among the most common, and the ones that reported their failure to reach the author were even more common. However, thanks to Kelley Coin, the mysterious author had managed to take one step forward toward the rest of the world. James waited anxiously for the show to come up on the internet. Although it wasn't time for the broadcast yet, the comments had started going rampant as early as ten minutes before showtime. People who logged in to watch Kelley Coin's interview and people who logged in to hear Yun Woo's voice were mingling together in one massive group, and there were even those who introduced themselves as Koreans, some even typing in Hangul. No matter what their intentions for logging on, everyone on the website was a literature and book lover. "Finally." The show finally came on. Since it was an interview, the atmosphere was quite serious. Kelley Coin and the interviewer were on set, sitting opposite of each other. And focusing on the two people in turn, the camera captured and aired their conversation. "Among your novels, I like 'The Pearl Earrings' the most." "What else is new?" Coin said, nodding indifferently at what was meant to be a compliment toward him. Those who had even a remote interest in Anglo-American literature knew who Kelley Coin was, and among those who knew him, there was not a single person who didn't know about his less-than-pleasant temper. The author had a history of ruining countless events and interviews, and Yun Woo's appearance aside, his fans weren't expecting any different from the interview. Using the phone in the middle of the interview had obviously been an accident. "Paprika and unicorn." The interview continued in an edgy, yet serene atmosphere. While listening to Coin, the interviewer managed to make risky moves when taunting the author while making sure that things didn't get out of hand, and Coin, too, respected those boundaries. He was never in the habit of running, but reacting. When taunted, the author taunted back, and when the other person let up, Coin also didn't come after them. Coin wasn't the one who grew tired in that type of dynamic. Then, James looked away from the show for a little while and looked through the comments, which were filled by fans waiting anxiously for Yun Woo's appearance. "Maybe I should ask," Coin responded to the interviewer on screen and took out his phone. He was planning on asking the young author directly, and the interviewer was clearly caught off guard by Coin's unexpected move. At the same time, the interviewer looked as though he had been gifted an opportunity. It was clear that he had a lot to say, but he also seemed determined to save all questions for when he heard the young author's voice. James was well acquainted with what the interviewer was feeling in that moment. Then, when he listened intently, what sounded like Yun Woo's voice came ever so faintly out of the speaker. "No clue," Coin said, overpowering Yun Woo's faint voice with ease. Then, in order to get a better listen, James turned the volume up all the way, only to hear the murmurs coming from the receiver of Coin's phone. The set was in a state of panic due to the unexpected situation, but paying no attention to the commotion around him, Coin focused on his conversation with the young author on his phone. Then, after a little while, three people who seemed to be part of the filming crew and a woman came into the frame, growing restless while surrounding Coin. Then, the woman said, "You know... You're really creative in the way you get yourself into trouble, you know that?" However, the troublemaker paid no attention to his editor, continuing on with his conversation with Yun Woo. Then, to James' surprise, the author burst into laughter out of nowhere, and James doubted what he was seeing and hearing. Kelley Coin was laughing.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl The sight of the notorious author laughing came as a shock to many. Kelly Coin laughing out loud, cheerfully and heartily at that. Of course, with the author being human, viewers were fully aware that he had to be capable of laughing, but the celebrity on screen was none other than Kelley Coin himself. He had never laughed like that in an official setting before, always wearing his usual humdrum and crabby expression. At the sight of the author known for his lack of joy laughing, the interviewer mustered up some courage to ask him a question, "Would it be possible for us to have a word with him?" It was an invitation for the young author on the other end of the line of the notorious author's phone, and an apparent annoyance appeared on Coin's face. Then, there was a brief pause after the author asked Yun Woo for his thoughts. Despite already expecting a negative result, the interviewer couldn't help but feel nervous. "Here," the author said, handing his phone over to the interviewer. While ecstatic looks appeared on the faces of the filming crew and the officials, the author's editor appeared as though she was ready to give up at any given minute. The atmosphere on the set transferred directly, and vividly, to the viewers. Then, the interviewer greeted the young author on the phone, trying to suppress his nervousness. "Yes, hello. Yun Woo speaking." At that moment, James heard the voice of the ever so mysterious author, Yun Woo. Calm and peaceful. Yun Woo was real, and now he existed within the viewers. "Are you really eighteen?" "Yes, I am." James listened the young author's voice with intense concentration. The comments were running amok, his hand was tensing up, and his heart beating out of control. The teacher was able to connect with the emotions of the people commenting on the video. Then, James placed his hands on the keyboard in order to write a comment himself, but soon, retracted them out of fear that it might disrupt him from hearing the young author's voice. Looking down and seeing that the hairs on his arms were standing, James asked himself, 'Why is this such an emotional experience?' It had to be that he was familiar with the voice, somehow. He had heard that voice somewhere. 'Did I meet him without even knowing, or am I just going crazy?' There was no way to know, yet he was having a hair-raising experience. Hearing his voice, James couldn't help but feel overwhelming joy, as if he had gotten his hands on a clue that would help him find a criminal. It was a remarkable moment. "Uh, I won't get in trouble for saying this, will I? I was working on a manuscript back then, which is currently being revised." At that moment, James looked up at the sound of the perfect combination of words at the end of the sentence. What did the young, genius author just say? The heartbreaking shout of the short story, 'River,' was still quite raw within the readers' hearts. Everyone expected the young author to go on a long hiatus, and James, too, recalled having sad thoughts about having to wait for at least a year before the author came back with a new book. "... Which means?" While the veteran interviewer locked eyes with Coin, unable to hold back his excitement, Yun Woo said in a calm tone of voice, "I can't say when, but it means I'll be coming out with another book." "My God," James let out, his mouth parted open. Then, resisting the urge to shout for joy, he concentrated on Yun Woo's voice. At that point, Coin was looking fiercely at the interviewer's hand. "... but it didn't keep me from writing." The interviewer let out a chuckle. Then, without any concern, Yun Woo continued, moving on to a thank you message. The reason that he had revealed his voice had been for his readers, and his readers only. "... I thank you from the bottom of my heart," the young author said in Korean. It was a phrase that the English teacher had heard countless times from his students, coworkers, and employees at stores. Yet, never had there been a time when he had been so moved by it like at present. While he was in a daze, Yun Woo vanished into the distance, and even after Coin hung up his phone, the interview went on. "This is unbelievable! Oh, my! Oh, God." "Why don't we calm down and move on to my interview?" "Yes, right. But… Haha! Oh, such specimen. I like him even more after hearing his answers. Man!" "... Well, that was a mistake," Coin said, his face going back to his usual, crabby expression. However, everyone remembered his laughter vividly. From then on, the remainder of the interview after the phone call with Yun Woo was all but background noise. As the mysterious author's voice lingered in James' ears, he asked himself, 'Where did I hear that voice? Where?' In hopes of finding a clue to his question, James looked to the comments. "Seems like there are at least ten thousand people asking the same thing." He felt his strength leaving his body upon seeing the overwhelming number of comments saying that they were doubting their neighbors or sons, or flat out claiming to be Yun Woo. Then, realizing that he had been mistaken, James let out a heavy sigh. 'Of course I haven't met him.' Considering how many eighteen-year-olds lived on Earth, and how many of them lived in the small country called South Korea, it was highly unlikely that James could have met the author. Then, feeling a void in his heart, he placed his hands on his keyboard in order to join his fellow Yun Woo fans in the comments. "Oh.My.God. I finally heard Yun Woo's voice!" "Is he really eighteen, though? How does an eighteen-year-old Korean speak English that fluently? I mean, listen to his pronunciations." "His voice is really charming. I'm sure he looks just as good as he sounds." "I agree." "What if we're just getting our hopes up?" "Even if he looks like a troll, I'd be fine with it. Any guys who can write like him is my type." "Even Yun Woo?" "I've been listening to his voice on repeat because I love it so much. Especially the part where he talks in Korean." "He does have a really good voice. His enunciation, his English. They're all good. Love me some Yun Woo." "Man, look at him go, talking to the interviewer in English! That must be the kind of author it takes to write a novel like 'Language of God.'" "If anything, the person who was freaking out was the interviewer. His face when answering the phone was the exact look on my face. Thought his eyes were gonna pop out." "I didn't even breath trying to hear Yun Woo's voice." "I didn't even swallow." "Love what he said at the end. He never forgets about his readers." "If I were in his position, I'd be so occupied with tooting my own horn. I salute you, Yun Woo." "I read his thank you letter on Zelkova's website. It was so genuine. The moment you realize that it was written by the same hands that wrote 'River,' you're in for a-whole-nother experience." "Can't believe how modest he is even though he is so young and successful. It blows my mind how calm his responses were to an interview request that came out of nowhere. I can relate to the interviewer and how impressed he was. I'm a fan of the author, now, and I believe wholeheartedly in his existence. I won't take comments that accuse him seriously anymore. For those who haven't heard his voice, I suggest you do." "Did you see Kelley Coin laughing? I don't think I'd ever seen him do that." "Yet, Yun Woo does it again. I knew it from the time he took up that translation gig. They must be close to each other. I can't even imagine how they would be like as friends." "Coin's notorious for his temper, and he's known to storm out of official events. It's a well-known fact that even the publishers try to avoid getting associated with him. But I gotta admit, never knew the guy had it in him to laugh like that." "He's famous for breaking a journalist's nose for criticizing his book." "I wonder what Yun Woo said to make somebody like Coin laugh like that? Who is Yun Woo really, anyway?" "Maybe he cracked a joke?" "What joke?" "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking." "Like, an American joke?" "Yun Woo cracking jokes with Coin." "Holy cow, man. With Kelly Coin?" "I gotta shed some light on the bomb that Yun Woo just dropped during the phone call. If there's a manuscript that's being revised, that means he's coming out with a new book soon, right? I'm not going crazy, am I? I really hope I'm not hearing things and telling myself a really elaborate lie." "There will never be another author like Yun Woo in my lifetime." "Honestly, I can't help but be concerned for him. Isn't he pushing too hard? One can't simply write like that." "I think it only makes sense, considering how fast his books have been coming out. He's being his usual self. Besides, he has such a strong mind that even the Annular Award isn't enough to faze him." "Yun Woo is now, officially, a prolific writer. The amount of writing prolific writers do is beyond our imagination. I mean, just look at Stephen King. He's published well over two hundred pieces throughout his career, and I don't have to mention how successful a lot of them were. Yes, prolific writers don't always write good books, but that doesn't mean they only write bad ones, either." "I second that. If you watch clips of his interviews, there are stacks and stacks of unpublished manuscripts in his workstation." "I mean, we'll have to wait and see until the book actually comes out, but I do understand the concern. A genius author and his insatiable hunger for writing." "I hope he writes something like 'River' again." "I can't even imagine how much pressure he's feeling, but apparently, he's already written another novel. Yun Woo, you crazy rascal, you." "The interview is getting a massive number of views even though Yun Woo only talks for like three minutes out of the entire time." "Did anyone see this? There's this dude screaming that Yun Woo's the best writer in the world. He lost some bet, apparently?" "What is this?" "Oh yeah. I know this video. He cries while eating a burger later into the clip." "Yun Woo!" --- "Oh, boy. So, Yun Woo finally revealed his voice." While looking through the edits in the manuscript, Nam Kyung looked toward the voice coming from next to him. It was Mr. Maeng, who had already seen the interview. "People are going crazy, aren't they?" "Yep. Not only in Korea, but in other countries, too. Mr. Woo's one of the most talked about authors these days. Besides, the timing is just impeccable. Kelley Coin of all people?! I'm telling you, nothing fazes Mr. Woo." "Thanks to that interview, people who didn't know Yun Woo are starting to take interest." Because of Yun Woo's association with Kelley Coin, the foreigners who knew nothing about the author from a tiny country in Asia began to take interest in him. Yun Woo had the unmistakable quality of a star, making even those who don't read regularly pick up his books out of sheer curiosity from his accomplishments. It wasn't a bad phenomenon. No matter what made people read a book, whether it was the cover design, the title, or the name of the author, the fact that they were coming to read it was enough to be deemed a success. After all, there weren't many who would forget about Yun Woo after reading his books. "Mr. Woo speaks quite well, especially when it came to the questions about the candidacy." The young author had been chosen as a candidate for the Annular Award. After his coworker's remark, Nam Kyung smiled cheerfully, and said, "Even being chosen as a candidate is already half the success. Yun Woo's gonna be an international author, and nobody's going to be able to speak badly of him. On top of that, we've been having to print additional copies of 'Trace of a Bird' and 'Sound of Wailing.'" All preconceived notions about the young author would be overshadowed by the international literary award. The massive attention the author received had nothing to do with his age or the age he debuted. It was his writing. His skill. The literary value of it all. "Although, there are bound to be haters who hate for no apparent reason." "It really depends on how Mr. Woo does things from now on. There have been authors in the past who fell away around the same place in their careers." "These authors, they're delicate people." Interpreting and analyzing the emotions coming into them, authors tended to capture every single thing they were feeling. Whether it was regret or despair, they brooded on their feelings until they felt satisfied, all for the sake of writing. It was on manuscripts like that that Nam Kyung had been drawing red lines across. Despite the pain and suffering that had gone into writing a novel, there always existed room for improvement because novels were made by human hands. "I really hope the new novel does well," Mr. Maeng said, and pushing up his glasses, Nam Kyung answered, "You know what I think about the most while editing Mr. Woo's manuscript?" "... What?" Mr. Maeng asked, looking like he had a vague idea. "I shouldn't be reading the book. I need to be editing it." When he had Yun Woo's manuscript in his hands, he couldn't help but read it over and over again. Immersed in the content completely, he frequently lost sight of places to edit or of typos, even while he was scanning through it before he started editing. The young author's writing had a charm that kept making readers of it come back for more. "So, let's not worry about things that don't really matter to us at the moment, and let's focus on the task in front of us." Then, after checking the time, Nam Kyung rose from his seat. "Are you going out?" "I'm meeting with reporters for a meal." Mr. Maeng looked at him packing his things. Then, feeling his coworker's gaze on him, Nam Kyung said, "We're officially announcing Yun Woo's new book today." "Oh, wow," Mr. Maeng let out with a faint sense of excitement and weariness. As a fellow editor, he had been dealing with the massive amount of inquiries flooding the office. Thanks to the bomb the young author had dropped without even a warning, the fans have been running amok, anxious to know more about the new book. In the end, after a discussion, the publishing company had decided to make an official announcement regarding Yun Woo's new book. "We haven't even designed a cover for it, yet." "If we keep our mouths shut, though, our phones and website won't be able to handle the traffic. Anyway, break a leg." With his coworker's insincere blessings, Nam Kyung stepped out of the company building.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl From a purely aesthetic point of view, Yun Woo's books were beautiful. From the curves to the lines and angles, everything was perfect, pleasing to the eye, and impressive. Among the many aspects of the books that contributed to their beauty, what stood out the most were the cover arts, which were designed by the designer responsible for all of the cover arts of the books published by Zelkova, Jung Eun Kong. Working late into the night, Jung Eun had been looking into the monitor in the office, alone. The screen was filled with news of Yun Woo's upcoming book, 'Sublimation.' As an author, there was no way Yun Woo would be unaware of how 'River' had been received. However, the author kept writing as if none of it mattered. Yun Woo was coming back with a new book a lot sooner than she had expected, and just like the previous book, she was working on Nam Kyung's request for cover designs, which she had taken up gladly. After reading the book, the designer came up with different designs accordingly. Then, the samples were sent to the publishing company. Once again, she was designing a cover that would be wrap around a Yun Woo book. When designing for Yun Woo's books, Jung Eun tended to focus on the content of the book in order to think of a design that would allow people to get an idea of its overall atmosphere. Designing a cover also came with a lot of contemplation and decision making. What is the author trying to say? What are the goals of the characters? Whether she chose to go in a direction that accentuated what the story emphasized even more or in a direction that encompassed the story. Whether she chose to blatantly expose the message being conveyed by the story or to hide it. No matter what the decision was, she couldn't afford to overlook her choices. There was a difference between charming people and deceiving them. "Sigh," she let out, dropping her head. Yun Woo's fans were in the middle of celebrating the news of his upcoming book, filled with joy that they got to see yet another book from their favorite author. Normally, Jung Eun would be one of them, working busily with a sense of superiority in her heart that came from knowing that she had access to Yun Woo's novel before anyone else. However, something wasn't right. The despair she was feeling was quite out of place. Although wrestling for an idea was an everyday task for her, she had never felt so lost in the past. At least, not in a very long time. Jung Eun looked at Yun Woo's manuscript on her desk. 'Sublimation.' It had a good vibe to it and it stirred up a sense of anticipation. Yun Woo's writing had always been able to satisfy the readers who had longed for his books. That was, until she reached the very end of the story. Although the ending itself wasn't strange by any means, it came to her as a shock, as if she had been hit in the back of her head. It was completely unexpected. Although it was an ending that betrayed its readers while they had been busy figuring out who the culprit was, a sense of admiration welled up before that of betrayal. She felt overwhelmed by the conclusion that was far beyond all expectations. On top of that, the ending yielded a rather bizarre reading experience. It was immersive, and as all of the characters became one in the novel, she, too, was among them. She felt as if sinking into the book's sludgy and damp atmosphere. Then, by the time she came out of it, there was nothing left. Nothing. It left her clueless as to how she should proceed about designing its cover. It was hard to decipher the central message of the novel. Fire, the arsonist, firefighter, growth, narrator, doubt, innocence, the culprit, subject. Everything was in a jumbled mess, unable to find their places. It was like a labyrinth, and she, a competitor who had misunderstood the rules of the game. Everything felt foreign. Covering her head with her hands, she let out with a sigh, "OK. First, an image that has to do with fire." After all, she had work to do. Being lost didn't mean that she could dwell in cluelessness and give up. At the same time, she knew, by instinct, that whatever was about to come out would be less than satisfying. Staring into the bright monitor, which was the only light source in the entire office, Jung Eun typed "Yun Woo" on the search window. News of his new book. His voice. Interview. Kelley Coin. Then, after only a few clicks, she played the video of Kelley Coin's recent interview, which she had watched at least thirty times. Everyone was waiting desperately for Yun Woo's new book, and that meant she didn't have much time. She had to design a cover that would fit his writing well. Yet, she was still clueless, and remained so for quite a while longer. Then, the video came to an end, and a car's horn sounded from outside, followed by a siren and shouts from unknown sources. As a final touch, a dog's bark. "Maybe I should ask," she said. She had to reach out for inspiration, and she was in desperate need of hearing the author's voice. Then, she made up her mind to give Nam Kyung a call upon sunrise and ask for some face-to-face time with the author. "If he says no, then I'll at least ask for his email address," Jung Eun said, her eyes sparkling with dangerous determination. "I hate to tell you, but Mr. Woo declined." At Nam Kyung's answer, the designer froze in her place. It was more painful that she had thought. While she clasped her chest, she took a deep breath, and seeing as though she wasn't taking it well, Nam Kyung opened his mouth while wearing a concerned look on his face. Then, Jung Eun waved her hand, gesturing that she was OK. "Then, can I have his email address, at least? If you want my design in time, you have to help me with that." "Hm." As the editor hesitated, Jung Eun began to wonder if she was asking for too much. The person she was trying to meet was Yun Woo, the anonymous, genius author. It was the mysterious author she was daring to meet with her attempts, and she couldn't afford to let up. There was work to be done. Bills needed to be paid. And most of all, she was responsible for her work. Besides, if she were to be frank, she was desperate to meet her favorite author. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Although she wasn't explicit about it, she was growing quite anxious. Then, Nam Kyung said, "I'm sorry. I can't give you that information, either." It was hill after hill. At that moment, an image of Yun Pil, the arrogant and unlikeable character in the Dr. Dong series came up in her mind. "Mr. Woo seems to be completely oblivious to the importance of…" That time, Nam Kyung raised his hand, and Jung Eun stopped talking with her mouth still open. "Mr. Woo prefers the phone as his primary source of communication." As the editor's words registered in her mind, Jung Eun closed her mouth. A phone call with Yun Woo. It was a much greater yield than an email. Then, covering her mouth, the designer nodded repeatedly. There was something inherently different about an author who consistently wrote amazing novels. Then, unable to control her excitement, the designer said, "Yeah, that makes sense. I never thought I'd be able to see him so easily because I have the ability to portray the image that resides in my head onto paper at my disposal. Even if Mr. Woo was wary of me, I would have nothing to say." "No, that's not it," Nam Kyung said emphatically while his glasses shone. "Mr. Woo's not that serious." "Pardon?" "The reason he prefers to talk on the phone is that he watched a spy movie last night." "... A spy movie?" "Yes. He wanted to experience what it was like to talk to someone without knowing their face, indirectly. He also said that it was not every day that he got to do something like this. The way I see it, I'm sure he'll apply the experience to his novel, somehow," Jung Eun was doubting what she had just heard. What the editor had just told her was that the anonymous, genius author offered a phone call as the main source of communication for a reason that had nothing to do with keeping his identity hidden, but instead, to keep her identity hidden. After thinking of words to describe her feelings for a little while, she gave up and asked, "What's Mr. Woo like as a person?" As Nam Kyung moved his head, Jung Eun saw his eyes behind his shiny glasses. "I'm not sure," the editor said, handing a piece of paper over to her. As soon as she took it from his hand, Jung Eun checked what was written on it. Along with that day's date and a time that would come in thirty minutes, there was the name of a place she was also familiar with. "What is this?" "This is the process you'll have to go through in order to speak with Yun Woo on the phone." With that, Nam Kyung rose from his seat and asked, "Shall we?" Feeling both impressed and slightly confused, the designer packed her belongings and prepared for what had to be the most unique meeting. The place they were headed to was in front of a payphone booth on the street, which was about a ten minute walk from the office. The town office was only a few steps away from the booth, and across that, was a convenience store, which was next to another convenience store of a different brand. Because the place was near her work, she was quite familiar with the area, but she had no recollection of ever using the payphone. Jung Eun had a vague memory of standing in line to use the payphone, of which she also remembered waiting anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. During a time where there was no way to talk to someone else without seeing them in person, there had been no other way to communicate with others. Since then, times had changed, and even the booth had a different look to it. It was much better-looking than before, and it was also designed to be used as a shelter in times of danger. However, nobody cared to use it. A car zoomed quickly past the other side of the booth, without regard or hesitation. Then, as Nam Kyung entered the booth first, Jung Eun knew by instinct that that was where they were going to be talking to Yun Woo. After sliding his card into the phone, Nam Kyung punched in the PIN, and then the phone number. Whether he was calling Yun Woo or another person was unclear to her. The only thing she could do was try to remain calm and relaxed, preparing herself as she was about to hear Yun Woo's voice. "Yes. Hello, Mr. Woo," Nam Kyung's voice sounded. Yun Woo had to be on the other end of the line. As Jung Eun stared intently at the receiver in Nam Kyung's hand, she heard the editor talk into it a few times. Then, after setting the receiver to the side, he came out of the booth, and as if taking turns, Jung Eun went into it without hesitation and picked up the receiver. It was quite hefty, making a sharp, metallic sound as the long cable unwound itself. The faint sound of breathing came from the receiver. "Hello?" Low and calm. That was her impression when hearing Yun Woo's voice for the first time. "Hello, Mr. Woo. I'm Jung Eun Kong, the designer in charge of designing your book's cover." Her voice resonated throughout the booth as she spoke, sounding as if it belonged to another person. "Yes, hello," the low, and calm voice answered. "I'm Yun Woo. Pleased to meet you." "The pleasure is mine, sir." "I'm sorry that we have to talk in such a bizarre setting. I'm in a bit of a circumstance. I hope you understand." "Oh, no. I was already told about your circumstance, Mr. Woo. Not a problem." A spy movie. Although she was still entirely clueless, the designer willingly went along with the author. "It's as if meeting a person from legend." At that, a burst of laughter sounded in the distance. Yun Woo was laughing. "So, you really are real." "Yes, thankfully. It allows me to write more." Sensing that she had made an unnecessary remark, Jung Eun explained in a hurry, "You see, I've made a sketch of you based on how I imagined you'd look. I think that had something to do with what I said, haha." "Huh, interesting. What do I look like?" "Incredibly handsome. There's also a female version, as well as a version of you with long hair." Then, as the conversation cut off for a brief moment, Jung Eun set all of her thoughts aside and changed the subject altogether. "I read your recent work very intently. I don't know what to say other than that I'm impressed." "Thank you," the author answered in a similar tone of voice to the one she had heard in the video. He was Yun Woo, and suppressing the excitement welling up from within, Jung Eun kept the conversation going, and things lightened up gradually. Then, by the time she was thinking about getting to the point, Yun Woo beat her to it and asked, "What are you confused about?" "All of it," she answered without hesitation. Since the central message of the novel wasn't clear to her, it didn't matter how much she understood everything else in the novel. The extent of her understanding of the novel was limited to the information on the surface, such as the fire and the characters. There were different shapes to the fire, and in that same manner, there were many different faces to the characters within the novel. Then, the voice from the receiver validated her confusion and said, "I was confused myself while writing."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "You? You were?" "Yes, it was actually a lot of work. Having to play detective and dance and all." "I'm not quite sure what any of that means, but how interesting!" It was Yun Woo's personal life, and curiosity and interest were bound to follow. Although Jung Eun hoped the author would be a little more specific about his life, Yun Woo went no further than he had done. Feeling somewhat unsatisfied, the designer fiddled about with her well-decorated nails, complete with geometrical patterns and stones, feeling their textures. The parts that were glued onto her colorful nails sparkled brightly, and they were quite beautiful. It was out of those very fingertips that her designs would flourish. Then, taking the notebook out of her bag, which she had prepared ahead of time, she asked, "So, does that mean the chaos within the novel was intended?" She was referring to her experience reading the novel, which had left her as though she were lost in the middle of nowhere, making her wonder if that had been the intent of the author. Then, after a brief pause, Yun Woo said, "Hm… I think 'imprecise' would be a more accurate way of describing the novel." "Imprecise? What's the difference between that and confusing?" "First of all, there's the reading experience. The readers should be able to read through the novel uninterrupted." Just like the young author had said, Jung Eun had been able to read through the novel without losing her concentration. The novel read seamlessly, and her experience of having read through the entire manuscript the moment she took it from Nam Kyung's hands was just further proof of that. Despite a reading experience that had felt chaotic, she had been able to read the novel with intense concentration. "I mean, it's not the most complicated plot." It wasn't that the novel was convoluted. The lack of any labels or clear boundaries within the novel had simply made it unclear. At that moment, the reason for why she had been struggling so much with coming up with a design for that particular project began to dawn on the designer. Then, the young author said, "That novel is like a padlock. Only after you open up the plot, can you see what's within it." "What's in it?" "The fact is that you can't know what's behind the padlock until you see it with your own eyes. Even if a person next to you were to whisper the answer, the box would be nothing more than a mere box. On the other hand, if one believes that it contains a deity within it, the box becomes something that they won't even dare touch." "I think I'm getting the gist of it, but I'm still not quite sure what you're trying to say." "It's still confusing, right?" "Yes." 'Is this really what a conversation with a teenager sounds like?' Jung Eun thought to herself. An image of Yun Woo popped up in her mind. He was wearing a pair of glasses and dressed up in a suit. While his downward glance gave off an intellectual vibe, his smile was accompanied by dimples and beaming eyes. The bags bulging ever so slightly under his eyes were telling her that he was still young. Then, while jotting things down on her notebook in search for keywords, she made a rough sketch in order to give the image in her head shape. A lightly-drawn circle. It would soon become Yun Woo's face. "It seems like we'll have to go on for quite a while longer. Why don't we discuss this in person?" Then, the designer's hands came to an abrupt halt. "Wait, are you serious, Mr. Woo?" "Yes. To tell you the truth, I'm near your office at the moment. Oh, also, do you think you can do me a huge favor? I forgot my wallet at home. Do you think you can take some cash out on your way? I think there's a bank nearby." Cash? Jung Eun blinked in confusion. Money? Yun Woo? Her mind filled up to the brim with questions as the image of the author in her head evaporated all at once. Suit, glasses, intellectual demeanor. All of it. "Mr. Woo?" "Yes?" Yun Woo answered. He really was Yun Woo, and the fact that the editor in charge of him had brought her to where she was made that an undeniable truth. She remembered receiving the manuscript from Nam Kyung vividly. Yun Woo's manuscript, at that. "Um…" 'He forgot his wallet? How did he manage to come all the way here, then?... It has to be a lie,' the designer thought to herself as a painful memory rose up to the surface of her mind. She still remembered having lost fifty dollars to a man who claimed to have left his wallet in the cab. People often tended to fall for such obvious lies, and doubt began to sprout in her mind. "So…" Jung Eun repeated herself absentmindedly as the realistic possibility managed to get past the thick wall of questions in her mind. 'This is not Yun Woo. He might not be him. What if Nam Kyung's the one behind all of this? What if he's the one who's making me talk to some fraud? Even the manuscript could be fake. Considering his job, he has to know at least one or two people who are decent writers.' Then, the end of 'Sublimation' came to her all of a sudden. The ending that gave off the strangest feeling that it wasn't written by Yun Woo. Things hadn't been adding up all along. 'C'mon, a spy movie? Really?' "Hello?" She no longer planned to address the person on the other end of the line, Yun Woo. Then, she looked in his editor's direction, where he stood next to a gingko tree with arms crossed, without a clue as to what was taking place within the booth. "Thank you," Yun Woo's voice reverberated in her ear. They were the same words in the same tone to the ones she had heard from the video of Kelley Coin's recent interview. But was it really him? Was it really the same one she had heard on the internet? Suddenly, she couldn't remember the video she had watched more than thirty times or the voice that supposedly belonged to the mysterious young author. Everything had evaporated, leaving nothing behind. "Is this really Yun Woo?" she asked the silly question, and the reverberation of her flustered voice returned to her ears after having echoed throughout the booth. "Actually…" The booth felt suffocating, and the cars rushed past it. What was the truth? "I lied…" It was a lie. He wasn't Yun Woo, after all. Upon reaching that conclusion, another question rose to her mind: 'Does that mean none of our conversations nor everything that I've been getting impressed by so far was real?' "... about having suggested talking on the phone call after watching a spy movie," the calm, serene voice added. "... Pardon?" Jung Eun let out. "... This really is Yun Woo, right?" "Yes," the brief answer sounded from the receiver. "You mean, you never watched a spy movie?" "No." "What about the money?" "My wallet is safe and sound in my pocket." "... Wait, hold on. What is this about?" she let out as though about to vent angrily at any given minute. Then, Yun Woo added, "This is what that novel of mine is like." The moment those words entered the designer's mind, the only thing that remained within it was a deep sense of pleasure. Then, she looked in Nam Kyung's direction once again. That time, she locked eyes with the familiar face as he smiled and waved. Jung Eun had been working with the editor for quite some time now. However, everything had dispersed into thin air, like smoke, including the trust she had built with the editor throughout her career. After the thoughts had already entered her mind, she wasn't able to trust Yun Woo's answers entirely. There was nothing around her that would prove that she was talking to Yun Woo, not anywhere. That's what the novel, 'Sublimation,' was like. As she remained silent, the voice spoke up from the receiver. "Now, I'd like to ask you a question as well," the voice said. "Are you really the designer?" They had been strangers to each other, and she was just another stranger, locked away in a box. "Yes. This is Jung Eun Kong, the designer." However, there was no evidence that would offer any final explanation. She had no other option but to hope that the voice would trust her. "This novel is about self-identity, isn't it?" she asked, finally grasping something. The realization came with a breath of fresh air. 'Finally!' Once the keyword rose to her mind, she made a quick sketch of a box with the front and the back burnt away. Her nails sparkled with every movement of her hand, and it was unquestionable that those colorful nails belonged to her. "Are you still confused?" "I gotta tell you. That was such an effective description," Jung Eun said, winding down. "I'll arrange a meal with you, soon. I'll see you then." "... Can you afford to show your face?" "Yes. You've been designing the covers for my books, so I wanted to show you my appreciation for your work. I know a place. When would you prefer to meet?" After a brief time thinking, the designer answered, "Why don't we meet after I finish this project? I just have way too many ideas at the moment." A number of good ideas came to her, and the focus of the design became more defined. As things became clear, Jung Eun felt like she had come across the answer rather than a clue, and she found herself in high spirits. "Is there an image that you had in mind for the design of the cover?" she asked. If the author had an image in mind, it wouldn't be a bad idea to reflect it broadly in the design. "Let's see…" Yun Woo said, dragging on. The designer waited patiently for his answer, anticipating what it would be. "A crow." It was an answer that was both random and Yun Woo-like. After all, birds were like a symbol for him. But why, of all birds, a crow?" "Why?" Jung Eun asked. To which, Yun Woo answered light-heartedly, "Because it's about self-identity." At that, the designer asked no further questions. Rather, she listed the characteristics of the bird in her head. Black feathers, ominous, wings, soaring. Her premonition told her that a good product was at hand. "Thank you for your cooperation." "No, thank YOU." Then, she realized that it was time for her to hang up. 'When will I hear his voice again after I hang up? Will I really meet him in person? Maybe that was also a lie,' she thought to herself. In that case, this really would be the end. "Haha." Yet, she felt no lingering attachment because of her unexplainable faith that Yun Woo would keep writing, and that she would be able to hear his voice once again if he did. "Please keep up the good work." "Yes, ma'am," the author answered in a calm tone of voice. Waiting patiently for his goodbye, the designer held on to the receiver. "Oh, I've been meaning to bring it up for a while now, but I like your nails." "Eh?!" "Take care, now." "Wait! Hold on! Mr. Woo!" 'Click.' Just like that, the phone call came to an end, and after staring at the receiver in a daze, she ran out of the booth and looked around frantically. The streets were quite crowded, and she didn't know what Yun Woo looked like. In other words, she would never find him, no matter how hard she looked. However, she still couldn't stop looking. At that moment, a person in comfortable attire came out of the convenience store with a black plastic bag in their hand. 'Is it him?' she wondered as yet another person wearing a hat walked out of the other convenience store right next to it. In the end, she turned around and charged toward Nam Kyung. "Mr. Woo complimented my nails!" "Wha? Oh, uh, that's great!" "No, no, that's not that I'm saying!" From then on, Nam Kyung had to put up with the designer, without a clue as to what had happened that day. --- "Man, it came out great!" Agreeing with Mr. Maeng, Nam Kyung picked up the book in order to check how it had turned out. A lot of work had gone into the making of that book. Made of a reflective material, the book was black all around, and the title, 'Sublimation,' was written at the top, like smoke. The black cover of the book gave off the impression that the readers were about to be part of something greater than normal, as if looking at a closeup image of an object. While it looked like a house that had burned down, it also looked like a pile of ashes. The true identity of the ominous color revealed itself when one looked at the cover designs as a whole. Opening the book, Nam Kyung flattened it so the front and back covers showed one image. It was a pair of eyes. More specifically, a crow's eyes. "This… Is what makes it." Since the the black cover carried such an unmistakable presence, the meeting went on for a relatively short time. The publishing company had intentionally spread the news that Yun Woo had personally taken part in designing the cover for his novel this time. While most fans' expectations were through the roof, there were also voices of concerns: 'Will he be able to outdo 'River?' What if he's reached his limit? Shouldn't he have taken a longer break? What if we're disappointed?' However, Nam Kyung took no interest in such matters. After reading the novel, he knew immediately that Yun Woo was like an ever-flowing stream of water. When he flipped the book, the reviews came into view, and among them, was a review by San Jung Youn herself, who had described the book as having the power to stir up doubt within the hearts of its readers. Doubt of their own existence. "The number of preorders is beyond what we'd imagined. We just started printing another fifty thousand copies, and the book isn't even out yet." "I told you, fifty thousand was way too little to start with. Yun Woo isn't just a popular author." Considering the average two to five thousand copies the first print of a novel got, fifty-thousand was a massive number. It was a number that could only be seen next to the names of the top authors in the nation, or of internationally-recognized authors. However, the author responsible for this number was Yun Woo, whose novel 'Sound of Wailing' had sold more than two million copies in the last year and a half. If sales overseas were brought into the equation, the number grew into an astronomical one. The 'Language of God' had exceeded the sales of the first Korean novel that had been published in the US by a significant margin, following after 'Sound of Wailing' at thirty thousand copies, and 'Trace of a Bird' at twenty thousand copies. On top of that, Yun Woo's books were still in print. "Well, we couldn't really do anything about it. If we invest too much on the first batch, we'll have less money to spend elsewhere." "That's what I find frustrating. I mean, Yun Woo's books practically advertise themselves. It costs us hardly anything." "We should suggest printing twice the amount next time," Mr. Maeng said in order to calm Nam Kyung down. Then, taking a deep breath, the editor brushed his fingertips down the book's cover.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho stared at the man-made lake in front of him, which was in a university campus next to a shopping mall. Within the mall, was a large bookstore. In order to let a group of people through, Juho stepped aside. In their hands, were paper bags with the bookstore's logo printed on it. The black cover peeking through the opening caught Juho's eyes. It was his novel, 'Sublimation,' and he had heard from Nam Kyung that the number of copies sold had reached three hundred fifty thousand in just four days. "Man, It's cold out," Juho murmured as he sat down on a bench in front of the lake. The coldness seeped in through his pants. The benches were all empty, and he was the only person sitting on one. However, there were a couple of people, who appeared to be siblings, talking just a few steps away. "That's a goose." "No, that's a duck!" The two argued while looking at a bird swimming around the edges of the lake. The way Juho saw it, it looked more like a swan, which was in the same family as the duck. In other words, it was closer to being a duck than it was a goose. However, there was no solid evidence that would prove his observation, which meant that nobody at the lake knew what kind of bird they were looking at. Simply, each thought of it according to what they saw. "It's a goose! Just look at the beak." "Ducks are the only kinds of bird that would still be around in the winter. I learned it at school." "How does that make any sense?" "I'm serious! That's what my teacher said!" Shallow evidence only got in the way of an argument, and the two went on for a long time, all without even properly backing up their claims. Perhaps the accuracy of the information wasn't quite a matter of concern. If anything, it seemed like one of the parties was getting a kick out of bickering with the other person, not letting up despite knowing that the other person was right. In actuality, the child who appeared to be the younger brother had a mischievous look about him. Then, as a woman, who seemed to be their mother, appeared with her hands full of things, the two left the lake, leaving Juho as the only person around the lake. After staring into the lake absentmindedly for a little while, Juho reached for his bag, took his laptop out, and logged into a search engine. Although his hands were sluggish from being nearly frozen, it was hardly an issue for him since the word 'Sublimation' was among the most searched words on the internet. He had access to the opinions of his readers at the tip of his fingers, including articles with provocative titles, comments, ratings, and reviews. Looking at the tiny screen filled with numerous opinions, Juho read through them slowly, one by one, being attentive to each and every one of them, especially of the criticisms toward his book. He was able to peek at the hearts of those interpreting his book to his heart's content. He read on until he reached the limits those people had set, perhaps even going beyond them. At that moment, a wind blew against his face, and his eyes tingled from the cold while the light reflected from the water burned them as fire would. An outstanding piece of writing. Favorable reviews from the critics. Praises that far surpassed the reviews of the critics. Questions. A touch of controversy. Selling out in realtime. A proud author. Genius. Skills hard to believe. Limits broken by the author. The identity that came to him by coincidence. Yun Woo. Yun Woo. "Yun Woo." A voice called for him, but Juho soon realized that it had just been his imagination, an illusion molded from the remnants of clay left on the ground. "Yun Woo. Yun Woo. Yun Woo." That time, a chant sounded. A series of voices called out to him emphatically, shaking the ground and the air above it. As Juho absorbed and embraced the sound, the crowd shouted with joy. "Yun Woo, you're a genius!" a person shouted from the frontmost row. Juho was standing on the stage in the concert hall where they had held the book concert some time before. The spotlights came on, and Juho was sitting alone on a chair set up on the stage, interacting with three hundred people in the audience. "Thank you," Juho let out briefly and covered his mouth with his hands. "My son really liked this book. He hates reading, but he just can't seem to get enough of this book. He told me that it's like reading a detective novel." "Yeah, my daughter only reads horror or thriller novels, but she reads this book nonstop." Then, Juho looked quietly to the other side of the audience, from where he also heard a series of voices. Except, they were slightly more rigid and emphatic. "Fire, God, and humans. The way you unfolded each of their significances was very interesting. The lives of the firefighters were quite accurate, as well." "The emotional description of each of the characters was also spot on. It wasn't too much or so subtle that it felt either uncomfortable or boring. You've done well staying within the flow of the plot." "The scene where the characters begin to doubt each other was portrayed quite effectively. With the fire in the center, other characters continue to experience conflict with each other, and the way you utilized the narrator really stood out. As long as we pay attention to how he's feeling, we don't have to worry about getting lost amid all the riddles." "As always, Yun Woo's sentences were beautifully constructed. It was very colorful, yet controlled. It really brought out the pain of slowly falling apart from within." Everyone in the audience agreed, and they exploded into applause. However, the reviews were yet to come to an end. "Your debut title had a strong, hopeful image of overcoming darkness, but the pieces that followed after it all die away in it. There are characters who are swayed by the people around them and their circumstances, and every one of those events is utilized as a tool for providing evidence of hope. The child-like purity of your style really brings that out." Then, another voice interjected. "You excel at describing the experience of death. It was as if you had actually died once. That kind of portrayal written by a teenage author can only be described as talent." "As well as solitude and loneliness." "Same goes for goodbyes and pains." "You're an author who's well acquainted with taking away the wings from the characters within your novels." "At the same time, you're skilled in reminding the readers of the fact that they had wings to begin with." "As always, outstanding." "Marvelous!" "Who else is capable of writing pieces of such literary value?" "The weight your writing carries supersedes your age." Endless praise flowed out from the dark, intoxicated by the author by the name of Yun Woo. "But." An emphatic word put an end to them all. A commotion broke out within the shadows, and the audience members began to look around themselves. Then, a hand popped out of the shadows. It was an attempt to obtain the right to speak. At that, Juho nodded as a gesture of confirmation. "What was with that ending?" the member of the audience asked in a shaky voice, sounding either angry or ecstatic. Either way, the hand was quite worked up. At which point, Juho answered in a calm tone of voice, "As you said, it's an ending." Then, the member of the audience shook their head in denial. "No, no. That's not what I'm asking. What I'm asking is what was that ending ABOUT?" the audience member said with threatening gestures, as if they would take the young author by his collar. After a brief pause, Juho asked, "Was it not to your liking?" "No, that's not what this is about. This is an event. The end of Yun Woo's 'Sublimation,' is the event. The inner beings of the characters mix into one, single concoction, and it changes everything, while the traditional structure of a novel gradually falls apart. It takes a serious amount of skill in order to make the most out of a scene like that, and you've done it. But there is something that I just can't seem to understand." "And what is that?" the author asked from the stage, and the hand answered without a delay. "Why were you in the novel?" the member of the audience asked, his voice reverberating throughout the hall while the spotlights shook. "In a scene where people were deprived of their names and their very existences, why were you part of that scene? You're the author, aren't you?" The sharp, poignant hand pointed toward the stage, and blue veins became visible from it. "Also, what was with that writing style?" The blue veins began to analyze the novel. "It was anything but pure. It wasn't colorful, nor was it controlled. That was very unlike Yun Woo and detached from the beautiful sentences I've seen up to this point. Only the end was different." Juho stared intently at the member in the audience whose hand was shaking uncontrollably. "I don't think it was written by Yun Woo. I don't think that you hired another author to write on your behalf, either. There's no denying the fact that you wrote those sentences, but they couldn't possibly have come out of you." The audience member started to grow antsy with curiosity and uncertainty, and as a response, Juho asked, "What would you like for me to do for you?" "I'd like to look into your mind. There has to exist yet another version of you in there," the audience member said, waving his hand as if trying to grab something. "I want to meet him in person, and I want to see more of him, for a while longer. I want to pick apart and analyze the version of you that is completely devoid of color or control," the audience member said and waited for the author's answer. However, the stage had sunk into silence, and Yun Woo didn't say a word. At that moment… "Yun Woo." … a voice called to the young author. At which point, there was yet another round of chanting. The entire hall vibrated, and some even stomped their feet. "'Sublimation' is an amazing book!" "There is no such things as a limit for Yun Woo!" "More!" "The ending of 'Sublimation' will mark a new era in literary history!" With that, Juho closed his laptop. A wind blew in his direction once again, and what was either a duck, a goose, or a swan was swimming away from Juho, toward the opposite side of the lake, and Juho simply stared at it absentmindedly. "It's cold out," Juho said as he rose from the bench. His body felt stiff, and his toes in his shoes had grown numb. Then, a sound came from behind him. There were a couple of people walking in his direction with a paper bag with the logo of the bookstore Juho had been in on it. "Man, I freakin' love Yun Woo." "Actually, I'm Yun Woo." "Yeah, right." Until their voices grew faint, Juho stood still in his place. --- "Yun Woo Comes Back with New Book! A Closer Look at the Controversial Piece, 'Sublimation.'" "Yun Woo Blows It Out of the Water Yet Again! What Are His Limits?" "Yun Woo Receives International Attention. The World Expresses Interest in the Fans' Reactions in Korea." "Is It a Burnt Down House? Is It a Crow? Yun Woo Participates in Designing the Cover of His Most Recent Novel, 'Sublimation,' AKA 'The Black Book.' The Web Grows Wild with Theories. The True Significance Behind the Cover Design?" "A Reported Controversy Among Critics. The Meaning Behind the Ending of 'Sublimation.'" "What's Yun Woo Implying in the Ending of 'Sublimation?' Fans Coming Up with Polarizing Opinions." "'It's Not the Content of the Ending That's the Issue?' Critics Address Issues with Yun Woo's Recent Novel, 'Sublimation.'" "Pyung Jin Lee, the Celebrity Critic Speaks! 'There Will Never Be Another Yun Woo. I Won't Dare to Critique 'Sublimation,' but Simply, Read It.'" "Artistic and Appealing to the Masses, Yun Woo Catches Two Birds with One Stone! Downfall is a Luxury for Yun Woo." "Yun Woo's Recent Novel, 'Sublimation,' Not a Detective Novel? Who is Yun Woo According to the Fans?" --- "What is this? Oh, my! Is this author seriously crazy or what? Has everyone read his most recent novel?" "It's just as the title suggests. It's Yun Woo's sublimation. This novel proved to me that the next most useless thing to worry about aside from celebrities is about Yun Woo." "He's a tank. I'll give him that. He was chosen as a candidate for the Annular Award, yet he writes a novel like 'Sublimation.' If I were in his shoes, I'd just disappear from the face of the Earth for a while." "Same here. I'd be gone for like five years." "Second that." "Ten years, for me." "Personally, out of all of his novels so far, I love 'Sublimation' the most. The suspense is just so intense!" "I agree. It's super immersive and readable. It has to be the most appealing novel he's ever written." "I, on the other hand, think that it had the highest literary value of all of his other novels. The chaos really hit me hard. I thought it was gonna be a story about another person's life and growth, but boy was I wrong. I got chills at the end." "That was seriously insane! When everything goes haywire, and the perspective deviates from the narrator? Oh, man! The thrill!" "There are so many controversies surrounding the ending of that book. The critics keep raving about writing style or whatever, but it all just goes over my head. What I can tell you is that I got such bad goosebumps from the ending that I almost turned into a chicken." "Are the critics not liking the book? Are they talking trash?" "The writing style changes in the end, apparently out of nowhere. That must be what makes it so difficult." "It's not difficult. It's impossible. There are theories about Yun Woo having a split personality or hiring a ghostwriter because of the ending, where not only the sentence structure changes completely, but the writing itself also flips upside down as if written by another person. Writing tends to have a trace of the author's habits or feelings, but none of that exists in the end of 'Sublimation.' In other words, it feels like another person wrote that part for him. Think about it! Unless he has split personality or hired a ghostwriter, this is impossible to pull off. The fact that it matches the ending of the novel doesn't really seem to help, either." "There's something scary about that. Does it have anything to do with Yun Woo being a genius?" "Isn't it because he was super into writing it?" "He had to have been really intentional since it was the piece following 'River.'" "I'm sure he was, considering how he was even part of the cover's design process. The publisher really pushed for that, too." "It might be he's just being himself: Yun Woo." "It's incredible, even for Yun Woo." "It's incredible BECAUSE it's Yun Woo." "He's already anonymous, but now that he's written a novel like this, the curiosity is driving me nuts! Don't quote me on this, but I have a feeling that it's something similar to what he's actually going through. I mean, people associate him with all sorts of images. On top of that, he debuted when he was sixteen, so it might have had the right impact at just the right time." "That sounds legit." "So, I guess that means it's a novel only Yun Woo can pull off." "Yun Woo. Yun Woo. Yun Woo." …

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "And, that's all for the day." "Good job, everyone." At the end of filming, the set was filled with the sound of the filming crew acknowledging each other for their hard work, and one of them was Ji Hye Goo, who made her way to her van while drying her hair with a towel. Then, as soon as her back hit the soft backrest of the warm, cozy van, the actress let out a deep sigh, filled with a sense of relief and accomplishment. "Ji Hye, you were amazing til the end," her manager, who had been waiting for her in the car with the heater turned on ahead of time, said while sticking his thumb up. That day was the last day of filming, and next to the actress, was a pile of crumpled up scripts. She had always given it her best in an attempt to get that perfect take and she had always wanted to be the best there was. She wanted to be able to express a wide array of emotions, and as an actress, that desire had become something natural and, in some ways, even obligatory. "I'm pretty happy with how things turned out today, too," the actress said playfully, and the manager played along with a smile. "Yun Woo must have been a big help." "Mr. Woo is seriously an incredible author. He's astounding," Ji Hye said as she picked up a book from under the piles of crumpled up scripts. It was a literary magazine, written by nine authors, on the subject of death. It was a collaboration of some of the top authors in Korea. From San Jung Youn, who was the very first recipient of an international award in Italy, to Joon Soo Bong, who was on the rise as of late, the list of authors included some of the most famous and familiar names in Korean literature such as Seo Joong Ahn or Dong Gil Uhm, the youngblood of detective novels, Mideum Choo, and the leading figure of Korean horror novels, Dae Soo Na. On top of that, the list went on with the most recent winner of the Dong Kyung Literary Award, Geun Woo Yoo, and the name of the person whose thoughts alone made the hearts of many jump, Yun Woo. 'The Beginning and the End' contained Yun Woo's piece by the name of 'River,' which was often credited as the piece that showed up those who looked down at the young author. It had successfully managed to remove most preconceived notions about the young author, leaving numerous critics and fans impressed. People either grew fond of Yun Woo or deepened their preexisting affection for the author, and it was the same way for Ji Hye. Yun Woo's writing had a powerful impact on her acting. During the filming of a scene where she had to portray death, she had always brought a copy of 'River' with her, constantly thinking back on it on set. Ever since reading the short story, her portrayal of death had improved significantly. Every time she read 'River,' she always felt something welling up from within, making her shake her head violently in order to shake it off. It made her feel as though she knew what death really was, as well as the reason for her birth and the direction she was headed to in life. It allowed her to indulge in her arrogant yet blissful delusion, all without a sense of guilt. Yun Woo's writing was comparable to a skilled actor's performance. The audience would receive the emotions expressed by the author with their hearts open. When he breathed, the audience breathed as well, and when he died, the audience shed tears of sorrow. The readers were able to understand and accept his stories, being closer to them than anybody else. "Sigh," the actress let out, patting her hair with the towel. The cloth absorbed the moisture in her hair. Yun Woo had been of incredible help to her, and thanks to him, she had been able to die better than anyone else and finish filming in one piece. "You can read that book now, right?" At the manager's question, the actress smiled brightly. The novel he had published within a year of teaching the actress about death. The very book that shattered the worries of those who had doubted him. The book responsible for placing the author in the middle of all sorts of horror stories. 'Sublimation,' AKA The Black Book. The publishing company had revealed that the author had been part of designing the famous black cover. Although she had bought it the day it was published, she had been putting off reading it in order to focus on filming. After comforting herself repeatedly that she'd read after filming had ended and that that day wasn't far away, she had endured as though going through a miserable diet routine. Now, the day had finally come. After drying her hair, Ji Hye went out in order to say goodbye to the filming crew once again and finalize her future schedule with them. Then, as the actress enjoyed her long-anticipated book, the van took her home after everything had been put in order. The first thing that came to her attention was the insatiable fire, despite it having swallowed everything around it already. In the moving car, Ji Hye turned the pages skillfully. Even without readers having to make an effort to concentrate, Yun Woo's writing tended to guide them naturally. Yet, determined to not miss a single word, the actress read through the novel cautiously and intently while the van repeated the process of stopping and moving. "Ji Hye, we're here," the manager called to her upon arriving at the parking lot, which had taken them two and a half hours to do. However, the actress gave no answer. "Ji Hye?" "You go on ahead." "What?" As the flustered manager looked back in her direction, he saw that the actress looked extremely bothered, unlike her usual self. The manager had been working with her for a decade, and just like her widely-perceived image of being positive and healthy, Ji Hye Goo, one of the top stars in Korea, was as wise as her name. Well versed in interpersonal interaction, she never gave into anger or annoyance easily, and while she was friendly, she was never excessively so. (TL's Note: Ji Hye means wisdom in Korean.) However, there had been rare occasions when Ji Hye had worn that expression on her face. It had happened when she hadn't been treated fairly or had been disrupted in the middle of a performance. During an informal occasion, Ji Hye had shared that she had lingering displeasure within her of when she couldn't express her emotions to the degree she had in mind, and the manager had interpreted that as her feeling bothered, a feeling that rose up when a straight line got crooked. After a messy coloring job that neglected the perfect outline of a circle or after finding a tiny speckle on a white garment. Something that came from the very first handprint on a new car or from an mismatched pair of chopsticks. They all accompanied a sense of displeasure, and having worked with the actress for the last decade, the manager knew instinctively that that was what she was feeling. She had been bothered beyond belief by the voice coming from elsewhere, pulling her out of her immersion of the scene in the novel. "Is everything OK?" "I'll come out after I'm done reading," she said in a calm tone of voice. However, when the manager studied her appearance, she was quite tense, all while wearing an expression that was the polar opposite of 'Sublimation,' the novel she was reading. She looked like she was never going to put the black book down, and without saying anything, the manager got out of the car with the key still left in the ignition. With the manager gone, she was all alone and she didn't come out of the car until the sun had completely set and risen again the next morning. "Ha," she let out as she closed the book. 'What's this ending? I don't get it. I don't get what Yun Woo did here.' She realized that she had been influenced by the author without a clue as to how. The book had somehow managed to overwhelm her completely even before she had read it. Then, remembering the last scene she had just filmed the night before, a sense of relief sank into her, followed by the thought of the satisfying portrayal of death, which was still fresh in her mind. Yun Woo's writing was like a performance from a talented actor. An image of an empty, well-lit stage popped up in her mind. The talented actor had left without even a goodbye. Then, another actor appeared onstage, an actor who was slightly older and carried a weightier presence. However, that actor was nowhere near as calm or graceful as the previous actor. On top of that, he had a nonchalant and shameless attitude about him. Shallow, and indecent. Yet, he was a good actor. A famous actor. The distinction between the two became fuzzier and more difficult. What set them apart from each other? What separated before and after? There was no way to know. Were the two actors inherently different? Were they different actors? What if it was the same actor all along, tricking the audience with his skills, which were beyond comprehension? What if it was a performance that tricked even the actors? Ji Hye's heart began to beat faster, and the fact that she could no longer decipher it came with a sense of pleasure. Then, she covered her face with her hands, feeling like she would cry at any given minute. "I am me." What sounded like an excuse came out of her mouth behind her hands. --- "I'm serious. All you gotta do is write." "No. You, of all people, have no right to tell me things like that. I find it rather arrogant. Kind of like Yun Pil." "So, you agree that Yun Pil is arrogant?" Burying her face in her hands, Mideum groaned in pain, and after having been summoned somewhat against his will, Juho was now dealing with her. He was well acquainted with her drunkard-like words by that point. As he stared at her for a brief moment, Dong Gil asked while wearing his usual, cold expression, "So, you wrote this ending, right?" "Who else? It was published with Yun Woo's name on it." "I'm just having reasonable doubt." "I understand," Juho said calmly, and at that, Dong Gil's expression softened up a bit. "I know that you don't really have a reason to pull of something like that. I mean, it wouldn't make sense to hire another author when you're near the very end of the novel." "Right?!" "So, does that mean you have a split personality?" "No." There was no end to Dong Gil's doubt, and unfortunately, he wasn't the only person who responded that way. In reality, there had been all sort of horror stories, which were far worse than Dong Gil's conjectures, floating around the internet. Yun Woo, sublimated. "I just changed the writing style at the very end so that it would fit whatever was going on better," Juho told the truth with honesty. However, the more the authors listened, the more bitter their expressions grew. "If it was that simple, I would have been doing it already!" Mideum shouted, and Dong Gil stopped her emphatically because they were at a restaurant. Even though they were in a room, there was no promise that the walls would keep their voices from getting out if they kept raising them. Then, Juho cut a small piece of chicken and brought it up to his mouth. Contrary to what he had been told about getting a free meal, what had really been waiting for him at the restaurant had been an interrogation. "Pyung Jin Lee's been drooling all over your novel. He's not going to critique it, apparently," Sang Choi said with his mouth full. "Why would he drool all over my novel?" "Hello? Because what you wrote was out of this world! Yun Woo is a mystery to most people, and do you know how many people out there are prone to thinking that you have a split personality? Personally, I think you had some sort of trick up your sleeve, a trick that no one can know unless you tell them. When it comes to legality, I say we set it aside for now." At that, Juho quietly locked eyes with the author, and after a snicker, Sang changed the subject, "Anyway, that was a smart move you made, sending society such heartrending message after a piece like 'River.'" "Whoever said anything about a heartrending message?" "Playing coy, huh?" Sang said, cleansing his palette with the glass of red wine. "'Live. Live on.' That was the central message of 'River," he said, pointing at Juho with his fork. "And then, 'Resist!' That was the message that followed after the short story. Am I wrong?" "Is that how you interpreted it?" "Identity crisis, an ego gone astray, and the missing subject. Hell awaits those who doubted and argued, despite having wandered around the wilderness," Sang said while narrowing his eyes, emphasizing the word hell. "A hell made of sentences that couldn't have possibly been written by Yun Woo." Juho mashed a piece of chicken with his knife, making a soft noise as it rubbed against his plate. "Do you doubt me as well, Mr. Choi?" he asked light-heartedly, and the romance writer shook his head in denial. "No, I'm grateful." As he answered Juho in a calm tone of voice, all the other authors looked in his direction. "'An author writes a piece that brings up questions regarding his personality.' You have no clue how shocking that would be to any author. Oh, no. Not you. You'd never understand. I'm sure there are a number of aspiring authors who've given up writing after reading your novel." It was a rather cruel remark. Yun Woo. Genius. Stellar. Mysterious. Those who were led to doubting their own identity by that mysterious existence soon found themselves in a swamp of despair. "'Sublimation' is just the right book for this age. One of the reasons your readers are so obsessed with you is that they are able to relate to a story that is so terrifyingly unrealistic. Why do they relate to it? Because the terror in 'Sunlimation' isn't very far off from the terror in reality. People living as cogwheels in this modern society are wearing out their identities, day by day." The room sank into silence, and Juho slowly raised his hand to scratch his neck. "That's an interesting way to look at it." "You're a cheeky one, you know that? I just pray that there won't be idiots who try to change their writing style because of you." At Sang's remark, Mideum lifted her head as if pricked in the heart. Then, looking in Juho's direction with narrowed eyes, she said, "Choi, isn't he just like Yun Pil?" "I've never read the series, so I wouldn't know." "You haven't?" Ignoring the apparent look of hurt on her face, Sang said, "I'm sure my writing will improve because of yours. After all, I am Sang Choi, the top." Listening to Sang's remark, Juho felt like he had gotten a glimpse of how his writing affected his fellow authors. A piece of writing that had left its creator's hand tended to grow in size, much like a lifeform. It felt like a lifeform that had borne out of thin air rather than that his own hands were selling it out to the world. As it caught people's eyes, those lifeforms provoked emotions, and as an author, Juho couldn't do anything to control that. He was powerless. Yet, he couldn't help but smile ever so slightly at that sense of pressure. "Now, I'd like to hear more about this alternate writing style of yours," Dong Gil said quietly, wearing the look of a reporter staring at his prey right before his eyes. There was doubt and curiosity in those eyes that were yet to be appeased. Then, with an awkward smile, Juho spoke as sparingly as possible.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Having left the house early in the morning, Juho arrived at the park and took some time to stretch. There was nobody around, and that time, he was the first one to arrive. The other two would arrive at any minute. Then, opening his stance out to his shoulders' width, Juho stretched his sides. A rotated world came into view. Everything was in their rightful place. At that moment, he saw a silhouette approaching him, and in order to greet the familiar figure, Juho straightened his back and opened his mouth… He tried to, anyway. "Hey," the figure greeted him in a calm tone of voice. 'There's no way he doesn't know where I'm looking,' Juho thought. Then, the wind blew against the figure's face, blowing on the messy bangs that were covering his forehead. "Wait." "Yeah?" Then, Juho asked Sung Pil once again, "Where are your eyebrows?" There was nothing but flesh where his eyebrows were supposed to be. His thick, trademark eyebrows had gone missing, and it was in that state that Juho's friend had come out to join him for morning exercises. Juho had never experienced anything like it. "I shaved them." "You shaved them?" Apparently, Sung Pil had shaved his perfectly fine eyebrows. Thanks to that, it dawned on Juho just how big of impact eyebrows had on one's appearance. There was not a trace of shame or embarrassment on Sung Pil's face. He seemed to have accepted the fact that he was responsible for his decisions. On the other hand, it was a good thing that his eyebrows hadn't been shaved by another person, against his will. Did something cause him to resent his distinctive eyebrows? "Why?" Juho asked for his reason. "Because I couldn't write." After the rather author-like answer, Juho couldn't say anything in response. Then, his memory of the older Sung Pil crossed his mind. Although it was different from his current face, which lacked eyebrows, he still looked the same. Whether or not he had eyebrows, Sung Pil was Sung Pil. Juho looked intently at his bald face for a brief moment. "Why couldn't you write?" Juho asked, and just like previously, the answer came quickly. "Because of Yun Woo." "Yun Woo." It seemed like Juho was at least partially responsible for the loss of Sung Pil's eyebrows. As their eyes locked, Baron's voice sounded off. "You guys are early." Coming from behind, Baron was yet to grasp the situation. While Juho greeted him awkwardly, Sung Pil turned toward him, and Baron looked intently at something past Juho. Then, there was an awkward silence. "Are you trying to be a rebel?" At that, Juho couldn't help but burst out laughing. It seemed like the morning exercise wasn't going to happen. However, the weather didn't allow them to stay out chatting for an extended period of time, so Juho took them to a nearby twenty-four-hour cafe. Located within the neighborhood, the cafe was quiet. "It's warm in here." The three took their seats, each with a cup of warm beverage in their hands. Because it was early in the morning still, the cafe was mostly empty. However, there were people making quick stops to buy a hot cup of coffee, such as the owner of a dry cleaner's nearby, a corporate worker wearing a coat, or a university student wearing a padded jacket over their pajamas. After looking around the interior of the cafe for a little while, Juho opened his mouth and asked, "So, going back to our conversation earlier, you shaved your eyebrows because of Yun Woo?" "Yun Woo? What's he got to do with anything here?" Baron asked, and not knowing the answer himself, Juho shrugged. In the end, their eyes turned toward Sung Pil, who was drinking his chocolate mocha with a blank expression on his face, all the while missing his eyebrows. "No, I shaved my eyebrows because I couldn't write." "And the reason why you couldn't write was Yun Woo, right?" "Yep," Sung Pil said, correcting even the seemingly minuscule difference. "Why? Did he pick on you or something?" Baron asked, resting his chin on his hand while still looking intently at the missing eyebrows behind his bangs. "No, he encouraged me if anything." Encouragement. That was what had made Sung Pil a Yun Woo fan. He had previously shared with Juho that he had felt comforted by Yun Woo's writing. "To tell you the truth, I finished a story recently, although it's the first draft." "You mean the story about the bank?" "Yeah." "Oh! That's something to celebrate," Baron said. However, Sung Pil answered indifferently, "But I'm not very happy with how it turned out." "How come?" "It's missing something." "Well, it is the first draft. You can always improve on it as you revise." "No, that's not what I mean," Sung Pil said, and after a brief pause, he added, "I read 'Sublimation.' I was shocked." At his response, Baron looked intently at him for a little while and nodded quietly. Just from the sound of the word sublimation, he was able to get an idea of Sung Pil's situation. Then, he looked at Juho, who was listening quietly, without responding in any way. "Fire was terrifying, and sin still exists, yet I couldn't figure out what. In the end, the book just ends while leaving the readers crippled with terror. It doesn't comfort them in any way. Instead, it drives them into a corner with nothing but ambiguous, undecipherable emotions. I couldn't believe he wrote that after 'River.'" "I agree. That ending was really something," Baron murmured. "How's Yun Woo able to write like that? When I read my manuscript after reading 'Sublimation,' it just felt like trash." Juho felt the heat coming up from the mug within his hands, and Sung Pil's low voice reminded him of the conversation he had had with Sang not too long ago. The romance write had said that there had to be aspiring writers who had given up on their dreams. "So, are you gonna give up?" Juho asked in a calm tone of voice. "No," Sung Pil said emphatically. Despite the frustration that drove him to shave his eyebrows off, he wasn't willing to give up. Unfortunately, his bald face made it somewhat difficult to take him seriously. Then, Sung Pil looked down and said, "It's strange. There are no scores or right answers in writing, yet you just know when someone's better than you. It was frustrating. My mind was in utter chaos, and I couldn't write a word, so I tried looking for ways to divert myself." "And that's how you came to shaving your eyebrows?" "I thought I'd feel refreshed." "You do, so much so that you look cold." "But it made hardly a difference in reality." At that, Baron put his hand on his forehead, dumbfounded. "You're an oddball too, aren't you?" "I gotta admit, the lack of eyebrows really throws things off." "... Right. So, what are you gonna do? School's about to start soon." "I'm sure my bangs will cover it up just fine." "I don't think they're doing as well as you think they are." "That's OK. I don't have friends, so I don't have to worry about getting made fun of." "... Ain't that a relief." Juho looked at Sung Pil conversing with Baron from the side. "How about you, do you wanna meet Yun Woo?" Sung Pil asked, looking in Juho's direction. "Would you like to meet him?" Juho asked, but a stoic expression appeared on Sung Pil's bald face, not even asking a question or trying to laugh it off like a joke. Then, Juho asked with a smile, "Do you wanna complain to him that you haven't been able to write because of him and that you're not satisfied with the novel you finished recently, and it's driving you insane? So much so that you ended up shaving your own eyebrows off?" After the question, he observed the expression on Sung Pil's face. "Do you wanna ask him about the ending of 'Sublimation,' and how it's even possible to write something like that? If he's hiding his age? If he has a ghostwriter? If he really managed to write that novel in a legal and legitimate way? Would you like to ask him what his secret is?" "... No," Sung Pil said in a delay. Nevertheless, it was an emphatic answer, and Juho was made certain by it. Sung Pil was doubting himself, and it had to have begun with the voice. Yun Woo had revealed his voice recently, and of course, his voice alone didn't give enough information to enable one to figure out that Juho and Yun Woo were the same person. However, after that event, 'Sublimation' had been published, and Sung Pil had read the novel and its ending, which included a writing style that had an uncanny resemblance to Juho's. Not only had Sung Pil read 'Grains of Sand' at Juho's school's festival, but he had also read a piece that Juho wrote in the Literature Club. Sung Pil was quick to catch on to the meaning behind the questions Juho had just asked. Yet, he declined. Sung Pil didn't want Yun Woo to reveal his identity in that moment, where they were: out in public. "I'll go see him in person." "How?" "By becoming an author." The internationally recognized author Yun Woo and an aspiring writer who was yet to even debut as an author. Unfortunately, Sung Pil's lack of eyebrows got in the way of his lofty declaration. "Yun Woo will head somewhere even further." At that, Sung Pil's eyes widened slightly. Juho looked out the window and saw a bird flying by. Although he had no clue as to what kind it was, he was certain that it was flying past his sight. Then, following his eyes and looking at the bird with Juho, Sung Pil soon nodded willingly. Yun Woo would go even further and soar up even higher. From under where his eyebrows had once been, his eyes burned with determination. --- After walking around the park later into the day than usual, the three went their separate ways. Although there were pedestrians glancing in Sung Pil's direction, there weren't all that many who made a big deal out of it. Despite a group of people whispering to each other, Sung Pil paid no attention to them, and Juho applauded the aspiring writer, who was courageously confident. Then, after Sung Pil left and Juho was left alone with Baron, Baron asked, "What if you never see him again?" To Baron, the conversation between Sung Pil, who was certain that he would be an author, and Juho, who knew he would become an author in the future, was filled with uncertainty. Looking at the bus stop in front of him, Juho saw countless people crossing paths. While there were people who needed to get off the bus, there were also those who needed to get on the bus, all at the same spot. To some, it was a destination, while to others, it was a starting point. "That's not necessarily a bad thing. After all, he's probably the one reader who's closest from me." "Don't you think Sung Pil would find that hurtful?" "You seem to have already gotten close with him." "Don't change the subject." Juho had no intention of doing so. Then, he looked at the bus as it took off. "It's fine. He'll be an author, for sure, and he'll meet Yun Woo too, eventually. I'm not sure what kind of conversation will take place then, but I'm sure he'll find himself on his toes after seeing what kinds of books Yun Woo will come out with." "Aren't you confident?" Although Juho denied it, Baron didn't believe him. "I'm curious about his writing, too. I mean, shaving his own eyebrows off out of frustration? He can't be in his right mind. Writing must be for the insane. Or people with split personalities." "Writing is for everyone. You've written in the past too, Baron," Juho said honestly, and Baron raised both of his hands. "Almost made a fool of myself there," he said, waving his hefty hands and standing up straight. "Your writing has a profound effect on many," Baron added, looking in the direction Sung Pil had disappeared. "The ending of 'Sublimation' will be talked about for a long time. Heck, it might even end up in textbooks." Juho listened to him quietly. "All the critics are raving about how great the novel is, but none of them can really offer any real explanation. They're just saying, 'What was thought to be an ideal has taken place like by coincidence.'" Then, a motorcycle rushed past in front of them, roaring thunderously and making people around frown. However, in the middle of that, a whisper reached Juho and Juho only. "You're an incredible author," Baron said in a serious tone. There was admiration, awe, and also a sense of concern in his voice. "If you ever find yourself struggling with something, let me know." "Will do." For that reason, rather than denying it, Juho answered willingly. The traffic light changed from red to green, and because they were the only two people standing in front of the light, the cars stopped way past the white line where they were supposed to stop, looking to hog the road at any given minute. Then, as Baron took a step forward, Juho said, "Don't worry…" "... I have plenty of stories I want to write, still." Oblivious to what Juho had said, Baron crossed the street, and after watching him for a little while, Juho, too, turned around.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl A new semester started at the end of the break. Now a junior, Juho had to walk up a significantly higher number of stairs than during his previous years. On the floor where the exhibition with the frog picture had been held two years prior, there was a walkway to another building, and after walking up the stairs of that walkway to a floor above, was the smaller floor where all the juniors were. Neither freshmen nor sophomores had any business going up there, and the juniors also had no business on the underclassmen's floors. Those who had been in lazy clubs in the past years had applied for yet another lazy club that year as well, not even bothering to go to club activities. Instead, they stayed in their classrooms in order to study. For that reason, there were only a handful of students who kept their clubs alive with the support of their homeroom teachers, and they, active members since freshman year, were usually students who were part of clubs with elements worth of being included in student records. The Broadcasting Club, the Literature Club, the Newspaper Club and the Art Club were some of the clubs in that category. "Oh, my! This is so exhausting," a person said, fighting for breath and collapsing on the seat in front of Juho. It was Sun Hwa, complaining about the distance of the floor they were in. Unfortunately, she had reached the age where she had to climb to the highest floor in the school on a regular basis and, needless to say, she wasn't the only student who got exhausted from all the climbing. "Which way did you come from?" "I met up with Bo Suk, so through the freshmen's floor." She seemed to have come from the same direction as Juho. There was another route around the building that led directly to the floor. Of course, the downside was that one would have to climb a steep hill, but the general consensus was that it was far better than climbing a seemingly endless number of steps. Sun Hwa, too, declared that she would take no other route from that point on while fixing her messy hair into a neater ponytail. As she fixed her hair, her neck became bare, and the tip of her ponytail dangled around it. Juho and Sun Hwa were juniors now, and after being placed in different classrooms in their previous years, they ended up in the same class that year. In a classroom located further down the hallway, Bom and Seo Kwang were probably talking to each other. "I thought I was gonna die from carrying all these workbooks," Sun Hwa grumbled as she took the workbooks out of her backpack, shoving them into the compartment under the desk. Considering her grades, seeing her with one or two workbooks was not a surprise. After all, she was still maintaining the impressive grades she had been bragging about since her freshman year. "Man, I even have a classmate who makes a living by writing. What am I gonna do for a living?" "What's with the long face?" "No reason. Bom already started looking into creative writing, Seo Kwang's considering linguistics or interpretation/translation. Baron has already gone into design, and you… Well, I don't even have to say it. Finally, Bo Suk still has some time to consider. I, on the other hand, still have no clue about what I wanna do." The junior year was off to a sad start, and was accompanied by big, intimidating decisions. She had nothing to offer aside from having looked at the chalkboard in front of the classroom throughout her high school career and, now, she was expected to write out her career path and take it to her teacher. She was utterly lost, feeling like she had nothing with which to prove herself. "I don't even know what my strengths and weaknesses are, or even what I like, for that matter. In my entire life, I've never been in a rut, or been through a shocking, life-changing event. I'm just an average, run-of-the-mill girl." "That doesn't sound bad, actually." "Of course, it is! You know what the adults say, 'Ordinary is extraordinary.' What I don't get is why I even have to bother going to college. You get accepted into schools based on your grades, right? You can't go to a good school unless you have the highest grade in the entire school, right? Think about it. What's so ordinary about that? How's a student with a record full of awards, ordinary? Do you have to be inherently special to be ordinary or what? What sense does that make?" Sun Hwa said, sharply pointing out the convoluted reality of a high school student in Korea. Then, Juho nodded solemnly and agreed with her opinion, "Well, that sounds like something worth writing about." "I did think about that, too," Sun Hwa said, opening one of her workbooks and jotting down a brief summary of what she had just said in the corner. Having improved significantly from when she started, her writing skill had reached the level of being able to develop her plot through layers of different dynamics, unlike in the past, when she insisted on keeping the tension at a constant climax, all without any sort of plot development. After immersing herself in thought, she said, "So, there are these students who have a passion for straightening their crooked world, and they plant a bomb in their school." … Of course, her habit of getting ahead of herself was still very much intact. However, Juho clapped, telling her that it wasn't half bad. At that moment... "Yo, you two from the Literature Club." … a classmate called to them. Before Sun Hwa even had the time to ask what, she and Juho rose from their seats upon seeing Bo Suk. "What brings you here?" "Mr. Moon wanted me to bring everyone to the science room," Bo Suk said, fighting for breath. "As in... everyone?" "Yes." Mr. Moon had a brief announcement to make, and he had called for his students to gather in the science room. Then, the three ran into Bom and Seo Kwang walking out of their classroom, and the club members all walked down the same stairs they had walked up previously, toward the out-of-sight science room. When they arrived, the room was empty. "Where's Mr. Moon?" "Here." Everyone had arrived around the same time, and as everyone took their seats, Mr. Moon said, "I have a job for you all. Go around the classrooms and advertise our club." "Advertise? You mean going-into-the-freshmen's-classes-and-convincing-them-to-join-our-club advertisement?" "Yes, that." It was completely unexpected news. When most of the club members were freshmen, the Literature Club hadn't even bothered to advertise, and even when they were sophomores, they didn't recall going around advertising for their club. While a puzzled look appeared on everyone's faces, Mr. Moon explained, "Seeing how we were winning awards and all, the school seems to be taking interest in supporting us more. From what I hear, there's a fad among elementary school parents of sending their kids to private writing institutes because of the Yun Woo fever. You guys know that we have an Ice Skating Club, right? They came about during an ice skating fad, too." Schools tended to be more sensitive to trends, more so than one would imagine. While Juho ignored Seo Kwang poking at his side, Bom asked the teacher, "So, what you're saying is that we're going out as recruiters, right?" At that, Mr. Moon answered with his trademark phrase: "Not exactly wrong, but not exactly what I'm looking for either. There are a lot of students who are still inherently turned off by writing, and unfortunately, that's just how they were brought up. Nobody expects to expand their club with a single day of advertising." "Then what did you mean by 'advertising?'" "It's about making it look as official as possible. Students don't need to be involved in expanding the club. That's the school's job. I'm sure we'll move to a bigger room and all that starting next year. Not only that, we'll probably grow out of being another ordinary club, offering after-school activities, inviting guest instructors, having boot camps, and so on." "Wow! That sounds serious." It was up to the school. The phrase, 'The Literature Club wins awards,' was not only a major boost to the school's reputation, but it was also a great boost to the students' university applications, allowing them to get into better universities. In actuality, the school that Dong Gil Uhm and Seo Joong Ahn had gone to was known for their Literature Club, and suffice to say, it hadn't happened overnight. Although there wouldn't be significant progress at the moment, they had to appear as established as possible. They had to take their first step. Therefore, advertisement. Juho reminisced to the time when he saw the upperclassmen advertising for their respective clubs in his classroom. Most of them had been active, which involved either activities outdoors or on a stage. It was obvious that they had all worked hard for their clubs, and it was of that group, that the Literature Club was about to be part, blending in with other clubs that were more active. Although the club members understood the situation, understanding and acting on a situation were two different things. And quite frankly, they found themselves caught off guard by the sudden, unexpected task. "So, how do we do this advertising?" There had only been one new addition to the club in the previous year, and she had joined of her own volition, just like everyone else in the club. Although they had never experienced the club's recruitment process, they had all joined the club of their own will. Then, Mr. Moon said in a calm tone of voice, "Just wing it for now. Explain what we usually do and things like that." "Isn't that kind of… haphazard? What if nobody wants to join? Besides, the club is mostly made of juniors," Sun Hwa said. At which point, Mr. Moon smiled without a care in the world and added, "You don't think we had that concern last year, or the year before that?" Adding that the same concern had always existed from the time he had first formed the Literature Club, he said, "People will still join even if you guys do a crappy job at advertising, so stop worrying preemptively and relax." "That's easier said than done!" everyone grumbled, but their expressions looked much brighter. "So, when do we start?" "In four days." "Egh!?" There wasn't a lot of time. Then, telling them to return to their respective classrooms before the end of the morning study session, Mr. Moon left the room, leaving everyone clueless. "What do we do?" "I don't know." Not a single person in the room had experience with advertising for a club, and everyone was worried, "Should we make picket signs or something?" Juho suggested, remembering what he had done in the previous school festival. However, his idea was met with strong opposition from his clubmates. "That's way too ordinary! Boring!" "Aren't you the one that said, 'Ordinary is extraordinary?'" Juho murmured, but with the exception of Bo Suk, who listened to him intently, everyone else paid no attention to his suggestion. Then, Bom said, "Why don't we think about how we came to join the Literature Club? We might be able to think of something." At her suggestion, everyone thought back to what made them join the club, and everyone reached a mutual conclusion, "Because I wanted to slack off." "Wouldn't that mean that it would be better not to advertise, then?" Seo Kwang said, and the room sank into silence. "Maybe it's best if we stick to how it's always been done, just like everyone else," Bo Suk suggested light-heartedly, and Bom agreed. "On top of that, we should offer to show our compilations and our stories that are exhibited in the library." "Tell them about Yun Woo a little bit, too." "What's Yun Woo have to do with this?" Juho rebutted Seo Kwang. Then, raising his finger, Seo Kwang said, "If we don't talk about Yun Woo at this point, when would we ever talk about him, then? If we don't bring up the literary divine miracle, and focus on it while advertising for the Literary Art Club, I mean the Literature Club, when would we ever bring that name up?" As Juho opened his mouth to answer, Seo Kwang interjected, "You know what kind of power the name Yun Woo has. A book that bears that name is bound to sell. Although, we're not selling a book here, so we can just use it as a bait to bring people in and approach them in a friendly manner." "Bait? It's not like Yun Woo's in the club or anything." Feeling everyone's gazes fixed on him like arrows, Juho added in a hurry, "From the freshmen's perspective, of course." At that moment, the bell rang, putting an end to their first meeting. From then on, after discussing a few more times during recess, the club members were able to come up with a more definitive plan, and Juho headed to the library in order to take the compilations and the stories that were being exhibited in the library back to the club. When he arrived, there were two people reading the exhibited books, and after trying to peek at them through the cracks in the bookshelf, he turned around. "I see that you're still in the Book Club." "Same to you," the girl in the library said in a calm tone of voice, and Juho took the compilations from her hands. The club members had decided on using only the two volumes they had made themselves during their time in the club. As he checked to make sure he had everything, Juho realized that there was a book missing. "Where's 'Grains of Sand?'" At his question, the girl pointed somewhere, and when Juho turned toward it, he saw a pair of feet through the bookshelf. Then, he asked in a whisper, "You mean, somebody's reading it?" "Yeah. If you're in a hurry, I can go talk to them." "No, it's fine. This should be enough." Juho didn't want to be the author who took books away from his readers. Then, thanking the girl, he walked out of the library feeling like he had locked eyes with the person reading his short story for a split second on his way out. --- "Man, I'm so nervous. What if I get made fun of?" "Made fun of? You're probably no more than a junior who came to advertise for her club. The freshmen should be getting tired of all the advertisements by now." While Seo Kwang made fun of Sun Hwa when she was at her most vulnerable, Juho knew how nervous his friend really was on the inside. He was merely trying to cover it up by talking more than usual. When the club members arrived at the freshmen's floor, they realized that there were a lot more people in the hallway than usual because of the upperclassmen who had come to advertise for their respective clubs, much like the Literature Club. Each was carrying a picket sign or wearing a belt made for advertising purposes, and they were exactly the same as the ones the upperclassmen had worn while advertising for their clubs during Juho's freshman year. There seemed to be quite a few props that were handed down from the students who had previously graduated. "We don't have anything like that." "We have our compilations," Bom said as a reminder for Sun Hwa, who was looking at the props in other people's hands with envious eyes. Just like Bom had said, the Literature Club had the compilations. Although work on the compilations had stopped midway at some point in the past, they had managed to bring them back. "OK, those guys are from the Cultural Exploration Club. Let's go." Because they intended to start with Classroom 1, the Literature Club went in after the Cultural Exploration Club, as if taking turns, and as soon as they went in, they locked eyes with the freshmen sitting in their seats. They were looking at the club members with lively, yet curious eyes, carefully considering which club to join. "Hello, we're from the Literature Club."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Unlike how she was up to a moment ago, trembling with insecurity, Sun Hwa spoke clearly and calmly. From mechanical pencils to notebooks, textbooks, and cardigans, the desks were less than tidy. Under the desks divided into rows, were chunks of dust that didn't quite make it into the dustpan during cleaning because of the old, worn out broomstick. Sitting in front of their messy desks, the freshmen were looking at the club members with intrigue. "Our club activities are mostly related to literary arts. Which brings the question: What is literary art? Literary art is a term that encompasses both literature and art. In other words, the Literature Club can be identified as being a form of an art club." A few chuckled at the word, 'art,' while others lost interest and looked away. Then, observing the reactions of the freshmen, Sun Hwa continued, "I'm sure some of you are intimidated by the word 'art,' and to be honest, I know I was when I first started. Art feels like some sort of esoteric activity for the chosen people. Some of the finest brains and artists of this age, like Vincent Gogh and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, would be examples of those who created time-defying pieces of art." Then, as a handful of freshmen responded to her, Sun Hwa took the opportunity to lock eyes with them. "But I must tell you. That is a preconceived notion. Why? Because these five, run-of-the-mill students are in the Literature Club, making art," she said, pointing toward the club members standing in line in front of the chalkboard and looking at them. "Now, we will briefly introduce ourselves. Nobody's introduced themselves yet, right?" The freshmen nodded. All the previous clubs had been busy talking about their clubs. However, what the freshmen were really curious about was what the experience of being part of a club was like. In other words, the situations they would find themselves in. If the club members looked anything like how the freshmen wanted to look in the future, the freshmen were bound to lean toward joining that club. At Sun Hwa's signal, Bom started off. "My grades were just above average, and I didn't have a particular hobby either, so I joined the club with my friend here when I was your guys' age. Also, I've won an award at an essay contest outside of school," Bom said, hiding her embarrassment. The mention of her award had already been agreed upon beforehand, and just as the club members had expected, the freshmen began to respond to it. "Grades: average. Hobby: reading. I thought about joining the Book Club, but the teacher there was intimidating as heck, so I gave up and joined a similar club instead: the Literature Club. I enjoy reading to this day, and that was possible because of how flexible the club is. One of our recent graduates used to draw most of the time during club activities. Also, the members get to choose whether or not to take part in the aforementioned essay contests." Upon hearing Seo Kwang's description of the club's flexibility, the freshmen responded even more. "Grades: average. Hobby: table tennis. I applied to the club thinking that it would be a lazy club. By the way, I'd read a total of five books through my entire middle school career. Since joining the Literature Club, I've been realizing just how fun literature can be. Even if you don't know a thing about writing, don't let that stop you from considering our club. It won't be an issue at all, trust me." At that, Seo Kwang let out a quiet sigh, but Bo Suk ignored it just as quickly. Lastly, the turn went to Juho. "I'd always been writing, even prior to joining the club, but being part of the club was not something I was planning on. I picked up a pamphlet on the floor once, and I just joined without much thought, carefree. If I hadn't joined the Literature Club, I would be in the Documentary Appreciation Club. I don't know. It just didn't sound all that bad to me when I first saw it." With the exception of the Literature Club members, everyone in the class chuckled. Then, with a fierce glare in her eyes, Sun Hwa took the turn to speak, "Grades: top ten in the school. Hobby: reading comic books. Because the Comic Book Club was one of the lazy clubs, I decided to join the Literature Club instead. I've been maintaining my grades since the first grade, and with that said, if you're worried about your grades suffering from the club activities, the Literature Club will NOT hurt your grades." A quiet exclamation came from the audience. "As you've all heard, most of our club members had little to no association with either literature or art. Everyone joined light-heartedly, and needless to say, with no experience in writing. But now..." As Sun Hwa looked at Juho and Bo Suk and gave a signal, they each took the compilations and stories out. The covers designed by Baron were more than enough to captivate the curious freshmen. "... We've all grown to the point of being able to write books. There were no strict guidelines or restrictions. Everyone, art is freedom, and there is no limit to freedom. It's for everyone, including a bookworm, a writer, a comic book buff, an athlete, and… well, somebody who didn't like anything in particular!" It felt like a perfect presentation, and the club members looked around the audience cautiously. Then, Juho began to clapped quietly, and one or two students began to clap along. As the brief applause came to an end, Sun Hwa began to explain the club activities in more detail. "First off, we members also write, and Mr. Moon, our homeroom teacher, teaches us how to write better. You all know him, right? I believe he teaches freshmen, as well." At the mention of the teacher's name, a bright expression appeared on a number of the students' faces. Mr. Moon was surprisingly popular among students. "Our goal is to write as much as possible, and that means the process has to be fun. It can't be boring. We're always thinking of different ways to have fun while we improve our writing skills, and there have been times when we made a character out of a plaster figure or compared it to a dish, or observed pedestrians walking past the school." Sun Hwa was trying to bring up the positive aspects of the club as much as possible. It was the foundation of advertising, and Sun Hwa stayed true to it. Then, Seo Kwang stepped out and asked, "Any book lovers here?" There was no answer. However, Seo Kwang didn't let up, either. "I'm sure some of you hate writing and love reading, but you don't feel like joining either the Literature Debate Club or the Book Club. If that applies to you, listen very carefully as I explain why the Literature Club would be just the club for you." Then, Seo Kwang proved his obsession with reading to the freshmen. Talking about books at great length was one of his specialties, and upon witnessing that, the freshmen were bound to realize the severity of the junior's obsession, whether they wanted to or not. Then, with appropriate timing, Bom signaled Seo Kwang to stop. "The desire to know more about your passion is only natural, and it makes you want to know everything there is to know about that subject. The moment you step into the Literature Club, that yearning will be resolved. You may have been merely interacting with books from a reader's standpoint, but as soon as you create your first sentence, you get to see everything that happens in the background. The things you couldn't see, no matter how many times or for how long you read the same part of a book, unfold right before your eyes the second you finish writing your very own sentence. It's truly an incredible experience," Seo Kwang said, his eyes burning with passion while expressing just how amazing the experience had been for him. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like there were any book lovers in Classroom 1, at least no one who liked books as much as Seo Kwang, anyway. Seeing the lack of response, Bom stepped in to deal with the situation. "Uh, so, if we were to talk about our grades, our club has something to offer when it comes to boosting your student records: The Literary Awards. Our members take part in all kinds of essay contests on a regular basis, hosted by various organizations, and there's an array of awards out there. Some contests offer cash prizes of a whopping thousand dollars, while there are also awards that offer special recognition that would get you accepted into a university. I've won an award, which was unthinkable when I first joined the club. But, I believe the only reason I was able to win was that I joined the Literature Club." The freshmen fixed their eyes on Bom. At which point, she emphasized, "So, on that note, I'd like to urge everyone here to consider joining us, even those with the most remote interest." Then, Bo Suk spoke up, "Everyone here knows Yun Woo, right?" "Yes," the freshmen answered in a more recognizable voice that time. Everyone in the class knew Yun Woo. "'The faceless, genius author, Yun Woo.' People call him all sorts of cool-sounding names, right? The youngest, the first author in Asia and the world, and the first in Korea. He grabs coffee with Kelley Coin, apparently. His fellow authors get inspiration from him and include those in their own novels. Every single one of his books has made it to the bestsellers' list, and they're all in the top-ten bestsellers' rankings to this day. If you go to any bookstore, you'll quickly find the enormous stash of Yun Woo books. I mean, considering how many books he has sold so far, he's gotta be loaded, and if I were to be honest with you, I thought to myself once that I wanted to be like him when I grew up. I'm sure everyone here has had the same thought at some point, at least once. Am I right?" "Yes," a student answered in a loud voice, and the class broke out into a chuckle. Then, Bo Suk pointed at the student and said, "Then, join the Literature Club, where your legend will start. Who knows? Yun Woo might come looking for you one day, impressed, asking you how you were able to write a novel like that!" The freshmen looked unconvinced, as if they didn't even wish for that to happen. Then, Bo Suk took decided to approach things from another angle. "Being part of the Literature Club, you're bound to hear about the literary world, including stories about Yun Woo. When his identity gets revealed, I'm sure the Literature Club will be the first to know. I mean, we're all curious, aren't we?" Although the students remained unconvinced, they began to show interest in Bo Suk's words. Then, Juho stepped forward quietly and lifted up the book in his hand, and Bo Suk gave him a helping hand. "This is a compilation that the Literature Club has put together. You can say that it's a record of our yearly progress. Don't you just love the cover design? Well, guess what, it was designed by a member who has just recently graduated." At that, the freshmen were taken aback by its quality. "There are plenty of other compilations like this that date back to a time even before we were in high school. You can learn about the school's history, and dare I say, secrets. Not only are they fun to read, but they'll move you from deep within. I recommend you check them out when you have time, but for now, why don't we take a quick look at it?" The two compilations were put in the hands of a student sitting in the frontmost row, and handing one to the classmate next to them, the two began to scan through the tomes. Rather than being genuinely interested in the content, it was more apparent that they were trying to be polite in front of the sophomore and juniors standing in front of them. The compilations circulated the classroom quickly. "Now, these here are the stories that Seo Kwang mentioned that are being exhibited in the library. The covers for these books were also designed by the same person who designed the covers of the compilations." "Wow, that looks amazing," a quiet voice sounded from the audience. Baron's designs were pleasing to the eye, and things that were pleasing to the eye tended to captivate people, making them want them for themselves. They wanted to touch it for no apparent reason. Then, Juho nodded with a smile. "This here was written by Sun Hwa, and this here was written by Bom herself And this one was written by Bo Suk. Every bit of these books was created by our respective members, down to every punctuation. They might not be that long, but I can assure you that they're of great quality. Not only are they substantial, but they're also fun to read. If you'd like to know if I'm telling the truth, you can find out for yourselves by looking at these books," Juho said, locking eyes with each student. Then, the moment he was about to open his mouth to speak, a student sitting in the back of the middle row raised their hand. It was the first interaction up to that point, and Juho looked at the student and his long, thin eyes. "Do you have a question?" "Yes," the student answered in a light voice. He had a playful look about him, and Juho imagined it would only become more apparent if the student were to put on a big smile. As if aware of that, the freshman maintained a straight face. "Where's the other book?" the student asked in a rigid tone of voice, unlike his appearance. "Other book?" Juho asked, looking down at the three books in his hand. "'Grains of Sand is missing," the student said. "Oh, that." As the long, thin eyes blinked, Juho explained the whereabouts of the book. "It's still in the library." "Why is that?" "It was just too good. I wrote it, by the way." "..." A handful of students chuckled, perceiving Juho's statement as a joke. Then, Juho flipped to the later pages and handed the tome over to another student in the frontmost seat, who took it from Juho's hand willingly. "If a beginner were to see it, it would kill their drive to write. It's a piece that encourages the desire to write, all the while taking away the courage to." There were times when two different emotions would come up to a person's heart at once, and one of those times was when something captivating was in front of their eyes. They wanted to, yet they couldn't. While feeling the desire to be able to write a piece like that, there was also a realization that they would never be able to. It wasn't necessarily a bad phenomenon. Rather, it was a matter that took contemplation and decision-making. However, the club members were facing the particular situation of advertising for their club, interacting with students with no interest in books. Presenting a thick tome, made of classic literature to kids who had barely read a single book the entire previous year would only work against the club members. Only when people felt closer to the club members, would they be willing to consider joining light-heartedly. However, despite Juho's intention, the freshmen looked at Juho as if looking at someone with a tad too much self-esteem. "Well, that's all a joke, but really, if you're curious, go check it out at the library. It's free," Juho said with a smile. "And those who find themselves moved by what they read, the Literature Club wouldn't be a bad place to be. Sensitivity is a crucial element of art. If a piece written by an amateur manages to move its readers, it would mean that they have talent. I recommend checking out other compilations while you're there. Also, the Book Club isn't such a bad club, either." "It seems like our time is up," Sun Hwa said in closing, cutting Juho off as he was about to advertise for another club. "If you're interested, please feel free to apply. You can turn your applications in to Mr. Moon. We accept anyone and everyone with open arms."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Just like that, the club members' experience in promoting their club came to an end, and the club members emphasized the name of the club until the very last second on their way out. As the Literature Club stepped out of the classroom, the Volunteering Club, who had been waiting for their turn in the hallway, went in with their colorful tools. "Honestly, the response wasn't too terrible!" Seo Kwang said nonchalantly, and Bom agreed. "Yeah, it really wasn't that bad. I think we can keep it going like this!" Then, remembering something, Sun Hwa stared daggers at Juho, "You know, you did well back there, but why do you keep bringing up other clubs?" "It just came out," Juho said calmly, and the displeasure on her face deepened. In the end, Bo Suk interjected, "Let's look at the bright side. I think the story about Yun Woo really worked. I saw their eyes sparkle." "That is true." "Well then, let's move on and get this out of the way," Seo Kwang rushed his clubmates, and they headed toward Classroom 2, which was right next to the classroom they had just left. Then, after thinking for a brief moment, Juho asked to be excused, "You guys go on ahead." "What?... Well, we have to wait anyway, so hurry back." "It won't take long." As if irked by him, Sun Hwa waved irritably and walked away. Then, Juho turned around and peeked his head through the back door of Classroom 1 and saw the student sitting in the backmost seat. Conveniently, the freshman with long, thin eyes was looking in his direction. As Juho waved, the freshman looked around in confusion. 'Yes, you,' Juho murmured internally, and the freshman, who wasn't as tall as he had appeared to be, walked toward him. "Were you looking for me?" the freshman asked in a rigid voice, obviously nervous. "Yeah," Juho said with a smile, indicating to the nervous freshman that he had come in peace. "What is it?" the freshman asked, still nervous. "What's your name?" Juho asked light-heartedly. The freshman wasn't wearing a name tag. "Gong Pal Kong." A name that grabbed attention came from the freshman's mouth. 'Is it a name or a series of numbers?' Juho thought to himself. Nevertheless, although it was rather unusual, it was also an interesting name, and swallowing the question that came to him by impulse, Juho got to the point. (TL's Note: 'Gong Pal' translates or sounds like 'zero eight' in Korean.) "I wanted to ask you something. You're not busy, are you?" "No, not at all." At that, Juho nodded. "We locked eyes in the library, didn't we?" "... Yes, we did." "I knew it. You were the one reading 'Grains of Sand,' huh?" "Just like you said, it was just too good." 'But I had no clue that it was written by someone like you.' That blatant flash of emotions appeared on Gong Pal's face. However, Juho was quite fond of his honesty "Gong Pal," Juho called to him. It rolled right off the tongue. "Yes?" "So, are you planning on joining the Literature Club?" "I… can't say at the moment," Gong Pal said, looking at Juho. "If you come to our club, you'll find even more things to read." After Juho's tempting words, Gong Pal just stared at him instead of giving him an answer. "Not just what's already been written, but what's going to be written in the future, as well." "..." While he was hesitant, Juho patted him on the shoulder as a gesture of telling him to think about it some more. "It's a fun club to be part of. Come visit if you're ever curious." After a long pause, Gong Pal gave him an affirmative answer. Then, checking the expression on the freshman's face one more time, Juho walked away in order to reunite with his clubmates while thinking back on the faces of the people who had been moved by his writing. Juho's writing had a profound impact on people. Gong Pal was fond of 'Grains of Sand,' in particular, and reading one's favorite piece of writing brought about joy. Maintaining a state of joy was part of humanity's natural instinct, and it was for that reason that people looked at books written by other authors. They wanted to replicate the emotional experience, and they wanted to experience it repeatedly. The bait that Juho had just placed before the freshman had to be quite appetizing for him, and Juho hoped that he would take it. "What did you guys talk about? Were you advertising? How'd it go?" Seo Kwang asked, and at that moment, the club that was in the class came out of Classroom 2. Then, Juho said as he walked in, "He had a cool name." At that, Seo Kwang gave him an emphatic, non-verbal signal, suggesting that they should resume their conversation later. Meanwhile, Sun Hwa repeated things similar to what she had said in the previous classroom and Juho looked around the class, standing still with books in his hands. At that moment, his eyes were drawn to the backmost seat of the middle row. "Huh?" They met again. The long, thin eyes. Juho blinked twice to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating, but sure enough, it was the same pair of eyes from a moment ago. The student also had a playful look about her, and just like Gong Pal, she had a straight face, as if knowing that she could come across as insincere and frivolous. However, her long hair followed her sharp chin line past her shoulders. On top of it all, she was a girl. "Juho," Bo Suk called to him, poking at his side. Then, stepping forward in a delay, Juho explained about the books. At that moment, the girl raised her hand. "Where's the other book?" "Eh?" Only then, did the rest of the club members recognize the student. Then, Seo Kwang, taken aback, asked, "You look just like the guy we saw in Classroom 1!" At that, the girl answered sullenly, "We're twins." "Huh, twins!" Sun Hwa said, also taken aback. As if familiar with the situation, the girl accepted the club members' responses. After thinking for a brief time, Juho asked, "Your name?" Then, blinking twice, the girl answered, "Gong Il Kong." (TL's Note: "Gong Il" means "zero one" in Korean. The last name "Kong" is also interchangeable with "Gong.") At that, Juho found himself thinking, 'So, not 007.' (TL's Note: Remember, last names come before first names in Korea!) --- "Ugh! I'm beat." "Tell me about it." The club members were exhausted after having visited every single classroom on the freshmen's floor. Believe it or not, speaking in front of a crowd was a rather taxing task, and with the exception of Juho, everyone in the science room was plopped on their desks, either on their cheeks or their foreheads. "Guess we just gotta wait and see now," Sun Hwa said in a slur, and Bom sat up slowly with a concerned look on her face. "Do you think anybody will come? Now that I think about it, I do feel like we kind of rambled on. Maybe we might have been better off to have them experience things themselves, somehow." "We didn't have enough time, though. There were other clubs waiting in line, too." "True. Honestly, I was hoping to have an in-depth conversation about books with them. Longer and more elaborate." "Then, they'd just join the Book Club." At that, Juho nodded and said, "We did our best." Whether the freshmen joined the Literature Club or not, the club members had done everything within their power. "Besides, there's nothing we can do, now," Juho said, and Sun Hwa agreed. "It's too early for reflections, too." At that, Bom smiled faintly, and Seo Kwang, who had plopped his forehead on his desk, turned his head toward Juho. "I miss Baron. He would have been so good at all this." "He would have come up with a poster in no time." Sun Hwa murmured that they wouldn't have been as worried if they'd been able to stand in front of the freshmen with a poster from Baron. "But there were a few who seemed interested, weren't here?" Bo Suk said, unlike the rest of the club members who were filled with worry and concern. "I think they liked it when we mentioned the cash prize, too." "Yeah! There were even some who seemed pretty interested when we mentioned a specific amount of money." "Hooray for capitalism!" Through the experience, the club members learned that it wasn't all that difficult to take interest in things, and that all it took was to give it a try. From money to grades, university, books, and awards, the club members had prepared an array of baits for a reason. "I think we'll have at least two," Juho murmured, and the club members jumped out of their seats. "Really!? You think so!?" "Who? Was there anybody interested?" Seo Kwang asked, having caught on to where Juho was coming from. "Oh, the twins?" "Speaking of which, you were gone for a little while to talk to one of them, right?" "Why? Were they anxious to join?" "No, just a feeling," Juho said. However, the club members ignored his denial and kept on, "Yeah, they were both really into 'Grains of Sand,' weren't they?" "They wanted to know more about Juho, too." "Neither of them seemed super outgoing, either. Normally, students have no hobby nor do they know what they want to do with their lives, so it makes sense that they would be drawn to the Literature Club." "That sounds reasonable," Bo Suk said in a serious tone of voice. Unfortunately, as reasonable as it might have sounded, there was no way to back it up, making it all mere conjecture. From all that, Juho witnessed just how much influence his words carried. "Well, in any case, I'm sure somebody's going to come." From then on, the club members went down to see Mr. Moon in the staffroom in order to check the number of applications that were submitted, and wearing an indifferent expression, the teacher showed them his empty hands. The club members became exceedingly disappointed and anxious. "I'm going, now." "OK, bye," Juho said while sweeping the floor with a broomstick, and without even looking back, Sun Hwa left the class. Feeling the stuffy air in the classroom, Juho stood near the window for a little while in order to get some fresh air, but the air quality was just as bad outside as inside. At that moment, a voice came from behind him telling him not to slack off, and Juho went back to sweeping the floor immediately and thoroughly. There were all sorts of things on the desks, from workbooks to textbooks. "Done," Juho said as he closed the window and wrapped up, leaving the classroom without hesitation. Then, as he went down to the science room by habit, he was met with his clubmates exploding into cheers and he was well aware that they weren't celebrating his appearance. There were more people in the room than usual. To be precise, there were two more people. Two nearly-identical-looking silhouettes. "Juho!" Bo Suk cried out upon seeing him, and at that, everyone else looked in his direction. Then, Juho walked into the room. "Freshmen?" Juho asked despite recognizing the long, thin eyes, and the two answered at the same time, "Yes." "Have you guys turned your applications in already?" That time, the twins also answered simultaneously, "We did." After their answer, Juho nodded with satisfaction. "There's no turning back, now." "So we heard." "Yes, I know." That time, the twins gave different answers. The harmony of their higher and lower pitched voices wasn't half bad. Then, wearing an excited look on her face, Sun Hwa asked, "You guys joined because you liked what you heard, right?" She wanted to know how effective her promotional tactics had been, and after locking eyes with each other, the twins answered at the same time, "Yes, we couldn't resist." At that, Juho chuckled, and with blatant joy on his face, Seo Kwang asked, "Man, who would've thought we would be short on seats? We're gonna need another desk, right?" "Man, we haven't done this in so long!" Due to Baron's absence, only one other chair and desk was needed, but that didn't get in the way of the club members celebrating the new additions to the club. Because the club was mostly made of juniors, they wouldn't be able to come to the science room as often toward the end of the semester. And previously concerned about that, the veteran members were relieved to bring in more members. Then, Seo Kwang and Juho each brought out a desk and a chair, which had been collecting dust in the corner of the room, and Bom and Bo Suk wiped them with wet wipes while Sun Hwa explained the use of the manuscript papers stacked in another corner to the twins. Listening to the junior's explanation, the twins looked awkwardly at the club members working with clockwork precision. Just like that, another desk was placed next to the one that had belonged to Baron. "All right. Let's have a seat." At that, Gong Pal took a seat closer to Juho, and after staring intently at him for a little while, the freshman looked away and down at his desk. Although he seemed awkward still, nobody pressured him to get used to the surroundings any quicker. "Huh?! You guys already set the seats up and all," Mr. Moon said as he walked in unhurriedly, looking at his pupils as if looking at objects that made his life easier and more convenient.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "We have some new members in the club. Put your hands together for them," Mr. Moon said, and the club members all applauded simultaneously, the crisp sound reverberating throughout the science room. Waiting patiently for the applause to die down, the teacher opened his mouth and said, "Needless to say, we're going to be writing, but should you have anything else in mind, don't hesitate to come and find me in the staffroom." "Yes, Mr. Moon," the club members answered in a dry tone, as if they had no intention of actually visiting him in the staffroom. "This year, four of our members are juniors, and as most of you may have seen from the recent graduate that the juniors most likely won't be able to participate in club activities due to exams, SAT preparations, and figuring out their career paths." There was no way around it. "Building student records, SAT preparations, interviews, self-introductions, activity records, etc. There will be all sorts of tasks waiting for you." "Agh! I hate my life!" Seo Kwang murmured, and from his deeply sincere expression, the club members all empathized with him. Then, with a serious expression on his face, Mr. Moon added, "You can't afford to get distracted. Otherwise, you'll end up regretting not having worked hard enough later, when you can now. You're facing the situation of having to sacrifice your present as an investment for your future." At that, Juho stared intently at Mr. Moon. Although he was still distinctively blunt, those words felt odd coming from him. Then, the teacher sat on his comfortable chair and crossed his legs. "Instead, you have my permission to come and write when you need to. If anybody gives you a hard time for writing, stand against them and keep writing." "... What?" That statement made Juho relieved on the inside. That was the Mr. Moon he was used to. Despite the club members locking eyes with each other in confusion, the teacher maintained a straight face. There was nothing about his appearance that would make one think that he was joking. "Writing is an acceptable form of distraction. The way I see it, some of the most painful regrets are in wondering: 'Why didn't I write more before?' Compared to that pain, your regrets as a junior in high school are nothing." "... I thought he was giving the juniors advice?" Bo Suk let out. However, Mr. Moon couldn't be more serious. "Yes, I am giving advice. To be more accurate, advice none of you asked for. Call it the self-gratification of wanting you all to turn out OK in the future. I want you all to be better writers." "..." Just like he had said, nobody had asked for the advice. He had taken the initiative to bring it up himself and expressed his sincere wish that his students would stick around in the club and write, regardless of their grades. Needless to say, he was a teacher at that school. "I wanted to be a novelist." As Mr. Moon went even further and started talking about himself, Seo Kwang chuckled silently. That was what Mr. Moon was like. Although being hopelessly lost from the advice they had just heard a moment ago, the club members took interest in his story. "I had talent too, but in the end, it didn't work out, so I fell behind everyone else." When he finally failed and gave up, everyone else around him had already been doing something with their lives. Mr. Moon was left all alone, with nothing in his possession. "But now, as you can see, I've become one impressive teacher. Does that mean this will last for the rest of my life? No way. I'm tired of teaching. It's just not for me. I'm sure I'll either get fired or quit, and eventually look for another work. Better yet, I'll be even older by that point. The thought of it alone just makes me shudder," the teacher said, letting out a heavy sigh. "The situation I'm in is no different from the one you guys are in currently." By that point, everyone had a noticeably different look on their faces. "So, that's why I formed the Literature Club: to get away from the loathsome worries of life. I wanted to laugh while reading your awkward pieces of writing. I wanted to eat fried chicken at school and pieces of dried squid, all under the excuse of leading the Literature Club. I wanted to be lazy and relax, knowing that there was always going to be tomorrow. So, you guys have my permission to do the same. Your parents and teachers might not approve, but I'm willing to let it slide." With that, the teacher finished his speech, and the room sank into silence. Then, Juho cautiously looked around and observed his clubmates. While everyone had different looks on their faces, they all knew that they wouldn't have to worry about ruining their lives by following Mr. Moon's advice. Then, he rose from his chair, and said, "With that, we'll take some time to introduce ourselves today." Some wind blew and ventilated the room. With the exception of the twins and Bo Suk, the rest of the club members exploded into a clamor at those words. "We're not doing it too, are we?" "Of course, you are." "We've been talking about ourselves all day while advertising for the club!" "Then, I guess you just gotta write it out." "Oh, c'mon!" "If you don't feel like writing, you can always come up to the front and introduce yourself in front of everyone." "... I'll just write." Everyone was tired of talking in front of a crowd. Therefore, Seo Kwang picked up his pen quietly. Then, looking at the twins, Mr. Moon gave them a choice on how they could go about introducing themselves. Bom was already up and ready to get the sheets of manuscript paper for them. After locking eyes with each other, the twins answered, "We'll come up to the front." "Huh." They were the first members to choose to introduce themselves in front of everyone else, and taken aback, the club members stared at the twins. Meanwhile, Mr. Moon sat back down on his comfortable chair and pushed himself away from the podium with his feet, making a rattling noise as the wheels of the chair turned. "Who wants to go first?" "Me," Gong Il raised her hand, and Gong Pal didn't make any objections. Then, Gong Il went up to the front without a delay, and putting her hands together in a polite manner, she opened her mouth to start her introduction, "Hello, My name is Gong Il Kong. I'm a freshman from Classroom 2." After locking eyes with each other, the club members applauded awkwardly. Although Gong Il herself looked just as awkward, she kept on in a calm, composed manner. "A lot of people ask me about my name." "Yeah, I was about to ask, myself," Seo Kwang murmured quietly. "I have a twin brother who was born one minute ahead of me. Needless to say, we're twins, born on the same day, on the eighteenth of that month. From what my parents told me, my father conveniently had the last name 'Kong,' which is how they came to name us. " "Her parents have a sense of humor," Seo Kwang muttered, looking somewhat disappointed. "I've always thought that it was sad that I wasn't born on the seventeenth instead. If we had, my brother would've ended up with a cool name, Gong Chil Kong." (TL's Note: Last names comes before first names in Korea, which would make the name "Gong Chil Gong (or Kong)," "Gong Gong Chil," which means 007 in Korean.) Bom chuckled quietly at her witty remark, and the twin brother narrowed his already-narrow eyes, glaring at his sister. "By the way, my nickname is Gong Il Gong." (TL's Note: "Gong Il Gong," or 010, is usually associated with spam calls in Korea.) "She has her parents' sense of humor," Seo Kwang muttered, and he didn't stop talking until Sun Hwa kicked him in the shin. Oblivious to that, Gong Il kept on, "I, personally, have a keen interest in love." Love. After the intriguing remark, Juho listened intently. It had a pleasant ring to it. Unfortunately, he had to force himself from thinking of Sang Choi's face. "Question!" Bo Suk let out, raising her hand as she saw Seo Kwang rubbing his leg. At that, Gong Il looked at Mr. Moon, who nodded affirmingly. "There exists all sorts of love in this world. Which love are you most interested in?" "The physical love," Gong Il answered immediately, and Sun Hwa let out a long, mysterious exclamation. "I have a lot of interest in the physical love that takes place between two people. When did humans start having intercourse with each other? Why does that function exist? Where do the desires come from? What sets humans apart from animals? Why are bolts and nuts, bolts and nuts? Why do bolts and bolts or nuts and nuts get ostracized? Which bolt or nut is the most superior? Is one superior or inferior to the other? Where did the standards come from? How does the bolt in our minds affect our physical bolts and nuts? Why are we born with either a bolt OR a nut, only? Why do or don't we want the other? Bolts and nuts…" "Hm. I think that's enough bolts and nuts for the day," Mr. Moon said politely in order to stop Gong Il's ongoing exposition, and the club burst into laughter. As Seo Kwang offered an explanation of the nuts and bolts that no one asked for, Gong Il changed the subject, unfazed, mostly about her favorite or least favorite subjects, shows, and books. "After moving up to high school, I visited the library by coincidence and came across a book called 'Grains of Sand.' It was very moving," the freshman said, and returned to her seat. Then, Juho shared his thoughts on her self-introduction, "Very philosophic. I liked it." At that, her lips puckered up ever so slightly. It was her way of being bashful. "Thank you." After Gong Il, the turn went to Gong Pal, who placed his hand on the podium gently. "Hello. My name is Gong Pal Kong, and I'm a freshman from Classroom 1." Like done previously, the club members applauded, much more stable than when delivering the applause to Gong Il. The awkwardness in the air dissipated. "The reason I'm up here second is that I had lost the competition that determined who would go first." Lost. It had a heart-aching ring to it. "Because we spend so much time together, our experiences often overlap with one another. Therefore, on an occasion like this, the person who goes second tends to have nothing left to say. We both dreaded being the second in line, but since we've been born twins, it was inevitable. If there's a first, then there has to be a second. So, in pursuit of fairness, we agreed to compete for our turn. The rights to be the first in line for the rest of our lives have been decided by one single game of rock-paper-scissors, and as a result, despite having been born first, I was made the permanent second in our lives. "Then, I came to realize that there were indeed strengths to being second in line in its own right. For example, it gives me more time to think ahead or the opportunity to use my time to the fullest." "I think I get the gist," Bom said, identifying with him. "Oh, by the way, my nickname used to be 'Kong Pat.'" (TL's Note: "Kong Pat" means kidney, but the nickname had to have come from the fact that it sounds like his name, "Gong Pal.") "So, not a number, this time," Seo Kwang murmured in an even quieter voice. "I like video games." "Oh! Video games!" Bo Suk exclaimed, raising her hand as she had previously and asking, "Which games are you into?" At her question, Gong Pal answered without a delay, "There is a game that I started playing when I was in sixth grade, and I've been playing ever since." "You mean, one game?" "Yes. Although the genre can be identified as a roleplaying adventure, you can also think of it as a story-driven game for the sake of convenience. It involves taking control of a character and going through the storyline within the game." "So, do you get different endings depending on the choices you make, and things like that?" Seo Kwang asked, thinking there had to be an element like that if one were to play the same game for four years. However, Gong Pal shook his head. "No, there's one ending to the game, and it's fixed." "And you saw it?" "Yes, I did." Considering that he had been playing it for the last four years, he had to have seen it. Then, looking perplexed, Sun Hwa asked, "And you still play?" "Yes. I tend to play games when I'm sad or happy." "Huh. Hm. I'm kind of like that too. I tend to read when I'm hungry," Seo Kwang said, raising his hand. Then, with her eyes sparkling with curiosity, Bom asked, "How many times have you seen the ending of that game in the last four years?" At her question, Gong Pal stared off into thin air for a little while and said, "More than I can count." As the club members exclaimed, the freshman began to explain the plot of the game in great detail, as well as the format, genre, production, climax, hidden secrets, the power within the story, the tear-jerking ending, the creators, and how one can go about playing the game. Listening to him, Juho remembered the story about the grilled-mackerel, which he had written as his self-introduction when he was a freshman. "Hm. I think that's enough description of a video game for the day," Mr. Moon said, interjecting once again in order to stop the ongoing exposition of the freshman. Then, with a lingering emotion on his face, Gong Pal wrapped up his self-introduction. From sixth grade to a freshman in high school, he had spent those four years playing video games. That meant that either the game was a masterpiece, or he had an obsessive personality and liked to see things to the end. Perhaps both. Nevertheless, the club members were able to get a much better idea of what kind of characters the twins were. "After moving up to high school, I visited the library by coincidence and came across a book called 'Grains of Sand.' After that, I dragged my sister along with me to the library and read it again. It was very moving," As Gong Pal wrapped up his self-introduction, Mr. Moon complimented him on a job well done.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl The twins adapted to the Literature Club without much trouble. Not only were they keen on Mr. Moon's lessons, but they didn't have any noticeable resistance toward writing, either. Since they had chosen to introduce themselves through presentations, Mr. Moon put them to the test immediately in order to gauge their foundations in writing. After a round of the word-chain game, the twins had wound up with, as expected, three words that were completely irrelevant to each other with which to come up with a story: scissors, duck feathers, and glass slippers. Gong Pal, in particular, knew the best yet most obvious approach to plot development. He knew all the cliches. The fact that they were obvious meant that they were used very often, and the fact that they were used that often meant that they were very effective. He seemed to have had some experience with story development. On the other hand, his twin sister, Gong Il, wasn't quite as skilled yet. She appeared not to be as well acquainted with handling a story. However, she had a keen interest in people, particularly, in the origins of humanity. The love of which she had spoken had neither been romantic nor sexual in nature. If anything, it was closer to mathematics, but substituting an equation with a question and drawing an answer out. Much like her twin brother, she, too, had been playing the same thing for a long time. Game and love. Although they were seemingly different on the surface, they were quite similar in the way they were handled. "I want this book, too." "No, I had it first!" At that moment, the two, nearly identical siblings were fighting over a book. "Aren't you popular," Seo Kwang whispered to Juho ominously, and Juho responded by pushing his head away. Then, Juho looked at 'Grains of Sand' placed in the middle of a desk. There was a tense-looking pair of hands, which belonged to one of the twins, on top of it. Juho remembered what had happened just a moment ago: After explaining in great length what transcribing was and its importance, Mr. Moon had said, "Now, go to the library and bring back books for you to transcribe. It doesn't matter what they are as long as you pick them yourselves. Also, they HAVE to be books that you've read before." After that, the twins had bolted from their seats and out of the science room, their hurried footsteps fading into the distance. They had realized by instinct that they were both thinking the same thing. The battle was on. First, Juho tried to calm them down, "There are other books too, you know? The library has a whole array of them." "I'll pick another book after I'm done with this one," the twins said simultaneously. With that, 'Grains of Sand' had been chosen for their very first transcription assignment. "Don't even think about sharing. One. Book. Per. Person. No exceptions. Now, make a decision. Fight if you have to," Mr. Moon said. It was just like he said. For transcription, sharing one book between two people had to come with significant inconveniences. Because their paces would most likely be different, one wouldn't be able to flip to the next page when they wanted to, at which point, the flow of the entire process would be disrupted. Because it was a process that involved following the author's intent and thoughts down to every period and punctuation, concentration was crucial in transcription. The slightest differences that could occur from the two sharing the book would be an incredible distraction. "One of you will have to yield," Sun Hwa suggested the obvious. And while the twins locked eye with each other, neither of them took their hands off the book. "Didn't you say that you guys agreed on a rule? So, what if you just follow that? Gong Il goes first, and Gong Pal, second." "But I'm the one who read 'Grains of Sand' first. In that regard, my sister was second. So, I think it's only fair that we approach this matter in the same manner." "No, no. That's strictly regarding the act of reading. It has already happened, so it makes sense to start fresh and apply the rule that we agreed to follow." Gong Pal glared down at 'Grains of Sand' fiercely, and without an inkling of letting up anytime soon, Gong Il held on to the book tightly. "Seems like they both have obsessive personalities," Bom murmured quietly, and Juho agreed. Meanwhile, the twins were engaged in a fierce quarrel. "I can just give it to you when I'm done. I don't see an issue there." "Yes, I'll give it to you when I'm done." "You know, I saw a book on love in the library earlier. You should go with that. I can run there and fetch it for you this instant if you just agree to it." "No. You're gonna be busy with that video game of yours anyway. I'll just finish it fast and hand it over to you." "I'm taking it first." "No, I'm taking it first." Despite their default, blank expressions and rigid speech, the two didn't hesitate to use poignant words with each other. They were undoubtedly siblings, and they seemed to be quite used to their dynamic. Though subtle, there was enough indication in their interaction to show that the order the twins had agreed on in the past wasn't always respected. "OK, how about this?" Bo Suk said, raising her hand as though she had had an idea. At that, the club members, including the bickering twins, fixed their eyes on her, who was looking at Juho. "Why don't we let the author decide?" "Me?" With the exception of one person, everyone agreed, and with a proud expression on her face, the sophomore looked to the author of 'Grains of Sand.' No matter how accomplished she might feel, her assurance provided no help to the trouble the author was about to go through, not in any way. "Why are you dragging me into this?" "Because you're the author, AKA The Owner of the Book." "But Seo Kwang said that books belong to the readers." "Only if you paid for them. Of course, there are different ways readers can become the owners of books from a broader point of view, which would require us to take a closer look at how the book came about." Then, cutting Seo Kwang's ongoing exposition off, Sun Hwa exclaimed, "Good! You decide who gets to take the book first." "Remind me why I'm the one making that decision?" "Majority rule. Sorry, buddy." At that, Juho let out a faint sigh, and the twins waited anxiously for the author's decision. Aside from the siblings, who seemed quite serious, the rest of his clubmates seemed to want to put him through some trouble. "Are you really gonna follow my decision?" Juho asked, and the twins nodded reluctantly, taking their hands off the book slowly. 'Is this really worth it?' Juho thought to himself. "Hm. All right." Juho was given the rights to choose, as well as the promise from the twins that they would conform to the result unconditionally. And some brief contemplation, Juho opened his mouth, and said light-heartedly, "Then, neither of you get to transcribe 'Grains of Sand.' There, fair and square." As their plan deviated from their expectations, the crowd jeered at the author, and Juho snickered without a care in the world. "You two are the ones who agreed to follow my decision." "... But!" The twins turned deathly pale and looked at 'Grains of Sand' filled with lingering attachment. Then, the club members interfered, "No, no. Forget it. Seriously, you are no fun." Just like that, the club members, including the twins, went back to their previous status quo and began to discuss amongst themselves as if there had never been rules from the get-go. That was the very example of the danger of verbal contracts. It rendered decisions by majority useless. Meanwhile, Juho spectated over the members of his club in peace. "Just do rock-paper-scissors." In the end, the twins agreed to a more definitive approach. One would have to stand on top of the other in order to obtain what they wanted. Then, as a means to comfort them, Seo Kwang reached toward the anxious twins and said, "And one of you gets to transcribe one of Yun Woo's books." "Yun Woo?" "Why Yun Woo?" The twins asked simultaneously, and Seo Kwang asked back, unfazed, "Don't you like Yun Woo?" "No, I do." "I like him." The twins answered without a delay, and Seo Kwang said, in a serious tone that time, "The way I see it, Yun Woo and Juho have a lot in common. First, their ages. As you guys know, Yun Woo's a junior this year, same as us. And most importantly, the skill. Juho, our ace and the pride of our club, has a skill comparable to Yun Woo's, and I'm sure you guys, having already read 'Grains of Sand,' would know that by now." The twins didn't deny it. "'Grains of Sand' was a big enough deal to be in the school newspaper, and everyone who read the book knows about it, which is also why you two are trying to get your hands on the book at the cost of your friendship. Unfortunately, there's only one copy in existence, which means it can't be shared, and the only thing the less fortunate of you two can do is wait. The loser suffers from heartache, and the winner, too, has to deal with that remnant of guilt in their heart. But what if a book that is comparable or even better shows up? Not only that, one that yields a very similar emotional experience?" "It justifies the situation." "The heartache would be significantly less." "That's it!" Seo Kwang said, proud of the tactful freshmen who were quick to catch on. "You guys know how much I read, love, and know about books, right?" "How can they not? You're probably all over your book whenever they see you," Sun Hwa muttered, and at that, the twins nodded. "Which means, you can trust my suggestions, right?" "Yes." "I trust you." "Which also means, you recognize that I have an eye for books, right?" "Yes." "I agree." Then, Seo Kwang got to the point, "Then, I would recommend 'River.' It has a lot of similarities with 'Grains of Sand,' both being short stories that capture a specific moment in life. On top of that, it stirs up uncontrollable emotions within its readers, along with a deep sense of admiration. Furthermore…" "Sounds good." "I agree." The twins agreed at the same time, and without hesitation, Sun Hwa raised her hand, marking the start of the battle. "OK, then. We'll start with a round of rock-paper-scissors." The twins both clenched their hands into fists, and after promising to give it their all, they raised their hands in the air. Rock-paper-scissors. The winner exclaimed. A bright smile appeared on Gong Pal's face, his hand shaking with joy. It was a cheerful smile that they had yet to see, and which brightened the entire room. After looking at 'Grains of Sand' with lingering eyes, Gong Il, too, gave into her brother's joy. "But there is no 'River' in the library, is there?" "Don't worry. I have a copy," Seo Kwang said, taking 'The Beginning and the End' out of his backpack as if he had already had it prepared ahead of time and handing it to the twins proudly. "It's for practical use, so you may use it in peace." "For practical use?" Gong Il asked. --- "You guys transcribed too, right?" Gong Il asked. Her desk was occupied with her new transcription notebook and the copy of 'The Beginning and the End.' Then, Sun Hwa answered proudly, "Of course, I still do when I'm at home." She had been transcribing even without being told to, and the desire to write better was mutual among the club members. In order to achieve that desire, she worked hard, giving it all she had. "I'm about twenty books in now." "Wow, twenty?! That's incredible!" Gong Il said, taken aback. Juho had also had no clue. And pointing at Bom, who was sitting quietly, Sun Hwa said, "She just broke thirty." "Whoa! I barely got to ten," Seo Kwang exclaimed. Transcription was a physically taxing task. Then, feeling uncomfortable with being the center of attention, Bom waved her hands in denial. "I just happened to have too much time in my hands. That's all." "Don't be so bashful now. You should be proud and confident while saying something like, 'I'll become a writer that surpasses Yun Woo one day.'" Bom was still simply too timid to deal with Sun Hwa's ambitions. Then, as Bom curled up with embarrassment, like a mouse looking for a place to hide, Sun Hwa slapped her friend on her back with a full swing, making a sound loud enough to startle the twins. "We haven't heard from Juho yet. How far did you get, Juho?" In the end, under pressure, Bom changed the target of the subject, and that proved to be quite effective. Juho answered light-heartedly, "Half a book, maybe?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "What!? You mean you haven't even finished one!?" "Yep." The twins seemed perplexed, as if that had been out of character for him. The junior who had written 'Grains of Sand' was yet to even finish transcribing one single book, unlike his clubmates, who had transcribed into the double digits. "It really is talent…" Gong Il murmured by reflex. Although Sun Hwa and Bom had put a significant amount of time into transcribing, they couldn't write anything that came remotely close to 'Grains of Sand.' Having read every book exhibited in the library, it was only natural that the twins would think Juho was talented. "If you want to call me a genius, feel free to," Juho said in a calm tone of voice. While Gong Il studied his expression because of his dry tone, Juho waved in order to comfort her. "You can call me whatever you want, but at the end of the day, I'm me," he said, trying to come across as more carefree. Then, he remembered the stacks of papers taking up most of his room, which were mostly pieces of writing that were less than satisfactory to him. They were failures that Juho had piled up just to write one book. Fortunately, the suffocating state of his room was not visible from the outside. "There's something about that that makes you look like an actual author," the twins said to Yun Woo simultaneously. From then on, he had to endure a barrage of questions from them. "Juho, did you place these short sentences back to back to make this part more immersive or were you just really into it when writing?" After a brief pause, Juho answered, "I'd say both?" "Does that mean you recognized the fact that she wasn't alone from the beginning?" Another question followed without a delay. "Hm, yeah." "Juho, is the woman's description of the school foreshadowing the upcoming events?" "I think so?" "Why is it that she doesn't say a word?" "Words vanish in a split second. That's what she's most afraid of." Considering both the quantity and quality of his questions, Gong Pal was on the right track with his transcription. Juho thought it was rather refreshing to receive questions from a person transcribing his book. At the same time, it was uncomfortable. Watching someone grope about in his writing right before his eyes was quite unpleasant. "Juho." That time, a similar but thinner voice called to him. There was one more. As if competing with her brother, Gong Il also came to Juho with questions. Because he couldn't turn the curious freshmen away, avoiding the unpleasant feeling of having his book examined was no longer possible. "Do you think Yun Woo is an older man?" Gong Il asked a question that penetrated deep into Juho's heart. "What makes you think that?" Juho asked. "I just feel it while transcribing." "That it's written by an older man?" "His experience," Gong Il said in a serious tone. "The only thought I find myself having while transcribing 'River' is: 'I can't believe this was written by someone who's just two years older than me.'" "... That sounds about right. I mean, the title alone kind of gives off that impression, doesn't it?" Juho said, looking down at 'River' under her arms, the printed words coming into view. "Didn't you watch the interview? He revealed his age himself," Gong Pal rebutted from the side. Although looking unsatisfied, Gong Il admitted quietly, "I know. When he's talking about the boy, it's so pure, like in 'Trace of a Bird,' but the rest of the characters feel like they were written by a middle-aged man." In 'River,' there was a boy always holding hands with his sister, walking alongside the riverbank. In actuality, that was a character based on a real fan who had lost her brother to leukemia. Then, Gong Il let out a faint sigh, clearly lost. "I just don't get him." "That's probably because this is your first time transcribing," Juho said with a smile. Then, after staring intently at Juho's face for a while, Gong Il looked away. "Juho." Another question… "Why do you think we're born?" … a random question. "Through physical love," having been quietly listening to their conversation, Seo Kwang said. Although it wasn't necessarily the wrong answer, it was most likely not the answer Gong Il was looking for. Because if that were the case, the freshman would have known it a lot better than anybody else in the room. "Why do you ask?" Juho asked, observing her. After thinking for a brief time, she looked down and said, "Reading 'River,' I just had a realization that the answer might be found in death. I've been lingering on the idea of birth this entire time." "So narrow-minded," murmured 'Kong Pat,' and his sister looked at her twin brother with displeasure. "So, what happened?" Juho asked. "I kept looking, but it turns out death is nowhere near as fun as nuts and bolts." "Pff!" Bo Suk let out, covering her mouth, but Gong Il paid no attention to it. As if she had more to say, she kept on, "Now that I've started transcribing, I'm curious. What would this person, the author capable of such a vivid portrayal of death, believe to be the reason for our birth?" "Hm." "You have a lot in common with Yun Woo, so I thought I should ask." Why are people born? At the seemingly basic yet profound question, the room sank into a heavy silence, and the club members, including those who were and weren't aware of the subtle situation, waited anxiously for Juho's answer. Then, Juho tilted his head and said, "I don't know." The club members groaned out loud from his response. Expecting an extraordinary answer, they couldn't help but writhe with disappointment. Meanwhile, resting his chin on his hand, Juho said, "What were you expecting? I'm just as much of a student and a person as any of you here. I worry about things everyone else does." "Right. At least you DID." "You know, I was hoping you'd unveil the secrets of this world as if a coincidence," Seo Kwang said like singing a melody. He had waited for an answer from Yun Woo himself, and it was obvious he had had faith that the author wouldn't have given a disappointing answer like, "I don't know." "Yun Woo probably doesn't know either," Juho added. Then, as Gong Il looked up, Juho explained it to her once again in a friendly manner, "Yun Woo probably doesn't know it himself. Why are we born? Why live or die?" "Even though he writes such amazing novels?" "Yep." "Even though he seems like he has died once?" "That's right." "Why? Because he's human, too?" Although not exactly wrong, there was another answer that was even closer to the truth. "Because Yun Woo writes." "What about it though?" Gong Il asked, still puzzled. Juho explained, "Life, is what we call the time spanning the moment we're born until we die, and it's an author's job to observe that life, wrestle with and think about it, and lastly, write about it. That's a job only someone who doesn't know what life is can carry out." Then, he pointed at the literary magazine under her arms. "Have you read all of it?" "Uh, no. The only piece I've read thoroughly is 'River.'" "Then, take some time to read the rest of the book. I assure you, there's not going to be a single piece that's the same." At that, Gong Il looked down. "So, I'm sure Yun Woo's asking himself the same question you're asking. He's probably just as clueless and hopelessly lost." The freshman remained silent. However, when she parted her lips, an incredibly compulsive remark came out of her mouth, "I want to write." Then, Gong Il realized by instinct that her twin brother was thinking the same thing. "I want to write better." "You'll get there. You're part of the Literature Club, after all," Juho reminded her of the truth in a calm tone of voice. --- A video game played on the screen, lighting the dark room. It was a world made entirely of incredibly simple designs and short, stubby characters, and the graphics were less than impressive. It was a game made with a game development tool called Tsukuru, or RPG Maker, and it was obvious it was made by an amateur rather than an actual game company. Everything was simple. Moving left, right and up and down, the characters went around meeting other characters within the game and granting their requests, which advanced the story. 'Kong Pat' had come across that game by coincidence when he was in sixth grade, and needless to say, it was sloppily made. The first impression of a game made using RPG Maker was no more or less than what Gong Pal had expected. However, the game had a redeeming factor, and that was the story within it. The heartbreaking story gave life to what would've otherwise been a lousy game. Gong Pal pressed the arrow keys, controlling his character by the name of Jack solely on muscle memory. Jack left on a journey spurred by a will left by Letter, his grandmother, and the process of him delivering her will was the overall plot of the game. The contents of the will, the identity of the recipient and the path Jack had to walk through in order to meet him, and the reason his grandmother had been found outside, dead. As Gong Pal solved the mysteries one by one, he was rewarded with a sense of catharsis. "Gong Pal." As the door opened and a voice called out to him, Gong Pal looked back, taking the headset off. His twin sister, Gong Il, was looking in his direction, and when she saw the light from the monitor and the images on the screen, she shook her head in disapproval. "Aren't you sick of it?" "You don't get sick of a masterpiece, no matter how many times you play it." "But it's such an old game." "In that case, isn't physical love something really, really outdated? It makes you delve into human fossils, like 'Homo habilis.'" "How are they similar!? Love is an emotion!" "There's emotion in video games, too." Just like Gong Pal had said, there was story and love within video games. The game began with the announcement of Letter's death. According to the forensic results, she had passed away between noon and 2:00 p.m. It was July, and Letter had been under the Sun. "The atmosphere is what's really important, here. The plot makes everyone think that the Sun is responsible for the grandmother's death, and there are clues that make you wonder if the Sun is part of something greater and sinister." After her brother's speech, a blatant look of disgust appeared on Gong Il's face. Then, looking straight at the face that looked nearly identical to him, Gong Pal said, "But the Sun was the symbol for something she had loved. Letter gave it her all to fulfill the promise with her beloved of reuniting after they had each realized their dreams, and her life was nothing short of greatness. I still vividly remember hugging the monitor and crying my eyes out when I was in sixth grade. Even now, when I see the intro scene, I feel something well up from within. The truth you face after two hours of gameplay is truly heartbreaking, yet it is also beautiful." "OK. I get it. Just lend me an eraser. Mine's missing." Looking at his twin sister with displeasure after her lack of appreciation for his favorite video game, Gong Pal pointed to his backpack. "Take it. It's in there." After finding the eraser, Gong Il left the room and closed the door. The room grew dark once again. Then, just as he was about to get back into the game, the word 'transcription' began to bother him. In the end, after brief contemplation, he saved the game as was customary and turned the light on. The backpack was left open after Gong Il had gone through it, and inside it, were 'Grains of Sand' and his transcription notebook. Then, moving cautiously, he took out the book, shuddering from the terrifying image of spilling coffee on it. 'Grains of Sand.' Gong Pal had just come up from the sixth grade when he first read the book, and what he was feeling at the moment was quite similar to what he had felt back then. Despite it being written by an amateur and a book that he had read in the school library, its quality was outstanding. He thought of the author: Juho Woo, the junior. Even the most complex of characters became easy to understand through Juho's sentences, and readers were able to picture the woman immediately upon reading them, able to understand her every single action. "Sigh." Gong Pal still couldn't understand what kind of person Juho was. Even though he was transcribing his book, and after having asked questions, and even after hearing the answers directly, everything became hazy the moment he turned around. If the book was really written by somebody like that, then it was truly remarkable. It was an endless string of doubt and admiration. 'How was he able to write like that?' The freshman had yet to see the junior write, yet Mr. Moon had never bothered to scold him, and neither had the rest of the club members. However, there had been occasions when Bo Suk had looked at the mysterious junior with anticipation. "I think I wanna see him write," Gong Pal murmured and picked up his pen.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl 'Grains of Sand' was a short story. Though transcription is a time-consuming process that involves copying a book down to its last punctuation, the amount of work was manageable, considering that it was a short story. After setting a transcribing goal for himself for the day, Gong Pal wrote away deep in concentration just as the story was nearing its end. Reading each and every sentence thoroughly and attentively, he wrote with his hands what he had taken into his head, acquainting himself even more with the sentences written by the author. Transcribing a book written by a junior who went to his school was a fascinating experience. Although Gong Pal couldn't put his finger on it, he was getting the impression that Juho was quite the writer, capable of writing stories that Gong Pal wouldn't be able to write even if he were to be born again. The more he transcribed and understood the depth of the short story, the more it dawned on the freshman just how incredibly talented Juho was. It was easy to picture him being an author. "Ah, shoot!" Then, Gong Pal found himself in need of an eraser, which he had lent to his twin sister. "Yo! Number one!" he called out to her, but there was no answer no matter how many more times he repeated himself. In the end, Gong Pal walked out of his room irritated. When he went into his sister's room, she was lost in her transcription of Yun Woo's book." "Hey, I need that back." "Take it," Gong Il said in a dry and indifferent tone, and Gong Pal retrieved his eraser from her. Upon seeing his sister working busily, a question arose in his mind: 'Who would be a better writer? Juho or Yun Woo?' Considering the fame, popularity and his recent candidacy for a renowned literary award, it had to be Yun Woo. Besides, he was a professional author, while Juho was no more than a member of the Literature Club at some high school. Comparing the two was nothing short of mockery. Yet, Gong Pal couldn't help himself. 'Grains of Sand' was that great a piece of writing, so much so that it enabled its readers to imagine the junior rising above Yun Woo. "How's the book?" "Good." "How good?" "Very." "Better than Juho's?" "..." Without replying, Gong Il stopped writing, looked up, and started to contemplate the question with all seriousness. She, too, was a reader with a deep affection for 'Grains of Sand.' "Well, what do you think?" in the end, rather than answer, what came out of her mouth was a question. "... Juho's." … and before he could help himself, Gong Pal blurted Juho's name, admitting that a junior in some random Literature Club was a better writer than Yun Woo, the world-renowned author. Then, without saying much else, her nearly-identical twin murmured, "I think I wanna see him write." As usual, they were thinking the same thing. "When do you think he'll write?" she asked. Unfortunately, that was a question that only the author would know the answer to, and the author was elsewhere. "Should we ask him tomorrow?" she suggested. "OK. You ask." "... No, you ask." "Why me?" "You're the one who wants to see him write. Besides, you're the one transcribing 'Grains of Sand.'" "But you're number one. You ask him first." "What's the point in setting an order when we're asking a question we'll probably never ask again anyway? You do it." "No, you do it." In the end, the two only agreed to an order the following day. --- Juho had stayed back reading while waiting for club activities. As Seo Kwang's recommendations tended to be, it was a fun read. The book was closer to being a collection of reports written by a psychologist based on actual experiences rather than a novel. It outlined various patients whose cases had mostly to do with dreams. From people suffering from insomnia or nightmares to people having prophetic dreams or out-of-body experiences, there was a wide array of cases that were either realistic or hard to believe. "Hello," the twins greeted Juho. When he looked up, the two nearly-identical faces came into view. "Hey." "Where's everyone else?" "They went to the cafeteria. Sun Hwa's on cleaning rotation today, so she's not here yet." Then, looking at the backpack next to him, the twins nodded. "... What are you reading, there?" Gong Pal asked, and Juho showed the cover of the book he was reading to him willingly. "Seo Kwang's recommendation." Upon seeing the title, the twins shook their heads, unfamiliar with the book, and Juho went back to reading. Then, rustling around briefly, they took their writing tools and transcription notebooks out of their backpacks. Nevertheless, the science room was quiet, and the faint sounds in the distance only accentuated the silence. Locking eyes with each other, Gong Il and Gong Pal began to nudge each other's arms. "What's the matter?" Juho asked, noticing them quarreling silently. As the junior looked intently at the twins who seemed like they had something to say, Gong Il spoke up, "So, are you planning to write anytime soon?" "Write?" "Yeah, uh… I saw everyone else working on something." At that, after staring briefly at them, Juho said, "I don't really have a reason to." "What was that?" "It's just I haven't had a whole lot of time to read lately because I've been so occupied with writing. So, I got Mr. Moon's permission to read for a little while. Besides, reading can be good practice to help you become a better writer." At that, the twins caught on to Juho immediately and asked, "So, when are you planning to start writing again?" "I write every day." "Every day?" "Yep. Even if I don't have any good ideas, I write at least five pages before I go to bed." "... That's quite a bit." "If you wanna be a better writer, then you gotta write a lot," Juho said, stating the obvious. Then, as he was about to direct his attention back to his book, 'Kong Pat' interjected, "Then, when are you planning to write during club activities again?" Juho stared at the twins intently, finally noticing the repetitive questions. The twins had a specific answer they wanted to hear, and from the sound of it, they wanted to see him write. "We're here!" a voice announced as the door flung open, and the room became filled with noise all at once. "Oh! The freshmen are already here!" "Hello." "Well, well. I see that you're reading the book I recommended." "It's a pretty good book." As the room filled with voices and the sound of chairs dragging, Juho looked at the book and at the twins in turn and closed the book. Then, rising from his seat, he walked over to the corner and returned with a few sheets of manuscript papers. Seeing that, the club members looked at him with interest. "Are you gonna start writing?" "Yeah." "Already? Didn't you say you were gonna read?" "I just wanted to write all of a sudden." "Oh-ho!" Sun Hwa let out a long exclamation, and the twins, too, shouted for joy internally. "What are you gonna write about?" "I still gotta figure that out." "What topic?" "Don't know, yet." "What about a character?" "Don't know." "Is it for the exhibition?" At Bom's question, Juho faced a dilemma. Not too long before, due to their schedules growing more hectic toward the end of the semester, Mr. Moon had suggested that the juniors each start writing a piece to be exhibited. So, with the exception of Seo Kwang, the club members had decided to each write a piece to be exhibited in the library one last time. "I'm gonna have to find out," Juho said. There was no way to know what kind of story would come out at that moment. The only way to know whether it was good enough to be exhibited or not was to see the finished product. "I won't be able to give you any helpful answers anytime soon, so you guys should just start writing." At that, the club members let up, smacking their lips. Then, Mr. Moon came in shortly after. Glancing at the sheets of manuscript paper in front of Juho, the teacher put the twins to work, making them play word-chain with each other. Then, while Bo Suk, Sun Hwa, and Bom came up with plots for their new pieces, Seo Kwang worked on a translation with Mr. Moon's permission. Everyone was busy with their own tasks, and amid it all, Juho concentrated all the more. By that point and because of the experiences he had had while being part of the Literature Club, Juho had become well acquainted with the sight of his clubmates rustling around. The more his piece took shape, the more distant it grew from the outside world. Then, Juho listed a series of images that came up in his head: Similar. Love. Video game. One and eight. Curiosity toward birth. Question. Influence. Obsession. Stubborn. The beginning, the decision, the conclusion, the development, the crisis. As a series of scenes appeared in his head, Juho placed them in order and saw that some of the transitions needed to be improved. Upon fixing them, the narrator appeared, and the world, according to her point of view, along with her. Her misunderstandings became truth, and her decisions, results. While the readers were free to doubt, they wouldn't be able to get away from those truths and decisions. "Hm." A box appeared in front of the narrator. She wanted to know what was inside of it. She embraced the box with both of her hands. Then, trees filled with ripe fruit appeared, and under a peach tree at the center of all other trees, she buried the box and went on her way. Soon, she came across an old man opening up the prickly outer shell of chestnut with a branch and asked, "I wanna open that box. How can I do it?" The old man answered, "Wanna give this branch a try?" What the old man was offering was less than helpful. She wouldn't be able to open the box with a mere branch. As she kept on walking, she eventually ran into a woman feeding cows and, just like she had asked the old man before, she told the woman, "I wanna open that box." At which point, the woman answered, "What makes beasts beasts is that they can't keep their mouths shut for even a day when you starve them." A box had no mouth, therefore her answer was unhelpful. After walking for a little while, she came across a child playing with marbles. Again, she said, "I wanna open that box." "There's a box at my house, too, and I open it only when I wanna put something in it," the child answered. "I see. That's it!" the woman let out as she found the answer she was looking for and retraced her steps. Juho wrote away unhindered. She dug the box from under the peach tree. Although it was exhausting, she didn't stop. Inside it, was the one thing that she had always wanted: happiness. Then, without hesitation, she opened the box. 'Rip.' The sound of ripping paper echoed Then, stopping his hand, Juho turned toward the source of the sound and saw that Gong Il had accidentally ripped her manuscript paper while trying to erase something using a cheap eraser. Some of the lines were fading from excessive erasing, and Juho realized that she was repeating the same movements over and over again, completely lost in something. "Sorry." "Ripping your paper isn't something to apologize for." With that, Juho directed his attention back to his piece. A box. As she finally opened the box, she woke up. It had all been a dream. The beautiful scenery that had lain before her eyes was nowhere to be found in reality. Instead, there were children in front of her. "Mom," one of them called to her, and at the sound of her child calling out to its mother, she snapped herself out of the state she was in and asked, "Where was I?" The child answered, "You opened the box." Then, the older child asked, "Why couldn't you opened it in the beginning?" To which, the mother answered, "Because it was password protected." Then, the younger child asked, "Did you figure out the password then, mom?" "That's right. I fought against the world with everything I had to protect what I wanted," the mother said, and the two children asked simultaneously, "What was the password?" The mother smiled, and the two children smiled along with her. There was no one else there aside from those three. "Zero-One-Zero-Eight!" the twins answered, their eyes sparkling brightly. Then, scanning through his manuscript, Juho said, "I don't think this is good enough to be exhibited." "Can I read it?" "Can we?" "It still needs to be revised." Although Juho didn't feel like the piece was good enough to be published, he decided to improve on the scene of the mother having the conception dream, as well as expound on her raising the children as a single mother. "When would that be?" "How long does it take you to finish a piece of writing?" The twins began to pester the young author with words disguised as questions. Then, after a brief pause, Juho raised his manuscript and said, "Don't get your hopes up now." As the corners of their mouths turned up, Mr. Moon rose from his seat. "But first, you gotta turn it in." Just like that, the manuscript went into Mr. Moon's hands, and having been pushed back in line, the twins weren't able to get their hands on Juho's manuscript until much later. After that, the twins took all of their password-protected belongings and changed the passwords to 0108, which became a popular topic among the club members for a while.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Sigh," Juho let out deeply while massaging his tense shoulders. Feeling dazed after writing intensively, Juho stared blankly at the edge of his table. Then, he felt a burning gaze on his face. It was from the twins. "What kind of piece did you write this time?" At that, Juho looked down at his manuscript filled with words. "A failure," he answered briefly, and a blatant look of distrust appeared on the twins' faces. Unfortunately, he was telling the truth. It was a short piece about fingernails, which was about a protagonist waking up in a world where devoid of the concept of fingernails. "'Fingernail' is a word that refers to a rigid surface made of keratin on your fingertips," Juho said, spreading his fingers simultaneously. The twins fixed their eyes on them. "The characters in the novel don't mention anything about them." In the world in which the protagonist found himself upon waking, the only thing that had changed from reality was the nonexistence of fingernails. Nobody took interest in the tiny, minuscule object at the ends of their fingertips, and just like everyone around him, the narrator lived on in peace. Then, exactly a decade later, the narrator noticed the subtle change that had been hiding in plain sight. With the exception of the narrator himself, nobody else knew about the existence of fingernails or even brought up the word. "But it's part of their bodies. Fingernails are one of the protective tools our bodies possess," Gong Il said. Fingernails were tiny shields essentially, which fought on the frontlines in order to protect their owners from getting hurt when they came into contact with objects. Then, 'Kong Pat' said, "Maybe they thought it wasn't significant enough." "Yeah! Man, no wonder we click!" Seo Kwang said from the side, laughing. Then, resting his chin on his hand, Juho brought up a question regarding his own story, "What kind of meaning would fingernails take on in that world?" That time, Bo Suk burst into laughter. In a world where fingernails were neglected, how would nail clippers have developed? As long as there was something growing at the end of one's fingers, there had to be an invention that came about in order to keep that growth under control. "Maybe an average trash can? If it's something that nobody pays attention to, then it's not going to be treated with any respect either," Bo Suk said, but Seo Kwang shook his head. Before anybody realized, he had stopped writing and fallen deep in thought. "No, no. We hardly even recognize dead skin on our own bodies, but we don't feel like we are taking out the trash when we bathe. The way I see it, they might be luxury goods that sell at ridiculous prices." "No way. How can one be indifferent when it comes to spending?" "That's where the word 'squander' comes in. If it was a scenario where the price of one's decision came back in the far, distant future, it would be more than possible. Think about all the pollution that's taking place around us. Yes, it's alarming, but disposable goods are far too convenient." "But they're still not the same as luxury goods." "Well, yeah. True. But it's just a thought." "Does that mean they don't even have things like nail art?" Sun Hwa interjected, and Juho nodded slowly. "Nope. It's a world where colorful nails are unthinkable. You won't find them anywhere in that world." "I mean, it's not like they would make trash look all pretty or anything, right?" "Why not? There's graffiti. Paintings on walls," Juho said. "Fingernails are even less significant than walls in the story," Bom said quietly. "I do feel kind of bad for fingernails though. They might be small, but life would be so much more painful without them." At that, Juho chuckled quietly and explained the secret behind fingernails within the story, "People in the story have really strong fingernails, so nobody's worried about hurting their hands. They don't know the pain of losing their nails." In that case, it did make sense that those people would think so little of their fingernails. The club members began to understand the world of Juho's story little better. "How interesting! That sounds amazing! I don't get what makes it a failure." "Because there are nail clippers." After his response, Sun Hwa furrowed her forehead, and Juho added, "The way I see it, people in the story's world have to have something much more advanced than nail clippers. If they want to clip their nearly-indestructible fingernails, then the tool they cut their nails with has to be just as strong. BUT, that means people are aware of how strong their nails are, in which case, they should be aware of how incredible their nails are as well." "That's true." Something didn't quite add up. Of course, it was always possible to add a lengthy backstory as explanation, along with sentences that would fill the gaps between nail clippers, fingernails, and people. "For example, making the origin of nail clippers a mystery, just like fingernails. People just find them on their fingers after they're born, and nobody knows how they came about." "That might work." "Yeah, that sounds good. It'd be interesting to include things like: evolution vs. creation of nail clippers." The club members focused on the scenario as if they tried to figure out the answer. Unfortunately, that was the very problem Juho was wrestling with. What he really wanted to write about had nothing to do with someone who understood the significance of fingernails or the evolutionary theory of nail clippers. It was supposed to be a story about arrogant people who had eliminated fingernails from their lives. "There's no way around this. It's a failure." "But what are we supposed to do if you consider something like that a failure?" Kong Pat said, and Seo Kwang looked at him with blatant mockery. "You got guts comparing yourself to this guy, you know that? "... I'm sorry. I got carried away." "Yeah, that's right. 'Know thyself' is the single most important phrase to remember when writing," Seo Kwang said, despite being the person who wrote the least in the entire club, and Sun Hwa looked at him with disgust. "The portrayal in this scene, though, is really hard-hitting," Bo Suk said with the manuscript in her hands. The part of the story she was pointing to with her fingernails was the scene in which the protagonist found himself perplexed by the peculiar state of his body, his fingers, in particular when waking up in the morning. However, upon realizing the lack of any noticeable difference in his appearance, the protagonist eventually lost interest in the mysterious change in his body. The twins stared intently at that particular part of the story. "It must be something about talented writers. Being able to write a scene that is completely unrealistic, yet making it sound completely convincing, as if they themselves went through it at some point." "Like 'River,'" Gong Il added. "Maybe," Juho said carelessly, and with the exception of the twins, everyone fixed their eyes on him. "Are you sure you're not from another world or something?" "You got me," Juho said, taking the manuscript back from Bo Suk. "We all come from our mothers' wombs, and maybe those, too, can be interpreted as other worlds completely isolated from the world outside them." "Oh, the power of literature," Sun Hwa let out as Juho created whole worlds with mere words. Then, Gong Pal asked, "So, what are you gonna do with that piece?" "Put it in a box," Juho said. The piece would end up in one of the stacks of boxes that towered over Juho's height as the newest addition to the countless failures that Juho had gone through. "How's the transcription going?" "Oh, it's going well." After finishing 'Grains of Sand' without trouble, Gong Pal chose 'Sublimation' as his next project. Although Gong Il had chosen 'Sound of Wailing,' she had been scolded by Mr. Moon, who had told her that it wasn't good to transcribe books written by the same author over and over again. As much as his words had been directed at Gong Il, they applied to Gong Pal just as much, and the twins both made up their minds not to transcribe books written by Yun Woo for a while after they had finished. When Juho asked Gong Pal about his progress, the freshman told him that he had just passed the beginning of the main event. Then, after hesitating briefly, he said in a whisper, "To tell you the truth, I tried transcribing the end first." "I understand," Seo Kwang interjected. "The conclusion of 'Sublimation' is like a chuck flap tail beef, so to speak." Not knowing what chuck flap tails were, most of the club members couldn't understand his reference. When discussing the best-tasting cuts, chuck flap tail would often come up as the best cut for grilling. It was also known for its value, as one cow was capable of producing only five kilograms of it. While Seo Kwang was occupied with giving a speech on the marbling of the cut and how juicy it was, Juho asked Gong Pal, "So, how was it working your way down from 'chuck flap tail?'" "So…" Gong Pal hesitated. In the end, failing to find the right words to describe the flavor, the freshman said, "For one, it was definitely worth the title of being the best. And…" "And?" "That nothing would be anywhere near as good, no matter what I put it in my mouth," Gong Pal said, his eye moving busily. "I wanted more people to appreciate how incredible it is." "I see," Juho said, nodding. --- "It's damp here." Juho was met by a damp, moist air and a sweet fragrance as he opened the glass door to the entrance of the botanical garden. As for the sweet fragrance in the air, it wasn't all that difficult to figure out the source. The garden was blooming with flowers, which had been hiding during the winter and budded after the harsh weather had passed. After looking briefly at each of their unique shapes and colors, Juho made his way further into the garden. "Hello," Juho said, seeing Nabi, who he hadn't seen in a while, as he opened the door. Nabi also greeted the young author gladly. Looking just as confident as ever, she was dressed in her professional attire, impeccably groomed. On the table, were her phone and two cups of coffee. "I'm seeing more flowers in the garden." "I saw. The butterflies should be getting busy right about now." Seeing Juho sitting down, a confident smile appeared on the agent's face. "I'm sure you already know that sales of 'Language of God' have been skyrocketing, am I right?" she asked, looking like she was in a great mood. "Yes. It's because of the Annular Award, right?" "Thirty copies are being sold every minute on the internet as we speak." As the words 'Nominated for the Annular Award' ended up on the book's cover despite it having already been a bestseller, 'Language of God' had been selling at twice the rate that it had sold previously. "The Annular Award is given by professionals rather than readers, so the fact that your novel was nominated for it essentially means your work is being recognized by the committee. It's like slapping a phrase on it that says, 'This great book will help improve your life.'" Like sneakers worn by professional athletes or makeup products used by celebrities, consumers knew immediately, even before learning of what the product was made or how it was made, that: "This is a good product." In that same manner, books were no different. His novel had been recognized by the judging committee of a internationally-recognized literary award. With obvious joy still in her voice, Nabi said, "Your popularity is through the roof in the US, and everyone's desperate to import books with the name 'Yun Woo' on it. I've never seen anything like it. We'd always worked our butts off just to be included in the fraction of a percentage." Translated literature only took up a 2-percent portion of the entire literary market in the US, and a number of countries competed fiercely against one another in order to be included in that seemingly insignificant figure. Then, Nabi remembered working restlessly in order to push through that narrow threshold of the US literary market. More accurately, for Korean literature to make it through. "Nothing like this has ever happened before," she said with a trace of sorrow. "Your books are selling out everywhere, and it's hard to keep track of how many bookstores are selling out. Have you heard of a Korean novel selling out in bookstores overseas? On top of all the daily additional orders, there's more being printed in every country we've exported to." Simply put, it was selling like there was no tomorrow. The power of the Annular Award, which was one of the four major, internationally-recognized, science fiction literary awards, was astounding. On top of that, combined with the uniqueness of the young author, the synergistic effect just yielded even larger figures. According to Nabi, her agency was pouring all of their resources into their first world-renowned author. Despite sounding like she was complaining about how busy she was with all the interview requests coming in from all over the country and overseas, there was a smile on her face. Never in his life, did he take so much interest in the occupation called 'publishing agent,' and considering her personality, there was nothing she wouldn't like about her job. "There are videos of famous critics admiring 'Language of God' floating around the internet, even with Korean subtitles. Both doubting and astonished that you actually created all those languages," Nabi said, her eyes sparkling with dangerous determination.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "The critics agree that the center of the elaborate world in 'Language of God' is the language. As you may be aware, language and culture are very closely related. Idiosyncrasy is a great tool for attracting people, and the most efficient medium with which to bring that idiosyncrasy out within a novel is language. On top of that, the novel resonates with the readers as they come to realize the fact that none of the troubles, ordeals, and conflicts that the characters in the novel go through are alien to them. Readers can identify with the deeds and values of the characters within the novel, which is integral to the story," Nabi said in a single breath. "All that to say, Mr. Woo, that your skill as an author to deliver such an elaborate world with remarkable stability to your readers has left the globe astonished. There's even a rumor spreading that your name and age are some of the most searched information on the internet." Juho had been a freshman when he wrote 'Language of God,' and the novel was still alive and well, influencing many. 'Grains of Sand' was the same, bringing the two people Juho had been completely forgetting about while writing into the Literature Club. The short story had moved two people's hearts. Juho thought back on how the two books had come about. The contradicting personalities between of the timid and the violent protagonists. One, a humble piece of writing exhibited in a small library in some high school, and the other floating around the world. The destinies of his two books were still as polarizing as ever. "But we can't stop now, can we?" "You mean, you actually wanna shoot for the award?" Nabi asked, her eyes narrowed. "Well, that's a matter out of our hands now that I'm a nominee. There's another award that comes to mind when one thinks about the Annular Award. Do you know what I mean?" Most people who knew about the Annular Award also knew about yet another award: 'The Hugo Award.' That was because there had been cases when the winner of the Annular Award had also won the Hugo Award, simultaneously. This phenomenon was referred to as 'The Double Crown.' The Hugo Award was one of the four major, international science fiction literary awards. However, unlike the Annular Award, the winner of the Hugo Award was chosen by the readers, while the award ceremony was hosted by the World Science Fiction Society. Because fans held the most power, rather than a company or a publisher, the award naturally tended to stress just how much a book appealed to the masses. Once an author had been recognized for their literary value through the Annular Award and their popularity through the Hugo Award, they would gain ownership of 'The Double Crown,' recognized for the two most crucial, yet contradicting, qualities of an author. "Speaking of which, the nominees should be announced right around now," the young author said as he looked at Nabi's phone on the table inadvertently. The last five nominees for the Hugo Award would be chosen by that point. Nominees were chosen through a series of votes, and the right to vote was given only to members of the World Science Fiction Society. Unlike the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, whose qualification for membership tended to be rather finicky, the World Science Fiction Society accepted just about anyone, as long as they had the money to support their members. The voting process spanned a few months up to the very day of the ceremony. Although the fact that the winner was chosen by readers made the award much more meaningful, there were still limits since only books translated into English were considered for the award, and over 90 percent of the World Science Fiction Society's members were Americans. "Mr. Woo, let's shoot for the stars while we're at it. Let's aim for the 'The Double Crown,'" Nabi said in a serious tone, but instead of giving her an answer, Juho scratched his head. "But it's not like I can do anything to win even if I tried, right? I mean, sure, the same goes for the Annular Award, but the Hugo Award is given to books as well." As an author himself, it was unthinkable that he should to intervene with his fans' assessments. "I see. It seems like I've spoken rashly," Nabi said, and clearing her throat, she added, "I predict that 'Language of God' will be nominated as one of the final candidates, following immediately after your nominations for the Annular Award." The truth came out. Frankly, Nabi wasn't the only person with a prediction like that. Since the nomination for the Annular Award, the possibility of Yun Woo achieving 'The Double Crown' was being constantly mentioned by the media overseas. There were quite a few articles in Korea that mentioned the Hugo Award, and it was likely that a significant number of people within the Dong Baek Publishing Company were anticipating Yun Woo's nomination. The two awards were very closely related. The moment an author was nominated for one award, people waited for news of that same author being nominated for the other. In that same manner, when an author won one of the two awards, people often anticipated news of the same author winning the other. "I don't know…" Juho hesitated. But what about 'Language of God?' "There's yet to be a Hugo Award winner from a non-English-speaking country, especially in the full-length category. As far as I know, the only other foreign winning countries, aside from the US, were either the UK or Canada," Juho said. Considering the proportion that translated literature took up within the market, maybe the phenomenon was only natural. Although statistics were indicating an increase in Korean novels being exported to the US, it was nowhere near as much as other countries. 'But 'Language of God' has already been nominated for the Annular Award, and it's a bestseller in every country it's been exported to," Nabi said. Juho looked up at the ceiling, but the translucent plastic kept the sky from being visible. "Considering how much the award stresses popularity, I probably shouldn't be so quick to give up, and it's not as if there's no chance. What do you think?" "Mr. Woo," Nabi said in a low, serious tone of voice. "I've witnessed with my own eyes just how popular your books are." Her attitude was rather confident, and she was the person responsible for spreading Yun Woo's books to as many places as possible. "Your books are much bigger, more incredible, and more loved than you think." Then Juho opened his mouth to speak, but Nabi beat him to it. "'Language of God' is a book that contains the very essence of your sense of language, including some of the most obscure, seemingly insignificant languages of some of the smallest countries in the world. The protagonists and their wishes, the mythology and the traitor, a country and its culture, war and destruction. You have successfully turned all of those things into writing." There was a strong desire melded into her every word. Juho remembered his first impression of the publishing agent. Greedy. Ambitious. Nabi had a determined look about her, as if she had to witness the book she was spreading to the world win the award. She exuded the smell from the outside world. The ground that quaked with the thunderous roar of the young author's fans only fueled her drive even more. "In my opinion, it's more than possible," she said, sounding like she wanted the young author to win the award for some reason. She fiercely wanted him to win, and sincerely hoped that 'Language of God' would receive the rightful recognition it deserved from the rest of the world. As an author, it didn't feel half bad being around a person who had a burning passion for his work. Considering how ambitious and determined she was, it only made sense that Juho would be taken by her attitude. Part of him wanted to be recognized by the rest of the world, and for his books to spread even further out. And just as Nabi had said herself, Juho hoped that winning the Hugo Award was 'more than possible.' "You know, I think I would like that." He wanted to soar up to the sky. At that moment, his phone went off, and as he reached into his pocket and took it out, he saw Jang Mi's name on the screen. Juho looked at Nabi, who also had a phone in her hand. There was vibration on one side, and a melody on the other. The author and the publishing agent were each receiving a call at the same time. Then, locking eyes with each other, they talked to each other through the vibration and the ringtone, which repeated in steady rhythms. "I think I have an idea of what this call is going to be about," Nabi said, her eyes already filled with joy. "I asked my coworker to give me a call if the nominations got announced while I was meeting with you, the Hugo Award nominations." Three distinctive sounds mixed into a chaotic mess in the air, making Juho feel dizzy. The phones shook precariously, as if they were running out of time. "I think it might just be what you're thinking." Perhaps it was Nabi's voice that was shaking. Then, after tapping the screen of the phone, he brought it up to his ear slowly. "Mr. Woo!" a voice sounded off from the receiver. "Yes?" Juho answered. Jang Mi's voice was similar to the time she had called to inform him of his first nomination. Actually, she was ecstatic. Her emotions and sentences were in a jumbled mess, making them incoherent for Juho. "I'm sorry. Can you say that again?" Juho asked calmly. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, "You've been nominated!" At that, Juho inhaled deeply, smelling the sweet, floral fragrance in the air that time. "'Language of God' might win the Hugo Award!" At Nabi crying out and Jang Mi's cheers, Juho smiled. "I got carried away for a second there. I apologize," Nabi said while trying to cool her cheeks, which were still flushed bright red. However, it wasn't until she had had her share of congratulating the young author that she finally calmed down. "It's such an honor to be part of this occasion with you, Mr. Woo," she said as if she was about to take Juho by his hands and start dancing at any given minute. As the image rushed past Juho's mind, he let out a chuckle, and Nabi quickly changed the subject. Despite the commotion, her professional attire was still just as impeccable. "Now, we have to start preparing ourselves for the award ceremony." Pretending not to see the corner of her mouth flinching, Juho brought his cup of coffee up to his mouth. The joy of obtaining one's deepest desire had a lasting impact. "You had mentioned something about having someone represent you instead, right?" "Yes." The nomination meant that the nominee would have to attend the award ceremony. Needless to say, it would be an occasion where some of the most famous authors around the world would come together, along with internationally-recognized publishers, editors, and a slew of reporters and journalists from various magazine companies. However, Juho couldn't be there. He was Yun Woo, after all. He had sent a representative to every award ceremony up to that point, and the young author was planning on doing the same for this ceremony, as well. So, he had previously asked Nabi to be his representative, and she had said, "I'll give it some thought." Frankly, the meeting was essentially an occasion to get her answer. "After some thought, I realized that I might not be the best fit for the role you're looking for," she said, respectfully declining. "Why not?" Juho asked. "It's more than enough that I'm watching from the back. Besides, being on stage is just not for me," she said, thanking him and apologizing once again. Seeing how firm she was, Juho couldn't insist. "Nobody seems to be up for the task," Juho murmured with a sigh, and Nabi expressed interest in the matter. "Who else did you ask?" "My translator." "A-ha." The translator of 'Language of God.' Having showcased his impressive skill, which had brought the novel its nominations, Juho had asked him to be his representative at the ceremony. After all, the nomination wouldn't have been possible without him. "Did you meet with him?" "No." He had spoken with him through Jang Mi. Then, taken aback, Nabi asked, "Didn't you two exchange emails while translating or anything?" "No. He told me he didn't need to." "..." While translating, there were often moments when translators wanted to get the opinion directly from the author, and that was when they either met with the authors in person or communicated through email. Juho, too, had sent Kelley Coin a number of emails while translating his book. However, the translator of 'Language of God' had emphatically declined to communicate with the author. "As you know, 'Language of God' is a book published by an author by the name of Won Yi Young." "... Right." "And Won Yi Young was considered to be Yun Woo's rival at one point, and a fight actually broke out between their fans." But when the truth was unveiled, only one author really existed. "And that author turned out to be Yun Woo all along, whose identity is also a mystery. So, the translator seems to have thought that getting my opinion would distract him more so than help him. He told me that he wanted to leave the mystery, veiled in layer after layer, intact." As a result, the book had turned out to be a massive success, and that was only further proof that the translator had made the right choice. "But giving up the chance to meet Yun Woo in person? That's incredible," Nabi said sincerely. "You don't seem all that curious." "Of course, I am! I'm sure he's holding back with everything he's got. As long as he's read Yun Woo's writing, there's no way to run from that desire of wanting to meet him." "Is that right? Well, he turned it down, saying that he felt weird about representing someone whose face he didn't even know." "That's understandable," Nabi said. Because not many people knew what Yun Woo looked like, choosing someone to attend an award ceremony on his behalf came with challenges, and Nabi expressed her concerns for him. "It's fine." There were still other ways. There was another person in Juho's mind, and he was intending on getting a hold of him that very day.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Breathing in, Juho picked up a faint scent of dust in the night air. Then, he breathed out. Lit by one, single star, the night sky in front of his apartment was no different from the one he had seen through the window in his room. Because it was well into the night, there weren't any pedestrians around, as far as Juho could tell anyway. There was a cat underneath a pickup truck on the opposite side of street, its eyes shining brightly in the dark, and a street light in the distance blinked repeatedly. Quietly watching the orange light fading, Juho took his phone out, and as if not fond of what he was doing, the cat disappeared. He checked the time. It would be just past 10 a.m where the person in Juho's mind lived. He called a number on his phone. Then, after waiting for a while, a coarse voice answered, "What do you want?" At that, Juho knew immediately that he had called the right number. It was Kelley Coin. "How've you been?" "Not well," Coin answered immediately, getting to the point ahead of Juho. "What? You wanted to show off being nominated for the Hugo Award after the Annular Award?" he asked, sounding as crabby as ever. He sounded like he was genuinely displeased by the news. "You have a quick ear." "Hmph. I hear everything, whether I want to or not. Thanks to my editor, Isabella, who wouldn't stop talking about it. Groundbreaking this and that." Yun Woo had become an internationally-recognized author at the mere age of nineteen, and it was quite the groundbreaking achievement, to say the least. To others, he was moving up in the world at a dangerous pace. However, in hindsight, he had simply come too far. Juho still remembered every single one of his past failures vividly, even at that point. The fact that there were still a whole slew of failures to go through was simply astounding. Then, remembering the two people who had turned him down, Juho asked Coin, "Aren't you going to congratulate me?" "For what? You haven't even won yet." "Does that mean you will when I do win?" "Not a chance." Of course. Kelley Coin. Congratulating someone. It would make for a terrifying nightmare. "Just get to the point." "Could you be my representative at the award ceremony?" Juho asked, getting to the point just as he was asked to, and there was silence. "Hello?" "You want me to do be your what?" Coin asked, dumbfounded. "A representative." "You know, nobody's had the guts to ask me something like that until now." Considering who he was, that just made sense. He was none other than the infamous Kelley Coin. Thankfully, Juho was far enough away from him that his fists couldn't reach. Staring intently at the star shining brightly in the distance, Juho said, "I never had to wake up in the middle of the night for an interview either." "... So you're keeping score, huh?" "I'd rather you see it as me not wanting to be rejected." "Enough beating around the bush. Is this a trade or a favor?" The savage-like attitude transferred directly to Juho through his phone's receiver. At which point, Juho raised his hand in surrender. "A favor, of course." There was no such a thing as a fair trade with Kelley Coin. "Sure. I don't have a reason to say no." "Really?" Thankfully, Juho had gotten the answer he had been looking for. However, it was unexpected. 'I thought he would at least curse me out for a while before saying yes,' Juho thought. Then, snickering ominously Coin said, "Oh, you'll regret asking me for that favor." At that, Juho felt a wave of worry wash over him. However, he decided to stick with it all the way through. "Go easy on me now. Oh, and don't forget to attend both ceremonies. For the Annular and the Hugo Awards." "... Prick," Coin let out, obviously annoyed and irritated. Then, what sounded like a person drinking something echoed from Juho's receiver. Needless to say, it was coffee. "Do you have any idea how many publishers show up to those ceremonies? Oh, and all those photo sessions, posing with the award, looking like an idiot. But you know what's worse? The Hugo Award ceremony! You'll find all sort of science fiction freaks there, and it's the loudest, noisiest award ceremony there is." The Hugo Award ceremony was also the highlight of the largest, yearly science fiction event of the World Science Fiction Society. It was a festival where both celebrities and officials from around the world came together, along with other members of the society and the readers. Upon being asked by Juho about the atmosphere of the ceremony, Coin vomited a number of complaints, "It's utter chaos. There are people dancing in one corner and lectures being delivered on the other, all the while there's a signing event taking place in yet another corner. It's a mess. Oh, and there will be plenty of people, swinging their lightsabers around," Coin said, adding that there were also people dressed up as aliens, painted green from head to toe. "That sounds like fun." "If you're there to have fun, then sure, it's all fun and games. For the VIPs, it's a place for mind games, at best. They disguise themselves as social, but they're really talking about their businesses. Who talks about work at a party!?" "Well, what about the losers' party?" "Are you asking ME about the losers' party?" "You know, I just regretted asking that myself." There was nothing sillier than asking Kelley Coin about "the losers' party," which was a gathering of authors who had failed to win an award. "You've won the Hugo Award… four times, now? Is that right?" "That's right. Although, I've never achieved the Double Crown." "... A-ha! So, that's why you're so bitter." "I'm just telling the truth is all!" Although he was undoubtedly the most representative author of the US, winning both the Annular and Hugo Awards four times each, he had never won both awards simultaneously. It wasn't that the books that had won the awards hadn't been popular. He simply hadn't had the best of luck with the Double Crown, and there were all sorts of rumors surrounding that phenomenon. Some even claimed that Coin's relationship with the executive director had something to do with it, that the director had subtly prevented the author from winning once their relationship had turned sour. Others claimed that it had to do with his speeches reflecting negatively on the integrity of the awards, getting on the bad side of the committees. Juho found both theories to be quite convincing. "Well, if those ceremonies are the types that wouldn't let you have the Double Crown, then that says enough about them." "... Ha!" a burst of loud laughter, like the one Juho had heard in the middle of the night after waking up for a phone interview, sounded from Juho's receiver. "What's so funny?" "That was a perfect opportunity to talk yourself up, yet you blew it. You moron, do you realize that you just wasted the opportunity of your lifetime?" "What?" In many aspects, Kelley Coin was much closer to obtaining the Double Crown, and Juho would have been making a fool of himself if he were to rave about his nominations. For example, Coin had adjectives attached to his name such as 'infamous.' As Juho let out a sigh, Coin said, "I see what the four major, internationally-recognized literary awards mean to you." "... Well, an award is an award." "No, an award is never just an award. It's honor. It's wealth. And it's your work. You should know this yourself. Your books have been selling a lot more since you were nominated, right?" Yes, they had. "If you were to win, and achieve the Double Crown on top of that, the world would do everything they could to find out who you are, down to analyzing every single word choice of yours." "That sounds terrifying." "For a kid like you, who has no regard for authority, it should be fine." No matter how many times Juho explained himself on his view of authority, Coin didn't listen. In the end, leaving off with the words "be prepared," Coin hung up without hesitation. Then, Juho lowered his phone and looked up at the sky. "Oh, another one." There was yet another, even smaller star next to what had appeared to be the only star shining in the night sky. It looked a lot like an ornament on a crown. Then, looking at it until his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Juho made his way back home with the image still lingering before his eyes. --- In a plane flying across the dark, night sky, Nabi was the only one with her eyes open. Her heart was pounding, and her hands, soaking wet. She was on her way to the Annular Award ceremony, where science fiction writers all around the world came together. Authors whose worldwide sales were in the tens of millions were gathering for the ceremony in order to win the award, and Yun Woo was one of the nominated. Burying her face in both of her hands, she screamed silently. Although she had had her share of commotion previously at home, the excitement still remained. The author she was working with had been summoned by one of the four major, internationally-recognized literary awards. She couldn't have dreamed that a day like that would come, and the thought of attending the ceremony while hoping for someone to win the award was enough to keep her up. Then, placing her hands on her chest, she felt the faster-than-usual heart rate on her palm. 'OK, I need to calm down,' she thought to herself, taking deep breaths while thinking about Kelley Coin, who she was about to meet just after sunrise. She was well aware of his infamous reputation, and being in her field of work, it was nearly impossible not to hear about the author's personality. 'I was hoping I wouldn't have to get involved in anything with him.' Despite her wish, Yun Woo had asked the nightmarish author to attend the ceremony on his behalf. "Sigh," Nabi let out and opened her laptop. Although she had initially thought about putting on some music, after some brief contemplation, she changed her mind and opened her emails instead. The inbox was full of congratulatory messages from publishing agents all around the world. After reading for a little while, she moved her mouse a few times, and the screen became filled with countless articles and videos regarding Yun Woo. Interest in the Annular Award had grown incomparably from the previous year in Korea. Despite having never heard of it before, people were going wild by the birth of an internationally-recognized author. A national hero. The books written by the young author by the name of Yun Woo had been translated into various languages and were spreading throughout the world. Experienced with reading overseas novels that had been translated into Korean, fans found this phenomenon to be strangely cathartic. Everyone was united in their hearts in wanting Yun Woo to win the Annular Award. The members of the science fiction/fantasy novel cafes, who were secretly active both on and offline, expressed their joy in their respective cafes as the world was finally coming around in their favor. Consequently, posts like that were often quoted in news articles. In order to know just how incredible of an author Yun Woo was, people searched and interacted with as much information as possible. Nabi clicked an icon on the screen in order to access the comment section, which was already filled with people saying how proud they were. The simple fact that the young author had been nominated was massive. The author had managed to create history. Now, no matter who people asked, or no matter which website they used to do their research, Yun Woo was the youngest nominee of the Annular Award, and 'Language of God,' the first Asian novel to be nominated. However, Nabi was fully aware that, should he fail to receive the award, the proud fans wouldn't hesitate to criticize their favorite author. Due to her occupation, Nabi had met countless authors: those who waved their fists at the unacceptable critiques, those who went into a slump when complimented, those who wrote, fueled by their anger toward the harsh criticism directed at them, and finally, those who fell away. There existed all sorts of authors in this world. What did that mean for Yun Woo? Every piece of writing of his was incredible. His stable, yet pure and controlled style of writing brought out everything there was to know about this world. He was skilled in all aspect, from a story that takes place in a restricted space to an enormous, gigantic world. He knew how to use sentences filled with reason, like a detective, as well as rigid, strictly-structured sentences. Whenever Nabi thought of the young author, she was reminded of a pair of wings and the tale of Icarus, who plummeted into the sea after ignoring the warnings of his father not to fly too close to the Sun. While he was an immature son, he was also a fearless hero. However, despite the young author's age, Nabi couldn't imagine him being fearful of something. 'If he doesn't get the award, how will he react?' There was no way to know. What she did know was that she wanted Yun Woo's wings to remain intact, without them being melted away by the Sun, so that he could soar just a little higher and fly just a little longer.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl (Editor's Note: We are going to change the Annular Award to the Nebula Award. Every piece of information aside from the name of that specific award within the novel is based on reality, so to keep everything consistent, we are changing the award's name to its real name. We'll also go back and change the previous chapters to reflect that, but it might take a few days before that happened. Again, we don't think it was a mistranslation on our part, and we don't have access to the author to check, but seeing as how everything else kept its real name, we'll move forward with the award's real name as well.) "The Nebula Award Ceremony Finally Draws Its Curtains! Who Will Win? Will Yun Woo Attend the Ceremony?" "No Response from the Publishers. Where Is Yun Woo Now? The Nebula Award Ceremony Set to Take Place on the 16th in Texas. Authors from All Across the Globe Coming Together." "The Nebula Award, The New Sensation. No Cash Prize? The Significance and Meaning of the Award. What Are Some of the Novels That Were Imported and Translated?" "Yun Woo. Will He Become the First Asian, First Korean, and Youngest Winner of the Nebula Award? The Significance Behind the Records He Would Set." "The International Media Focuses on Yun Woo. What Would It Mean for Him to Win the Nebula Award? In Tonight's News: An Interview with an American Celebrity Book Critic." "Why 'Language of God?' The Internationally Recognized Novel and Its Message to the World. What Was Yun Woo Trying To Tell Us?" "Linguists Speak on the Languages within 'Language of God' and Find That It More Than Qualifies for the Award. The World Recognizes the Young Author's Incredible Potential and Talent." "A Congratulations from Yun Woo's Fellow Authors. 'We Don't Know If He'll Attend the Ceremony or Not.'" "A Sincere Congratulatory Message from Myung Joo Mu, the Star of Chungmuro, to Yun Woo Draws Massive Attention. 'I'm a Fan.' The Star's Relationship with Yun Woo." "Will Yun Woo Get the Honor of Being the First Asian Winner? Yun Woo's Chances of Winning the Nebula Award According to the Fans and Critics Overseas. His Disadvantages?" "The Birth of the Genius Author from a Small Country in Asia. How Did It Happen? The Power of Korean Novels? Fans in China and Japan React." "The Show Must Go On! The Nebula Award Said to Take Place As Planned While 'Sublimation' Remains Controversial. Winner Announced Tomorrow." --- The day was the sixteenth of the month. Kelley Coin had come to a three-star hotel for the Nebula Award ceremony, located in Northern Texas, on Yun Woo's behalf. The hotel was brimming with people and cars, and a slew of cameramen sent by a number of different media was filming the hotel from the distance. Surrounded by gray and brown walls, along with windows that reflected the sky rather than revealing the interior of the rooms, the building was somewhat massive, but with nothing impressive to show for. After taking a break in the hotel room reserved for him, Coin headed out of his room to go for a walk. Then, he returned around the time the ceremony would start with a cup of coffee in hand. Meanwhile, Isabella, his editor, stared fiercely at him. However, without a trace of remorse or regret, Coin went on to make all sorts of unreasonable demands, from wanting to see the restroom on every floor of the building to pressing every possible button in the elevator, to looking at a painting in the hallway and trying to deliver a spontaneous speech on how unsavory of a forgery it was, to waving his empty hands and insisting on returning to his room just to get his coffee, to refusing to wear a name tag and pretending to be traumatized by a mere scratch, completely unlike himself. "You committed to this. Please, practice some self-control." "Yep. You see, it turns out that prick was keeping track." "Then, do what you need to pay him back." "What's the hurry? There's still time." "Are you even aware that the ceremony has already started!?" "C'mon, now. It's not like this is our first or second time here. The VIPs should still be delivering their speeches by now." Then, ignoring what the author said, Isabella urged him, "Just be quiet and hurry up!" The presenter working the crowd in the event before the name Yun Woo got called out; the crowd shouting and cheering with joy, wanting to share the moment with the winner, but to no avail as the winner never turned up. Imagining it all taking place, Isabella led the way. "If I may, I'd like to second that request as well," Nabi, dressed in black, formal attire for the occasion, said politely. Then, after looking briefly at her, Coin continued on his way. Nabi checked her phone and saw that it was exploding with text messages from the anxious officials of the Dong Baek Publishing Company, who had all already arrived. "This way!" "Bah, maybe this was a mistake. If I don't get the awards, then I will have come here for no reason. I think I feel like going home all of a sudden." "Ha! That sounds good. I could use the tea time with Susan right about now." "Don't be childish now." "I'm afraid I'm not the one with that problem." Nabi had been fed up with Coin's temper long ago. Upon exchanging an awkward glance with Isabella, the unfortunate editor whispered to Nabi that the author was much worse than usual. To which, Nabi nodded. From the never-before-seen environment to being in a city that she had never been to, everything was new and overwhelming to her. "Coin, do NOT forget that you're representing another author today," Isabella warned him in a heavy tone, and Coin walked without giving her an answer. The hall was already brimming with people, most of them from famed publishing companies, magazines, or agencies, including those from Fernand. However, Coin walked right past them, unimpressed and unhindered. "Oh, my! Is that Kelley Coin?" "The rumor was actually true!?" A couple of people let out. While some looked appalled to see him, others looked at him indifferently, as if they had expected his presence. Nobody dared talk to him first, and Coin, too, walked on without even bothering to strike up a conversation with anybody. It was all too revealing of his position in the literary world. Nabi, on the other hand, followed him quietly. "Is it here?" "Yes." Then, without hesitation, he flung the door open, and Nabi inhaled slowly as the view of the room appeared before her. There were round tables set up throughout the large hall, about eight people sitting on each table in the tight space. Every single one of them was an established author. 'Is this what it feels like to be at an award ceremony in Hollywood?' Nabi was surrounded by celebrities, no matter in which direction she turned. The dim lighting and the nude-colored interior made the place all the more suffocating to be in, and the chairs dressed in red velvet jumped out at her. "Is that Coin?" "What's he doing here?" People whispered amongst themselves upon seeing the author, who had turned up late and with confidence. As usual, some frowned or looked at him with disgust, while others smiled with interest. Then, having witnessed the looks on the people's faces, Nabi murmured by reflex, "Man, this is insane. I'm so glad I was born." "I'm sorry?" "Oh, no, nothing." There were a bunch of cameras and photographers, even within the hall. At Kelley Coin's appearance, they turned their cameras toward him, and the shutters sounded off restlessly. "With that, in this 47th Nebula Award Ceremony…" The person speaking behind the podium was the executive director of the World Science Fiction Society, and he was delivering his speech while paying no attention to the shift in atmosphere. Because of that, things quickly returned to normal. Meanwhile, looking clearly displeased, Coin took his seat at the backmost table. Isabella and Nabi also took their seats on the chairs placed in a row against the wall. Nabi brushed her hand down the name tag on her chest, feeling the texture of its material. It had her name and affiliation on it. It was dreamlike. One of the books written by an author she was working with had been nominated for the Nebula Award, making it all the more emotionally overwhelming. In the audience, was the author of a popular series that had been made into a TV show in the US alongside one of her favorite authors, who had part of a famous science fiction magazine. The winner of the previous year was also sitting there, as a nominee once again. While some were dressed formally, others wore blazers on top of that in their usual, comfortable attire. While there were some wearing fancy dresses, there were others in simple, one-piece dresses. They, too, were wearing similar name tags to the one Nabi was wearing. "Coin? What brings you here?" "Do. NOT. Talk to me." Nabi almost bit her tongue at the barely audible voice nearby. The author who had tried to strike up a conversation with Coin had the record of selling a whopping 120 million copies of his books. At the same time, Coin was also a renowned author, and someone who had won the Nebula Award four times. "I'm telling you, he's a time-bomb," Isabella murmured to Nabi, and the publishing agent couldn't do anything but to smile awkwardly. The editor was watching Coin like a hawk. --- "Sigh." The ceremony was tedious beyond belief. Upon being called, the person went up to the stage in a hurry and took a piece of paper out of their pocket, where they had written down their speech. Feeling the trophy in one hand, the winner of that particular award expressed their joy, and the crowd, in unison, congratulated them. Within that joyful occasion, Coin was the only person with a crabby expression on his face. "This is bullcrap," Coin muttered, but his voice was buried by the loud cheering of the crowd. To make matters worse, the author sitting next to him was stamping his feet as if overwhelmed with joy. Then, taking the water glass that had been prepared ahead of time for each table, Coin brought it up to his mouth. Lukewarm water rushed into his mouth as the distinctive dryness of the ceremony made the inside of his nose even dryer, reminding him why he hated award ceremonies so much. "Ladies and gentlemen, we will now announce the winner of the Nebula Award in the full-length category," the presenter said with a smile on his face and a card with the name of the winner written on it in his hand. Meanwhile, feeling the lukewarm surface of the water glass, Coin thought to himself, 'If it's Yun Woo's name on that card, I'll have to get off my seat and go up to that stage.' After the presenter's light-hearted joke, the audience broke out into a quiet burst of laughter. Attending an award ceremony on behalf of another author was not something Coin was used to, let alone for Yun Woo. At the same time, he was quite used to receiving awards on behalf of something because he had been the one receiving the awards for his books. Authors received awards on behalf of the pieces of writing the awards were given to. A book had no mouth or limbs, and it was completely incapable of getting up on a stage on its own or thanking its readers. It was for that very reason that authors received the awards on behalf of the books, celebrated on the others' behalf, and returned to their seats. In that case, where was Coin's unfamiliarity with the situation coming from? People around him took deep breaths, looking nervous. Like Yun Woo, they, too, were all nominees for the award, growing anxious as the winner was about to be announced at any given minute. At that moment, Coin locked eyes with another author. Being in his forties, he was someone who had written a number of bestselling books. However, he, too, was just as nervous as everyone else around him, and in his eyes, was the answer Coin had been looking for all along: Yun Woo. They were afraid of the young author from the East, afraid that they would get pushed aside. The anxiety the nominees shared was not a new development. It had to have been following them from well before entering the hall, when they had first heard the name of the young author after arriving at the hotel. Despite the ridiculous look on his face, that author was still staying in his seat because of his foolish hope that it would help him write, and his unfortunate curiosity toward the unseen. "Ha!" At Coin's short burst of laughter, the author's face twisted into a scowl. The crowd kept laughing meaninglessly at the worthless jokes, and hearing the laughter reverberating throughout the dry hall, Coin thought of Yun Woo's voice. Calm and unfazed, the young author's voice lingered in Coin's ears, asking him to retrieve the award on the author's behalf, all the while keeping his face hidden, as always. Yun Woo was neither foolish nor jealous, and his tone was anything but pure. "Now, the winner in the full-length category is…" Coin put pressure onto his legs. He still remembered his first encounter with the young author. It was almost as if by coincidence. Yun Woo had come without warning, and the mysterious author had appeared in front of him carrying a different name, and it wasn't until everything had gone past him, that the young author revealed his alias. "Won Yi Young of 'Language of God!'" At that, the infamous author gnashed his teeth, and the presenter adding the name Yun Woo with a delay, bothered him all the more. He chugged the remaining water from the glass. The sensation of the water flowing down his throat couldn't have been more unpleasant. Then, with only one corner of his mouth turned up, the author went up to the stage. The red carpet, the velvet covers, and the warmth of the spotlight all came at him at the same time. Unfortunately, none of the beautiful scenery laid before his eyes belonged to him.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I came to write 'Language of God' when I was given a piece of advice by another author. Without a delay, I rushed to the beach and came up with the story." Standing behind the podium, Coin read the speech written by Yun Woo in a dry, soulless tone. However, every member of the audience listened intently to what the young author had to say. While the camera flashed sporadically, and the shutters sounded off, others raised their phones to take pictures. No matter how the audience was capturing the moment, they were all witnessing the birth of the youngest winner in the history of the award. "In my novel, the process of downfall, decline, and birth repeat itself over and over again. Although a child started to learn a language after it was born, the nation falls, and that language, too, vanishes. The era of endless war eventually became the past, and the Golden Age of the Great Empire is passed down only as mythology. The person they believed to be God had a mere lifespan of three hundred years, and the hope the companions thought would last forever, dwindled away along their journey." The authors sitting at the round tables looked up at Coin on stage, and a handful of them nodded in agreement. "But, it's not over just yet. There are things that are yet to come to an end. The pain of war, the glory of the mythology, and the magnificence of God, to name a few. The people are swayed by the things that are coming to an end. All in all, what I've been meaning to say is that nothing lasts forever, and the end is coming, no matter what. After that, something slightly better will come around," Coin read from the piece of paper in his hand while getting a better grip of the clear, rectangular trophy. "I would like to thank each and every person who had an influence on me while writing the novel. Including Kelley Coin, of course." At the mention of his name, the audience exploded into laughter and applause, some even cheering out loud. The excitement in the air made Coin all the more displeased. Then, as he crumpled up the paper and shoved it back into his pocket, the cheers grew even louder, as if indicating the end of the speech. Coin looked down at the audience from the stage, and seeing as though the infamous author wasn't about to come down from the stage anytime soon, the cheer eventually died down. Then, with his hand still in his pocket, he said, "As a representative, I'd like to add a few things as well. To be clear, I'm not happy for Yun Woo, at all." At the author's sudden remark, the atmosphere changed. After Yun Woo, who was like serene water, Kelley Coin, whose fire burned fiercely, appeared. He saw Isabella in the distance, looking at him with piercing eyes as if looking at a troublemaker. Next to her, was Nabi with her mouth still parted open from the speech. "Aside from my own writing winning an award, I take no joy in the happiness of others. Now, I can see that clearly thanks to Yun Woo. I think I'll go home and write as soon as I hand this hefty thing over to him," Coin said with a perverse attitude. The trophy in his hand waving left and right showed just how irritated he was. "For those who couldn't understand the message Yun Woo was trying to convey through his novel, I'd like to sacrifice my precious time to offer you an explanation. Of course, I'm talking about those of you I'm about to offend." At the infamous author's remark, the expression on the executive director's face grew darker. "In this world, there exist numerous languages, and we live in an age where we can feel just how many languages there are in this planet. At the same time, we also live in an age where we can communicate with those who speak completely different languages. Through his novel, Yun Woo unveiled the roots of the different languages that exist on Earth, and today, that very novel has won the Nebula Award." The transparent trophy shone brightly under the spotlight. "Novels that include only Caucasian characters have become unbearably boring. Times have changed, and a great storyteller is always sensitive to change. Unfortunately, this realization came way too late to the judges here, who are responsible for judging some of the greatest stories in existence." As the room grew silent, Coin stepped down from the stage. However, it was at that very moment that the audience exploded into the loudest cheers and applause of that day. --- "I think I've had just about enough with the pictures." Juho watched Kelley Coin holding his trophy, looking as irritated as ever, in the video playing on his monitor. It was a recording of the award ceremony, uploaded on the World Science Fiction Society's website. Some of the most widely-recognized authors at the ceremony were in it, and Coin was being interviewed at his table, after the award had been given out and the ceremony had come to an end. Although it wasn't clear as to what had happened, people were chanting the name of the winner in the screenwriting category. At that moment, the picture of Coin standing alongside the winners of that year while holding the transparent trophy in his hands appeared. "What did Yun Woo have to say about all this?" a reporter wearing a lanyard asked, bringing a mic up to the author's mouth. The irritable look on Coin's face didn't hold much power amid the excitement surrounding him. "He told me that he didn't give a damn about the award. Whether it's one of the four major, internationally-recognized literary awards or not." Juho had no recollection of making a statement like that, and the flustered look on the reporter's face was no different from the one on his face. "Wow, is that true?" "It sure is. You'd like to know more about Yun Woo, don't you? Then bring the questions to me. I'm a three-eyed, six-eared, and eight-armed beast." The reporter laughed Coin's incredibly sarcastic remark off, and by contrast, Coin's expression grew even more irritable. "Now, I'd like to ask YOU some questions. You've won that trophy four times thus far, and the one in your hand would make it your fifth. I can only guess how much it means to you. What does it feel like to receive that award on behalf of another author?" "Uh-oh." A mechanical beep censored the words that came out of Coin's mouth, and Juho felt a burning curiosity for what he might have said. Despite the profanity, the reporter didn't let up. "All right, one last question. Yun Woo has become one of the most widely-recognized authors in the world by winning this award, and fans are growing wild across the globe. Yun Woo might be young, but there's never been an author like him. The appearance of Yun Woo is, simply said, an anomaly in the literary world. What's your perspective on his achievement?" At that, Coin answered while wearing the same look on his face, "Who cares? Each author is unique to themselves, and it's always been that way. I told you earlier, this ceremony means jack to him. It's probably something to write about in his next novel, at best." "Next novel, as in?" "Unless it's my ear or your tongue that's not functioning properly, I believe you already asked your last question. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go back to my room." Then, the edited clip transitioned to another winner sitting on a velvet chair with a trophy in her hands. Having won the award for the short story category, she had a green one-piece dress on and was well-advanced in her age. Juho leaned back on his chair's backrest and rolled his eyes to the right. The same trophy in the clip was shining brightly on a stack of manuscript paper. It had been delivered to him by Nabi, who had been ecstatic when she handed the trophy over to him. However, she had struggled to hide the bitterness she had felt when talking about Coin. She had let out a heavy sigh, saying the infamous author nearly tossed the trophy at her when he was handing it over. Under the base of the clear, rectangular trophy, there was a golden plate with an English word engraved on it, which made a dull sound upon flicking it. According to the engraving, the trophy was the work of a renowned designer. Then, Juho tried picking up the trophy. It was slightly heavy. Although it was a small trophy, the sales of 'Language of God' had multiplied to a figure incomparable to that of the past, and after winning the award, Juho realized just how different a nomination and winning were. The stark difference was engraved into Yun Woo's mind, never to be forgotten. The first Asian, Korean, and the youngest winner. "Haha," Juho let out, tossing the trophy on top of his bed. Then, after looking up at the ceiling briefly, he reached for the manuscript papers next to him, all the while wearing a faint smile. --- "The First Asian Winner of The Nebula Award! Yun Woo Beats the Record of the Previous Youngest Winner! The Korean Hero!" "A Dream Come True! Korea's National Writer, Yun Woo, the First Asian Winner of the Nebula Award! The Sales of His Previous Books Skyrocket! Publishers Celebrate." "The Book-District Comes Alive with Yun Woo's Recent Award. The Globalization of the Korean Novel. How Did It Start?" "Publishing Agent, the New Hottest Job? The Key Component in Exportation!" "The Joy of This Generation! Yun Woo Delivers Hope." "The Result That Left the Globe in Shock! How Did the Nineteen-Year-Old Genius Author Come About? The Globe Focuses on Korean Novels." "Kelley Coin's Sensational Speech at the Nebula Award Ceremony! A Closer Look." "The Poll Results Are In! Kelley Coin, the Most Popular Author Overseas, Growing in Popularity Along with Yun Woo! A Closer Look at His Incredible Mischief. A Character That Would Never Come Out of Korea!" "The New Wave of Private Writing Institutes. Parents in Search of Second Yun Woo. Our Future Generations Learning the Joy of Literature!" "The Proud Teenager of Korea, Yun Woo. Who Else Is There? Sports Stars, Idols." "Yun Woo Eradicates All Doubt. The Preconceived Notions Surrounding the Young Author. Yun Woo's Grief Blown Away at Once by the Nebula Award! One Step Closer to Achieving the Double Crown." "Let Him Be Known to the Rest of the World. His Astonishing Works!" --- "I'm so proud of him. He's achieved a miracle." "I wouldn't have imagined in my dreams that a Korean author would win the Nebula Award." "My palms were all sweaty when they were announcing the winner. Proud of you, man!" "What makes Yun Woo so incredible is that 'Language of God' was published under another name. Yet, it became a bestseller, and now, the Nebula Award. That's just insane." "No wonder I was so desperate to learn the languages in 'Language of God.' It's seriously the best. Centering the book around languages was a stroke up genius. It only makes sense how elaborate the world is." "Nebula? THE, Nebula!? Yun Woo won the Nebula!? This is a miracle." "The media overseas are going crazy right now. Everyone's desperate to hear from him. Well, he's hanging just as loose as ever. Did I mention that the publisher's website is down again?" "Wow, 'Language of God' is ranked number one in online bookstores across the globe. Do you know what that means? It means his books are selling the most out of all the books that were ever translated. I'd never seen a Korean Novel get so popular." "Did you guys hear Yun Woo's speech? I mean, it was delivered by Kelley Coin, but wow, did it move me to tears. Those sentences were just exuding confidence. Guess that's the kind of author it takes to send Kelley Coin to fetch his internationally-recognized award for him." "It was insane how Kelley Coin was at the ceremony on Yun Woo's behalf. I mean, everyone here knows what kind of person he is, right? He's somebody who wouldn't even go to his own ceremonies. Now, that's just crazy." "The reason the Nebula Award is so widely recognized is that it's judged by professionals. That only goes to show how great of a book 'Language of God' is, superseding all the major weaknesses of the author, like his age and nationality." "He's a genius, all right. The kind that turns up maybe every three hundred years." "But I'm sure there are still people doubting his identity. I mean, he's just too good at what he does." "People are starting to predict that Yun Woo will be nominated for another major literary award, the Hugo Award. It's based heavily on the opinions of the fans, so popularity is one of the major aspects that determine the winner." "Double Crown! Let's go!" "Man, why am I the one getting all nervous?" "This guys is insanely popular. He's exploding in Japan too, apparently. I saw it on TV, and people came all the way to Korea just to find him. Of course, they ended up going home empty-handed, with just footage of the streets." "Has anyone heard him being called the reincarnated version of Shakespeare in other countries? I asked myself the same question." "That's understandable. I was seriously confused as to who he was after I read 'Sublimation.'" "'Sublimation' is legit!" "I wonder how that book would do overseas though. From what I hear, it hasn't been exported, yet." "I heard Fernand's on it, already." "Well, there it is. I'm marathoning through the entire 'Language of God' series." "Already on it." "Already done it." "Politics, military, villages, families, weddings, funerals, the different food, clothing, and housing culture in different regions, general culture, books, language, hunting, entertainment, sports, mythology, history, tribes, nations, climate, seasons, the solar terms, the geological formation process, the education level of the intellectuals, welfare, economy, and the list goes on and on. It has it all. The more you dig in, the more you find." "Personally, the language God uses was my favorite of all. In the offshoot volume, the author says that it has its roots in Hangul." "Oh, man! I think that's making me drunk." "Hooray for King Sejong!" "With all nations in the novel aside, Yun Woo is just an incredible specimen. I can't imagine how much work he put into writing this massive, epic series that is 'Language of God.' It had to have taken more than just genius to accomplish that." "He's the best." "..."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho walked up a long hill. Although the incline looked quite steep from afar, in reality, it wasn't as bad as it looked. However, if one were to turn back, they would be greeted with an intimidatingly steep incline once more. Looking at the grass growing out of the cracks of the buildings around him and from the ground, Juho made his way up the hill he had climbed a number of times already. Then, a beast cried out in the distance. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Baek." Juho heard a thin voice speaking near Yun Seo's house. Then, at the sight of a man with both of his hands full of things lowering his head, Juho stopped in his tracks. In front of the man, was Yun Seo. "You take care of yourself." "Yes, ma'am." Although Yun Seo calmly accepted the man's goodbye, it was undeniable that she, of the two of them, was the one in pain. Her neck and shoulders looked quite tense, as if desperately holding something back. It wasn't clear whether it was anger or tears she was holding back. Then, as the man turned around with a clear look of guilt on his face, Juho locked eyes with him and saw reluctance in his gaze. However, it wasn't long before the man looked away, and Juho let him through. The man had the look of a person bidding farewell. "Hello, Mrs. Baek." "Good to see you, Juho," she said, greeting him just as calmly as when she had said goodbye to the man. "Who was that?" "A former pupil of mine." A former pupil. It implied that the man was no longer her pupil. After brief contemplation, Juho decided to ask no further, and looking at him, Yun Seo put on the same, welcoming smile she always wore. However, something made it feel out of place, like she was glad to be in the situation she was in. "Go ahead and take a seat. It'll only be a minute." "Yes, ma'am." The reason Juho was visiting her house was a gathering at Madame Song's restaurant. To be precise, they were gathering to celebrate Juho winning the Nebula Award. Then, coming back out shortly, Yun Seo said in a relaxed tone of voice, "Hyun Do says he's almost at the restaurant." "... We better hurry, then." In the end, the only person in a hurry was Juho. --- "Madame Song seemed to be in a good mood, too," Yun Seo said. According to her, she had visited the restaurant after her novel had been published, and because of that, the two weren't as delighted to see each other as they would have usually been. Still, it was obvious that they were very close friends. She enjoyed her favorite pork dish, and like an author who had earned her sabbatical, Yun Seo also enjoyed a glass of wine without guilt. "How are you feeling?" she asked, carelessly. "Good," Juho answered briefly, mirroring Yun Seo's brief question. Nevertheless, it was an honest answer. Winning one of the most prestigious literary awards in the world was an accomplishment in and of itself, and there was no reason not to feel good. "I can tell! You definitely look better." "Really?" "Yes, you look good." Contrary to Yun Seo's assumption, Juho was looking better because he had been getting more sleep lately. Since he wasn't working on anything in particular, there were fewer nights where he stayed up, unable to put his pen down. "Congratulations." "You helped tremendously, Mrs. Baek. Thank you." "Oh, I barely did anything to help," Yun Seo said, waving her hands in denial, but Juho was genuinely grateful for her. There was a reason he looked up to her as his teacher, and she had definitely played a big part in making the life Juho was leading in the present possible. "This is the person you should be grateful to," she said, spreading her hands and pointing to the seat next to her. As Juho's eyes followed the direction to where her hand was pointing, he saw a gentleman with only half of his hair grey. "I'm the one who barely did anything. It's not like we see each other often, either," Hyun Do said, with a calm, peaceful expression on his face. Just like he had mentioned in his speech, Hyun Do was the person who had directly influenced Juho to write 'Language of God.' As the young author thanked him, the literary great simply gestured with his hand, urging him to keep eating. "Did you find a good spot for your trophy?" she asked, and Juho remembered the trophy rolling around his room. "Yes, it's on top of a pile of manuscripts." "Huh! What kind of manuscript?" "Just some things I've been working on here and there. I use them as scratch paper. The trophy's got some weight to it, so it's perfect to keep the stack in place." Just like Juho had said, the trophy was being put to good use by keeping his stacks of paper from flying off the desk. Then, chuckling quietly, Yun Seo said, "That sounds like a good spot, all right. It's better than collecting dust elsewhere." The meal with Yun Seo and Hyun Do was as warm and smooth as it could be. Amid the calm atmosphere, Juho was able to release some of his pent up excitement. There were still people chanting Yun Woo's name, and more people kept searching for that name on the internet. Meanwhile, new articles kept turning up on regular basis, talking about the significance of the award Yun Woo had received, how big of a challenge it was to obtain, how great of an author he was for achieving just that, and how the world viewed the young author and his works. Along with the colorful adjectives, the articles were multiplying, each backed up by as little as a single statement made by a relevant expert. The fans were going wild, calling their favorite, young genius a hero. There was even a time that Juho read somebody's comment on the internet saying that he had brought them a breath of fresh air while they lived in a world filled with suffocating uncertainties. Many were comforted by the confident statement he had made through Coin at the award ceremony. It was all too familiar to him. He had heard the acclamations of his fans and had received their affection in the past. However, when he had come out with a new book, those same fans who had cheered for the young author had all turned their backs on him, without hesitation. With that experience in mind, Juho reminded himself that he couldn't afford to slip back into alcoholism. "Would you like more to drink?" Yun Seo asked, and seeing as though his cup was empty, Juho nodded willingly. Once the cup was filled, Yun Seo changed the subject, "Six people quit this month alone." At that, Hyun Do turned his head to look her, and Juho remembered seeing one of her former pupils on his way out before coming to the restaurant. "Since last month, twenty people started doubting their enrollment, and they're still contemplating. Every single one of them is unemployed now, having quit their corporate jobs to pursue their passion before all this." "Why? Do they not want to be taught by you?" "No. They are saying that they can't possibly write a piece like 'Sublimation.'" As he drank slowly, Juho said, "Isn't that natural?" "It is, and that's what I've been telling my pupils all these years, but then, you came along, the young, genius author," Yun Seo said, finally bringing up what she was desperately holding back. The reason the man Juho had seen upon arriving at Yun Seo's house left was Yun Woo. "The genius they all thought would eventually disappear from the face of the Earth has risen to worldwide prominence. Of course, they would be conscious of the author. There are so many kids who have their eyes fixed on you, all the while sacrificing time to write." "Your identity is a puzzling one." A genius. That was the title that everyone associated him to. It was understandable when considering how dubious of an identity Yun Woo was. Although capable of seeing only what was on the surface, the fans were sharp and accurate. The shell that Juho was hiding behind wasn't capable of writing a piece like 'Sublimation,' and neither was a boy. The wall of common sense was simply too thick for the fans to get any closer to the truth, and frankly, everyone was wandering aimlessly before the seemingly impossible obstacle. There was no way around it but to admit that the young author was a genius, and many had to have found the reality mortifying. However, the young author had no intention of tearing down that wall for his fans. "I guess I really am a genius, it seems like." At Juho's remark, Yun Seo chuckled quietly while moving her knife. There was no trace of resentment in her eyes. "But five of them began to approach writing with a very different attitude from before, and it's all because of you." At the sound of the last few words at the end of her sentence, Juho thought back on the faces of the people who had passed by him near Yun Seo's house. Every single one of them had had a smile on their face, and it felt as though the man he had seen earlier had been part of that group. "I think they're flippant." "My pupils?" "No, my stories." Despite their influential nature, Juho found his stories flippant and imprudent, stirring the pot needlessly. They caused trouble and interfered with people's lives whenever they felt like it, like a playboy whose only way to satiate his desires was to remain involved in messy drama. "That's an interesting way to put it," Hyun Do said, his gray hair covering his eyes halfway. "Just because something's colorful and well-decorated, it doesn't always mean it's beautiful." Colorful and well-decorated. They were some of the more commonly used adjectives when describing Yun Woo's books. Although captivating, there were also cases where they shone too brightly, putting a frown on the face of the person looking at them. "Same goes for new things." Since coming out with 'Sublimation,' Juho had been getting feedback that the novel was new and original. "There's never been an ending like it." "I don't think I'd ever been that shocked." In other words, that also meant that Yun Woo had abandoned his traditional style. 'Sublimation' was a novel that was still just as polarizing as when it was first released. Both Dong Baek and Zelkova Publishing Company were still receiving daily emails from professors, journalists, and critics wanting to meet Yun Woo in person. Unfortunately, offering no explanation, Yun Woo had turned every single one of those requests down. Meanwhile, he was also being told constantly that reporters and journalists were contacting his publishing agency in attempts to interview the young author. "Some professors are flat out saying that they found 'Sublimation' to be unacceptable." "Yes, so I've heard." "And in the meantime, you won one of the most prestigious awards in the world." Things were getting rather complicated, and at the center of that contradiction, was Juho's work. "In front of Yun Woo, the intellectuals can't seem to voice their opinions as openly. I gotta admit, it brightens my day when I see the looks on their faces," Yun Seo said while scrunching up her nose, for some reason. Strictly speaking, the Nebula Award was given to 'Language of God,' both as an award and a mark of recognition. Yet, the honor was transferred to the author just as intensely, and that was inevitable. Just as food came in through the mouth and got broken down and distributed through the body, there was no way to prevent that from happening. The acknowledgment of a piece of writing became an acknowledgment of the author, and the acknowledgment toward the author became an acknowledgment of the most controversial piece of writing at the time. The phenomenon that dictated that one successful piece written by an author had the effect of boosting sales for all the other pieces written by that same author worked much in the same way. "You said your writing was flippant?" Hyun Do asked. "So to speak." "It's definitely true in some aspects," the literary great said as if backing off. However, he wasn't ready to let up anytime soon. "Everyone seems to go into a frenzy when they hear the name Yun Woo. It's hard to say that it's serious. It's unreasonable and debaucherous." "If you put it that way, Mr. Lim…" "It's because there's too much going on on the surface. Juho felt pricked in the heart from Hyun Do's remark. 'I'll make sure you know why you're feeling that,' a voice echoed in his head. People went wild, applauding an author they hadn't even seen. However, in reality, Juho was less than impressive. All he did was sit in his dusty room with his greasy hair writing, focusing only on his own emotions. It was like there was a middle-aged man in the young boy's body. "That wasn't my intention." "I'm pretty sure it wasn't," Hyun Do agreed. "Pardon?" Juho asked, caught off guard by his answer. "Because that decoration came from those around you." "..." "From the point of view of the person who's doing the decorating, it all just looks pretty." Hyun Do wasn't rebuking the young author. He was simply explaining what was really happening, reminding Juho that he was the only person who felt that his writing was flippant, therefore, doubting the sincerity of his work unnecessarily. Novels were made up things from the start. However, there was truth in them, and Hyun Do had learned that over time. He used to be just like the young author. "Fyodor Dostoevsky was on death row." Edgar Allen Poe struggled with debt, and Honore De Balzac was a glutton. Mark Twain was dissatisfied with the size of his genitals. Shakespeare did everything he could to avoid paying taxes, despite his wealth, and F. Scott Fitzgerald had a serious obsession with feet. There were also authors who suffered from mental breakdowns, as well as those who spent the rest of their lives relying on alcohol. Although each of the countless authors had led a life nothing short of a trainwreck, their fame still remained intact to that day. Whether or not some of the greatest authors in history had led good lives was debatable. Many of them were terrible parents, neighbors, or citizens. Yet, they were all magnificent writers. The stories written by those authors were both groundbreaking and beautiful. The gap between the authors' personalities and their works had always been there, and that was truly mortifying. "None of those authors were even remotely as great as the pieces they had written. Every single one of them met an unfortunate end, as if paying for their previous sins, like being eaten alive by their own craft," Hyun Do said, bringing his glass filled with water up to his mouth. "Personally, I'm doing everything I can to not end up like them." Hyun Do's straight posture became more apparent.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl The three authors conversed candidly, and the atmosphere repeated the pattern of gradually building up and subsiding as the subject changed through the course of their meal. By the time Yun Seo had had her third glass of wine, Hyun Do two glasses of water, and Juho two cups of soda, the conversation took a turn and put the spotlight on the young author. "That ending was superb," Yun Seo said, looking like she was drunk from the atmosphere rather than the wine. As she looked at Juho, there was not a tinge of red on her face. "Some of the older authors I know were all astonished," she said, moving on to telling him about the conversations that had taken place at official events or at offices about 'Sublimation.' Although they had been mostly positive, there had been those who were doubtful of the young author. Then, bursting into laughter out of nowhere, Yun Seo said, "Boy, the look on this man's face right here. He looked so bored! Your name came up during my book release event, and he was the only person sitting there quietly, not saying a word. If anything, he stood out." At Yun Seo poking fun at him, Hyun Do added indifferently, "Everyone was talking about the ending of the book. I was bored, that's all." "But it was worth getting that much attention." "Which is why I sat there quietly." Then, as if she had been reminded of that image of Hyun Do, Yun Seo burst into laughter again. Juho turned to the literary great, who was enjoying his meal quietly. Unlike all the other authors he had met, Hyun Do didn't ask questions about his writings style, let alone doubt him. "Why aren't you asking me?" "Asking you what?" "About my writing style." Hyun Do brushed his gray hair back. Although Juho's writing had been causing a ruckus, it seemed to have had no impact on the literary great. If anything, Hyun Do seemed like he had silenced it as gracefully as ever. Yun Seo was the same way. No matter how many of her pupils abandoned her, she kept her place There was an undeniable gap between the young author and the two, significantly older authors. Juho knew that he was far from reaching their level, and Hyun Do's calm voice was only further proof of that. "What for?" "Well…" Just like Hyun Do had said, nothing was going to change, even if the literary great were to ask the young author about his controversial writing style. Hyun Do had already established a world of his own, which was like a tightly-shut gate that couldn't be opened from the outside. "... Aren't you curious?" "I'm old enough to not let my curiosity get the best of me." "That sounds like you are curious." At that, a corner of Hyun Do's mouth turned up, and what seemed like dimples appeared on his face. "At the end of the day, I'm an author myself." At his answer, the faces of some of the most aggressive writers rushed past Juho's mind. They were willing to do just about anything in order to acquire what they wanted. Some never left their rooms for years on end, while others put themselves through the trouble of making lists about themselves in order to understand themselves better. Some acted out the scenes they were writing, even at the cost of making fools of themselves, while others went as far as digging deep into some of the most gruesome data for the sake of understanding their topics better. Likewise, the older gentleman sitting before Juho's eyes couldn't be any different. Then, catching on to what Juho was thinking, Hyun Do said, "You know, I've never killed a person." "I'm sure you haven't." "But I do have experience writing about it." Juho understood what Hyun Do was saying from that sentence alone. "I know that I can't do everything. There are foods that I can't eat, as well as foods that I hate." "Do you ever force yourself to eat them?" "No, there's no reason." Children often found certain foods repulsive, even without having tasted them before. It was possible to imagine what the food was going to taste like. It was possible to predict the taste, fear it, and even grow fond of it. "I, personally, ask questions after I write. For example, a homeless man. I ask him if they find what I wrote about them offensive." Then, Juho put himself in the position of the homeless man Hyun Do was talking about. Having first-hand experience with being homeless, it wasn't all that difficult to do so. As far as he could tell, he would have burst out laughing or crying. Either way, he wouldn't have been able to keep his calm. He would have murmured, 'Here's yet another wretched life,' and gone to the bookstore to fetch a book without anyone knowing afterwards. "If I were to write about you, it wouldn't be until I'd written however I saw fit that I would ask you any questions." "And I'm sure I'd be taken aback after seeing how little difference there would be between your writing and reality." Despite Juho's answer, there was no change in the expression on Hyun Do's face. "I'm much more interested in what kind of piece you'll come up with than how you go about writing it. And even more so, what kind of piece I'll come up with." At that, Juho felt like he'd gotten a glimpse of desire hidden deep within the literary great and his bottomless, serene eyes. It was the desire to write better than anyone else. Upon that realization, the elements that made the literary great who he was began to waver, including his grey hair and his straight posture. "You've been working on something." "I sure have." Hyun Do was also an author, after all. He wasn't in the habit of wandering and he was different from those who couldn't write a single word after reading Juho's writing. No matter what he read, including 'River,' 'Sublimation,' and all of the articles on the Nebula and Hugo Awards, Hyun Do simply wrote away. Juho looked at him attentively, feeling a faint desire to write, and thinking, secretly, that he wanted to see his own writing cause more of a ruckus. Juho's singing was boisterous, and he imagined the literary great humming along with his tune. --- "Hey, wake up." Upon feeling a blow to his back, Juho heard a voice waking him up. Then, rubbing his back, he opened his eyes and saw Sun Hwa in front of him. "What?" "Club activities." Still half asleep, Juho brushed his face, and as he packed his bag in a daze, Sun Hwa, who had already packed up, stared intently at him. "Is there something you wanna say?" "Have you been writing?" "I write every day." "No, no. C'mon, you know what I mean." "It can't hurt to be elaborate. That way, there's nothing to misunderstand." At Juho's response, Sun Hwa's distinctively confident eyes turned up. As of late, her eyes had been downcast with worry. Therefore, the fact that there was a change in her appearance meant that she had made a breakthrough, somehow. "Whenever you stay up writing, you always come out with a new book. So, I'm just asking if that's what you're doing lately." Exactly like Sun Hwa was thinking, Juho had written the night before. "I wanted to get the one that's due out of the way." "We have an assignment due?" "For the Literature Club?" "Ah, right," Sun Hwa said, nodding. They were working on their last pieces as members of the Literature Club before graduating, and rightfully, Sun Hwa was putting her heart and soul into developing the plot of her story. "You're already done, huh?" "It's not finished, technically." "Hey, I haven't even started." Then, Juho changed the subject, "Speaking of which, you seem to be in a better mood lately. What's new?" "There is something new, indeed," she said with a bright smile. "One of my favorite comic artists released a new series." "Well, ain't that something to celebrate?!" "And I finally thought of what I might wanna do." That had to be the real reason. Juho looked her, smiling brightly. "That's also something to celebrate. What is it?" Then, twisting her body bashfully, she said quietly, "Teaching." "Huh." "You don't seem surprised," Sun Hwa said with a sullen look on her face. To be frank, Juho had had an idea for some time. Her appearance had changed when Mr. Moon started offering so-called advice to the club members, calling it self-gratification. Juho had observed his clubmates then, and he saw Sun Hwa's eyes sparkling with motivation. She had actually been comforted by the words that had come out of the eccentric teacher. "It's nothing to be surprised about." "Bom was." Juho imagined the timid junior, frivolously congratulating Sun Hwa. With a faint chuckle, they headed to the science room. The others had already arrived there. "What you got there?" the twins asked as Juho took a bundle of manuscript paper out of his bag. While Gong Pal was holding a portable gaming console in his hand, Gong Il, his twin sister, was holding a book on sex life. "It's a piece that I might end up submitting for the exhibition." "Oooh!" At that moment, Bo Suk also approached them, her eyes sparkling with interest. "I guess that means the piece about fingernails will stay a failure, huh?" "Yeah, unfortunately." No matter how hard he tried to salvage it, a failure was a failure. Just as time was irreversible, failures were the same way, and they remained and were piled as they were: failures. However, as those failures stacked on top of each other, they became experience, and eventually, standards. "I guess even somebody like you struggles." At that, Juho waved his sheets of manuscript paper and said, "And that failure is all in here." "I wanna read it first," the twins said simultaneously and locked eyes with each other, their eyes burning ever more fiercely than ever. "Don't get ahead of yourselves, now. It's not even finished yet. Besides, Mr. Moon's always the first person to read our stories." "But the manuscript is packed to the brim with words." "I've said this before, but a piece of writing isn't finished until it's been revised." "First a failure, and now, revision. Even somebody like you," the twins murmured simultaneously, and Seo Kwang interjected, finding it all too entertaining. "I'm sure Yun Woo goes through the same, exact process when he writes." After Seo Kwang's unnecessary remark, Juho changed the subject, "If you wanna enjoy my writing to the its full extent, then I advise you two to work on your patience. They say that hunger is the best seasoning." "All right," the twins answered, obviously reluctant. However, there was still some time until the club activities officially started. Just as Juho was about to look through his manuscript, he heard the twins talking to each other, "You know about Yun Woo winning the Nebula Award, right?" Despite the ear-catching subject, Juho kept his eyes fixed on his manuscript. His clubmates were also doing the same thing, but they couldn't prevent things from getting awkward. "I wonder what he's doing, now," Gong Pal said, and his twin sister sympathized, "Yeah, seriously. I heard people saying that he's in another country, staying with Kelley Coin." "For real?!" "I don't know. I saw some blog that had all the theories on Yun Woo put together, and you know what? They were actually pretty convincing! There are even people saying that Yun Woo was actually at the ceremony. There was someone Asian who got caught on camera, and they looked super young." "An article came out today about that. She was from a publishing company." "Ohhh, is that right?" Seo Kwang interfered. And correcting their misinformation, the twins nodded. "I saw a clip of an interview of Yun Woo's… publishing agent, was it? Anyway, I came across a video of her being interviewed in another country, and she didn't mention anything about Yun Woo, either, saying that she might lose her job if she were to let anything that had to do with him out." Juho had never heard about that. From the sound of it, Nabi was going around telling vicious jokes. "Wouldn't somebody like Yun Woo have the power to replace his publishing agent at the snap of a finger?" "I mean, he's world-famous, so I'm sure that's nothing to him. But I didn't know authors worked with agents." What had started off as a joke had turned into something completely different. Gong Il's information was mostly wrong, and Gong Pal was only making matters worse by puffing it up, without even a trace of doubt. It was a common occurrence within conversations about celebrities. "So, there's someone I know in a publishing company," Juho said, looking away from his manuscript, and the twins reacted at the blink of an eye. "Really!?" "You do??" "You guys remember hearing from Bo Suk when we were going around school advertising that we get a lot of news about Yun Woo quickly." "So that's what she meant," the twins let out, catching on to the situation. Soon, they asked with anticipation, "Have you heard anything new since then? What's he doing?" Before giving them an answer, Juho paused in order to choose the right words in his mind. Then, looking at his manuscript before his eyes, he was reminded of his reality as an author, writing through failure after failure. After he started writing, the young author met someone who wasn't affected by his writing, and he also met someone who gave up the dreams they'd been fighting for. Juho realized just how powerful and influential the small trophy could be when attached to a book and the effect it had on the preexisting prejudice and assumptions surrounding him, making them grow even more. It was both colorful and well decorated, but at the same time, it was flippant and imprudent. Even then, it was mildly entertaining. "Nothing all that special, just…" "Just?" "Just going about his daily life, eating three meals a day." What had changed hadn't been himself. Rather, it had been the situation he was in. Then, the twins caused an exasperated commotion, saying that anybody could've said what he said.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl As Mr. Moon stepped into the room, the club members began to write in earnest. Needless to say, Juho's progress was significantly faster than those of his clubmates. "Here we go," Juho said and picked up his manuscript. A thin stack of paper, thin enough to fold over like it would wrap around his hand, it was the piece Juho had written after returning home from the Nebula Award celebration with Yun Seo and Hyun Do. Given the impulsive nature of the piece, it would probably need a significant amount of revision. Then, Juho looked down at the fingernail in his hand holding a pen. It was a plain-old fingernail with a tinge of red. In contrast to his plain nails, Juho remembered yet another set of nails that had been colorfully decorated. They had belonged to a hand that had been holding the receiver of a payphone, and they had been clearly visible, even from afar. Juho had been in the convenience store across the street from the booth at the time of the phone call, and he also remembered telling her a small, seemingly insignificant lie. Part of him had found the long, pointy shape of her nails threatening, and he imagined them digging into his neck. It had been at that moment that it had occurred to the young author to use fingernails as an ingredient in his writing. Juho read through the sentences of the manuscript. The narrator awoke from their sleep, starting the day as usual. It was morning, which repeated itself day after day, tedious and uninteresting. Feeling groggy no matter how many hours of sleep he had gotten, the narrator prepared to go to work. The monologue continued, and nobody talked to the narrator while he got ready for work. The narrator got on the subway and got carried to another destination along with other, similarly dressed people sitting together in a tight space. The handles dangled from the top. Then, a set of five nails appeared, stopping one of them from moving. Both long and sharp, they were decorated to the point of being distracting, and the narrator was turned off by what he saw. 'Those are not fingernails.' No matter how the narrator looked at them, the fingernails didn't seem to be serving their intended purpose, and looking at them made for an unpleasant experience, something that resembled watching a beast on a leash crying out in pain. The narrator wasn't fond of cloned sheep, lions in zoo cages, or seedless watermelons. Therefore, the narrator was also not fond of the artificial-looking colors of the woman's fingernails, nor of the strange looking bits glued on to them. The narrator stared intently at the scarlet nails. They were long and thick, and every time the wearer moved, they shone brightly as the angle changed. The impeccably-smooth surface of the nails reminded the narrator that they weren't natural. The narrator pitied the woman's real nails underneath the artificial ones. To the point of anger, perhaps. With a sense of pleasure that lingered in thought, the narrator arrived safely at work, where even bigger challenges awaited. The new boss began to nitpick the state of the narrator's fingernails. There was nothing wrong with them, nor would they affect the narrator's performance at work. However, the boss ordered constantly: "Cut 'em shorter. Even shorter than you have them now. Short enough that you can't feel them when you feel your fingertips." There was no choice but to obey. Although the subordinates spoke behind their boss' back about the unreasonable requests, the narrator ran to the convenience store without a delay. What was supposed to be a precious, protective tool, had to be cut away by its owner, and the narrator couldn't to do it. The idea was repulsive, and a tiny feeling of fear followed shortly after. Then, the setting changed, following the narrator's fear into the past. Instead of at a company, the narrator was now attending school, wearing a uniform instead of professional attire, riding a bicycle rather than taking the subway. However, mornings were no different from the one in the future. There was a new home economics teacher at the school who said, "From now on, I will be checking your nails before we start. They should be short enough that you can't feel them when you feel your fingertips. Those who fail to abide will not only receive penalty points, but they will also be required to clip their nails with the nail clipper I bring with me." There was no choice but to obey. So, the narrator looked down at her fingers and saw the white, crescent-shaped nails at the end of her red fingers, smiling at her. They needed to be cut out. "They don't check our nails, do they?" Juho asked, and the freshmen, sophomore, and juniors nodded in turn. "They did back when I was in middle school, though." "Oh, yeah… Man, that was such a pain in the neck. I never understood why they even did that." "I know! They're MY nails." Bom and Sun Hwa complained as if reminiscing to their past. Similarly, Seo Kwang had had an experience being openly humiliated in front of his entire class for having dirty nails. Listening to each and every one of them, Juho lowered his head back down. In the end, the narrator got in trouble with the teacher, and after clipping her nails, the narrator was left dejected in front of a class of over forty students. The teacher had said, "You stay there until you're done clipping your nails, and we're not starting until you do." All eyes had been on the narrator, and everyone had pressured the unfortunate student: clip your nails. Reading through the manuscript, Juho marked places that needed to be revised. There were paragraphs that dragged on, as well as sentences that were unnecessary or that had repeating vocabulary. In his head, Juho tried changing the order in which the scenes took place or inserting scenes that were more specific. There were already multiple directions in which the story could go, and it was waiting for the author's decision. So, he tried numbering the options in his head. 'One: include the scene of the teacher clipping the narrator's nails by force. Two: Make the class larger, from forty to fifty students. Three: The boss gives the narrator a nail clipper as a gift. Four: Include a scene of the narrator in anguish with the new nail clipper in her hands. Five: Line everything up in chronological order. Six: The narrator becomes hysteric and tries to choke her boss to death. Seven: The narrator chokes the teacher, instead.' It felt like the more Juho thought about the choices, the bigger the list grew. But, of the numerous choices he had come up with, he had to choose the best one. The standard for that was rather simple: Which gave weight to the message he was conveying, and which one stayed true to the topic? Juho spent some time organizing his thoughts. The nails served the same purpose that shields did, they were protection. Nails were tools that deserved more appreciation, and yet, the world demanded that people cut them off. Forgetting their intended purpose of protecting us, people focused on appearance, and that made the narrator uneasy. Then, Juho decided to include a more thorough explanation for why the boss insisted his subordinates wear short nails. Similarly, the young author decided to include a philosophy behind the new home economics teacher's strict standard on nail lengths, and why the students had to go through the trouble of having their nails checked on a regular basis. It was a story on cleanliness and tidiness. With that, Juho added and took away sentences. The plot became clearer, looking more and more like the image in his head. 'What about bringing someone to tears?' Juho asked himself, briefly imagining the narrator weeping as her nails got clipped away, one by one. He wrote out the scene. Then, it occurred to him that the narrator never cried, no matter what, even at the cost of her fingernails." The piece fell short in many different places, making Juho wonder if it was really OK to go on. 'Is the fear apparent enough? Will readers be able to resonate with what the narrator is feeling? Will they be able to catch on to the significance of fingernails? Are there only necessary scenes?' Then, Juho began to erase the sentences he had written, one by one, making changes to the character and the story he had created. However, enduring that painful process didn't necessarily yield better results. If at all, many authors tended to get carried away and make bad decisions. In which case, the author needed to make up for their mistake immediately, which led to even more revision. While part of the young author thought of the woman with scarlet nails choking her boss by the neck, another part of him thought of the hands quietly clipping away at the nails that had been deemed to be a tad too long. There was a stark contrast between blood splattering about the room and the pieces of nails clipped away from the hands. Eventually, Juho came to the decision to go with the latter of the two images in his head. The narrator clips her nails willingly, and the young author made the changes to the sentences, accordingly. The two actions had a lot in common, and Juho felt something chipping away, and those fragments scattered throughout the ground. Then, he glanced down at his feet. There was nothing but chunks of dust. They had to be the fragments of sentences that were yet to be seen somewhere. 'What happens when they pile together? Would they enhance the story and make it more mature in any way?' Juho asked himself as he moved his hands slowly, writing away until the shouting around him died down and sank to the floor, along with the chunks of dust. --- "Mr. Moon," Juho called to the teacher in the staffroom. Then, remaining seated in his seat, Mr. Moon turned his head toward Juho's voice. The room was mostly empty as most teachers were probably in their respective clubs by that time. On one side of the office, was the math teacher, leaning back on his chair with his eyes closed. There was no mistaking that he was asleep. "What do you want?" "I wanted to turn my manuscript in. It's for the exhibition," Juho said like an author who had managed to meet his deadline, submitting his manuscript to his editor with a mild sense of accomplishment and anxiety. Upon taking the manuscript from the young author's hands, the teacher began to read, and while contemplating whether he should leave or stay, Juho stood in his place, looking around the staffroom. Each of the desks were distinct enough for Juho to be able to distinguish to whom they belonged. Textbooks, backscratchers, attendance books, progress reports, exams, massage slippers, pencil stubs, poetry compilations, compasses, jump ropes, various portable gaming consoles, and makeup products, which had clearly been confiscated from the students. There was also a stark difference between the desk of a rookie teacher and that of a teacher who was close to retiring. "This is good," Mr. Moon said briefly. "Do I need to change anything?" "It seems fine to me. You've already revised it a number of times, haven't you?" "Just thought I should ask," Juho said, remembering the look of disappointment on Mr. Moon's face as he read Juho's recent failure. Because Juho hadn't been in the habit of ruining his pieces with absurd endings as of late, he hadn't seen an expression like that on Mr. Moon's face in a while. "Good call on not taking this part out," the teacher said, pointing to something on the first page. It was the scene of the narrator waking up early in the morning. In his recent failure, that narrator had found himself in a completely different world. Thankfully, Mr. Moon seemed to be fond of the monologue, which continued until the narrator opened her eyes and started moving. "That's because you were making a scene, saying that I shouldn't let such a good intro go to waste." "I sure did. I still think it would've gone to waste if you had left it out. You see, that heavy style of yours tends to shine in the most unrealistic of scenes." Then, after staring intently at the manuscript for a little while, Mr. Moon said, "I gotta admit. I was worried that you might get carried away after winning that award, but it seems like I got nothing to worry about." A look of relief appeared on the teacher's face for a split second. "Did you think I'd get cocky?" "At least uncomfortable." "I think I kind of am still." "Well, as long it doesn't show in your writing." With that, Mr. Moon took the manuscript from Juho so that it could be made into a book and exhibited in the library. Published under the name Juho Woo, it would be his first book since being awarded the Nebula, and with that, the young author walked outside, feeling relieved. --- "Sigh," a man let out in the room, alone. With a serious look on his face, he picked up a book with a title written in Korean from the top of a stack of manuscript paper filled with words in English. 'Sublimation.' The black cover wrapping the book gave it an ominous feeling. Then, looking at it with a dark expression, the man brushed his hand down the cover of the book and sighed once again. "This has gotta be the most convoluted book in my three decades as a translator." Remembering 'Language of God,' which he had translated not too long ago, the man opened 'Sublimation' once again, and the bookmark fell to the floor. However, rather than picking it up, he read on with all seriousness. Then, picking up the original manuscript, he placed it next to its transcription in English and took turns reading them, sentence by sentence. His faded green eyes traversed through the words in a rush. "Will this be good enough?" he let out. The manuscript he was working on was of a novel written by the first Asian, and the youngest winner of the Nebula Award, Yun Woo, and it was scheduled to be published in the States for the first time since the author's victory of the award. Fernand didn't hesitate in its decision to reach out to the young author. Then, the company immediately hired one of the most widely-recognized translators, one who had proven himself through his numerous works: Taylor Sanders. "Hm," the translator let out. Then, closing the book, he began to write an email to the editor in charge of Yun Woo.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Please tell me a way to get a hold of Mr. Woo," Nam Kyung read the email he had received out loud. It had been sent by a person by the name of Taylor Sanders, the translator who had translated the sensational 'Language of God' into English. "I'd like to meet with Yun Woo." The reason the editor was taken aback was because that same translator had previously rejected the opportunity to meet with Yun Woo in person. It was a well-known anecdote in the publishing industry. "So, even the almighty Sanders is struggling with 'Sublimation,' huh?" Sanders was also the translator in charge of translating 'Sublimation,' which was scheduled to be published in the near future. Although having translated an entire epic novel series without even an ounce of help from the author, Sanders was struggling to make progress with 'Sublimation.' According to the translator's own words, he was not confident in his work in translating 'Sublimation,' and Nam Kyung was able to relate to the situation Sanders had found himself in. They were both in the position of having to work with Yun Woo's sentences directly. The young author's sentences were like beams of light that inevitably cast shadows over those standing behind them. "Well, better talk to Mr. Woo first before I write back to him." The editor rose from his seat and went out to the terrace. Decorated with man-made flowerpots, there were benches available on the terrace. Leaning against the silver rail, Nam Kyung dialed the number, chuckling as he was reminded of the sheer number of people who were desperate to know it. "Mr. Woo! This is Nam Kyung." "Hello, what can I do for you?" A dry voice contradictory to his dazzling fame sounded off from the receiver, and after clearing his throat, Nam Kyung got to the point. The young author had hardly changed from the time Nam Kyung had first met him. "I'm sure you know who Taylor Sanders is, right?" "Yes, he translated my novels, didn't he?" the young author said with a crisp voice, and Nam Kyung fixed his eyes on the pointed tower of a church in the distance. "Precisely. So, it turns out he wishes to have a word with you." "A word?" "Yes, regarding his most recent project, 'Sublimation.' It appears that there's something about the ending of the novel that's bothering him." Nam Kyung said, adding the latter half of the sentence while the young author remained silent. "I hope you understand, Mr. Woo. The ending to that novel, in particular, is quite the punishment for those who have to work with those sentences directly." At that, instead of an answer, a dry chuckle came from the receiver of the editor's phone. 'I mean, if THE Taylor Sanders is struggling with it, that says it all,' Nam Kyung thought to himself and asked the author for his decision. "What would you like to do?" "Mr. Sanders is in the US, right?" "Yes, but he told me that he's more than willing to fly to Korea as long as you're willing to meet with him in person." Sanders had stated that he was willing to visit Korea at any given moment in his email to the editor. "Well, if I can be of any help, then of course, I'll meet with him," the young author answered briefly. Nam Kyung thought of Sanders waiting anxiously for his reply. Those who knew nothing about Yun Woo would have no idea of how unfazed Yun Woo was at all times, distracted by the colorful images surrounding the author. "Hello?" "Yes, hi. Then I'll go ahead and arrange a meeting with him." With that, Nam Kyung wrote back to Sanders without a delay. The day after the translator's arrival, Nam Kyung was on his way to pick up Yun Woo. The weather couldn't be any better. "You put your seatbelt on?" "Yes." Noticing Yun Woo slowly looking around his car, Nam Kyung drove gently and headed to a famous Korean restaurant in Gangnam that provided private rooms for their guests. Closed-off space was a must when meeting someone with Yun Woo, and Nam Kyung said while driving, "From what I hear, Mr. Sanders has been getting a lot of attention." "Yes, I saw the articles." When an author won an award, a series of in-depth analysis of the results followed, and among them, were opinions on the translators. Having thoroughly translated Yun Woo's writing into English, Sanders started growing in popularity in Korea after the young writer won the Nebula Award. "It seems like he's been getting overwhelmed with questions too, questions of whether he's ever met you." "But we never have." "That's not an answer a journalist would settle for, unfortunately. Well, I guess my position is not all that different from Sanders'." On top of the journalists, even people around Nam Kyung flooded him with questions since they knew he was Yun Woo's editor: "Show me a picture of him, will ya?" "Can you let me talk to him on the phone, just this once?" "What's Yun Woo been up to these days?" The list went on. "So how do you go about handling that predicament?" "I tell them that I'm not looking to get buried alive in the industry for leaking information about Yun Woo." "Buried alive, huh." "Oh, it's far from being an overstatement. Trust me. Even the foreign press would start raving about it. 'According to Nam Kyung Park, Yun Woo's editor-in-charge, the winner of the Nebula Award is such and such.'" Now that Yun Woo had won the award, any mention of him would spread to an international scale, and Nam Kyung was fully aware of that. "That's what I should've said while I could, anyway. When I didn't have to worry about the aftermath as much." "The higher you go, the scarier the fall gets." The higher one climbed, the more terrifying the height became. Made curious by Juho's calm and unfazed remark, he wondered, 'Then, what does that mean for him? He's already so high up when he hasn't even graduated high school. Treated as a national author, the youngest, first Asian and Korean winner of a literary award with half a century of history, and now, aiming for the double crown. How terrifying of a height would that be? I can only imagine.' "Yawn," the young author yawned quietly. "Did you not sleep well last night?" "I was writing. I've been working on a piece to have exhibited at my school." Upon hearing Juho's answer, Nam Kyung let out a chuckle. "Man, I wonder how your friends will react once they find out who actually wrote that." "I'm sure it'll draw more attention." Nam Kyung glanced over in Juho's direction at his nonchalant remark. He was well aware that the young author knew what he was saying, yet his response was as indifferent as ever. "When you slap the name Yun Woo on to a piece of stool, people suddenly see it as a gold nugget." "It won't mask the smell though. Readers aren't that stupid, and they won't fall for a trick like that just from the name they're seeing." "... Touché." Despite his accomplishments, Juho was still a student in uniform, active in a Literature Club at his school, who came with a piece of writing every now and then. However, if that had been the extent of his talent, there wouldn't have been a need for a sense of responsibility like the one he was showing. At that moment, the car shook slightly. "Are you looking forward to meeting Mr. Sanders?" "Yes. I'm curious of what he has to say." Then, glancing over in Juho's direction once again and seeing the peaceful look about him, Nam Kyung looked straight ahead. The editor genuinely hoped that the young author would stay up in the sky for much longer and without any burdens, writing as he soared up even higher, learning and experiencing even more things. "You can get some shut-eye until we get there." "Oh, it's not that bad." At that, Nam Kyung pressed harder on the gas pedal. --- "Sir, your party has arrived." Not too long after their arrival, a voice said to the editor and made him flinch. The seat next to him was empty. Yun Woo had gone to the restroom, so Nam Kyung rose from his seat in order to greet the guest. Then, as a male manager capable of interacting with foreign customers opened the door, the significantly older translator greeted Nam Nam Kyung in English, sounding slightly rigid. "Pleasure to have you, Mr. Sanders. I appreciate you coming all the way here from so far." Then, Sanders smiled brightly and said, "Oh, no. It's always a pleasure to visit a country I'm not familiar with. Even if it's for work." The two sat down after exchanging a handshake, with Sanders sitting across from Nam Kyung. Because there was space carved out for the feet, the translator didn't have to sit in a way that was awkward and uncomfortable for him. "Is Mr. Woo here, yet?" Sanders asked, and Nam Kyung waved his hand in denial and said "Oh, no. He'll be here any minute now. We came together." "Ah, I see." From his eyes, Nam Kyung was made certain of how curious the translator was. Yet, he was the same translator who had refused to meet with Yun Woo while translating 'Language of God.' "So, Mr. Woo is…" As Sanders said after taking a sip of water, the door opened, and the translator looked toward it by reflex. There was a young person standing at the door. Then, recognizing that shift in the expression on Sanders' face, Nam Kyung greeted the young author in a hurry. "Ah, speak of the devil!" "Sorry, I had some trouble remembering how to get back." As the translator spoke to the young author in English, the young author answered also in English, impressing the translator. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Woo." That time, the words that came out of the translator's mouth were in Korean. --- Taking his hands off of the automatic water faucet, Juho walked out of the restroom while shaking the moisture from his hand. Then, as he made his way back to the room, he realized that he had trouble remembering how to get back. Because all the doors looked identical, there was no way to know which one was the one he was looking for. In the end, after contemplating peeking into a room at random, Juho was able to return to the right room after asking an employee passing by. Upon opening the door, Juho saw a foreigner who he had never met sitting in the room. It had to be Sanders. At the sight of the man's chubby figure and bushy beard, a thought came to Juho that Santa Claus would have looked just like that when he was younger. Needless to say, he had never met Santa Claus in person, let alone a young Santa Claus, but something told him that that was how the Santa Claus in illustrations or advertisements would have looked before aging and leaving his hair and beard white. Sanders looked just like he had in the picture Juho had seen. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Woo." Hearing Santa Claus speaking in Korea made for a rather odd experience. Then, as the man introduced himself as Taylor Sanders, Juho bowed in response. "Yun Woo. My real name is Juho Woo, but please feel free to call me whatever name you wish to call me by." As Juho introduced himself with clear enunciation, Sanders reiterated the young author's name, his beard moving up and down with his mouth. "It's probably best to call you by your real name when we're outside." "Yes." "Speaking of which, congratulations on winning the Nebula Award! I wanted to tell you that when I met you." "Thank you." As assortments of side dishes and scrumptious-looking food made their way to the table, Sanders tasted each and every one of them, expressing interest. Then, bringing up the things that had taken place since his arrival and the places he had visited up to that point, the translator continued the conversation. The subjects of the conversations that were taking place during the meal effectively kept the atmosphere relaxed and comfortable. Unfortunately, looking away from Santa Claus, who was skilled in using a pair of chopsticks, was proving to be quite the challenge. "I studied Chinese characters in college, and I've been translating compositions from all over Asia. Learning and translating Hangul was actually a relatively recent development. I gotta say, the language is quite charming. I fell in love with it and started looking into it before I even realized." The fluency with which he was speaking only proved his point further. "So, have you read the translated version of 'Language of God?'" "Yes. I thought it was beautifully done. I was very grateful." Juho had read it. At the same time, he had been able to read it. Sanders' translation contained an interpretation of his own. Despite having followed the original, strictly speaking, it was more accurate to consider it as a separate piece of writing. Nevertheless, that didn't make it a bad thing. It was only natural. After all, what he had done was translate the book, not copy or transcribe it. "'Language of God' was delightful. As a person obsessed with language, I've read it over and over. Repeatedly." "Were there any difficulties when translating that book?" Nam Kyung asked, and Sanders chuckled, looking and sounding even more like Santa Claus. "Of course! It was a lot of work translating a world with such an elaborate structure. To be frank, Mr. Woo, your writing is on the trickier side for translators."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl The young author had just been told that his writings was difficult to translate by the translator translating his books. Considering the amount of research the process had called for, as well as the array of languages within it, it was, unfortunately, true. "There are places in 'Language of God' where a variety of languages are exposed as is, without any translation. Not to mention the amount of data that it was needed for reference. If I hadn't known Chinese, I would have had to spend twice as much time translating that novel. Side note, I was glad to have picked up Spanish as a hobby." Being a polyglot had definitely worked to his advantage when translating 'Language of God.' "So, you speak Spanish too, huh?" "Intermediate at best, but I was very relieved that you came out with the offshoot volume. I was able to get a clearer understanding of what I was translating." The offshoot volume of 'Language of God' was a book often bought by fans who wanted to have a deeper understanding of the world within the novel. It was often used as evidence that Yun Woo really did create all the languages within the novel, and Juho was glad to hear that the translator found it to be of help. "To be frank, I thought about contacting you throughout the translation process. Although I'm sure a lot of people have similar thoughts, I was genuinely curious about you, Mr. Woo." In the end, Sanders never carried out his desire, and Juho already knew the reason: Yun Woo's identity was still a mystery. "If I had known that we would meet in person like this, I wouldn't have hesitated to write you an email. On the other hand, I'm perfectly content with how things turned out. I turned down the opportunity to meet you for the sake of the translation, and yet, here we are, meeting for that very same reason," Sanders said, his facial hair moving with his mouth. 'He'd look good with a braided beard,' Juho thought. "I'm sure it was quite the inconvenience not being able to get a hold of me. Am I right?" "I don't know. Not all translators are in the habit of contacting authors. Besides, I'm used to not doing so." "You're used to it?" "Yes. You see, I also happen to be translating really, really old books, published way back when. As you know, the dead don't speak." Upon hearing the translator's remark, the word 'dead' crept up on Juho. "Do I look dead to you?" Juho asked, and Sanders laughed as Santa Claus would. "Oh, no. You're very much alive. You're at your prime, in fact. If that's not true, then we're all most likely in the netherworld. At which point, I'd be a fool to have come all the way here to find out what you look like." Juho laughed at his witty remark, and Nam Kyung brought his water cup up to his mouth quietly. "Although, I gotta admit. While I was translating, that is before I saw you with my own eyes, you might have been closer to being dead than alive. It's probably an old habit of mine that I picked up over time, translating old, ancient books. You see, I tend to assume that those I can't see are dead. Ah, hold that thought," Sanders said, raising his hand in order to correct himself. "The dead cannot be seen. That's a better way to put it." The answer made Nam Kyung nod in affirmation, and just as the translator had said, it was impossible for the living to reunite with the dead. "As someone who translates books written by people who are no longer around, getting help from dead authors is simply not an option for me, even if they're lingering around the book as ghosts. I wouldn't be able to hear them even if they were to beat me upside the head," Sanders said, and after staring intently at him, Juho asked, "What's it like to translate books that old?" "Nothing special, really." "There are bound to be trickier sentences to translate, right?" "That applies just as much to books written by authors who are still around. There are times when I just don't feel confident about my translation. Although, it's been happening less and less frequently as I gain experience. As one grows in their skill, standards tend to form within." Regardless of what, people tended to make fewer mistakes as they grew more familiar with a task. As their skills grow, they began to have a better understanding of how to handle challenges that came their way. Unfortunately, failure was still inevitable, and it had brought the translator all the way to Korea in order to meet with the young author. "I read the book you translated," Sanders said, changing the subject, and Juho followed without saying anything. "How was it?" "What is there to say? I read the article saying that you were chosen as the translator of the year. Every Hangul-literate translator acknowledged your work." "That's good to hear. I worked really hard to make sure nothing strident came out of Kelley Coin's mouth." At the mention of the infamous author, Sanders laughed heartily and said, "Well, you got what you wanted. I mean, that was some quality translation! Needless to say, not a trace of mistranslation anywhere." Then, the translator looked up at the ceiling as if thinking back on Juho's translation. "It was incredible. I almost thought I was reading the original. A translation faithful to the original. That's what many translators dream to accomplish. It's almost idealistic, really. You know, something only possible in theory. That's why they get so ticked off when somebody tells them to stay true to the original. They would if they could." Translating involved a text being written in a completely different language, and it was anything, but simple. When discussing what made 'Language of God' so successful, most critics pointed to the languages within the novel. The languages really brought out the characteristics of the world. Because language was such an integral part of life, it wasn't an overstatement to say that it was lifestyle that gave language its shape. The fact that every language had a different sentence structure meant that the speakers of each language had a different way of thinking. Simultaneously, the fact that people had a different way of thinking also meant that they were more likely to find a direct translation of a text in their language to be awkward. However, the original was the ideal standard when translating, and the priority was in transferring the original as a whole to the readers of another language. For that reason, translators often found themselves in a dilemma, between keeping the original intact and making modifications to it. In other words, it was impossible for translators to leave any of their own interpretation of the text out. No matter how they approached it, translators were bound to leave traces somewhere, somehow. "To translate is to transfer. A book has its meaning in being read, which means, the priority is in how easily readers can understand what they're reading. This is especially true in modern translation." "Yes, I agree. The fact that translators are growing distant from the originals means they're growing closer to readers in other countries. Although, it doesn't necessarily mean that's always the case." "You know, for somebody who makes remarks like that, you're quite tenacious in your work." "Tenacious?" "Yes. The tenacity of keeping yourself hidden." At Sanders' remark, the word he had used previously, 'dead,' lingered in Juho's ears. Juho did remember wanting to be a ghost back then. He had strived, as much as possible, to keep the sentences written by Coin intact." "I have personally been studying your translation," the translator said, and Nam Kyung asked by reflex, "Analyzing it?" "Yes. Mr. Woo has translated Kelley Coin's book in a manner worth studying. There are definitely traces of liberal translations throughout, but reading it makes its readers think that they're reading a book written by Coin. It's almost like looking at the Moai statues of Easter Island." "... Moai?" "I've actually been to the island myself, and I gotta tell you, it was astonishing. I can only imagine who or how they made those hilarious looking statues or what their significance is. There was nothing on the island, no tools for transferring those massive statues, or even trees. The entire place is full of those statues, and apparently, their height ranges anywhere from three to ten meters, with bigger ones weighing up to ninety tons. They all look different, too. Some are even wearing hats." Then, the translator took his camera out of his bag and showed Juho and Nam Kyung the pictures he took. The statues were spread throughout the entire island, from the center of the island to the shores, in every direction. There were also statues wearing hats, just like Sanders had described, and next to them, was his bright smile. While Juho was looking at the pictures with Nam Kyung, the translator said, "It makes you think that it was either built by aliens or God, doesn't it?" "It does. Or our ancestors, who are very, very distant from us, were giants, most likely." Sanders agreed with Juho's conjecture. "That's what your translation was like," the translator said, referring to his description of Juho's translation. "But there's something about it that makes it stand out. It's surpassed the ideals and realities of translations somehow. Well, maybe pushing the boundaries is a better way to describe it," Sanders said, his head tilting slightly as if there were still questions lingering in his mind. Then, a perplexed look appeared on his face. "As you can see, whenever I try to describe your translation, I always find myself treading the territory of abstraction. It's quite troubling. Well, it seems like there's going to be two new additions to the island already full of mysterious stone statues: your translation, and my vocabulary." Juho simply smiled at his confusing remark, not knowing how to react. "Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is that your liberal translation was as close to the original as it could get, and the opposite would also be true. It's almost like stopping a car just inches away from the collision. So close, our brains can't recognize it. Like an optical illusion, if you will. When you position two identical shapes with entirely different sizes a certain way, you give people the illusion that they're the same size. That's what your translation is like, except nobody knows what's in the background or where it is, besides yourself. So, those shapes also end up becoming the Moai statues," Sanders said, scrunching up his nose. Not only was he fluent, but he was quite talkative. "If more people were using Hangul, then your translation would have been a sensation several times bigger. It's a tragedy that it's only known to those who know Hangul, but even if you tried to explain it to somebody who doesn't know Hangul, they would never be able to relate. Same goes for those who don't know English or what translation is or entails. It's so sad that there are such few people who can appreciate this greatness." More so than what the translator was saying, Juho was astonished by the speed in which he was speaking. Sanders was incredibly fluent in Korean. "Would you mind giving me your hand, for a second?" "My hand?" Juho asked, raising his hand by reflex as Sanders reached for it as if about to give him a handshake. Upon grabbing the young author's hand gently, the translator examined it, flipping to and fro as if appraising an antique. Juho felt like he was getting his palm read. "Would you mind if I took a picture of it?" "A picture?" Juho let out before he could help himself. However, Sanders had a serious look about him. 'Well, it's not like he's taking a picture of my face or anything,' Juho thought to himself and nodded awkwardly. Then, with the assortment of side dishes in the background, the translator snapped pictures of Juho's spread-out hand, and the shutters of his camera sounded away. "I can tell that you're a writer." "Well, yeah." With that, Sanders lowered his camera. "Now, let's get to the point, shall we?" With that, the translator looked at Juho with anticipation, as if he couldn't wait to find out what kind of answer the young author was going to offer him. They were eyes comparing the wall hindering his progress to the person who had overcome it. "Have you read my translation of 'Sublimation?'" "Yes." That time, with his eyes fixed on it, Sanders took the manuscript he had received from Nam Kyung ahead of time out of his bag. It was his translation of 'Sublimation.' "Now, it's your turn. How was MY translation of your novel, in your opinion?" Juho paused briefly before answering the question. 'How do I put it?' Unlike Sanders, Juho didn't think of the Moai or of optical illusions while reading his translation. While it was definitely different from the original, Juho didn't have anything to complain about in particular. He was well aware of the process himself, and the translation was actually quite clean. There were no mistranslations anywhere, and if the English-speaking readers were to read it, they would have been able to understand what they were reading with ease. The fire was just as scary in Sanders' translation, and it was just as convincing as the original. The characters and their states of mind were spot on. Sanders didn't misinterpret or mistranslate the novel, with the exception of one place.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "This part here." Pushing the side dishes taking up space on the table to the side, Juho placed the manuscript on the table. Then, Nam Kyung and Sanders scanned through the sentence Juho was pointing to, the descriptive sentence intended to give the fire a frightening image. "It's actually quite convincing," Juho said. Despite being in English, the fire was just as frightening according to the description, making it clear just how merciless it was. Where there was fire, humans also existed. "And this part," he said, pointing to another place on the manuscript. It was a description of God. Where there was fire, there were bound to be people who worshipped it. Deities of fire were commonly seen in both Eastern and Western mythology, including the Greek, Roman and Northern European myths. However, the description in 'Sublimation' had a stronger Eastern influence. "There's a slight liberal translation here, but I don't think it's an issue. You used concrete language here, right? I mean, that's what people are used to in the US, so it probably makes it easier to read, if anything," Juho said, quickly flipping through the pages to the end, with what Sanders had wrestled to no avail. It was where the writing style changed, when the characters doubt each other, all the while claiming their own innocence. After losing track of the preexisting boundaries, the characters wandered aimlessly, and in the end, all became one in nothingness. The tool that Juho had used to portray the scene effectively was another writing style. "This here, though, leaves me wanting a little more." The stark contrast between the two writing styles was no longer there, united by the translator's interpretation. In place of the precarious nature, there was only balance and stability. The suspense, the alienation, all gone. The balance Juho had managed to strike after trial and error was no longer there. It was inevitable, but it wasn't fair to treat Sanders as an incompetent translator. Then, the translator explained in a calm tone of voice. "I wrestled with that scene even at the cost of pushing the deadlines back, but to no avail." Looking at his translation with a serious look on his face, the mustache covering his mouth made him look like he was smiling, Sanders said, "And something tells me that you'll never tell me how you wrote this, am I right?" "No, unfortunately. That would take the fun out of it. If Easter Island didn't have its mystery, the Moai, who would bother visiting it?" "It's a beautiful place, regardless. I'd love to go back." "I'm sorry, but it'll have to stay a secret." "Well, that's a bummer," Sanders said, smacking his lips with lingering attachment. Then, he asked shortly after, "How can I make people accuse me of having another person translating on my behalf?" Juho was well-acquainted with a remark like that, especially since bringing the new writing style to light. "Let me tell you as a person with firsthand experience. It's not going to be pleasant." "I'll just have to face it then, I suppose. Personally, I'm one of those translators who believes that the distance between the original and the translation is actually beneficial to the original. Also, I prefer my interpretations to be part of my translations. But with 'Sublimation,' I made an exception and thought that I had to stay true to the original in its entirety. Although, I'm afraid I'm coming to the painful realization that it's not possible," Sanders said. In the ending of the book, at least, he wanted to keep the spirit of the original intact as much as possible. Being a translator with a career that spanned three decades, his words had weight. Then, after brief contemplation, Juho brought up the thought that came to him by impulse. "Well, you can actually have another person translate on your behalf." "..." Sanders remained silent, but his eyes were still smiling. "You know, I did think about that, but you did it all by yourself…" Then, Sanders paused for a little while as he immersed himself in thought. "Does that mean you will translate?" "I'm sorry, me?" As the author of the novel, translating it wasn't the desirable of tasks for him. "I'm not sure about that." "And why is that, Mr. Woo?" Then, like someone who had spotted an opportunity, Nam Kyung's eyes widened. "When the news gets out that you took part in the translation, it'll be massive." "But there are plenty of other translators who are just as capable…" "Yes, I'm sure, but nobody's going to be able to measure up to you." As Juho looked away from Sanders' persuasive argument, he felt the translator's piercing gaze, coming at him like an arrow. Then, the translator looked at Juho with a look of surprise on his face. "You don't seem too enthusiastic about translating your own novel." "Yes, well. You see, I'm not fond of reading my own writing." To Juho, writing was a means of letting his emotions out. Anger, sorrow, depression, and cowardice. Taking the very emotions he had vomited out and putting them back into his mouth was undoubtedly repulsive. Looking at the young author frowning, Sanders swept his beard. "I see. There are definitely authors out there who feel similarly." However, there also existed those who were heavily invested in the translation of Yun Woo's books. Finding himself in a dilemma, Sanders moaned faintly. "But if we're to make this happen, your vision has to be in line with my translations, at least somewhat. We don't want to mistranslate anything." "Right, and it's definitely not that simple." Just as Sanders had said, Juho had to take Sanders' translation into account as well. If the gap between the author's vision and the translator's interpretation was too wide, the overall quality would suffer, yielding undesirable results. On top of that, the change in writing style at the end of 'Sublimation' was not the only matter of concern. The content was also incredibly convoluted since everything that had built up to that point fell apart. In other words, there was a dire need for a translator who understood the novel better than anyone else, as well as how Sanders went about translating it. On top of that, he had to possess the skill to translate accordingly while leaving the content intact. Unfortunately, a translator like that was incredibly difficult to come by. "It seems like Mr. Woo fits just that description," Nam Kyung interjected. 'Man, I should've been more careful with my words,' Juho thought to himself with regret, and catching on to the young author's hesitation, the editor kept on, "We're talking about a very, very small amount of work. Is there no way, Mr. Woo?" "... Hm." "I won't ask you to do anything like this again, from now on. Do you think you can consider it, Mr. Woo? Just this time?" While Juho was faced with a dilemma, Sanders opened his mouth and said, "Is it because you can't write it again?" At that, Juho set his thoughts aside and looked at him. The expression on his face made it clear that he wasn't taunting him. If anything, Santa Claus always had a welcoming look about him. "Is that what you think, Mr. Sanders?" "Well, I don't really know the truth, so I'm prone to think in whatever way makes sense." "Do you think we can make it seem like it was written by Yun Woo?" "I don't think there's a single person on this planet who can do that better." Having trouble interpreting what the translator meant, Juho chuckled. (TL's Note: Remember, Yun Woo, is Woo Yun in Korea, meaning coincidence. Sanders is being ambiguous with his use of the word intentionally, and Juho isn't sure if the translator is referring to his alias or coincidence.) "All right, then," he said. After all, it was his idea, and it wasn't remotely as much work as translating an entire book. Although part of him was still reluctant, it occurred to him that he would be as good as dead if he didn't voice his opinion, which made the situation all the more undesirable. "What was that?" "I'll give it a shot." "Well then, I'll be looking forward to it, Mr. Woo," Sanders said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung took his phone out and sent a text to someone in a hurry. It dawned on Juho that there were quite a few things that he had to be involved in associated with 'Sublimation.' It was the nature of the novel, as well as Juho's desire to make it entirely his. Humans who tried to conquer fire, those who reached for the unadulterated truth, they were all expressions of his identity, and considering how the novel was full of them, perhaps Juho's desire simply made sense. After all, he was an author and the owner of the book. --- "Adam." "Ah, hello," Adam, the senior editor of Fernand, greeted the guest visiting his office, a journalist from one of the top magazines in the States. He was responsible for delivering news about Fernand to the rest of the world. "Still as organized as ever," the journalist said as he sat down, looking at the bookshelf against the wall, which was filled with books. They were organized by publishers, series, and the names of the authors, and looking at them brought Adam peace. Then, as he skillfully prepared for the interview, his secretary brought out a cup of tea for each of the two. With that, the interview began. "First, I'd like to start off by asking a questions that's been burning in my mind." "You know, I've always liked your style." Countless authors published their books through Fernand, including former presidents and spies. Most of the rookie authors who had published their books through the company had also been successful. The books chosen and edited by Adam tended to sell at an increasing rate, and he was well aware of which books the journalists would bring up, as well as which authors they wanted to bring up the most. As for the question, it was about an author who had experienced massive success recently. "I'd like to ask about Yun Woo." "I'd love to answer that question, but I don't know a whole lot about him unfortunately," Adam said, bringing the tea mug up to his mouth. "You don't say?! Even you?!" "That's right. Yun Woo's a mystery even to me." As the journalist's eyes sparkled all the more with interest, Adam glanced over at the recording device on the side of the table. "I haven't started recording, yet." "I'm aware." "Well, nothing? Even for the sake of my curiosity?" "My curiosity is very much intact still." "You know, I'm not the only person who's desperate for information on the youngest Nebula winner." "All right, why don't we back up a little? As you said, he's the youngest winner. He's still a kid." "But his writing seems to say otherwise. It's simply astonishing." Taking a sip of his tea, Adam placed his cup back down silently. "Have you heard of his novel 'Sublimation?'" "Sure, it hasn't been published in the States yet, but you're working on it, as far as I'm aware." "Yes, you see, the translation was officially completed just yesterday." Then, Adam reached over and picked up the recording device. The cold, lifeless machine whirred in his hand. "How's the novel being received where Yun Woo's from?" the editor asked "It's quite controversial, from what I heard, but a lot of people seem to think that it's the best ending in literary history. At the same time, I also heard a rumor circulating that said he hired a ghostwriter. Oh, he took part in designing the book cover, apparently. The Black Book." "Yes, and Yun Woo also took part in translating the novel." "... Translation, huh." "His language skills need no explanation. I mean, he's the Nebula winner." "My understanding is that translation takes more than fluency in the languages." "Right. Which is exactly where I'm getting at." "... Wait, what does that mean for Taylor Sanders, then?" Adam had no intention of explaining every little detail to the journalist. The questions would be answered at once upon the release of the book. After all, Sanders would be able to offer some explanation in the "About the Translator" section. "I read the translation of 'Sublimation' last night,' Adam said, revisiting the question the journalist had asked earlier, and as the words stirred the journalist, the editor hit the record button on the device. ''Sublimation' is Yun Woo's first book since his Nebula Award, and I chose that book personally. The young, anonymous author. I mean, it doesn't get any more charming than that. The adults who looked at him with doubt are moved to tears upon reading his book, and truth be told, I wouldn't care even if the whole thing turned out to be a massive sham. It doesn't matter who Yun Woo is. Whether he's an old man on his deathbed or an alcoholic beyond recovery, nothing will change. His writing is, simply put, beautiful." Just as the title suggested, the phenomenon was nothing short of a sublimation. The novel had elevated the young author to a higher state, and Adam had never seen anything like it. He had never come across writing like that in his entire career as senior editor of Fernand. The heat and the sense of loss brought about fear, and upon reading it, the editor was made certain of its success in the States. Yun Woo wasn't about to come crashing down any time soon. "I can just see it. 'Sublimation' will be sensational and take Yun Woo to an even further place, and he'll be even more mysterious, then." Because the journalist was yet to have read the book, he wasn't able to sympathize with the editor's words to their full potential. "So, it's pure literature by Yun Woo." At that, a smile closer to a sneer appeared on the senior editor's face. What Yun Woo was about to show was much more intense. The readers would feel their identities disappear before their eyes. Yun Woo was anything but pure. "You'll see."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Yun Woo, the first Asian Nebula Winner, Making a Comeback with a New Book!" "Pre-orders Deluge All Across Europe. Fans React Online." "Yun Woo Showcases His Literature Piece. The New, International Bestseller." "Never Heard of a Korean Novel? This Author Will Change Your Mind. Yun Woo, the Hottest Author from the East." "A Closer Look at Yun Woo's 'Sublimation' and His Incredible Language Skills. What's All the Fuss About?" "'Sublimation,' Yun Woo's Most Controversial Piece Yet. Senior Editor's Interview Draws Massive Attention: 'Through This New Piece, We Will Get to Know the Author a Little Better. Yet, Find Him All the More Mysterious.'" "Yun Woo Takes Part in Translating His New Novel, 'Sublimation!' Why?" "Yun Woo's Translator-in-Charge Struggles to Make Progress with the Controversial Ending of 'Sublimation,' Forcing Yun Woo to Step In. An Author Translating His Own Novel?" "'Sublimation' Said To Be Exported to About Forty-Five Countries. Yun Woo Only Taking Part in English and French Translations. A Closer Look." "The Polarizing Views of the Critics. What's the Big Deal? The Secret Identity of the Author We're All Dying to Know: Yun Woo! Who Is He? Where Is He? Is He Even Real? The Young Author in the Spotlight, Rewriting History." "From the Cover Design to Translation. Most Hands-On Piece of the Author Yet!" "The Anticipation Toward Yun Woo's New Novel, 'Sublimation,' According to Kelley Coin." --- In a well-ventilated area, Susan, Kelley Coin's Mother, was at the dining table, immersed in a book. Widely known for its author having contributed to its designing process, the black cover stood out even when in contrast with the tablecloth with exotic patterns. Taking after the original design of the cover, Fernand had made minimal changes to the appearance of the book. In her seat, Susan gently brushed her hand down the book, which was Yun Woo's most hands-on work yet. "Yet, the mystery grows," she murmured, opening the book for the second time. Then, taking a lighter that was rolling around the table, she lit the cigarette in her mouth with it. Reading 'Sublimation' made her crave for a cigarette for some reason. Taking a deep drag off her cigarette, she breathed out a thick cloud of smoke into the air. Then, savoring the unusually-pleasant bitterness of the smoke lingering in her mouth, Susan continued reading. The book was easy to read, and Sanders' translations were always trustworthy. Shortly after, Susan remembered what was on the 'About the Translator' section at the very end of the book. Taylor Sanders, one of the most talented translators around, had confessed that he hadn't been confident in his original translation, forcing him to travel all the way to South Korea in order to meet with the author. Then, after a long, in-person conversation with the young author shrouded in mystery, Sanders finally managed to bring back an answer. Yun Woo had agreed to lend a hand. Then, flipping through the pages, Susan opened the book to the ending. Who started the fire? Who worshipped it? Who was afraid of it? All the characters were at odds with each other, and the tension was at its maximum. Then, everything simply fell apart. Just like Yun Woo's identity, it wasn't clear exactly when things began to disintegrate. The author had retrieved the identities of each and every character in the novel without anybody knowing, leaving the readers clueless. Finding the culprit was no longer the priority. All the events and conflicts leading up to that point of the novel allowed the readers to be able to indulge in the precarious pleasure, and the fact that a young author was unfolding it all in such a cruel manner was rather quite astonishing. The cleaner the mirror, the clearer it reflected the world. The novel showed how the numerous rumors that surrounded the author reflected on him, as if he was saying to the readers: 'You don't know a thing.' At that moment, a sharp, shattering sound broke the silence. It sounded like somebody had flung an object against the wall with ill-intent. Nevertheless, remembering her son, who was writing upstairs, Susan flipped to the next page unfazed. Coin had acquired and read the book much sooner than his mother, and the shattering sound had become increasingly more common since then. 'Better to let all that anger out somehow rather than keeping it in. I can always replace the things he breaks,' she thought. With that, she took a deep drag off her cigarette once again. The deity of fire was foolish, and its worshippers should have done a better job at keeping it safe. They should have hidden it out of other people's sight, even at the cost of losing their clothes to the burning fire of their deity. Upon acquiring fire, humanity evolved at an exponential rate, and some believed that it was the most humanly-way to live. They believed the time they were currently living in, after the industrial revolution, was the very essence of humanity. However, who were the most distant from their origins? Were people so arrogant as to be proud of the reality they had created, widening the gap between wealthy and poor, taking nature for granted, and knowing nothing but conquering what was around them? Reading 'Sublimation' brought doubt to the hearts of its readers, and made them reflect on the history built by humans up to that point. In it, they found sin, as well as cowardly attempts to look away from it. At the same time, there was hope for humanity to move forward. At that moment… "Better do something about that cigarette ash," a voice said to Susan. It was Coin. "You done breaking stuff?" "We're not gonna have enough cups for a little while," he said, placing the pieces of shattered mugs into the sink. He had been collecting them on top of the stacks of manuscript paper in his room. A sharp sound came from the kitchen, and there were simply too many pieces with a handle on it to think that they were all from the same mug. He had to have brought down even the pieces that had been laying around in his room from his previous fits of rage. Then, glancing over at the book in his mother's hand, the author's face scrunched up. "This is a great book," Susan said, as if trying to rub it in. However, Coin maintained the crabby look on his face. "I love the the cover design, and the translation is top-notch, too. That Yun Woo is one talented person." "Talent? Yeah, right," Coin let out, snickering. If talent was all it took to be able to write a novel like 'Sublimation,' then Coin would have felt much more at peace. "You know, I've noticed how much writers hate the word 'talent.'" "Because it's destructive," Coin said, leaning against the sink. "The so-called, 'talented' can't survive in this world." "Is that so? Does that mean this kid will die, too?" "Everyone dies." Seeing that her son was avoiding her question, Susan put out the cigarette she had been smoking in her coffee. "I think I prefer this one over 'Language of God,' maybe over 'Sound of Wailing,' even." "And why?" "Because I have a son that has an uncanny resemblance to fire." As the author's face twisted even more into a scowl from his mother's response, Susan said, "This is just an unfounded assumption I'm making here, but maybe you were the inspiration for the fire. It has a lot in common with you." "I can't stand anything hot." Then, ignoring his mother's hearty laughter, Coin turned around, returned to his room upstairs and sat on his chair. It was a pigsty of a room, with sheets of paper and his blanket jumbling into one big mess. Reaching for his desk, Coin grabbed the same book his mother had been reading. It was sticky, and the pages were stained with brown liquid. His mug had tipped over it before, while he had been looking through the ending of the book, spilling coffee all over it. Then, the mug met its unfortunate demise as the author furiously flung it against the wall. "There's no mistake that it was all done by Yun Woo, from the writing to the translation and the cover design." Yun Woo was impossible to figure out. 'What is this ending about?' It diverted out of nowhere, adding weight to the novel all of a sudden. Coin thought of a ballerina's feet. At the tip of the body that stood gracefully, were the crushed, twisted up feet, never to be shown on stage. Because they were something the audience would never see, the ballerina's feet had no presence, as if they didn't even exist, leaving all but her graceful motions. What Yun Woo had revealed wasn't meant to exist, as if the ballerina had taken her shoes off in the middle of a performance. Needless to say, the audience was in shock, yet in awe, having a newfound respect for the ballerina's sublime beauty. Unfortunately, the truth wasn't as obvious as the audience thought. A book typically didn't have feet. "I hate this," Coin said, forcefully separating the pages that were stuck together. A book was not the same as a human. Therefore, it couldn't put on or take off shoes, neither could it be twisted in any way. Yet, Yun Woo had managed to do just that, like a chameleon moving its eyes independently from one another, a snake with its tongue split at the end, and a cow with its multiple stomachs. None of which would be possible for humans. "You have a split personality or what?" No matter how he looked at it, the author simply couldn't figure it out. He couldn't understand how it was even possible. It was like watching a well-orchestrated magic show. 'Was he trained in some way? Eh, I'm sure it only looks like a miracle to people who know nothing about the tricks involved.' Coin had never met anybody like that in his entire career as an author. Then, raising his hand, the author flung the book against the wall, and upon hitting the bookshelf, the book fell on the floor. However, it did little to alleviate his anger. With that, he grabbed his laptop, opened it, and began to type away, looking lively for some reason. --- "All right, Susan. Understood," Isabella said and hung up the phone. She was at a busy bookstore, which was jam-packed with people trying to buy books. There was a faint scent of knowledge in the air, of which the editor was quite fond. The bookstore was quite busy with mothers with their children, couples locking arms with each other, and corporate workers making a quick stop on their way home from work. There were also books written in English, French, and Spanish among the sections divided into numerous categories, and Isabella was walking about, looking around the store. Politics was the most popular topic as of late, which meant memoirs and biographies of presidents were growing increasingly sought-after. Essays had also been growing in popularity, and most recently, a book written by an author suffering from a severe burn had become a massive hit. Having been through an unfortunate accident, the author had already gone through a total of eight procedures, and had four additional procedures scheduled for the future. Although recognizing traditions as something to be preserved and respected, bookstores were just as sensitive to the evolving trends. The Bible was placed right next to a book on Charles Darwin's Theory of Evolution, which contained records of the most distant past that humans could recall to the present day. With that, Isabella walked to the literature section. Novels were, inarguably, one of the most popular of all genres, and there was nothing more interesting than a person's life story. "I'm sorry. It appears to be sold out at the moment," an employee said to the customer who was looking for Yun Woo's book, which had started selling at an incredible rate even before its release. Even online purchases took at least two weeks until they reached customers, and that wasn't surprising considering the adjectives associated with the author. Being the first Asian Nebula winner, Yun Woo was very young, and although anonymous, his skills were astounding. He had recently revealed his voice and received the Nebula Award through Kelley Coin, and the friendship between the two authors was more than enough to alleviate the unfamiliarity with Korean novels that existed in other countries. All there was left for the young author was curiosity and rumors. 'Sublimation' was Yun Woo's first novel after his victory of the award, and needless to say, the publishing industry had predicted its massive success. And now, that had become a reality. People were anxious to read his book, see the cover the author had taken a part in designing, and interested in seeing the novel translated by the author himself. The controversy surrounding the ending of the novel was very much alive in the States, and even critics had polarizing opinions about the novel. Those who doubted until the end, and those who didn't. Those who raised questions endlessly competed against those who supported the author. On top of that, a blog with translation of the fans' reactions in Korea turned up, along with videos of a popular TV show in Korea, 'The Great Book Club,' complete with English subtitles. It was all an effort to gather more information about the young author, and the same went to interview videos of Yun Woo's professional acquaintances. There was at least one mention of Yun Woo in Coin's interview requests, and that had only provoked the author further. After canceling all interviews that had been scheduled, Coin had shut himself in his room. However, Isabella didn't comment on it since there was still time until the deadline. Besides, she had a good feeling about Coin's new book.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho was catching up on the sleep he had been putting off while translating. There were boxes filled with the manuscripts he had written towering over him, surrounding the bed, and there was a clear trophy, which looked out of place, by his feet, looking like it was about to topple over at any given minute. Fast asleep, even the sunlight shining through the window wasn't enough to wake up the young author. However, it was at that moment that his phone began to vibrate next to his head, waking Juho up. Having just awakened from a deep slumber, he barely managed to open his eyes. "Hello," he said. "Were you sleeping?" "Yes, I was," Juho answered. Judging from the unapologetic attitude, it occurred to Juho just who was on the other end of the line. It as Sang Choi. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" "Let's play." "... I'm sorry, what?" "I said let's play." "... Why?" "Do you need a reason to play?" Sang asked, completely misinterpreting Juho. Then, burying his head into the pillow, Juho asked himself, 'What time did I go to bed last night?' "You asleep?" Sang asked as Juho remained silent, and... "Yes, I am," Juho murmured. Impressively, understanding what Juho was saying, Sang said, "I got my hands on an extra ticket for the theme park, so that's why I'm calling: to let you come with me." "Why me, though?" "Because you're the only high school student I know." "I appreciate that. Well, let's say we meet… tomorrow?" Juho suggested, thinking that he'd quickly be able to go back to sleep if he were to hang up then. Everything around him was leading him to a world of dreams, and Juho had no intention of resisting the impulse, nor did he have a reason to. From his hazy consciousness to the phone in his hand, everything was just barely staying in its place. "It expires today." "..." Sang seemed to believe that he had a good reason for waking Juho up. In the end, as a means of resisting, Juho said, "Can't you go with another person?" "Like who?" "There's plenty. There's Dae Soo..." "Are you telling me to go to the theme park with Dae Soo? Just us two?" "There's Mideum." "I'd die from embarrassment walking around in public with her." "There's also Dong Gil." "Uh-huh, right. I'm sure he'd love to go to some theme park with me." "..." "Are you asleep?" Juho chuckled at Sang's audacity, feeling wide awake. Then, it dawned on the young author that going back to sleep was no longer an option. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? What if I had plans?" "But you don't." "Yeah, yeah, sure. Where are we meeting?" Juho asked, and Sang said the name of a station next to the theme park that wasn't all that far from where Juho lived. Somehow, Juho found himself in the position of having to go to a theme park with Sang Choi, moments after waking up. Then, after washing his face, Juho changed into different clothes and came dangerously close to knocking over the stack of boxes nearby. Thankfully, it was only the trophy that fell to the floor. After placing it somewhere haphazardly, Juho went out of his room. "Where you goin'?" his mother, who was sitting in the living room, asked. "To the theme park." "Oh, with friends?" "No, with a professional romance writer in his forties." "What?? Why??" "I've been asking myself the exact same question. Why did I agree to this?" Sadly, it was too late for an answer, and Juho suddenly found himself bound to go to the theme park with a romance writer. "Well, I'm goin' now," Juho said to his mother, thinking, 'I might as well get my fill of churros while I'm at it.' --- "Hey! Over here!" "Did you have to wait long?" "Nah, I just got here." In a crowded subway station, Sang, dressed in comfortable attire, was standing in front of a plaster cupid, which was naked as a means to express freedom. While Juho was busy looking at the cupid statue and Sang in turn, the romance writer asked, "You haven't eaten yet, huh?" "Nope. I just got out of bed." "Good. I say we eat before we go in," Sang said, leading Juho to the food court within the station. Then, going into the shop with the least number of customers, Juho ordered a rice bowl. They took a seat while Sang brought out the lunch box he had prepared ahead of time. Despite the man, who appeared to be the owner, glaring at him, the romance writer paid no attention. Even though he was quickly becoming the center of attention, Sang didn't seem to mind one bit. "People are looking at us." "What for?" "I think it has something to do with your lunch box." "Are you embarrassed?" "A little," Juho didn't deny it. "Hehe. Well, I used to be conscious of how others looked at me when I was your age too." "Dong Gil told me that he's embarrassed by you." "Eh, he just doesn't know what it means to enjoy himself," Sang answered, shamelessly eating his every bite of his lunch. He wasn't ashamed to express his pride in his cooking skills. "It's packed today." "Of course. It's the weekend," Sang said, striding onward. As Juho followed Sang, the young author found a ticket in his hand before he noticed it being put there. Then, when they passed through the entrance, Juho was greeted by adorable-looking decorations, as well as the vendors selling headbands and balloons. People were shouting in all directions. "Mr. Choi?" "What?" he answered brusquely, and following his question, Juho asked, "I don't know if now is the best time to ask this, but what are we here for?" Then, Sang answered Juho's question with yet another question, "What do you think authors would come to the theme park for?" "To get on the rides?" "No! To find inspiration!" Sang said. Then, upon stopping, Juho realized that they were in front of a churro stand. 'I thought something smelled good,' he thought to himself. Shortly after, handing Juho a churro and a corndog, the romance writer said, "This is where love and dreams reside." At that, Juho looked at his surroundings. There were massive rides designed to provide for the daring souls with a hunger for thrills, as well as people waiting in a long, seemingly endless line for a ride next to an LED board that read: 100. It was indicating the wait time. At the thought of getting on the rides with family, friends, or their significant others, everyone was in high spirits, even those who sat on the bench and appeared to be exhausted. Then, a mascot walked by, waving at the customers and posing for photos by request. There were quite a few people who weren't afraid to hug the mascot. Despite knowing that it was just another person in a costume, everyone played along and let themselves be deceived by the adorable-looking mascot. "This is some good churro." "It better be. It was expensive." "I never asked for it though." "Then give it back." "No. It's not like you're gonna eat it anyway," Juho said, taking a big bite of the churro. If there were those who were yet to reconcile to a world where love and dreams resided, it had to be the two authors sitting on a bench shaped like a zebra, munching on churro and corndog. Because of the gift shop near the bench, the area was particularly crowded. Everyone looked similar, and was in a similar state, raising their cameras in effort to capture the joy-filled moments. Nevertheless, they seemed happy, and there were quite a few people wearing matching headbands or T-shirts. There were also those who had just gotten off the ride, the excitement still raw and fresh in their voices. When Juho looked at Sang, he noticed the romance writer listening to the voices around them. "You're not hoping for any trouble, are you?" Juho asked. What was he really looking for? "Of course not! If anything, I'm someone rooting for all the kinds of love that exist in this world." "That, I didn't know," Juho said as he wiped the cinnamon sugar off his mouth and bit into the corndog. The strong flavor of ketchup and mustard spread in his mouth. "That way, I don't starve," the romance writer said. From his point of view, living in a world without love was no different from unemployment. "I thought romance novels were stable, even more so than government jobs?" "I don't think you understand. Nowadays, even love is in recession," Sang said, leaning back on the bench. "Love is truly magnificent." "Yep. Magnificent," Juho said, agreeing with him haphazardly while wiping the ketchup off his hand with a napkin. "And if anybody were to ask why, I'd say it's because I'm a romance writer." "That could be an answer, although I doubt anybody would be interested in knowing," Juho said, chewing the corndog in his mouth while looking at the romance writer. Sang was definitely exuding a boundless love. Self-love, to be more precise. "You seem to be pretty well off, lately," the self-loving author said, changing the subject all of a sudden. Meanwhile, Juho kept chewing the corndog in his mouth. "Especially overseas." "What can I say? I'm grateful." "Don't you think it's OK to have a little more pride?" "Well, it's not like I did everything on my own." As Juho answered in a calm tone of voice, Sang crossed his legs, looking dissatisfied by the young author's answer. "Do you see how vulnerable these people are?" Sang asked, and looking away from him, Juho looked straight ahead, to where many were talking out loud. It was inevitable that their voices were audible to those around them. Yet, as if oblivious to that, people spoke even louder in order to cut through the other voices coming from all directions. Because they were in a noisy environment, they, too, were raising their voices naturally so that the people they were talking to could hear. "You can tell that the people who walked past us earlier were students." "Yep. Sounded like they were trash talking their teachers." "And the people that walked past us just now seem to have a mutual friend." "Discussing what to get him as a gift." "And the people that just walked by were on their way to buy something." "They seemed like they wanted the headbands. They were saying that they would be useless outside of the theme park, yet they were letting the atmosphere carry them along." Yet, with the exception of the two authors, nobody else knew that those people were students, or had mutual friends, or were on their way to buy headbands. Everyone was busy talking among themselves, occupied with getting to the rides on time while hoping the line would move faster. "This is Yun Woo, everyone," Sang murmured. Thankfully, there was not a single person who responded to him. Of course, hardly anybody would believe him, even if they were to have heard him. "Why don't you shout out while you're at it?" "Eh, it's not like anybody's going to believe me," Sang said, and Juho put the wooden skewer in his mouth. "I love the theme park. The excitement in the air, the busyness, everything. In a colorful, and noisy place like this, people tend to be short-sighted. Everyone focuses on their own party or themselves. It's love. Selfish, individualistic. Only those who love will receive love. Just how I like it," Sang said. His preference had been well reflected in his writing up to that point. However, his novels weren't so short-sighted as to stress only how magnificent love was. They included emotions like yearning, resentment, and hatred. Emotions associated with love weren't always positive. At that moment, a high-pitched scream came out of nowhere, indicating the ride had reached its apex. The scream continued until the ride reached the lowest point, and it wasn't hard to imagine how fast their hearts would be beating. Then, a couple with their arms wrapped around each other's waist walked by, giving each other a quick kiss. Imagining how fast their hearts were beating wasn't all that difficult, either. In a place where fear and romance coexisted, both sets of hearts had to be beating a lot faster than usual. "Well, I better head back," Sang said in a calm tone of voice. In it, was the heavy sigh of an experienced lover, concerned for the new love that he was about to face. His heart, too, had to be beating slightly faster than usual. Then, as the romance writer looked at Juho, the young author realized immediately that there was another reason Sang had invited him out.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Huh! Is that right? That should make your fans happy!" Juho said candidly, and Sang Choi simply nodded. "But then, I became curious." "About?" Juho asked, sensing trouble. Unfortunately, it was a tad too late for him to get out of it. As a scream came from afar, Juho thought about suggesting to the romance writer that they get on of the rides. "The love story of a genius," Sang said, looking at the young author. Upon realizing that he was being stared at, Juho looked away from the romance writer's uncomfortable gaze. "I have a keen interest in you, as well as your young, fresh love." "Young and fresh, huh." Juho couldn't remember the last time he had experienced that. As the young author dragged on, Sang asked, "Have you ever loved someone?" It was a question Juho wasn't quite used to hearing. However, his instincts had told him that the romance writer would ask that very question someday. "Sure, I have." "You have?" "Of course. I'm human, and I have primitive emotions like that too. Since I was born, I came to realize the love my parents have for me, along with friendship and patriotism." "I find your answer highly unsatisfying," Sang said, resting his chin on his hand. Yet, his eyes were still fierce. "What I'm talking about is an interaction with another person, outside of family. Instinctive and provocative. You know, the kind that gets a bad rep for being immature. Eros. Sexual love," he said, clarifying himself in order to prevent Juho from backing out. Then, he raised his hand as a gesture of his willingness to explain things in even greater detail if necessary. Love. It was a topic inseparable from literature. Then, seeing the mascot walking by, Juho answered, "Yes, I have experience with that as well." Just as he had said, Juho did experience such a love in the past, and he had even lived together with a woman at one point, with whom he was in a deeply physical and emotional relationship. As the young author felt the romance writer's piercing gaze on his cheek, Juho looked away briefly, regretting the answer he gave Sang. There wasn't much else to be said, even if Sang were to ask more questions. "First love?" "Hm," Juho dragged on, but it wasn't because he was bashful or had something to hide about the woman. Besides, there weren't any interesting stories to tell either. His memory of her was simply hazy, and Juho had lost nearly all of the memories related to the woman he had had a relationship with. From her appearance to her voice, touch, things she liked and disliked, nothing was certain, and it had nothing to do with him coming back from the dead. It had just been natural to forget about her. They had parted ways, after all. "So, does that mean you're not in a relationship at the moment?" Sang asked, but there wasn't much Juho could say, unfortunately, and the fact that he was at the theme park with a forty-odd-year-old romance writer was further proof of that. "We broke up a very long time ago," the young author said, and Sang scoffed at the last three words in his sentence. However, Juho brushed it off with a shrug. "Sounds like you don't love her all that much anymore, seeing how dry your tone is…" "We parted ways. What else can I say?" "Man, this is why people shouldn't be so quick to underestimate kids. He knows what love is." Juho's past love existed only as an abstract memory. His instincts were telling him that it was an experience that he most likely couldn't go through again. At the same time, there was an arrogance in his heart that was telling him that what he had experienced really was, in fact, love. Also, there also existed gratefulness toward the woman who had taught him love. "Was she a high school student?" Juho didn't remember seeing her in uniform. They both had to have met as adults. Juho tried to retrace his memory to remember where they had first met. 'Was it by the Han River? Maybe it was the beach. Or was it at the park? A subway station? Bah, I don't know anymore.' It was useless. The young writer couldn't remember anything about her, including how she had been dressed, or what kind of shoes she had been wearing. After staring at the air, Juho said, "I can't really remember." "C'mon, now. You don't think I'll let you off the hook with an answer like that, do you?" "I'm serious." "Well then, that presents a-whole-nother issue in and of itself. Aren't you a little young to be saying things like that? You're not even allowed to drink, yet." "Tell me about it," Juho said in order to brush off the romance writer's relentless questions. "Well, I don't think it's fair to say anything about the matter without the consent of the other party, so I'm afraid I can't speak any further." At the young author's emphatic answer, Sang sighed and said, "All right. Fine. I won't ask about your past love. Then, how about this? Do you like anybody at the moment? You know, a potential new love." "You sound like a dad talking to his teenage son that hit puberty." "Tell me," Sang said, although looking nothing like a father looking at his son. "Recently? Sure." "Who?" "The people obsessed with fire. Before that, One, Two, Three, and Four. And before that, I was in love with a neighborhood dog," Juho said, remembering the dog barking in the distance whenever he visited Yun Seo at her house. It was rather adorable. However, Sang was looking quite displeased. "Right. I get it. You're an author too. What, you trying to show off what you learned from Mrs. Baek? Are you in love with the world, all of a sudden?" Juho chuckled quietly at Sang's sarcastic remark and changed the subject subtly. "Well, how about yourself, Mr. Choi? I'd love to get a professional opinion on the matter of love." "Go look for it in bookstores." "Oh... C'mon, now. It's not the same." "You're just too young for this. When you're old enough to have a drink with me, ask me again." "So, when did you start treating yourself with so much respect?" "From the moment I was born." When Sang answered in a heartbeat, a subtle smile appeared on Juho's face. He, too, had to have his share of embellishment. Otherwise, it wouldn't make sense to Juho that Sang would be capable of writing such elaborate love stories. After that, the young author thought of his other fellow authors and their portrayals of love. Seo Joong had written a version of it that suited his personality just right, and Dong Gil had done the same. When Juho brought up the two authors, the self-loving romance writer snickered, saying, "They both have a ways to go until they catch up to me." However, Seo Joong and Dong Gil's portrayal of love focused on life itself, which made it inherently different from Sang's. "Seo Joong's portrayal of love is… how should I put it? It's mostly familial love. It's immensely safe, and in terms of color, I'd say it's closer to yellow than pink." "I think I get what you're saying. He focuses more on the aspects of trust and interdependence than the heart-throbbing side of things." As someone who had read Seo Joong's story, Juho was able to catch on to Sang immediately. Seo Joong was more likely to portray love as the lasting commitment of being by each other's side until the end rather than something more blatant, like jealousy. "As for Dong Gil, his love life is… Well, it's hard to watch." "He usually doesn't get past having a crush on someone, doe he? I've seen him drive a depressed character to the edge of the cliff after being rejected by a woman." "And his style just makes him look all the more pitiful, you know?" "Love with a rigid ending tends to arouse pity," Juho said, seeing the vivid look of displeasure on Sang's face as he glanced over in his direction. "Your version of love, on the other hand, is very entertaining. No other author may be as elaborate as you when it comes to portraying one's process of falling in love, what happens to somebody in love, how love ruins lives and how people can save themselves from it." "Of course, there's no one! Only I'm capable of writing my novels," Sang said, going further rather than accepting Juho's compliment modestly. Then, after his emphatic answer, Sang pointed at the young author and asked, "What about you?" "Me?" "Yes, you. I've never read Yun Woo's portrayal of romance. Why haven't you written about it yet when you have the experience?" "I have. I've written about familial love too… in 'Sound of Wailing.'" "No, no. That's way too twisted for it to feel like love," Sang said emphatically and questioned the young author again. "No reason in particular. I just stay true to my instincts and write what I feel like writing." Sang narrowed his eyes at Juho's answer. "Well, you do have a darker personality than you let on. Maybe death suits you better than love," Sang said, making a valid point. Then, after some brief contemplation, Juho asked, "Should I try writing about love?" "What? You mean at home?" "No, I mean for real." "Wait, are you telling me that you're thinking about publishing another piece!?" Sang asked, and as Juho nodded, the romance writer scanned the young author, up and down. "... Remind me how long it's been since you published a novel." "You see, I have way too much time in my hands." "If authors wrote because they had too much time, then they wouldn't have to suffer so much. If I were to write at the pace you usually write, I'd be vomiting blood. Don't you ever get tired? How many pages do you write in a day?" "I don't write a set amount, but on average… I'd say anywhere from fifteen to twenty pages." At Juho's answer, Sang groaned painfully, looking like he immediately regretted hearing what came out of Juho's mouth. "So, that would add up to about six hundred pages a month, more or less, which means you're essentially writing a full-length novel every three months. But you don't stop there, do you? You go out looking for things to write about immediately after you are done, don't you? If I were to hear what you just told me from another person, I wouldn't have believed them, but then you've actually done it… Man, that's just gross." "Why are you looking at me like that? There are plenty of authors who write a number of pages every day. I'm not even that diligent, which means there's nothing special about me in comparison to authors like that." Despite Juho's argument, the way Sang was looking at the young author didn't change. "Where do you find all those things to write about, and where do you get the stamina? Please, enlighten me." "You see, I'm a small eater. It doesn't take a lot of food for me to fill satisfied. Even this short conversation we're having at this moment could give me enough material with which to write a book." The truth was that Juho was merely catching up on the writing he had been putting off. There had been times when an assignment he had procrastinated on had proved to be of help in an unexpected way, and love had been the same way. Juho felt like he had been trying to write about her, all along. He had to have been. However, he had been putting it off because he had felt like the genuine desire had never come to him. Then, after putting off writing about her repeatedly, the memories of her eventually faded away. He must have wanted to write about forgotten love. Or perhaps, forgetting her was what it took for him to be able to write about her. In any case, what was important was that he was finally able to face the matter after wandering aimlessly for years on end. With that, after plugging her into an array of stories in his head, Juho came to the conclusion that he needed more material to work with. --- "Give it here," Sang said, putting his hand out and staring intently at it. Juho asked, "Give you what?" "The trash. I'll go take it out." "It's fine. I can go." "No, I can do it. I need to go to the restroom, anyway," Sang said, bunching the trash together. Then, with one hand in his pocket, the romance writer walked leisurely through the space filled with joy and happiness. If he had come to the theme park on his own, that was probably how he would've looked. If anything, Sang was playing the role of accentuating the space. Perhaps, that was why the love born out of his hands was loved by so many. After all, he loved himself more than anybody. Perhaps, that was how he was able to write about people who gave their hearts to others in a more original and accurate manner. At that moment... "Pardon me," a voice said in another language. When Juho turned toward it, he saw a couple. The language he had just heard had been Japanese. Then, politely handing the young author their camera with both of their hands, one of them asked, "Please take a picture of us." The man had done so in inarticulate Korean, making a gesture as if to take a picture with a camera with both of his hands. Then, Juho rose from his seat. "Sure, which button do I press?" "Oh, my! You speak Japanese! Are you Japanese?" "Oh, no. I know enough to get by." The man's hair was dyed in bright brown but the roots were still black. Around the wrist of the woman handing Juho the camera, was a colorful assortment of bracelets. "Are you two visiting?" "Yes, we are," the Japanese couple answered, adding that they were frequent travelers. "Whenever we visit a country, we always go to a theme park." Then, they would always take a picture afterward. It was clear that the couple had been dating for a long time from the way they interacted with each other. Upon seeing a mascot walking by, they brought it toward them and stood on either side of the mascot, who waved gladly and posed appropriately. Then, as explained by the woman, Juho pressed the big button on the camera. "One more," Juho said, and the shutter sound followed after the couple's response. With that, after taking the pictures, the mascot waved once again and went on its way. As the couple approached him, Juho handed the camera over to them, and they, too, waved goodbye. That's when a voice said to him, "Your Japanese is impressive." When the young author turned around, there was Sang Choi, looking unsurprised.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "They're a couple." "I know." "You heard?" "I saw. I don't speak Japanese," Sang Choi said indifferently, adding that his years of observing love had enabled him to be able to catch on to the relationship between couples merely by looking at them. Although there wasn't really a way to prove it, he was quite confident in the statement he was making. Juho looked at his surroundings. Every couple had characteristics that gave out their relationship, and that gave Juho an idea of how Sang's trick worked. At that moment, an upbeat tune came from the distance. "Well, we're at a theme park, so shouldn't we get on at least one ride?" "Hm, should we? Then, let's get on the one with the shortest line, and we'll be on our way." With that, the two meandered through the theme park for some time, walking through all the shouting and long, endless lines until they found the ride with the shortest line. The ride consisted of a number of massive mugs, in which people sat in groups, spinning them ruthlessly. Just the sight of it was enough to induce preemptive motion sickness. "Are we getting on that?!" "Yeah, why? You said you wanted to get on a ride, didn't you?" "It looks dizzying." "Don't you worry. My semicircular canals are rock solid." Although Juho wasn't expressing his concern for the romance writer's semicircular canals, the young writer decided not to comment on it. Once a certain number of people stepped through the entrance, the mugs, which had been spinning all around and in all directions, came to a stop. Then, as the next group of people got on the ride, the mugs and the floor started to spin all over again. Everything spun, and there were even those were daring enough to spin the handle in the center of the mug in order to make it spin even faster, enjoying themselves like there was no tomorrow. Some were spinning so fast that their faces were unrecognizable, and Juho could only imagine how they would have played in the playground as children. Then, the young author looked to his side. How had Sang played growing up? "Are you planning on making us spin that fast?" "If we're doing this, we might as well do it right." Then, the people exited the mugs, and the next group went in, including Sang and Juho. The two authors sat on the innermost, pink mug, and the rest of the group who came in with them went into their respective mugs as well, looking both excited and anxious. Some were afraid that they would vomit during the ride, whereas a group of three well-built men sitting in a mug together declared out loud that they would spin as fast they could. Juho placed his hand on the silver handle in front of him. It still maintained the raised temperature from the people who had been previously in the same mug. "Here we go!" the employee said, and the mugs and the ground began to spin leftward. The mug was spinning even without the silver handle being turned, and the mug with the three well-built men was spinning at a truly frightening speed, their scream-like laughter provoked fear in Juho's heart. "Off we go." "What?" While the young author was distracted by the three men, Sang began to spin the handle. There was no trace of fear in his eyes, and he seemed to trust his sense of balance and the state of his semicircular canal wholeheartedly. Before Juho even had time to stop him, their mug began to spin, and the employee urged people to spin even faster on the microphone, which turned out to be the last thing Juho heard while his consciousness was still intact, "C'mon, you guys! Is that the best you can do!? Faster!" The world spun just as much as Juho's eyes and the romance writer. Juho felt his body tossing left and right, and before he knew it, he was shouting along with everyone else around him, and Sang, too, was shouting what sounded like words. Although he was incoherent, it was clear that he was having the time of his life. Then, after closing his eyes, Juho opened and closed them again. It hardly made a difference. The sound of wind was just as fierce, and everything around him began to lose its shape, lines, and colors. Everything was mixing into one single concoction. At that, Juho remembered his most recent novel, 'Sublimation,' and asked himself, 'I wonder if this is what it felt like for them.' After asking himself that question, Juho felt a sense of guilt toward the characters in that novel. "All right! That was fun!" the employee said on the microphone, indicating the end. However, the mugs were still spinning, slowing down gradually. As the spinning world began to recover its shapes and colors, Juho was overcome by dizziness . "I think I feel the corndog coming up," Juho said, covering his mouth while Sang fixed his hair. "We can get on up to five rides for free with this ticket. Let's get on four more." "Then, leave me out, please." "It's nowhere near as fun on my own." Adding that he'd feel better with some fresh air, Sang led him to the outdoor portion of the theme park, where there were even bigger rides. Fortunately, just as Sang had said, Juho did feel significantly better as he got some fresh air. Taking care of Juho staggering his way through, the romance writer led the way to the line for another ride. From then on, they spun in midair, plummeted from a terrifying height, and soared up to the sky. Juho lost count of how many times he experienced the tickling sensation in his gut and felt like his heart was dropping out of his chest. Nevertheless, the two authors were ecstatic, shouting at the top of their lungs, laughing, and looking just like everyone else around them. There was no doubt that they had entirely adapted to the land of dreams and hopes. "There's gonna be a parade soon," Juho told Sang. There was a large crowd waiting for the parade in the distance. Naturally, the two authors stood among the crowd in order to watch the parade. Along with the prince and the princess standing on stop of a large carriage decorated with leaves, a fairy and a clown were also on a moving platform, dancing and waving. They were all dressed in colorful costumes. With the train flashing its light, the parade came to an end as people exploded into applause. It was an uplifting sight. With that, after watching the parade disappear in the distance, the two moved on. Although they hadn't said anything to each other, they were both making their way out of the theme park. It was time to go home. "Hold on, I'm getting a call." "Sure." As his phone rang, Sang walked away in search of a quieter spot. Meanwhile, after staring at him for a little while, a vendor selling drinks appeared in view. Juho was quite thirsty, so after choosing a flavor, the young author bought himself and Sang a beverage. Then, Sang made his way back after his phone call. "Here!" Juho called to him. Taking the beverage from the young author's hand, Sang guzzled it down in a hurry. "I'm curious," he murmured. "About what?" "Your next piece," the romance writer said, chuckling quietly. "I'm pretty sure the entire world will flip upside down, saying that you're in love." "You think so?" Juho asked, expecting yet another rumor to spring up. Because there were so many rumors already, one more wouldn't make a difference. "What do you have going on next week?" "Me? Well, I don't have any deadlines to meet or anything, so I should be free." "Wanna go over to San Jung's place with me?" Sang asked, adding that he had business to attend to there. Then, feeling like climbing the mountains again for the first time in a while, Juho nodded without hesitation. --- "Would you mind driving a little safer, Mr. Choi?" Juho asked, letting go of the assist grip above the passenger seat, the one he held on to for dear life their entire way there. "It's not my driving that's the problem. It's the road." Juho couldn't remember the last time the car wasn't shaking. Nevertheless, the romance writer exited the car with his backpack and lunch box, paying no attention to Juho's complaints. In a similar manner, Juho, too, took his backpack out of the back seat and left the car. The distinctively fresh mountain air was quite pleasant, and it made it easier for Juho to breathe after the long drive through the rough, unpaved road in the mountains. "Let's go," Sang said, putting on a baseball cap, and Juho also took his red baseball cap out of his backpack. Seeing that, the romance writer looked at Juho with disgust and said, "What's with the hat? It's tacky as heck." "It might not look like much, but it's made of quality material. Just feel it. You'll know what I mean." Staring at the young author's bright red hat with loathing for a little while, Sang looked away and began to walk, and Juho followed him quietly. It was his second time there, and everything felt just as unfamiliar as it had during his previous visit. There was a saying that the mountains changed their appearance with each season. Then, after looking around briefly, Sang stepped forward with confidence. However, Juho couldn't help but feel uneasy by his confident appearance. 'We're not gonna get stranded, are we?" "Are you sure we're going the right way? I feel like it's different from last time." "It's a shortcut I found." "What if there are snakes?" "Tell 'em we're just passing by." Despite the uneasiness, the leaves and earth underneath their feet felt quite pleasant. The rocks that turned up every now and then were also pleasant surprises. "How long has it been since we started walking?" "Don't know. Why do you ask?" "Just because." Juho felt his sense of time growing dull, just like during the previous time. From then on, the two authors didn't talk about anything in particular. They would simply try to figure out the kind of butterflies that were flying around, fiddle with mushrooms hanging from trees, or some grass, wondering if they were lucky enough to come across wild ginseng. (TL's Note: Wild Ginsengs are incredibly precious commodities and are usually sold for a substantial amount of money in Korea.) "We're here," Sang said as they arrived at San Jung's house, which existed in harmony with the mountains. It blended well with the surrounding environment. "Hello," San Jung greeted the two authors. Her black clothes accentuated the lively look on her face. Her writing space had hardly changed since their last visit. "Congratulations on the award," she said, bring out a cup of water for each of the authors as they came in and unpacked their things. "Thank you." Although Juho had already received all the congratulatory messages, San Jung didn't hesitate to congratulate the young author again, in person. "Should we eat first?" "Sounds good!" "I still have some of the seafood you sent me." Then, Juho looked at Sang, who was shaking his lunch box insistently, as if he didn't need to remind her about his habit of not eating food prepared by most people. Nevertheless, San Jung opened the refrigerator nonchalantly and said, "I have a feeling he's going to sneak into the kitchen later, so I'll just make enough for the three of us." "Sounds good." "I won't!" Although the romance writer insisted on not eating food prepared by others, his standards were extremely subjective. He was willing to be more flexible when he was treated to a meal by people he was even remotely close to. When it came to his favorite food, the standard became even more subjective. "These look fresh." As expected, Sang showed interest upon smelling the fresh seafood. "Doesn't look like some cheap seafood, does it? Considering that it was sent by Yun Woo." "Of course! I made sure I picked the best." "Thanks. I've been enjoying them." Juho had been sending food to San Jung every now and then, just like most of the other authors in the club. It was only natural that her fellow authors would be concerned about their fellow author who lived in the middle of the mountains all by herself. Not to say that she didn't know how to take care of herself, of course. "Dae Soo sent me some really good beef not too long ago, but I finished it just yesterday. If I had known you guys were coming, I would have saved it for today. Bummer." "Yeah, we should've come yesterday." "Aren't you a junior in high school? Can you do that?" Sang said, interjecting for no apparent reason, and Juho shrugged it off. "I'm Yun Woo." "You should've told your classmates that." "You know, I did have some trouble getting excused from the late-night study sessions." With the exception of students pursuing a career in arts and physical education, every junior was forced to attend late-night study session as a rule. Because of that, the young author had had to prove to his teacher that he was one of the students seeking a career in the arts. "How did you manage to do that?" "I told my teacher that I've been learning from Mrs. Baek." "I see. Well, you're not lying." That had been precisely what Juho had aimed for. In reality, Juho really had been learning from Yun Seo at her studio. Although he wasn't officially her pupil, it didn't change the fact that he was learning from her. "But then my teacher tried to talk me out of it." "Talk you out of it?" "Yes, saying that it was not too late to back out." Juho's homeroom teacher was acquainted with Yun Seo and the fact that she had been investing heavily in the future generation of authors. Secretly hopeful, the teacher had looked into Juho's student record. However, to the teacher's surprise, the young author had no record of winning any awards. So, the teacher probably thought that Juho was someone putting in all that effort without having any talent. "He was telling me that it wasn't too late, saying that life was all about timing." "You mean, to give up writing?" Sang said sarcastically, laughing while holding his sides. Something about it felt slightly spiteful. Meanwhile, San Jung snickered as if sighing. However, it wasn't a laughing matter to the young author. Although he had managed to be excused from the late-night study session with Mr. Moon's help, he had been labeled an unfortunate youth meandering his way toward a goal while having trouble accepting reality.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Oh, man. This is almost too good to keep it to myself." "Please try not to go around starting a rumor." "You gotta admit it, though. I think your teacher has a valid point, too." "That is true," Juho said, with a mouthful of abalone. Similarly, a shrimp went into Sang's mouth before anybody even realized it, and he was chewing it despite the young author staring at him. By the time the meal was coming to an end, the romance writer brought up the reason for going all the way to San Jung's house in the middle of nowhere. After explaining what he wanted to interview her about, he brought up the name of a professor with whom San Jung was acquainted. "I was wondering if you could introduce me." "I don't have a reason to say no. Although, you could've just called me for something like that." "C'mon now, San Jung. If I were to call instead of visit you, when would we, or anybody for that matter, ever have the opportunity to see each other's faces? We live in a world where most things in life can be taken care of with just a few mouse clicks. Relationships are growing less and less significant, and that's a sad reality." Sang made a surprisingly moving remark. However, San Jung knew better. "You're here to get data from me, aren't you?" "Just a quick look while I'm here." Meanwhile, letting the two authors converse, Juho was looking out the window at the mountain. What looked like a black plastic bag shone among the trees. At that moment, Sang blurted out all of a sudden, as if exposing a massive piece of information, "San Jung, did you know that this kid is already thinking about his next book?" "Already?" San Jung asked, taken aback. Because she was in the habit of writing over a long period of time, she appeared to be impressed by the pace at which the young author wrote. "I thought of something I wanted to write about. Whether it's something worth publishing or not, we'll have to see." "It's about love," Sang interjected, and San Jung took turns looking at the romance writer and Juho. "Love? After winning the Nebula? Not bad." "You think so?" "Have you ever been in love, though?" As San Jung asked, Sang interjected yet again, answering on Juho's behalf, "He has, apparently, but he doesn't wanna talk about it. He's a cheap shot, that one." "He's around that age. It makes sense that he'd be sensitive about it. Does that mean you're dating right now?" "No, he isn't. If he had a girlfriend, do you think he would be here eating some abalone with us?" Sang said, pointing out the answer precisely. Just as he had said, if Juho really had a girlfriend, then he wouldn't have had the reason to go to a theme park with Sang. Then, Juho opened his mouth and changed the subject, "Well, it's still in its planning stage." "You'll draw a lot of attention," San Jung said, sharing her experience shortly after. She, too, remembered being caught off guard by the kind of attention she and her writing had received after winning the international award in Italy. "The award changed everything, including the sales figures. That's how much power an award carries, and I can only imagine how much worse it will be for you since you're carrying all those titles already. Drawing attention will be inevitable." "That sounds… cumbersome." "You don't even have to try to outdo yourself, but you cannot backslide. You know that, right?" San Jung said dispassionately. Although Juho was already aware, he paused briefly in order to think of a response, but gave up shortly after, smiling. "It still doesn't change what I need to do." San Jung nodded at the young author's response. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me, like this guy." "Let's all go to the ravine. How's that sound?" the romance writer said, resting his chin on his hand as if not fond of conversations about awards. Although the suggestion came out of nowhere, they had already eaten, and Sang had gotten all the information he needed from San Jung, which meant the only thing left to do was to have fun. With that, everyone rose from their seats and prepared to go out. "The water's crystal clear," Juho said, looking into the serene creek flowing underneath a small bridge in the mountains. A large rock in the middle was splitting the stream in two. Then, coming down from the bridge, the three sat on the rock. Small fish were clearly visible in the water, and a frog jumped across the water in the distance. The peaceful stream carried all sorts of sounds made by different lifeforms along with it. In the end, Juho couldn't resist taking his socks off and dipping his feet in the water. "So refreshing," he said with his feet in the water up to his ankle. The water flowing through between his toes gave him chills. At that moment, he saw a leaf being carried along by the current. Despite his efforts to catch it with his feet for the heck of it, the lone leaf gracefully escaped the young author's grasp and flowed away. Upon kicking, the water splashed in all directions. "You behave, now." "Come dip your feet in the water." "No, thanks. It's way too cold." Sitting on top of a mat, the two older authors seemed like they had no intention of getting up. Nevertheless, it was apparent by their expressions that they were enjoying the moment. Then, as Juho dipped his hand in the water and flicked it in their direction, Sang took a branch that was lying around and chucked it into the water, making a big splash. "Wow, that's some payback. You didn't even move an inch." "Retaliation with no repercussion. That's what I believe to be of true revenge." "Attaboy," San Jung said, taking a hard-boiled egg she had brought from her house and smashing it against the romance writer's head. "Are you serious!? First, the water, and now, this!?" Sang complained, but to no avail as neither of the authors was listening to him. Then, San Jung put the entire egg into her mouth and began to chew, giving off a subtle egg smell. Shortly, after opening a can of soda, she handed it over to Juho. "Can I have one, too?" Sang picked up an egg. Then, spotting a dragonfly on the rock, Juho stared at it intently. It had what looked like a fly in its mouth, and turning it to and fro with its front legs, the dragonfly chewed away at its prey. At that, Juho became curious about just how many things were eating something else in the mountains at that moment. "Hey, Juho, come eat." "All right," Juho said, climbing onto the rock with his wet feet and taking the egg from Sang, which he had boiled himself. Because it was already well seasoned, it didn't need salt. Meanwhile, the sound of flowing water came from all directions. "Let's build a tower," Sang said, picking up rocks around him and stacking them. Similarly, Juho looked for rocks that were flatter, not too big or small. Meanwhile, Sang stacked the rocks on top of each other with ease as if putting together a puzzle, and with a rock about the size of the joints on his finger as the last piece, the romance writer completed an eight-tier, stone tower. "Are you gonna make a wish?" "I don't make wishes to other people." "Then, don't mind if I do," San Jung said, closing her eyes and putting her hands together, resembling a position of prayer. Then, she made a wish out loud, "Help me lead a long life writing novels." As she moved her hands, her black sleeves also moved down her forearms. She was smiling, and being in the daylight rather than the dark made it a whole lot easier to see her face. Then, Juho looked up to the clear sky. The weather was perfect, and where they were couldn't be any more peaceful. The clouds floated by. As the young author inhaled slowly, the distinctive scent of the mountains came at him. "Huh?" Juho let out upon feeling something on his forehead. When he closed his eyes by reflex, he felt the weight on his forehead even more. What he saw before closing his eyes was a black object, which had moved as if alive. At that moment, a commotion broke out next to the young author, along with what sounded like the tower toppling over and eggs shattering as they fell on the rock. It was all done by Sang Choi. "A bug!" he said, blurting out the name of the creature moving about on Juho's face. However, unlike the frightened romance writer, Juho slowly raised his hand, took the insect off his forehead, and placed it on his palm. The insect crawled on to his palm willingly. Contrary to the peaceful young author, Sang was gasping for breath, hyperventilating. "Get that thing away from me!" he said in an almost-desperate voice, looking deathly pale. Then, smiling, Juho opened up his palm as if showing what was in it. As the insect flew off, the romance writer screamed ghastly yet again. Thankfully, instead of landing on him, the insect came right back to Juho and landed on his arm. "It looks pretty," San Jung said in a calm tone of voice. Only Sang had a miserable look on his face. At that moment, searching desperately for a deity, whom he had recently treated as merely another person, Sang began to make his wish in a hurry. "Please let me live in a world without insects!" Unfortunately, the stone wishing tower was no longer there, and the insect began to crawl about Juho's arm as if trying to make its presence known to the frightened romance writer. "What do you think it is? A beetle?" "Not sure. I don't see this one all that often, either." It had a blue tinge all around. Upon a closer look at the insect about the size of the joints on his finger, Juho learned that it had six legs, a pair of antennae and wings on its back. The young author couldn't imagine the innocent insect having a whole lot of experience with the world, and for all he knew, it could even be a young insect. Yet, it had approached a human fearlessly. Those who didn't know fear were capable of being brave at all times. However, there were punishments for the creatures that didn't have an awareness of danger. A shadow cast on top of the insect. It was Sang, holding a branch that was significantly thicker and longer than the other one. Then, in order to get the bug off of Juho, he swung his weapon sideways. "That's dangerous!" Juho said, snatching the branch with his hand, feeling the wetness of it. From then on, the two authors struggled against each other for a little while. The branch was held securely in both of their hands. "It's gotta be poisonous! That thing will kill you!" "Oh, would you stop making a fuss already!? It's actually kind of cute if you look closely. Here," Juho said, putting out his arm with the insect on it. Unfortunately, that proved to be less than effective as the romance writer lost the little judgment he had left at the sight of the insect. There was a vivid look of pure, unadulterated terror on his face, and Juho secretly wanted to prolong the experience of seeing that look of sheer horror on Sang's face. "Here." As Juho approached him, Sang ran away even more frightened. His speed was quite impressive. If he was capable of getting up that quickly, he had to be making a big fuss about the water being too cold earlier. "You didn't move a muscle when I suggested dipping your feet in the water." "There won't be a tomorrow if you take one more step from where you are." "C'mon, now. You don't have to be that menacing." Juho decided that he would stop there. As if aware that the young writer had protected him from imminent death, the insect stayed close to him in a friendly manner. Then, when Juho reached toward it with his hand open, the insect responded to it immediately, crawling onto the palm of his hand. They were communicating and understanding each other as they got to know each other better. As San Jung looked intently at the insect, Sang moved toward her, about five paces away from the insect. "You're gonna get bit!" Sang shouted from the distance, but Juho paid no attention to him. The insect's massive antennae, which were the size of its body, moved about busily, and the tickling sensation Juho was feeling on his palm reminded him that the tiny friend was very much alive. "Do you think this is an eye or a mouth?" "It's an eye, isn't it?" "Right? I think so, too." "It's poison, that's what it is!" Sang shouted again, holding the same branch in his hands still. He was terrified that the hideous insect would fly in his direction. His eyes were fixated on the insect. Unfortunately, regardless of how grossed out he was, Sang had no choice but to look straight at the very subject of his fear. Considering how fast Sang's heart had to be beating, the disconnect in his actions made Juho think that it wouldn't be surprising to see the romance write suddenly fall in love with the insect. "It's still moving," San Jung said, looking at the insect moving about in Juho's palm. As it tried to crawl over to the back of his hand, he gently flipped his hand over in order to make it easier for his new friend. "It's really cute." "I'm gonna throw up," the romance writer said, pretending to gag with exaggeration. However, Juho genuinely found his tiny friend adorable, and he remembered something Yun Seo had said previously: "It's affection." Juho was no different from the insect exploring his palm. Letting it wander around exploring, Juho, too, was trying to get something out of the insect. "Is it cold?" San Jung asked. "It tickles," Juho said, honestly. "That is gross," Sang added despite nobody asking him. Those were the three different views on the insect. However, paying no attention to how it was coming across to the three humans, the insect kept moving its legs. Perhaps, Juho was like an enormous tree to the insect, an intriguing tree capable of moving its leaves and branches. Or maybe, the insect was wandering around in search for a new home. The insect peeked its head out between the young author's fingers, moving what seemed like either eyes or nasal cavities. When Juho put some slight pressure on his hand, it backed up, making his giant friend proud.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "You don't think it'd eat hard-boiled eggs, do you?" "I'm not sure. It doesn't look hungry, though." Looking in Juho and San Jung's direction, the insect turned away from the egg and crawled toward the young author's fingertips. "Maybe, it'll fly off if we force it to eat something." "Probably," Juho said. The insect balanced itself on the tips of Juho's fingers, looking adorable with its set of legs bunched up together on a small space. At the same time, it looked as though it was about to spread its wings open, ready to fly off at any given minute. At that, Juho sensed an imminent farewell and was reminded of how attached he had grown to his tiny friend. "I think it knows it landed on a bad spot," San Jung said quite accurately. The insect was getting ready to fly off to where it belonged. "Mr. Choi, I think you better prepare yourself. It looks like it's about to fly off." "This way?? You mean this way!?" "Who knows? That'd be up to this tiny fella here." "Make it stop! Do something!" "How am I supposed to do that?" Juho had no power to keep it from leaving, or to set the direction in which it should fly. The young author would take the direction he wanted to, and similarly, the insect would fly in the direction it wanted to. "Huh," the young author let out, feeling a faint vibration on his fingertips. There was a distinct sound coming from the insect, resonating at the tips of his fingers. With Sang's terrified scream in the background, the insect shook its abdomen and rubbed its wings against one another. Then, out of nowhere, something turned up from its sides, revealing its shape for a split second. It was as if a door was opening. 'Are those wings on its sides?' Before Juho had time to confirm, the insect flew away. "It's fast." "It didn't even look back or anything," Juho said, brushing his hand down against the palm of his other hand for no apparent reason. The young author had a feeling that his former lover had been like that insect, with which he had had a short friendship. She, too, hadn't been afraid to part ways with Juho, and what was left at his fingertips was a sense loss, something he was all too familiar with. He could've sworn that she had acted charmingly around him, seeking his protection. However, to his dismay, that had been all a delusion. Similarly, the insect was more than capable of living on, with or without the young author. It had flown toward a bigger world. Love, insect, sky, delusion, and farewell. At that moment, a splash of water came up Juho's face, clogging his nose. Then, wiping his face, the young author opened his eyes and saw Sang standing tall and proud, with his hands wet. "What was that about?" "I was washing the poison off your face," the romance writer said. However, it felt a tad too spiteful for it to be as good-willed as he claimed. It had to be an act of revenge. With that realization, Juho stood up, barefooted and soaking up to his neck, and started walking toward the romance writer through the cold sand and pebbles on the ground. It wasn't long before a water fight broke out. The two authors splashed at each other relentlessly, paying no attention to their clothes getting soaked. With the exception of San Jung, who was watching from the distance while eating her hard-boiled eggs, everything around them became wet. The dragonfly shook off the moisture on its wings, and the grass hung limply from the weight of the water. As always, revenge had a futile and unfortunate ending. "I'm soaked! This is incredibly unpleasant," the young author said, feeling the weight of his wet clothes. No matter how much he squeezed them in order to get the water out, it seemed to make hardly a difference. "I didn't bring any extra clothes with me. This isn't good," he said, realizing just how wet his clothes were. Then, hearing the young author was in a predicament, Sang sneered at him, "Well, good thing I brought mine." "You carry an extra set of clothes with you?" "I can't stand borrowing clothes from other people." 'How often does that even happen, though?,' Juho wondered, impressed by how prepared Sang was. "In that case, I'm sure you also can't stand lending your clothes to other people, right?" "Sorry, but I only have one extra set of clothes." It started to look like the young author would have no choice but to stay in his wet clothes. 'Eh, it's fine. This was supposed to be a day trip anyway, and my clothes will eventually dry if I sit in the Sun long enough. But what about the car seat?' As the young author pondered the idea, San Jung chimed in, "It's OK. I have some extra clothes back at the studio." "You do?" "Yeah. My brother comes over every now and then, so he leaves some of his clothes at my place," she said. It was a stroke of good luck. Then, after the three returned to the house, Juho received a sweatshirt and pants. Although their colors didn't match at all, and the rubber band around the waist felt slightly loose, they were quite comfortable. "Those must have been sitting in the bag for a while," Juho said to Sang. It was obvious that the clothes had been put away for a long time, and there were folding lines all over the shirt and pants. Nevertheless, with a content look on his face, the romance writer brushed his dry clothes while letting his wet clothes dry beside him. "I'll bring these back next time. I just hope these aren't your brother's favorite clothes," Juho said. Although he had no clue of what San Jung's brother was like, the young author hoped that he wouldn't be upset that his sister had lent his clothes to some stranger. At that, San Jung waved in denial. "You don't have to worry about it. I'm sure it's not even on his mind. It's essentially trash to him. He's probably bought new clothes by now." Juho looked down at the sweatshirt and pants he was wearing, wondering if they really were trash. "Then, I'll send new ones your way." "No, it's really OK. If you insist on repaying me, you can give me an autograph. My brother's also a big Yun Woo fan," she said. However, she had to be already aware that Juho would be sending her new clothes, along with the ones he was wearing. With that, after Sang and Juho decided to stay until their clothes had dried, the three authors sat around the table and enjoyed themselves a cup of tea. "Have you been working on anything recently?" Juho asked, and San Jung nodded light-heartedly. "I've been going around doing research. However, it's still too early to know for sure." With that, she started telling a story about the things she had seen and heard up to that point. Her memories of the different people she had met at different places, the different food she had eaten, and the situations she had gone through were still vivid. Then, time flew by, and the Sun set. Being in the mountains and because of the elevation, the Sun felt like it was setting sooner than usual. "Be safe, you two. Good luck with your writing," San Jung said, waving at the two authors, and with that, they went down the mountain and got in their car. While Juho was occupied with thoughts of the blue insect that had flown away from his hand earlier, Sang didn't bother him in any way. Until they arrived at Juho's house, that is. "Break a leg." Upon coming back to his room, Juho folded up the sweatshirts and pants San Jung had lent him, set it aside, and lay on his bed. Despite his hope of spotting the blue insect on his way down from the mountains, the tiny friend was nowhere to be seen. It had flown away to a place unseen, far, far away. "Love and insect," the young author murmured, staring at the ceiling for a little while. Then, reaching for his pen and notebook on the desk, still in bed, he started writing a story by the whim of his pen. The adventures of a blue bug searching for its mate. A blue insect on an adventure. A blue insect flying in the blue sky. "This isn't it," Juho said. It lacked something. He wanted to write a story that was so deep that even he wouldn't dare reach into its depth, leaving him tantalized. He wanted a story with a depth that would make him think that it was better to forget about it. A story that would make him deathly pale, like Sang when he saw the insect. With that, the young author moved his hand. "I can't think of anything other than Fabre." (TL's Note: Jean Henri Fabre was a French Entomologist.) Then, Juho chucked his notebook into the distance. --- "Here's your peppermint tea." Despite having wrestled with it at home for days by that point, Juho couldn't come up with anything that satisfied him. That day, Juho had come out with his laptop as an addition to his walk. The peppermint tea he had ordered emanated a strong, minty scent. Along with the clear teapot, there was also a clear teacup. 'Is it glass?' Juho wondered, picking them up. They weren't nearly that heavy. Then, as he poured the tea into the cup, steam rose from it. Juho was the only person who had ordered a hot tea in the entire cafe. Decorated to have a vintage look, a total of three tables, including the young author's, were taken in the cafe. Of them, one other was alone, much like Juho, and seeing as though the person's hands were moving busily, they had to be either studying or working on an assignment. Because Juho was sitting at the innermost table of the cafe, the entire shop could be seen from his seat. There were two employees, who didn't seem to be all that close, working behind the bar. Juho looked at the laptop before his eyes, which displayed an empty manuscript. From his former lover to an insect with blue wings, there was a decent assortment of material to work with, but unfortunately, it wasn't enough. 'Am I rushing this? Am I trying to write something completely meaningless out of my own sense of urgency? Was I not excited to write about this, after all? Am I still caught up with winning the Nebula? Am I being too conscious of it? Or, am I trying too hard to ignore it?' the young author asked himself calmly. Then, the young author reminisced to the time he first held the trophy in his hand. He had felt the weight of it. At that moment, his instincts had kept it from reaching his heart because he knew, by experience, that he would be susceptible to making the same mistakes he had made in the past. With that, Juho placed his hands on the keyboard. However, not a single sentence came out. At that moment, the bell attached to the cafe door rang. When he looked up, the person who'd been alone was gone, but their belongings were still at their seat. Juho glanced over at the bathroom key hanging by the doorknob of the bathroom to his side. The key was still there. 'Must be taking a call," Juho thought. "Sigh," Juho let out heavily. The fact that he was calculating meant that he was afraid of failure. He didn't want to fail, just like everyone else. When Juho looked back, he would often find that he had climbed to a frightening height without knowing. Although faint and subtle, the fear was holding him back. Then, raising both of his hands, Juho patted his cheeks. 'Let's just write for now. If I don't like it, then I'll write it again,' he told himself as he placed his hands on the keyboard. "..." 'Maybe I should look at the internet for a little bit," the young author thought to himself, logging into a news website and reading through provocative articles one by one. Homicide, assault, celebrity divorce, conglomerates, political disputes, and Yun Woo. There were all sorts of keywords surrounding the name. Identity, rumors, writing style, Nebula and Hugo Awards, voice. Upon Juho clicking 'voice,' a video of Kelley Coin's interview came up, and putting his earbuds on, Juho played the video. The same voice he had heard on his phone while talking to Kelley Coin sounded through his earbuds. A word said on one side of the globe was being conveyed to the other. In the same manner, an interview that had been held on one side of the planet was being shown on the other. It was available for those who were interested in watching it, and simultaneously, they also had the freedom to shut it off whenever they felt like it. It was a fascinating world. At that moment, Juho heard the bell attached to the door ringing, ever so faintly, over his earbuds. One of the employees was going outside with a broom and a dustpan. Because the cafe was on the second floor of the building, it seemed like they were going out to clean the stairway. With that, Juho redirected his attention to the video on his laptop. The two were fighting a fierce battle. Then, the infamous author decided to do something completely unexpected. He called Yun Woo. While everyone was caught off guard, it wasn't long until they grew ecstatic, their distant hope of hearing the young author's voice on the phone had been realized. Then, Coin turned up on the screen, looking indifferent about his actions. Juho couldn't help but chuckle. What followed immediately was his own voice. Hearing himself on the show, speaking through the receiver of a phone, was a rather strange experience. It simply didn't sound like him, and to be frank, Juho had been feeling that way from the moment he started watching the video. It was unpleasant. Then, while looping the part of the video of himself speaking, Juho came across another video, one that contained only the portion of the interview in which he spoke. Just as he had done with the previous video, he played it over and over again. He was repeating the same word at the same, exact time, without stopping. His voice in the video was saying only certain things, like the interviewer, and the infamous Kelley Coin. Everyone moving within the rectangular screen was repeating the same words. The more Juho looked at it, the more it became cloying. Because he was able to predict what was going to be said, there was no originality or freedom. It felt like a prison. "Get me out of here!" At that moment, the young author heard a cry. Even when he took his earbuds off, it still sounded muffled. Then, what sounded like a person banging on the wall followed. It was also coming from afar. Everyone in the cafe had heard it and was looking around cluelessly. Juho rose from his seat in order to find out what was going on. Meanwhile, the person on the other table remained in their seat, awkwardly locking eyes with yet another person on the other side of the cafe. What was happening?

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl The sound was coming from too far a distance to be coming from the laptop. Then, two employees came out from behind the bar. 'Two? Has the other one come in already?' Juho asked himself. His eyes went to the empty seat by reflex. There was one person who had yet to return to the cafe. "It won't open!" a voice cried out, and upon hearing it, Juho, along with one of the employees, went outside of the cafe. As soon as they stepped out of the shop, what came into view was the door to the restroom. It was vibrating. Somebody was banging against it from the inside. "Hello!?" "Yes, we can hear you!" Juho answered with a cracked voice. It wasn't that he was desperate or terrified. The young author was simply flustered by the situation, even mildly amused. "Thank goodness! I can't open the door from the inside." "Sir, would you give me a moment?" the employee said, going back into the cafe and bringing the key out in a hurry, looking mildly guilty. At that, Juho realized that it was the employee who was responsible for locking the restroom door. There was a phrase on the door, which read: "For cafe customers only. Please keep the door closed." "I'm so sorry, sir. I had no idea," the employee said, explaining the situation to the person coming out of the bathroom. Having come out to clean, the employee had tried opening the door out of habit in order to make sure it was shut tightly. Upon checking the door, the employee had thought that somebody had forgotten to close the door on their way out. Besides, the employee had seen that the key was still in its place before coming out of the cafe. Then, taking the key, the employee had locked the restroom door without hesitation or even bothering to check if anybody was inside. And apparently, the person in the restroom didn't take notice of what had happened, thinking that it was someone else coming in. "I am so sorry," the employee apologized, and as the situation dawned on him, the customer grew exceedingly angry. At which point, the employee apologized again, repeatedly. Meanwhile, Juho kept watching from few paces away. At that moment, he started feeling a throbbing sensation on his palm. Then, realizing he had found just what he had been looking for, the young author went back to his seat unhurriedly. Loud voices came from the outside, and those who had been observing from the inside started whispering to each other as they caught on to what had happened. When Juho first heard the voice asking for help, he was quite taken aback because he had thought it was coming from his laptop. There were two polarizing voices coming from the stairway: one as edgy as a knife, and the other, weak and timid. Although trapped in the restroom for only a short time, the customer had grown furious upon realizing the truth. It wasn't until he got out that he started expressing his displeasure. Juho plugged his ears with his earbuds. As the voices faded into the distance, he played that same video he had been watching, in which he kept saying the same words, at the same, exact time. With that, he closed his eyes in order to think of a setting. A ferris wheel was turning. A pendulum ride shaped like a Viking ship, a train, a rollercoaster, a monorail, a set of bumper cars, a merry-go-round, the spinning cups, bungee jumping. It was a theme park with colorful rides lined up back to back. The land of hopes and dreams. The entire place was filled with jingles and people's shouting, sounds made by rides that dropped from terrifying heights repeatedly. Everything moved restlessly. "Please take a picture of us," a voice said to the young author in a foreign language. It was the Japanese couple, who loved theme parks so much that they visited one in every country they went to. Then, one of them handed Juho their camera, wanting to treasure the present moment. As he took the camera from their hands, the couple posed shoulder to shoulder, appearing in the narrow-angle of the camera. All the while, the spinning cups spun restlessly in the background. As Juho pressed the button, the shutter went off. A man-made bird sound came from the sound system around the theme park. Needless to say, there weren't any actual birds. The theme park was designed strictly for people. At that moment, a mascot cut through the camera and the couple. "Please take a picture of us," the couple said, and the young author pressed the shutter release button once again. The flash went off. Then, Juho listed the questions he wanted to ask them in his head, 'Where are you planning on going after this? Are you guys planning on getting married? Is either of your parents against the marriage? How did you first meet? Are you confident that you love each other? What's your reason? What do you like and dislike most about each other? Is there an acquaintance that you wish your significant other would stop hanging out with? Have you ever had a fight? How did you make up? How well do you know each other? Is there anything about your relationship that makes you anxious? Will you ever break up? Do you believe that you'll be together forever?" "Would you like a picture?" "Please take a picture of us." The shutter went off once again. Then, darkness. When Juho took his eyes off the camera, he realized that there was something on the lens. It was blue and had a pair of antennae that were as long as its body. What looked like eyes, or the mouth, was shining. Juho pressed the shutter button once again. However, even when the camera made a sound, the bug didn't fly away. Instead, it started to explore the camera, crawling about and studying its shape. Then, it shoved its head into a hole in the camera, where the film should be. Although Juho wanted to stop it from shoving itself into the camera by force, there was nothing he could do. In the end, with a crunch, the exoskeleton on its back started to crack. Yet, the insect wasn't about to let up any time soon. Pieces of its body fell out, as well as its legs. With only the long antennae intact, the insect managed to get inside the camera. 'What do I do?' Juho asked himself, looking at the couple. Unfortunately, by the time he looked down at the camera again, there was no trace of the insect, or even the antennae. "Uh, a bug went into your camera," the young author said. Yet, the couple remained just as happy as when Juho first met them, posing with bright smiles on their faces. Juho brought the camera up to his eyes, seeing nothing but the insect's bluish back. In an attempt to get the insect out of the camera, he shook it and blew on it, but to no avail. If anything, it sounded like the insect was hiding even deeper within the camera. When Juho brought the camera up to his eyes again, he saw a hairy leg creating a line between the two people. "Are you gonna stay in there?" the young author asked without expecting a response. However, to his surprise, the insect responded to his question by making a sound by rubbing its wings. The camera began to shake as if it was shaking its abdomen. It seemed like the insect wasn't planning on coming out of the camera anytime soon." "All right, suit yourself." Because there was no way to force it out, either, Juho started walking away with the camera still in his hand. However, the couples didn't come after him. Shortly after, a gift shop appeared, so Juho opened the door and went inside. The first things he saw, were the spinning cups. There was yet another couple holding each other. A mascot walked by, and the insect inside of the camera started chirping. With that, Juho walked a little further. Shortly after, a gift shop appeared, so Juho opened the door and went inside, again. The first things he saw, were the spinning cups. At that moment, parade music sounded from the distance. A train emitting bright lights approached, carrying the prince, the princess, fairies, and clowns. Then, just as Juho was about to walk toward it, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Huh?" It was a mascot, one which the young author had no recollection of talking to. Looking like either a dog or a raccoon, the mascot had three fingers, and was without nails or teeth. Not only did It have nothing to harm people with, but it also looked rather adorable. However, behind the mask and the costume, was a person. The situation was bound to change once the mask came off. At that moment, the mascot pointed toward something with its soft, round finger. It was pointing at a bench with a zebra-like pattern. "You wanna sit there?" "Yes," an unexpectedly clear voice said, and just like the mascot wanted, Juho sat on the zebra bench. He tried patting the mascot's massive head. It was soft and fragrant. It made sense that people wanted to take pictures with it and that they weren't afraid to hug it. The mascot's aura immediately made Juho think that it was harmless. It also brought peace to his heart. Then, it dawned on the young writer that he wanted to take it home with him. He wanted to stay by its side forever. "You've been doin' all right?" Juho asked. "Yes." There was a small space between the mask and the body, but nothing was visible through it. "Isn't the mask uncomfortable?" "No." "You can always take it off, you know." "I find it neither uncomfortable nor do I want to take it off," the mascot said in a comfortable voice. In the end, Juho gave in and came clean, "I wanna know what you look like." At his request, laughter came from within the mask, and the bug inside the camera responded to it by rubbing its wings together. "I have the right to be forgotten," the mascot said confidently, and Juho couldn't deny it. He had no choice but to move on. As the young author tried to shrug off his curiosity, the mascot added, "And you, too, have the right to forget." There hadn't been anything strange, wrong, or that needed to be changed. It was only natural to forget the person one had parted ways with, and there was no need for guilt or responsibility. "From what I heard, forgetting is no different from abandoning." "Right. I don't know if you noticed, but I don't have a tail. I'm not sure if I lost it, or simply forgot about it," the mascot said, rising from the bench and showing it to Juho. Just as it had said, there was nothing where there should've been a tail. "Do you think it's the same way with people?" The young author asked. Did the same principles apply to people? Did forgetting them, like the mascot's tail, mean losing them forever? Juho hoped it wasn't true. "I don't think so," the mascot said. Although it was just the answer Juho had been looking for, he couldn't help but doubt it, rather than find joy in it. Something was telling him that the mascot was simply playing along, rather than being honest. "How come?" "Because they're people, and people are special." "And what makes them special?" "That you can't abandon them, no matter how trashy they are," the mascot said poignantly. "And there's no designated garbage bag for people." (TL's Note: In Korea, people are obligated by law to separate their trash accordingly. For example: recyclables, food waste… etc.) For being an adorable-looking mascot, the words that were coming out of it were quite threatening. "If we're both referring to the same trash, then there's a place called prison. You could think of that as a human dumpster, don't you think?" "If prison was a dumpster, then they should be gathering their trash into one place, and either burn it or break it apart so that it could be either buried in the ground or dumped in the ocean. Or, I suppose they could shoot it into space, too. We could call them 'trash,' but at the end of the day, they're still people. People will always be people," the mascot said, chuckling cynically. Although it wasn't visible, Juho didn't find it all that difficult to imagine the look on the person's face behind the mask. "All that's to say that people can't be abandoned simply by being forgotten." "That's a relief." If what the mascot was saying was true, then Juho found it a relief that a human was inside of that costume. Then, the air sank into silence, and fiddling with the camera in his hand, Juho asked, "Should we go watch the parade or something?" "No, thank you." "You're kind of heartless, you know that?" At that moment, the bug started chirping again, making its distinctively harsh noise. When Juho brought the camera up to his eye, he discovered that the bug had managed to go even deeper into it. Even its legs were no longer visible. Then, taking advantage of the fact that the screen was unobstructed again, Juho aimed the camera at the mascot. "Well, then. Why don't we take a picture before we part ways?" The mascot nodded at the young author's suggestion, and as Juho applied pressure to his finger, the shutter went off. Juho was glad to have forgotten her, and he was glad that he had loved her. He was finally in a place where he was able to think like that. "Please don't stop writing," the person on the other end of the camera said. "I'll read it, no matter what." Then, with the mascot's smile, the world fell apart. The spinning cups came to an abrupt stop, and the sound of the parade faded further into the distance, much like the mascot, who was walking away from the young author without even looking back. By the time he looked away from the fading theme park, he was left only with the rich aroma of coffee beans lingering around him. Then, when he looked up, one of the cafe employees came into view with a cup of coffee and a piece of bread, which Juho had no recollection of having ordered. "I apologize for what happened earlier. These are on the house." "Oh, right. I don't know if I did anything to help, but thanks." With that, leaving the coffee and the bread on Juho's table, the employee went back to the bar. Juho looked around the cafe slowly. He was the only customer around. Before he even realized, everyone had already left. The young author reached for the coffee. It was still pleasantly warm. Then, putting the mug back down, he broke the bread and put a piece of it into his mouth. It was quite tasty and enough to fill him up for a little while. The lingering anxieties in his head were no longer there, and brushing the crumbs off his hands, Juho knew by instinct that he was in the perfect place to write.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl A zebra came into view. Although alive, the animal was sitting lazily behind the fence, flicking its tail carelessly. It looked quite filthy as its distinctive beauty was covered in layers of dirt and dust. "It's a zebra!" A voice shouted from the group of people walking toward the cage. Considering the size of the zoo within a neighborhood park, they were quite boisterous. Then, as one of them took his phone out in an attempt to take pictures of the animal, the zebra gave him a brief stare before it shoved its head into its home, leaving only its behind, exposed. "Dude, look!" The zebra, wiggling its butt, moved no more. However, the person who took the picture of the animal didn't appear to be disappointed. Rather than genuinely trying to talk to the zebra, it seemed like he had shouted in order to get his friends' attention. As the group of people walked away shortly after, the zebra took its head out of its home. Juho was fully aware of the animal's reason for burying its head in its home. It probably didn't want to be in the picture. As if the animal being trapped in a cage, having to walk around the same place over and over, was not enough, humans were trying to trap the helpless animal into the tiny screens of their cameras. As a means of resisting them, the zebra hid its face from them whenever they tried to take pictures of it. "So pretty," a voice said, and the shutter's sound came immediately after. Somebody had taken a picture of the zebra while it had its head out for that brief moment. There was no liveliness in the animal's eyes whatsoever. At that moment, a burst of high-pitched laughter sounded from behind, "C'mon! Hurry!" When Juho looked back, he saw five older women posing under a tree, exploding into laughter, cheerful enough to make the tree behind them laugh. They were standing sideways, in a line, each in their colorful hiking clothes. Then, one of them went over to their camera, set the timer, and ran back to her group. There was dignity in the eyes looking at the camera. It was simply standard procedure to take group pictures before and after a hike, and it wasn't hard to imagine them making copies of the best-looking shot, framing it, and putting it where it could be easily seen. Juho, too, needed picture frames for the pictures taken with the camera with the bug inside of it. Similar to photos, there was something that served a similar purpose in novels: an outer story that surrounded the inner story. "A frame story." It referred to a story structure that resembled a picture frame. Just like a picture told a story while protected by the frame, the same principles applied to the stories written in frame structure. The inner story was the most important. Juho thought of the blue insect, which had crawled into the camera voluntarily. The mascot hadn't had any negative responses to being forgotten, and the zebra had resisted. 'What am I gonna write?' Love. The young author had decided to write about love. Then, he opened the laptop that had been resting on his lap. The structure had already been decided on, but the materials, which were to be used for the picture and the frame, were all in a mess. The outer story, which would serve as the frame, started from a first-person point of view. In order for it to be in first person, there had to be an 'I.' I am me. I was going away, away from the town in which I had lived my entire life. I was made certain that I had forgotten something, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember what it was or where I forgot it. Juho decided to put 'I' in a more pressing situation. The setting in which 'I' realized that he had forgotten about something was on a train. Despite realizing that he had forgotten about something, he couldn't get off the train. The train was already moving. I looked like I was about to burst into tears at any given minute, even thinking about going back. At that moment, a lady struck up a conversation with me. She was on the train with me. "Why so anxious?" she asked. And I answered honestly, "I forgot something really precious to me. Now, here I am. On a moving train. I almost feel sick from the guilt." Unlike me, the lady told me that she was on her way home. And in order to comfort me, she began to tell a story, one that I had been forgetting all along. "So, I remembered very recently…" It was a story she had heard in her hometown, about a missing child. With that, Juho stopped typing. That was going to be the outer story that would surround the inner story about the missing child, which would turn up soon. Although they were on the same train, the significances of their destinations were entirely different from one another. It would make for a good frame, just right for the picture within. At that moment, a scream similar to that of Sang's sounded out of nowhere. When Juho looked up, he was greeted with a familiar sight. A group of people was moving away from an insect that was flying about with its wings buzzing and its two longer legs hanging loosely. It looked just about the opposite of the blue insect that Juho had come across in the mountains. Dark and round, it was also significantly larger. "It's on your back!" "Where! Where!?" a voice shouted, taking hold of their shirt as if ready to take it off at any given minute. Before the person had a chance to do so, the bug flew away. Then, taking his phone out of his pocket, Juho tried to take a picture of it from where he was sitting. The distance made the insect look like a speck of dust, and after looking at it just a little longer, Juho deleted the picture. Now, the picture: the inner story. A story about home, a missing child, and an insect. It would be told from a third-person point of view. The child was an introvert. He had received no affection from his parents, nor experienced friendship from his peers. He despised his inexperienced parents and was annoyed by the world that encouraged people to be independent. After leaving home, the boy headed for the mountains in the distance, all alone, without friends or family. Although he was used to seeing them in the distance, the boy had never actually gone to them in person. Then, Juho imagined the boy wandering in the mountains aimlessly. Although the boy thought he was being cautious, it wasn't long until he found himself lost, stranded in the mountains all by himself until sunset. At that moment, an insect approached him. Having a bluish tinge to it, it looked quite beautiful. Even as the boy gently placed it on his palm, the insect didn't try to resist or fly away. If anything, it shook with joy, like a warrior who had conquered the world. Then, after being found by a neighbor, the boy returned home safely, and his friendship with his new, tiny friend began. Sneaking into his parents' room, the boy emptied out their goldfish' fishbowl and made a new home for his new friend. Shortly after, discovering that their goldfish had gone missing, along with its fishbowl, the parents asked their son about the whereabouts of the fishbowl. Of which, the boy pretended to know nothing about. The boy hid his friend's tiny home in layers of clothes and boxes, but he was eventually caught by his parents. The house belonged to the parents. No matter how hard the boy tried to hide anything, there was a limit to how long he could keep his secret from them. In the end, his angry parents cornered the boy, questioning him. With that, Juho decided to redirect the plot to the outer story. The train came to a stop, but both characters had a long way to go until they reached their destinations. They watched people getting in and out of the train. Then, taking some hard-boiled eggs out of his bag and sharing with the lady, 'I' urged her to go on with her story, completely oblivious to the fact that he had forgotten something. Her story was riveting, and more and more people began to eavesdrop, expressing interest. At that moment, Juho's phone started ringing in his pocket. Taking his hands off the laptop, Juho answered the phone. "Hello?" "Where are you?" It was Nam Kyung. Because he was still distracted with writing, the young author answered in a daze, "What do you mean?" "We were supposed to meet. Are you at the park, yet?" "Oh," Juho let out, remembering why he had come to the park in the first place. He had made plans to meet with the editor. If Nam Kyung hadn't called, Juho would have kept writing, having lost track of time, clueless. Fortunately, the botanical garden wasn't too far from him, so Juho rose from his seat without delay and headed toward the meeting spot. Upon arriving, Juho saw the editor eating his sandwich in peace, contrary to himself, who had clearly come in a hurry. "I got yours, too." "Thank you." Then, glancing at Juho's laptop, Nam Kyung asked, "Were you about to write?" "Yes, I was writing up to a moment ago actually." "Oh, man. Maybe I should've waited a little longer, then," Nam Kyung said, looking concerned about having interrupted the young author while he'd been working on a potential piece. Seeing the look on Nam Kyung's face, Juho reassured him, "Oh, no. I'm still building the foundation. Well, it was getting closer to writing toward the middle." Juho had never been in the habit of mapping out his work, and because of that, he tended to digress often while developing a plot. "Is it for the Literature Club?" "No, I'm planning on publishing it for now," Juho said while checking what was in the sandwich. There were mashed up, hard-boiled eggs. "I think I've been eating a lot of eggs lately." "... What was that?" "Eggs. I've been eating more of them lately." "No, no. That's not what I'm talking about," Nam Kyung said, swallowing the sandwich in a hurry. "Did you just say that you're working on a novel to be published?" "We'll have to see if it's worth publishing or not, but yes." "... and you have the Nebula Award in mind, right?" "Must I? I'm just writing because there was something I wanted to write about." At Juho's response, Nam Kyung put his sandwich down, with an entirely different expression on his face. From then on, it was going to be a meeting between an author and an editor. "All right. Why don't you tell me a little bit about the plot? Let me do the worrying." There was no reason to say no. "What if it's subject to change?" Wearing a serious expression, Nam Kyung nodded at Juho's question. Then, after organizing his thoughts briefly, Juho said, "First of all, it's about love." "A romance novel?" Nam Kyung put his brains to work immediately. Love had always been one of the most popular topics in literature, and there was no surprise in the fact that Yun Woo was writing about it. 'What would love look like at this point?' It was highly probable that love experienced at Juho's age was pure and beautiful. What the young author was working on would be the first novel to be published since winning the Nebula Award, and the depth and weight of his writing, which superseded his age, had played a major role in bringing him the award. As a a fan, Nam Kyung wanted to see Yun Woo's portrayal of pure love. However, considering the situation they were in, what Yun Woo really needed to showcase was his distinctive sensibility: like a clean mirror reflecting the back alley of society. In Nam Kyung's mind, it felt slightly risky. "You look serious. Are you not fond of the topic?" "Oh, no. I was getting ahead of myself, wanting to know more about what you were working on," Nam Kyung said, pushing his glasses up. The topic alone wasn't enough for him to make any judgments. Then, staring at him intently, Juho said, "I'm thinking of a character who falls in love with an insect." "A-ha, I see. Is this going to be a brighter piece, overall? Like the protagonist growing and maturing with his little friend?" "No. He swallows the bug whole, and loses his sanity." "... I'm sorry, what?" Juho thought back on the story he had been working on just moments prior. Having been cornered by his parents, the boy was in desperate need of another place for his friend. "Because the boy doesn't want to be away from the bug, he keeps it in a fishbowl, but the fishbowl isn't meant for insects to live in. It's not enough to keep his friend safe, so he decides to keep it elsewhere, the safest place he could think of: his body. He eats it." Nam Kyung's expression grew darker at the author's shocking explanation of his new work-in-progress. "And then, he forgets." The act of forgetting was meant to be liberating. Juho imagined the life the insect had lived. Mountains. Home. Room. Fishbowl. His body. Everything around him kept shrinking, and its home grew smaller and smaller. Living in a tight space came with sadness, and similarly, confinement came with discomfort. At the same time, there was protection. The insect compared its life at the forest up to that point to life with the young human. Living in the forest meant having to be constantly on guard for enemy attacks. Upon realizing the difference, the insect showed no resistance. What the boy felt toward the insect was empathy. He was born in a small town in the countryside. On top of that, he lived in one of the smallest houses around, in a tiny room. He was left out by the neighborhood kids and neglected by his parents. The only friend he had to talk to was the bug he brought back from the mountains. However, upon waking up the next day, the boy discovered that the bug had disappeared. The boy gradually became insane, and in order to keep word from getting out, his parents kept their son confined in their home. Nam Kyung seemed to be in a dilemma, as if unsure about the piece. However, paying no attention to his state of mind, Juho added, "The boy eats the insect at night, and the next day, he completely forgets what he did the night before, wondering if his little friend has been stolen or if it ran off. He keeps on doubting and grows insane. I wanted to be explicit about that part in particular. I think it'd be interesting to make it sound like it was written by a drunk person, too." The boy grows increasingly feeble, crying out like a beast and crawling on his hands and knees. The look on Nam Kyung's face kept growing darker. As shocking as it was, it was starting to sound riskier. In the end, the editor said cautiously, "I think it's powerful, and it definitely has enough potentials to stand side-by-side with 'Sublimation.' Given your skills, I'm sure you won't have a problem pulling off a story like that. But let's get realistic for a second. If the overall balance isn't there, then it renders even the most shocking scenes useless. I mean, eating a bug, or crawling on both hands and knees like animals… Isn't it a little excessive? There's something about it that feels somewhat absurd. So, with that said, I think we should play a little safer…" Then, Juho shook his head slowly in denial. There was no need to play safe. If anything, there was room to make it even more shocking and ghastly, because… "Because it's a story that will be told by another person." It was going to be the story told by the lady on the train. A story told by a stranger. It was OK to be absurd. It was possible to forgive any exaggeration or omission. It was only natural that a story passed around by word of mouth would change and twist. Nam Kyung breathed in, catching on to what Yun Woo was really trying to write. "A frame structure," he let out, covering his mouth and thinking. In that case, there was no issue. A frame protected the picture within while supporting it so that it stayed standing. Likewise, the frame in the novel served a similar purpose. The most notable function of the frame structure was that it made the story significantly more convincing. 'There's a guy who went insane after falling in love with an insect.' It was more than convincing. Interesting, even. The less realistic it became, the more the method shone. On top of that, with the addition of Yun Woo's skill, the results would be promising. "Marvelous." It was marvelous.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Is this going to be written from a first-person point of view?" "Yes. It'd be better that way." Nam Kyung was deeply impressed. The young author was on to something. As long as it was properly executed, the novel would be superb. Brilliant. As long as the author managed to pull the pieces of the story in his head out to reality, the results would be quite promising. It would be a fine story, and the author would be able to remain unhindered by the Nebula Award. As the editor barely managed to calm himself, he focused on listening to the author some more. "Is this going to be all right?" Juho asked as if seeking Nam Kyung's affirmation, and the editor nodded heavily. "I think it'll be more than all right. The closed-off image is brilliant, and the claustrophobic nature will only add to the suspense," he said, tactfully catching on to what the young author was emphasizing. It simply made sense when considering the bug's final destination. Then, imagining the boy swallowing his insect friend, Juho said, "There's nothing more cramped than a person's heart." The boy was all alone, oppressed by the parents who had given birth to him. It was a commonly seen phenomena, and it was in that very environment that the insect had hidden. "I think the fact that the bug doesn't resist really adds to the story somehow. On top of that, it's easy to make the connection that it could be a person, which also makes it creepy." The insect chooses the safer life by willingly going into the boy's body. Unfortunately, it quickly turns out to be a bad decision. Its new home grows increasingly insane. Then, looking at the egg salad in his sandwich, Juho said, "Frankly, I think the bug was already dead." "Dead? Because it got eaten?" "No, even before that. After being neglected, without proper care." After getting dragged out of the mountains, the insect found itself in a new prison: the fishbowl. The boy had never seen an insect like that, not to mention he was raising it without his parents knowledge. There was no way that the boy would be able to find food for his little friend. As the bug grew weaker, the pressure would grow in the boy's mind, leaving only the extreme choice in the end. "Sounds like the bug and the boy have a lot in common," Nam Kyung said, and Juho nodded. That was precisely the reason why the boy had loved the insect. "What about the characters in the outer story?" the editor asked with an apparent look of anticipation, urging the young author to tell him more. Juho imagined the two people conversing on the train. Though headed for the same destination, the significance of arriving there was different for the two. "She's from the same town as the guy, and she's the one who came across the fishbowl." "You mean, the one where the boy kept his bug?" "Yes. He's bound to throw the fishbowl out no matter what. Then, he goes missing. Word of it spreads through the town, and the story becomes known to every single person in town. Thought it isn't clear what happens to him afterward." Then, after brief contemplation, Nam Kyung asked, "Is this after he gets trapped in his house?" "Probably." The fishbowl was the connecting piece between the outer and the inner story. It was also the first house the boy had used to trap the insect, as well as the one he abandoned. Instead of being filled with water, the fishbowl was filled with dirt and tree branches. "So, what happens after he goes missing?" Nam Kyung asked, getting slightly impatient. Juho thought carefully. 'What happens to him?' It wasn't hard to imagine the man going into the mountains, and it was always possible that he would go on living under another person's protection and care. He might be wandering aimlessly, yearning for the insect for the rest of his life, or simply, collapse, choosing not to do anything about his yearning. Or, he could get on a train heading away from his hometown. "Don't you think he might even come back home?" Nam Kyung asked, unable to resist any longer. Juho thought back on the looped videos he had watched. He had been trapped, repeating the same, daily life, saying the same, exact things, meeting the same, exact people. The couple Juho had met in the theme park had asked him to take a picture of them because they had wanted to treasure that moment forever. "I don't think that's very likely." "Why is that?" "Because he forgot," Juho said. After swallowing the bug, the boy forgot about his tiny friend, further proof that he hadn't thoroughly trapped the insect in a photo. If he were to have taken photos of the insect, he wouldn't have had to worry about forgetting his tiny friend. If anything, it was a possibility, the possibility for a change. A possibility that he could always raise the insect in a more open environment. Nothing was as wide and broad as a person's heart. "Well, it seems like that character has fully taken shape in your mind, Mr. Woo," Nam Kyung said, looking at the young author predicting the character's life in its entirety. Yet, Juho shrugged it off, saying, "Things can change, of course, but that's how I see it at the moment." With those words, Juho paused for a brief moment. Memories were part of the outer story as well. 'I,' who had forgotten something, and the lady who remembered what she had been forgetting. There had to be a reason that she had remembered. Why was she recently able to think of the story about the child who had gone missing? "Maybe she found the fishbowl that was lying around her house somewhere." The fishbowl would serve as the clue. Upon finding it, the lady tried to remember where it had come from. In that case, why did she have to take it out in the first place? "Because she came across a new animal, one that would be living in it." That indicated that she was ready to accept another life. She was on the way home, while 'I' was going away from his hometown. Going back home was only possible for those who had left their home. She had to have come across a new lifeform to occupy the fishbowl. "Forgetting can also be a form of protection. She was probably the same as 'I,' who she met on the train. She had to have forgotten her story when she first left her hometown." Then, Nam Kyung asked, "That means there will be a day when 'I' finally remembers what he has been forgetting, right?" "Yes. As long as he's still alive." With that, the editor carefully put the pieces of the story together in his head. "As long as you can turn it into writing, it should be great. Oh, you mentioned making a reference to a drunk person? If you need help with that, don't hesitate to let me know. I might be able to take you to a company dinner." "That doesn't sound like a bad idea at all!" As their discussion neared its end, the two picked up their sandwiches. --- "Are you really not gonna take part in any contests?" Because Juho was occupied with organizing his thoughts, Bom's question registered with him in a delay. Then, looking up, he asked, "Wha?" "The essay contest. We barely managed to get an OK from our teachers." "Oh, that." As juniors, it wasn't easy for the veteran club members to take part in an essay contest. "If you have the time to compete in some contest, you should be putting that time into studying." That was the general opinion of most teachers. However, the juniors in the Literature Club weren't about to let the opportunity to take part in an essay contest slide any time soon, and after persuading their teachers persistently, their teachers finally gave them permission that very day. Unlike in previous years, Seo Kwang was also willing to compete in a contest. According to his own words… "When others tell me not to do something, it makes me wanna do it more." On top of that, with the addition of Bo Suk and the twins, the entire Literature Club was in the process of choosing a contest they wanted to compete in. "I thought you would compete this year, too." Of course, that was with the exception of the young author. Then, Juho said with a shrug, "There's a piece that I wanted to focus on." Although Bom was aware of it now, it had come to her as a massive shock when she heard it for the first time. "It's not like you're being chased by somebody. Relax. Take your time," Bom said, but she was fully aware that Juho wasn't going to stop. Although she was taken aback when she was told that he was working on his next novel, she came to accept it soon after. After knowing him for three years, Juho was more than capable of doing something like that. Regardless of the circumstances, he wrote relentlessly and restlessly. He was truly an author. "Are you nervous at all?" he asked Bom, looking at the pamphlet of the contest she had chosen to be part of in her hand. "Of course, I am. This is a massive contest." Taking place over the course of two days, it was a rather large contest. The contestants were mostly composed of students who were formally trained or had serious aspirations of becoming writers. Winning an award at that contest would make it significantly easier to get into a university, and because of that, many students competed in it. "Are you aiming for first place?" "Of course! Might as well aim for the stars while I'm at it," Bom said confidently. "I mean, what are the odds of competing with another person who has been writing with Yun Woo for three years?" "I guess so." Bom stared intently at Juho as he nodded nonchalantly. She had always considered herself lucky. Sitting across from Yun Woo, let alone being part of the same club as Yun Woo. It was like having the luxury of listening to a world-renowned pianist performing right before her eyes on a daily basis. It was extravagant, and Bom would get to have a closer look at the pianist's techniques and their incredible performance in great detail. She would grow and mature just from watching, and that was the kind of presence Yun Woo had. "I got kind of cocky after winning first place last year," Bom said with a bashful look. "And that's when you went out and got yourself the Nebula Award." It was an award incomparable to that of some nameless essay contest. Knowing how serious he was about literature, Bom had genuinely congratulated the young author. "I saw the video of Kelley Coin reading your speech after getting the award on your behalf. I gotta say, it was rather strange since you weren't even there, but it was still really cool!" It was an award that she could only dream of winning. He looked all the more remarkable and admirable in her eyes. She had genuine respect for the young author. On the other hand, she couldn't help but regret not having competed or asking to compete in the same contest as him. Fortunately, it was still not too late. If she were to ask him, even now, he would be willing to grant her request. If she were to ask with enthusiasm, he wouldn't turn her down. However, Bom chose not to. She didn't deny her regret, which also felt like a relief at the same time. She had accepted that she didn't have what it took to become like Yun Woo, nor did she have the desire to become him. That was how she saw herself, and she didn't feel ashamed of it by any means. Being in the Literature Club, she came to learn that there was always room in this world for more writing, even for things written by somebody like her. Meanwhile, Juho, too, was quietly staring at Bom, reading her thoughts. "You're not all that different yourself." "What do you mean?" "You won an award, too. The first, and the youngest winner to win first place in the club. I can hardly see the difference." "C'mon, now. Of course, there is a difference. I mean, just think about the scale." "It might be different in terms of scale, but if you think about it, there are more similarities than differences. They're both judged and evaluated by other people, then come the results, honor, congratulatory messages, which get recorded or exhibited somewhere." Just as Bom was about to deny it, Juho beat her to it. "At the end of the day, an award is an award. What you really need to look at is your writing, not the award. I know for certain that there are readers out there who would prefer your writing over mine." At Juho's remark, Bom thought of someone by reflex, her mom. Then, seeing as though she was starting to agree, Juho smiled, making her blush. "Oh, no. That's not…" "That's about as encompassing as an award gets. Our hearts are much broader." She had never heard anything like that, and the fact that it was coming out of the mouth of a Nebula winner was even more astounding. Bom found herself getting impressed yet again. 'He really is inherently different. His posture, his heart, his skills. That's how he's able to write like that.' Bom was well aware of how the world viewed the young author. Mysterious. Alien. Talented beyond comprehension. However, anybody would be able to come to terms with one thing if they met the young author in person: only Yun Woo could write those novels. Those were truly Yun Woo's work. His most recent work-in-progress had to be the same way. Then, she thought to herself once again, 'Might as well aim for the stars while I'm at it.' "You know what, who cares about the award? I'll just focus on my writing." Juho smiled with satisfaction at Bom's confidence.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "So, we're all gonna be in the same competition?" "Yep. That happened." Seo Kwang looked at Juho with excitement. And Bom, upon checking that the contest wouldn't interfere with the one she would be competing in, also decided to compete with her clubmates. It was going to be a lot of fun. For the first time ever, almost everyone in the club was going to be competing in the same essay contest, together. "Did Mr. Moon say anything?" "What do you think?" "Probably not." Staying out of his pupils' decision-making process was Mr. Moon's specialty. Juho examined the pamphlet of the contest they were going to take part in. Being hosted by a university in Seoul, it offered a cash prize of one thousand dollars and it seemed to offer lectures and a campus tour afterward. It was a legitimate contest. Because they were all partaking in the same contest, the club members would be competing against each other. However, that would help the less-experienced members, like Bo Suk and the twins. "Bom?" the twins called to her. They were preparing themselves thoroughly for their first essay contest, and their obsessive personalities seemed to have kicked in, wanting to see it to the end. Nevertheless, Juho was proud of their enthusiasm. "I'm not sure how to move forward from here." "Can I see?" Bom said, scanning Gong Il's manuscript cautiously. Meanwhile, Gong Pal was striking up a conversation with Bo Suk from behind. Looking at the younger clubmates, Juho, too, moved his hands across the keyboard. Juniors weren't prohibited from bringing their laptops to school because there were a lot of procedures that required a computer, such as applications and self-introduction. It saved him a number of trips to the computer room, and he found it rather convenient. "So, Bom. What are some things that I should be mindful of at the contest?" Gong Pal asked in a whisper, as if trying not to bother his clubmates. Unfortunately, despite his considerate gesture, Juho couldn't keep his ears from listening, which inevitably made his hands slower. Meanwhile, after brief contemplation, Bom said with an awkward smile, "It's hard to say because every contest is different." In actuality, there were noticeable differences in rules in every contest. From the scale of the contest to the topics, time and places, every contest was distinct, which made it difficult for Bom to offer any advice. "Well, you always have to write within the given amount of time. That's the most standard." Unfortunately, it was something Gong Pal was already aware of. Then, Seo Kwang, who had been looking up English words on his laptop, stopped his hands much like Juho and said, "There are literature clubs in other schools that teach their members how to win contests. Call it knowhow." "Seriously!? What about us!?" Gong Il said with interest, and Sun Hwa chimed in, laughing. "Of course not! You've seen us write, haven't you? We just write what we wanna write about, and Mr. Moon only teaches us the basics." "Wouldn't that put us at a disadvantage?" "Not at all," Sun Hwa said emphatically, and the twins locked eyes with each other. No matter how confident she was in her statement, it was always safer to have tangible knowhow, and reading that on their faces, Bom spoke up, "If you take part in an essay contest, there's a chance that you'll run into students who go to schools known for their literature clubs. Some even go to private institutes after school or learn from professional organizations. You'll flip once you find out how much money they're paying those places." Then, looking straight into the twins' eyes, which were moving busily, the junior added, "Yet, I won first place." Bo Suk exclaimed from the side. "In the end, there is no such thing as a secret that will guarantee you an award. The best thing to do is to write in peace. I once heard a super famous author say that writers should be thinking about their writing, not their awards. At least, when you're jotting something down," Bom said, looking in Juho's direction. Avoiding eye contact with her, the young author studied the look on the twins' faces. They seemed anxious on one hand but excited on the other. It was a future impossible to predict, and it came with emotions that every club member had experienced at least once. So, the juniors offered the freshmen comforting words. "Don't get caught up with how much time you have. Once you start writing, you'll find that you actually have plenty." "There are times when professors stare at you. If it bothers you, then just stop writing. They'll walk right past you and leave you alone." "It's always wise to know where the restrooms are." "Don't forget your writing tools. Pick the ones that feel the best in your hands." "You're not going alone, either, so don't worry too much." The club members shared as much of their experiences with the twins as possible. Bo Suk, in particular, was the most enthusiastic. Then, after writing down every single advice they had heard from the older clubmates, the twins briefly glanced over in Juho's direction and asked cautiously, "How come Juho isn't competing?" "I have a piece that I want to focus on," the young author said as he started writing again. However, the twins looked puzzled. "You mean, you've competed before?" "Yep. Every year." "... Did you win any of them?" "Nope." Although he was fully aware of what the twins really wanted to know, Juho didn't bother to explain himself. "Maybe Juho's the type who has trouble functioning under pressure." "But this is Juho, we're talking about." Hearing the twins whispering to each other, Juho chuckled. --- "They should all be there by now," Juho said, looking up at the clock to look at the time. It was 9:00 a.m, and it was the day when all of his clubmates would be competing in the same essay contest. Because it was the weekend, Juho ate breakfast unhurriedly and prepared to write. The weather was beautiful that day. He imagined his clubmates writing, all sitting together. It would look different from how they did in the Literature Club. "Well, I better get to working." With that, Juho placed his hands on the keyboard, looking at the plot that Nam Kyung had been so fond of. 'Let's not thinking too much. It's just the first draft,' the young author reminded himself as he breathed in quietly. First, the frame. It was necessary in order to acquire the space for the picture within it. In the frame, there would be I, who was going away from his hometown, and the lady, who was headed for her hometown. The train kept moving forward, never arriving at their destination until the inner story came to an end. The encounter between I and the lady would come to an end as the train came to a stop. Therefore, the train never stopped. The young author tried looking at the story through the I's perspective. I am me. Juho saw the world from I's perspective: 'After packing my belongings, I put them around my shoulders. I felt the weight of that on my entire body. Then, I headed for the train station in order to buy a ticket for the train that would take me away from my hometown. As I got on the train that was yet to have left, I started having conflicting thoughts. Should I not go? Should I just go back home?' I knew nothing about the place he was headed to. It was an area being redeveloped, and he was fully aware that he could never make it a home, no matter how long he lived there. He would always be an outsider. He was afraid. Pessimistic thoughts started to take over his mind. At that moment, as he was still struggling with the conflicting thoughts in his head, the train started moving. Now, there was no turning back. He was already on the railway. His hometown was less than impressive. It was mostly made of fields and rice paddies. As he grew farther from home, fear started to creep into his mind. Then, he realized that he had forgotten something. He knew he had left it behind, but he had no idea what. He had forgotten. "Hi," a lady struck up a conversation amid the panic in his mind. It was natural considering that she had been sitting just across from him. After a brief conversation, the two come to realize that they were headed toward the same destination. Talking about the weather, their food preferences, and their hobbies, they slowly got to know each other. "You seem to like eggs," Juho tried murmuring out the lady's line… "Yes. I like them hard-boiled. The amount of water is really important. You gotta make sure that the eggs aren't completely submerged." … as well as I's. I confessed that there were times when boiling his egg that the water surrounding the egg reminded him of the water that surrounded a fetus in a mother's womb. Protecting the egg from cracking, the water regulated the temperature. Juho thought of long, thin eyes for the lady. While it made her look aggressive on one hand, it also made her frivolous on the other. I found her eyes rather charming, and he wanted to get a closer look. At that moment, Juho's phone began to vibrate, startling the unsuspecting author. The phone on the desk wailed all the louder, showing Sun Hwa's name on the screen. 'Sun Hwa? Shouldn't she be preparing for the contest?' Juho thought. Puzzled, he answered the phone. "Hello?" As he answered the phone, the sound of rushing air came from his receiver. She was running. "Zero-One-Zero-Eight," she blurted out the number combination that Juho was well acquainted with. Naturally, he was reminded of the twins' long, sharp-looking eyes. "Shouldn't they be at the contest with you guys?" "They're not!" "They're not?" The twins weren't at the contest. Juho checked the time. The contest should be starting any minute now. As Sun Hwa shouted for a reason that Juho was yet to be aware of, the young author asked his clubmate what was happening. Then, she got to the point in a hurry, "We were supposed to meet in front of the campus because they told us that they were planning on taking the cab here. But they're still not here!" Then, Juho heard some noise in the background. He heard a voice say that they were 'connected,' so it seemed like they were able to figure out the whereabouts of the twins. Juho waited patiently. "Oh, no," Sun Hwa let out. It was obvious that the situation wasn't looking good. "What happened?" "I think the cab driver took them to the wrong place." "Wrong place?" "Yeah. They're in front of another university." "Oh, no…" Without saying anything else, Sun Hwa sighed heavily. It was too late. The twins wouldn't compete with their clubmates. They wouldn't write. "Sun Hwa, we gotta go," Bo Suk's voice came from Juho's receiver, urging Sun Hwa. The situation was clear. The twins were the youngest members of the Literature Club. It hadn't even been a year since they had graduated from middle school. And now, finding themselves in a circumstance completely out of their hands and stranded in an area they weren't familiar with, they could no longer compete in the contest. In any case, somebody had to protect them. "I'll head there. Does Mr. Moon know?" Juho said. "Seo Kwang is trying to get a hold of him." Then, after getting the whereabouts of the twins from Sun Hwa, Juho rose from his seat, got prepared to leave in a hurry and left the house. While still walking, Juho called the twins. Gong Pal answered. "Hi, Juho," he answered, sounding calmer than Juho had expected. With that, after confirming where they were, Juho went out to the major street and caught himself a cab. Reminding them to go into a nearby cafe, he hung up the phone. Although Gong Pal was saying that Juho didn't need to come for them, Juho insisted, telling him that he was already on his way. Looking at the scenery rushing past, Juho wondered if I was seeing something similar on the train. "Hey, Juho." As he entered the cafe the twins had told him they were in, Juho saw them sitting by the window immediately, looking as unfazed as ever. Then, he called Mr. Moon as soon as he saw them. "That's a relief. Let me know when you're back home," the teacher said and hung up. "We feel bad for making you come all the way here," Gong Il said bashfully, her long, thin eyes, getting even thinner. 'Those eyes.' The lady on the train had those same, exact eyes. Because Juho had come in a hurry, he was quite thirsty. So, he ordered himself a cold drink. "So, the cab driver took you guys to the wrong place, huh?" Juho said, bringing up what he had heard from Sun Hwa, ready to hear their side of the story. "Yes. We had no idea until we got here." "It wasn't until we'd wandered around campus for a good while that we realized." "That happens." They were in a place they had never been before, so there was nothing strange about their delayed realization. "Although, we did have a feeling that something wasn't right." "When we realized what had happened, we started breaking out into cold sweats." Their voices grew louder as they explained their unforeseen circumstance, as if the confusion they had felt was finally catching up to them. "Well, good thing that you guys were together. If it had been only one of you, you'd have really panicked," Juho said, and the twins nodded in agreement. "My brother got really angry at the driver." "So did you," Gong Pal said, glaring at his sister and looking embarrassed. "Everyone else should be writing by now, huh?" "Probably." Juho checked the time. The contest should have already started. "I worked really hard for this…" Seeing the twins discouraged, Juho contemplated on how to comfort them.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "This is one cruel way to start," Gong Il muttered, dropping her head. Her first essay contest experience had been ruined, and that was enough to justify her feelings. On top of that, it was the last opportunity to take part in a contest with her clubmates. The juniors, with the exception of Bom, were not planning on competing in another contest, and the twins were far from being equipped for the contest Bom was going to be competing in. "You can always go with Bo Suk, next time," Juho said. "Still." "I can't believe this happened. We didn't even get to write a single word! This doesn't feel real." As Juho stared at her, the freshman sighed heavily. "Well, I guess this is one way to fail," Gong Il muttered again. "Since last night, I'd been worrying about not being able to write or think of what to write after I was given the topics, or running out of lead for my mechanical pencil or ink for my pen. But who would've thought that we wouldn't even get to the campus?" In comparison to the amount of worrying she had done, it was quite a disappointing result. Because the cab driver had looked up the wrong place on the GPS, they had ended up in the wrong place. They didn't even get to see what an essay contest was like. "This isn't fair." "I'm depressed." The twins let out. They were clearly gloomy. Meanwhile, wearing a smile that wasn't visible to the twins, Juho asked, "What are you most depressed about?" "The cab," they answered without a delay. "Why did we have to get on THAT cab of all cabs? Why did the driver have to misunderstand us? Why didn't he bother to check if he heard us right? If only it occurred to him at some point, if only something had changed, you wouldn't have had to be here," Gong Il said, almost like throwing a tantrum. Her voice was filled with shame and resentment toward the cab driver. "I knew something didn't feel right this morning," Gong Pal added, pouting his lips. "I mean, c'mon! Who gets to an essay contest late!? We gotta be the first ones!" "You're right. At least in the Literature Club." Juho thought back to his first essay contest and felt that his first impression had been, in way, similar to theirs. "Nobody has a positive memory of their first essay contest." "What do you mean?" "Your clubmates! Nobody won the first time around." Then, taking an interest in Juho's story, the twins asked, "Even you?" "Duh!" Gong Il furrowed her brows at Juho's brief answer. That time, she asked without hesitation, "Honestly, I don't get it. Why is it that you haven't won a single award? You're the best writer in the club, aren't you?" "Yeah! Anybody would recognize your skills. More people have to know you." "Well, what can I say?" "... Were you having stomach problems while you were at the contest?" "Who knows? Should you have competed in the contest with me, you'd know." "All right, now you're just adding fuel to the fire." After observing the apparent look of displeasure on the twins' faces, Juho rose from his seat, and staring at him awkwardly from their seats, the twins asked, "Are you going to the restroom?" "No, to the stationery store." "What for?" "I came out in a hurry, so I forgot to bring manuscript paper with me." "Manuscript paper?" "Yeah. I've been working on a piece. You know this." Looking at the twins' eyes, Juho felt his palms itch. Then, the expression on the twins' faces started to change. They seemed anxious and confused, not sure if they had to write with him. At that, Juho waved his hand in denial, reassuring them. "You're probably not in the mood to write. I won't force you. I'll get just enough for myself." With that, the young author left the shop. Being in the vicinity of a university campus, finding a stationery store wasn't all that hard. Because there were both a community college and a university within close proximity of one another, the town was significantly busier than most college town, most of the customers being university students. Then, after buying four two-hundred page boxes from the store, Juho made his way back to the cafe. It didn't take all that long, and the twins were still in the shop. "Is that all for you?!" "Yep. Wouldn't want to run out while I'm writing." "... I don't think that's gonna happen anytime soon." "You never know," Juho said, taking a card out of his wallet and handing it over to the twins. "If you guys get hungry, get yourselves something to eat." As the twins remained silent, Juho quietly moved on to his manuscript paper. "So, we checked the website," a timid voice said. Despite already knowing what was about to be said, Juho asked, "Which website?" "The university's." "What for?" "For the heck of it. We just thought we should look at it while we waited. But we saw the topics there. Not today's, but the one's for last year's contest. It had the time and place too." Whatever the time and place were, they were already a thing of the past for Juho. As he stared intently at them, waiting for what they were going to say next, the twins rose from their seats with Juho's card in their hands. "We're gonna go get some manuscript paper, too." "We might as well write here since we missed the real thing." "Well, have a seat, for now." They were quite naive. At the same time, quite stubborn. They were predictable. Because they were looking at a person writing right before their eyes, they were feeling the urge to write. Juho had an idea of the conversation that had taken place in his absence. In the end, Juho gave two of his boxes of manuscript paper to the twins. "As for time limit, let's say… an hour? Like an actual essay contest," Juho said, checking the time on his phone. Taking the manuscript paper from him gladly, the twins took each of their writing tools out. Juho anticipated fine pieces of writing, although they would call for a significant amount of revision due to their emotional states. An angry person tended to charge forward without thinking about consequences. Similarly, Juho would always make sure he was ready to write, mentally and physically, before he started writing. "You're gonna be writing with us, right? The topics were American football, wind, and duck feathers." "Oh, right. Uh, sure. Yeah." The twins grew increasingly excited by the young author's answer. They were essentially competing in an essay contest with the junior they looked up to the most. With that, after studying the twins for a little while, Juho wrote away. It was a story that had nothing to do with the three topics, and it wasn't until they were thirty minutes in that the twins caught on to what the young author was doing. As he was glancing over at the manuscript across from him, Gong Pal shouted by reflex, "Juho! What are you writing!?" Having been occupied with writing, Juho answered the freshman with a delayed response, "What was that?" "You're writing about a bug!" "And?" "That's not relevant to any of the topics, right?" "Nope." "You can't do that, can you? You'd be disqualified." "Yep. That's exactly what happened." "What?!" The young author said in a calm tone of voice. He had experienced disqualification in an essay contest for writing an essay that was entirely irrelevant to the given topics. "There's a piece I wanna focus on. That's my priority." "..." Gong Il slowly grasped the situation, and meanwhile, Gong Pal murmured, "So, that's why he's never won a single award." Then, as the freshmen became more talkative, Juho warned them, "Don't you two come begging for an extension." Although the twins had a lot to say still, they barely managed to swallow their curiosity. Writing was of the utmost priority at the moment. The three wrote away quietly. There were hardly any people in the cafe, and even then, they were mostly university students either writing something or staring into their laptops. It wasn't exactly the most riveting sight. One could write anywhere. While writing unhurriedly, the young author decided to pay a visit to I in his imagination. Juho pulled him out of the deepest depths of the novel to the surface. His eyes were long and thin. He was a man of small physique. Wearing a blank expression on his face, I wasn't doing anything. With an empty fish bowl at his side, the man was glaring into the air. There was nobody around him, and Juho, too, didn't bother going near or talking to him. The young author simply maintained his distance, observing the character. I seemed anxious. He looked like he was blaming himself for something. Self-blame came from failure. He had failed, failed to keep the insect alive. No matter how much he denied it, there was nothing he could do to change the truth. It was agonizing. Therefore, he had swallowed the bug. At that moment, I took a step forward toward a lone tree. It was clear that the roots hadn't gone down properly. The tree was out of place. It should've been planted in the mountains or in a field. With that, he hugged the tree, reaching his hand and grabbing its branches. Then, lifting his leg, he hung from the tree and started climbing it. His petite body moved restlessly. An insect. He was acting like an insect. Pathetic and weak. Yet, he seemed much better off than when he had been at home. As the body shook, what sounded like wings rubbing against one another became audible. The insect chirped. "Juho?" Gong Il said. When Juho reconnected with reality, the freshman's image appeared before him. Then, slowly reaching for his phone, he switched the alarm off. The cafe grew silent immediately after. "Let me see." "Here." "Huh! You did finish in time." "Of course! We got a lot of practice." Taking their manuscripts, Juho placed them on one side of the table. Then, as the twins looked at him with puzzled expressions, the young author took the card that had been left elsewhere on the table and offered it to them. "Get yourselves something to eat. I need to write for a little bit." "I'm sorry?" "I won't be long. Just up to this part." "Don't you get disqualified if you don't finish in time?" "They just collect your paper without mercy." "... Maybe the essay contests aren't exactly your thing ." With that, Juho looked away from them. Then, before he started writing, he asked Gong Pal, who had read what Juho was working on, "Do you remember any of it?" "What? Oh, uh… yes. Although I didn't look at it for that long. I don't think I'd be able to forget it even if I wanted to, though." "Then keep remembering it. Try not to forget." "You're gonna let me read it once you finish, right?" "Yes, when I'm done." Shortly after, when Juho looked up after having finished writing the paragraph, he saw the twins lost in their phone games. The characters in their phone screens moved according to their commands, and after looking at the characters in the screen for a little while, the junior picked up their manuscripts. "They're both well-written." As Juho murmured, the twins looked away from their phones and responded immediately. "Really!?" "Although, there are places that are overly emotional." Nevertheless, they weren't half bad. It hadn't been Juho's intention for them to come up with an impeccable piece of writing. Rather, it was a means of release. Gong Pal had written about American football. Though the ball handling was incredibly rough and passes were far from perfect, it was written with honesty. There was not a peaceful moment. The protagonist was being constantly hampered by the people around them, and in the end, the game came to an end without him scoring a single point. The protagonist became furious, almost tearful. Gong Il's story about wind was also quite sad. However, both of their stories had endings that would put a smile on their readers' faces. At that moment, the twins asked anxiously, "So, who's getting the award?" "Award? Did we agree to have one?" Juho asked, and the junior was met with an angry backlash from the freshmen. "C'mon! Tell us which one of us did a better job!" "Hm." "Somebody's gotta win. This is a contest, after all," the twins said, putting their phones down and looking intently at Juho. "A contest, huh," he said, putting the manuscripts down on the table. "Then, neither." As the twins became flustered by Juho's unexpected answer, the young author added, "Neither of you would have gotten an award even if you were to have been at the contest. Besides, I'm disqualified myself. So, all that's to say, there is no winner." They weren't equipped enough and they still had ways to go before they reached the skill level that would bring them an award. Then, the twins broke out into laugher, looking neither angry nor wronged. Meanwhile, Juho returned the manuscripts to them. "Now, revise them." "Revise?" "If this was an actual contest, you wouldn't be getting your manuscripts back, but hey, perks of being part of a fake contest. Try finishing them. You guys are going somewhere. If you finish them before the school festival, you might even be able to exhibit them." Then, the twins took their manuscripts back with looks of excitement on their faces. "Should we try giving our clubmates a ring? The contest should be over by now." As the idea of celebrating came up, the club members rendezvoused in front of their school. While Sun Hwa charged toward the twins as soon as she saw them, Seo Kwang grumbled, saying that creative writing didn't suit him. All the while, Bom and Bo Suk tried to break them up. Just like that, the twins' first essay contest experience came to an end. --- "It's started," Isabella murmured as she read the email that had just arrived. "The Hugo Award." Underneath it, was a list of nominated works, and among them, was Yun Woo. Then, Isabella thought of the author she had been working with, thinking, 'Would Yun Woo be able to surprise us, yet again?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Isabella." "Been a while." An employee in the bookstore greeted the editor. Despite having had impressive grades, which would have allowed him to apply to Ivy League schools, the man had chosen to work at a bookstore instead. It was a well-known tale within the publishing industry. Having had an immense passion for bookstores since young, he knew the books being sold in the store better than any other employee there. "Are you here to pick up your order?" "Yes. It's here, right?" "It sure is. It got here in one piece. Don't forget to pick it up from the cashier on your way out." Isabella nodded. Then, the editor struck up a conversation with him about the most recent trends in the bookstore. At that, the employee lowered his voice all of a sudden, asking "Any news on Kelley Coin's new book? If there is, can you tell me?" There was a tangible sense of affection in his voice. He was an avid fan of Kelley Coin. "Hard to say. He's always writing, but only he would know whether or not he'll publish it." "C'mon, now. Help me out here." Those who loved Kelley Coin and his books tended to take after their favorite author. They weren't afraid to show their affection. Although she found his attitude to be quite pleasant, she didn't relent. In the end, the man let up, smacking his lips. "I, personally, am grateful for Yun Woo." "Yun Woo?" "Yes. The literary freak of nature." Despite the odd-sounding nickname he was using to describe the young author, he wasn't far from the truth. Considering his accomplishments up to that point, one was bound to see him in that way. "You've met Yun Woo in person, haven't you? I mean, what happened with him and Coin is already pretty well-known. You were there at the scene, weren't you?" "If you're trying to get answers out of me, you're wasting your time. In fact, why don't we keep talking about what you just brought up? What did you mean when you said you're grateful for Yun Woo?" "That was cold," the employee said without a trace of disappointment, as if he had expected it. "I'm not the only one who's grateful for him. I'm sure every single one of Coin's fans feels the same way. I mean, Yun Woo managed to have Coin represent him at the award ceremony. It's not every day that you see Coin so well behaved." 'So, that's what he meant,' Isabella thought and agreed with the employee. "I agree." Needless to say, a lot had happened at the award ceremony. However, they were hardly any concerns. Once Isabella managed to bring him into the conference hall without the author acting up by leaving in the middle of an event or causing a ruckus, the editor had been able to rest assured that the rest of the ceremony would go as planned. Coin had been fully aware that the occasion had been for Yun Woo, which had been why he had dreaded going into the conference hall so much. "Is he going to the Hugo Award Ceremony on Yun Woo's behalf, too?" the employee asked, and sensing the expectation in his voice, Isabella chuckled. In the end, his efforts to get an answer out of the editor proved to be somewhat successful, as he managed to get her to tell him one thing. "You see, Mr. Woo likes to be thorough. He never leans on just one side." "My. Goodness," the employee let out, clenching his hand into a fist. "I really hope that day comes sooner." "It's actually happening pretty soon." Then, bringing his voice down to a whisper again, he asked, "Do you think Yun Woo will get the Double Crown?" Isabella smiled at his question. "I think you'd know the answer to that question better than me. You work at a bookstore. You'd know which books are popular, and the Hugo Award tends to stress popularity. Well, how've Yun Woo's books been doing?" "It's just as you would expect. First, 'Language of God,' and now, 'Sublimation.' 'Trace of a Bird' or 'Sound of Wailing' are still just as popular. People who are curious about Yun Woo tend to buy his books more often, and as you know, everybody wants to know who he is. It only makes sense that we'd carry more and more of his books." Referring to 'Sublimation' as the Black Book, the employee explained that he found the book to his liking. "The Black Book has everything I like about some of my most favorite books. Philosophy, life, suspense, and the author's experimental spirit. He managed to come up with an ending that no writer had ever been able to imagine, and I have genuine respect for him. No matter who he turns out to be, the Black Book will always have a place in my collection." "All right. I get it," Isabella said impatiently, looking toward other books in order to distance herself from his ongoing exposition. "So, I shouldn't be telling you this, but the majority of people who work here are predicting that the award will go to Yun Woo." While Isabella was taken aback by what she had just heard, the employee reminded her, "Don't forget to update me on Coin's new book, next time." With that, the employee went back to work without even waiting for her answer. Shaking her head, the editor left the store. The store sold many more books after her departure, and the books it sold the most copies of were Yun Woo's. --- "Hey, Susan. It's Isabella." "Come on in." In order to get updates on the progress of Coin's new book, Isabella visited Coin's house for the first time in a long time. Since the Nebula Award Ceremony, he had been busy writing. "Here. This is the book you've been wanting to read, right?" Isabella said, handing over the book from the bookstore to Susan. Upon checking the title of the book, Susan brushed her hand down the editor's cheek, saying, "You should stay for lunch." "Don't mind if I do." After briefly catching up with Susan, Isabella naturally went upstairs. When she opened the tightly-shut door, she was greeted with the smell of caffeine. "Well, how's it looking?" "If it looked good, then I wouldn't be sitting here, wasting my time with revisions," the author said, annoyed. He was quite on edge, and Isabella was all too familiar with the situation. He tended to be the most on edge during the revision process. "Damn it," Coin let out. It was directed at his own writing. Looking for ways to move forward while denying oneself had always been agonizing. In terms of sports, it was the equivalent of an athlete repeatedly watching a game he had lost. Revision was closer to writing yet another draft that was different from the first. In other words, it was the next game. When a team or an athlete lost a game, they always took time to analyze what brought them defeat, and then, improved on it before the next game. Then, after repeating the process for some time, they stopped once they reached a level with which they were satisfied. There were a number of standards that determined the result of a game in sports, and scoring took longer for certain sports. There were even athletes who weren't recognized until after their deaths. "There's still time, Coin. You can take it slow." "These damn sentences are getting in the way of my novel, and you expect me to take it slow?" "Those damn sentences came from you, too, so why don't you try to be more loving toward them?" "Tell me to love on a piece of stool, why don't ya?" Isabella chuckled quietly at the author's sarcastic remark. She had expected him to respond like that. Then, she opened the window in order to let the room breathe. Meanwhile, Coin glared fiercely at his laptop's monitor, deleting sentences, switching paragraphs, and flipping the overall order in which the events took place back and forth. While there were times when his hands moved busily, there were also times when they didn't move at all. "There's not enough weight." "In which part?" "The part that leads to the crisis is a little weak." At that, Isabella read the part of the novel he was referring to over his shoulders. It was a well-written novel. "I think there's plenty of suspense." "That's exactly the problem. I wanted to let it build up more and make it explode later. It shouldn't be this suspenseful already. Ugh, things are just fizzling out. This is unbearable. I hate it," the author said, grumbling about his writing repeatedly. However, Isabella left him be. When she interjected before she officially received his manuscript, Coin tended to throw tantrums like a spoiled child. Then, with a deep sigh, Coin leaned back on his chair's backrest. Although his eyes were fixed on the monitor, still, his gesture suggested that he was taking a break. With that, the editor brought up the real reason for her visit, "You know you have to start getting ready for the Hugo Award Ceremony soon, right?" "Damn it," the author let out, scratching his head annoyedly. "Also, Worldcon is being held in Colorado, this year." The Hugo Award Ceremony took place during a massive science fiction convention by the name of Worldcon, and it was easily the highlight of the of the convention. When tracing the roots of the Hugo Award, one was bound to find readers. In other words, it was an award ceremony styled to be most enjoyable for readers. "Damn, I could really use a drink right about now." "Don't you even think about it," the editor said emphatically in order to prevent him from thinking about alcohol any further. "You made a promise with Yun Woo. I stopped by a bookstore on my way here, and the people who work there seemed to be predicting that Yun Woo was going to win." "Yun Woo this, Yun Woo that." "C'mon. You were so motivated when you came back from the ceremony. I'm sure something good will come out of the Hugo Award Ceremony too." With that, Isabella waited patiently for Coin, expecting him to refute her or curse up a storm. However, to her surprise, Coin remained silent. To be more precise, he seemed to be lost in thought. 'Did he think of an idea or something?' Isabella asked herself, waiting patiently. Then, instead of placing his hand on the keyboard of his laptop, he said, "It's not fair." It was out of the blue. On top of that, for someone who was complaining about unfairness, he was smiling ominously. Sensing trouble, the editor's brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Exactly what it means. It's not fair. Why am I the one getting on an airplane? It's not even my award." "Because you agreed to help Yun Woo out of your own volition." "It's just not fair." It was impossible to communicate with him, and Isabella's face twisted into a scowl. 'Is he implying that he's not gonna go to the ceremony…!?' "You're gonna be there. No matter what," she warned him before the author had a chance to say anything. At which point, Coin answered, "Tell Yun Woo to come, too." She couldn't believe what she had just heard. "... What was that?" "Tell Yun Woo to come." "... Do you think that what you're saying makes any sense?" If that'd been possible, Yun Woo wouldn't have asked Coin to be his representative, putting his safety on the line. In actuality, there had been an incident in which a staff member of Asian descent at the Nebula Award Ceremony had been mistaken for Yun Woo. To make matters worse, the hall had been filled with cameras already, and there was the live broadcast. As Isabella stood in her place with her mouth parted open in disbelief, Coin waved his hand in denial. "Whoever said anything about putting him up on stage? All I'm saying is that I shouldn't be the only one getting on a plane. Therefore, he should be suffering with me." "And?" "I'll invite him over." "Sigh." His absurd stubbornness was coming out again. "Seriously? Invite him over? My goodness, are you listening to yourself, right now!?" "What? Do you have any idea of how difficult it is to get invited to my house? I'm telling you, let's bring him here. We'll cover the plane ticket. With layover and delayed flights. Even better if there's a hurricane." Crossing her arms, Isabella asked, "You're kidding." "About the hurricane, maybe." Then, their eyes locked. Having stayed up all night, Coin's eyes looked noticeably more threatening than usual. However, the editor remained unintimidated. "We're talking about an underaged person. He's still in school," she said with a snort. "What's he got to learn from school?" "That's not for us to decide." "You know what, yeah. You bring up a good point. Let's send him an invitation. He'll decide whether or not he'll come here." As Isabella remained silent, Coin snickered with confidence. "My house has to be significantly more charming than some school." Then, the editor raised her hand while thinking that she would prepare the plane ticket, "I'm sure he'll say no." "No, he'll come." Isabella let out a heavy sigh at the author's stubborn remark. And before leaving the room, she said, "Don't forget about the award ceremony." "C'mon, now. You know me. I've never given up on a task midway from the moment I was born." "Oh, is that why you always bail in the middle of an event?" "I decide when an event ends." "Why do I even bother?" With that, Isabella walked out of the room and went down the stairs, calculating the time difference between the States and where Yun Woo lived. She was planning on emphasizing to him that it was entirely OK for him to turn down her request.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Come again?" Nam Kyung asked, and Juho repeated what he had said slowly, "I said I'm accepting Kelley Coin's invitation to go to the US." "Invitation to?" "His house." "His house as in…" "Yes, Coin's house." "You mean you're going to Kelley Coin's house!?" "Yes." A slew of words came up in the editor's mind. 'But, what about school? This is so sudden. What about the manuscript that's being revised as we speak? The Hugo Award announcement is right around the corner.' However, what came out of his mouth had nothing to do with those thoughts in his mind. "Are you going with somebody from Dong Baek Publishing Company?" "No. This is an informal invitation. It's personal." When Juho informed Jang Mi, her reaction hadn't been far from Nam Kyung's. Recently, Dong Baek Publishing Company was experiencing a steady increase in their stock price as Juho was nominated for the Hugo Award and formally invited to Worldcon, making him the first Korean to be invited there. With the massive festival that was Worldcon, where people would rent entire hotel buildings for different nations' delegations, Jang Mi was in a critical position. If things had been normal, Juho, too, would be there. "Are you going with your parents?" "No, I was planning on going by myself. It's not like I have trouble communicating with them or anything. Besides, Isabella told me that she'll come and pick me up." "It's a rough world out there. You're a VIP, Mr. Woo. Don't forget that," Nam Kyung said, but his intention was obvious. As Juho pretended to be oblivious, the editor brought up what was in his mind plainly, "I'll go with you as your guardian." It was obvious that he was desperate to take hold of the opportunity to visit Kelley Coin at his home. "I don't know if that'd be necessary." "All right, fine. I wanna go too, OK?" Before long, the editor spilled the truth. It wasn't rare for one to fly overseas when working for a publishing company. In fact, Nam Kyung had made a trip to Japan recently. Nevertheless, when it came to a matter regarding Yun Woo, who was essentially Korea's first, internationally acclaimed author, it only made sense that his publisher would prioritize the author. Nam Kyung explaining himself without even breathing, and needless to say, the young author had expected Nam Kyung to say those things from the moment he started talking. "OK. The more the merrier, I guess." "Great! I'll take care of the plane tickets." "Oh, that won't be necessary. Isabella told me that she'll be covering for our flight." The editor was delighted to hear that. Then, he began to ask about the details shortly after. "But, why the invitation all of a sudden?" "So…" Juho thought back to his phone call with Isabella. He had received the call right after arriving home from school. Though more timely, the call had left Juho puzzled initially, as it wasn't often that she called the young author personally. When he answered, he heard Isabella's brighter-than-usual voice. "So, Mr. Coin wants to invite you to his house." It was simply out of the blue. "Oh, uh… I appreciate it and all, but… why?" 'He probably wants to catch up with you.' There was no way that Kelley Coin's editor-in-charge would say something like that. It was highly unlikely that Coin would invite someone to his house simply out of good will. Then, upon reading the young author's demeanor, Isabella started beating around the bush, "As you already know, the Hugo Award Ceremony is just around the corner now." "Right. The convention is in August, I believe." "Right. And we, as in Mr. Coin and myself, will be attending the ceremony on your behalf. The convention is going to be held in Denver this year, and let me tell you, it's a beautiful place. It's really close to the Rocky Mountains. Although, it's a bit far from where we are." "... you're saying?" "So, Mr. Coin is insisting on sharing this wonderful opportunity with you. Should you decide to come, we're willing to cover your plane ticket here," she said quickly but precisely. Though she was speaking in a calm tone of voice, it was clear that even she knew how ridiculous her request was. Having grasped an idea of the situation through the conversation, Juho realized that the invitation was coming from a place of mischief, making Yun Woo endure hours and hours in an airplane. It wasn't hard to imagine Coin throwing a tantrum, refusing to go to the ceremony. He had to have come up with plausible arguments. What a child would normally joke about, the infamous author would say wholeheartedly and carry it out. Meanwhile, Isabella was relaying the situation to the young author, all while avoiding speaking ill of the author she had worked with. "You're not asking me to attend the ceremony myself by any chance, are you?" "Oh, no. You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Woo." "Is he aware that I'm underaged?" "He is, unfortunately." "Does he know that I'm in school, still?" "Yes, he does." The Hugo Award Ceremony was going to take place after the break was over. As the young author pondered, Isabella added, "You're more than welcome to decline, Mr. Woo." "I don't know…" "There's always next time, like the winter break. Coin will understand that much." Then, after some brief contemplation, Juho said, "I'll go." "What was that?" "I'll just skip school for a few days. Gotta get my trophy. Although, there's no promise that I'm actually getting one." At that, Isabella answered by reflex, "A lot of people consider you to be one of the most prominent candidates. Are you really coming though?" "How can I not? I was invited by Coin." "Are you sure? You can always turn it down, you know," she said, as if wanting him to for some reason. However, If anybody were to ask the young author if he would rather go to school or to the house of a world-renowned author, he wouldn't hesitate to choose the latter. On top of that, the fact that Juho was an author himself made the decision-making process even easier. "Yes, I'm sure." "Thank you, Mr. Woo. I'm sure Coin will be delighted to hear this. I'll look in to that ticket right away," she said quietly and hung up. --- "The US?" Juho swallowed the cold beverage that traveled up through the straw. It was sweet and delightful. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang was giving him a dumbfounded look. Then, Juho nodded affirmingly. "And you're going AFTER school starts? Aren't you a junior?" Because he was attending summer school, Seo Kwang was still in his uniform. His head hung low as the young author shrugged it off. His mother was behind him by the register, busy making drinks. "You know what? It's Kelley Coin of all people. You have to go. I know I would. Who cares about school?" Seo Kwang said. His fist shaking on the desk was telling Juho how he was really feeling. "I'm so jealous," Seo Kwang said, adding quietly, "Must be nice being Yun Woo." "Well, bring back bunch of pictures, all right? I promise I'll keep them to myself." "As long as the host lets me." "And Kelley Coin is that host! This is insane!!" Seo Kwang said frantically. Considering that his friend was going to miss school for a few days in order to go to the US under invitation from Kelley Coin, it only made sense that Seo Kwang would get that excited. Those were things that Seo Kwang could only dream of. "You know what? I'm giving you the copy of his book I keep for preservation." "For what?" "I want you to get it signed." That was quite the tall order. "You do realize whose house I'm going to, right?" "Not even you, though?" "Not even me." Seo Kwang sighed deeply at Juho's disappointing answer. At that moment, Juho remembered another person who had had a similar reaction. "Baron had the same reaction as you." "Oh, yeah! Baron," Seo Kwang let out, looking up and adding that he had visited the store recently. "You know, it must be nice being on break as a college student," Seo Kwang said with the genuine longing of a high school student. "But it seems like college students have their own problems to deal with." "I'm sure they do." "Baron told me that he's been going around looking for a part-time job." Baron, too, was aware that Juho was going to the US, and when he heard the news for the first time, he sighed heavily and said, "I guess the world is your oyster, still." "And what did Sun Hwa have to say?" Juho asked. "She just slapped me on the back. I think she's been getting stressed out preparing for the SAT." Sun Hwa was the most mindful of her GPA out of the entire Literature Club. Because she had been maintaining impressive grades up to that point, she was aiming for the top universities within Seoul. Since establishing her goal of being a teacher, she had been working even harder to maintain her grades. In the meantime, while Seo Kwag was resting his chin on his hand, Juho stared into the wall for a little while and asked, "What about Bom?" "She said 'Have a safe a trip.'" "That's it?" "Yep. Oh, she wants you to bring something back for her." "That was disappointing." "Bo Suk's eyes though. They were so sparkly that I had a hard time looking away." "I can only imagine… And the twins?" "I told them that you're going on a trip. I mean, it's not a lie technically," Seo Kwang said, snickering quietly. Then, he added, "Man, just imagine the look on their faces when they put the pieces together." The club members saw Juho off, each reacting differently to his trip. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang drank his coffee. "So, when are you leaving?" "Tomorrow." "Tomorrow?!" Seo Kwang asked with a puzzled look on his face, as though wondering what the young author was still doing in his store. Then, Juho waved his hand in order to reassure his friend. "I've already packed everything." "Still. Aren't you a little too laid back right now?" Seo Kwang grumbled, scratching his head and rising from his seat. Then, after pulling a book out of a shelf, he handed it over to Juho. It was one of the books being sold in the cafe. "You're gonna be flying for a while. Read that while you're in the plane." It was a traveler's journal written by Hermann Hesse after his trip to India. "But I'm going to the US." "That's why I specifically chose that book. I'd be spoiling your trip if I were to I give you a similar book written by someone who went to the same country you're going to." "Well, thanks. Although, I don't know if I'll have the time to read it." "Why? Do you have things to do?" "Revisions." "Then you take care of that first," Seo Kwang said emphatically, and nodding haphazardly, Juho opened the book Seo Kwang had given him. While Hermann Hesse's books tended to be a bit difficult to understand at times, they were good reads for the most part. In the end, the young author ended up reading through the entire book before he had to leave for the airport the next morning. "You look tired," Nam Kyung said as they met in front of the airport, and Juho simply smiled. Although Isabella had prepared first class, direct flight tickets for them, simply the thought of having to stay in the same space for fourteen hours was quite suffocating to the young author. While Nam Kyung took advantage of the first-class services and pressed every button around him, Juho focused on revising his manuscript for most part of the trip, stopping only for meals. Then, while Juho was eating, a foreigner struck up a conversation with him on his way back from the restroom. "You seemed to be hard at work. What you got there, if you don't mind me asking?" He had to be curious of the restless keyboard noises that he had been hearing. While feeling Nam Kyung studying the situation, Juho said carelessly, "I'm writing." "I knew it!" "It's a novel." Although he appeared to be slightly taken aback by how fluent the young author's English was, the foreigner smiled at Juho's answer. Then, upon realizing that he had someone to talk to in his native tongue, words started gushing out of the foreigner, "You know, I wrote a script when I was young, too. I was the protagonist of the story." "What happened to it?" "It became fodder for my wife's laughter. I still have it, though." The foreigner had a keen interest in writing. Then, as he tried to peek into Juho's laptop, Nam Kyung jumped out of his seat, and Juho covered the screen even quicker. Smiling brightly, the foreigner said, "I understand. I won't beg you to show me what you're working on." "I appreciate that." "Well, break a leg." With that, the foreigner returned to his seat, and Nam Kyung, too, sat back in his seat with a sigh of relief. "You have to protect your manuscript at all cost," the editor whispered, asking the flight attendant passing by for glass of whiskey. "Of course. I've done this long enough." "You tend to let your guard down at times because you don't know just how famous you are." "Well, I just look like an ordinary student on the outside," Juho said to the editor in response to his nagging. To which, Nam Kyung nodded affirmingly. The young author looked out the window at the bed of clouds.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Whew, finally!" After landing at JFK Airport, Juho stretched as he walked out of the plane. His entire body felt stiff after being in the airplane for so long. Although the airport was brimming with people, Nam Kyung skillfully led Juho out of it. "We should go out. Isabella's waiting outside." "All right." Walking past the giant American flag at the airport, Juho followed his editor outside. The New York air felt somewhat different from the air in Korea, and as they saw the foreigners going about their ways on the streets, it dawned on Juho that he really was an outsider. The graffiti on the walls looked just like they did in the movies. The thunderous sound of engines roared in the sky. The plane flying across the sky seemed a lot bigger than usual. While the young author was looking around, Nam Kyung struck up a conversation with him, "Having fun?" "Yeah. We really are in New York." "How is it?" "Let's just say that it feels like a big city." "That sounds about right. Shopping is just about the only thing there is to do around here," the editor said, shaking his head and adding that he had never had a positive experience while visiting New York. It wasn't clear whether it was the weather or the buildings around them, but the entire city seemed to have a grey tinge to it. "There she is," the editor said. When Juho looked forward, he saw Isabella leaning against her car, looking in their direction. Then, spotting them from the distance, she walked toward them. "Welcome to the US," she said light-heartedly, and Nam Kyung greeted her back in a slightly stiff English, "How have you been?" "I've been well. Mr. Woo… or, uh… would it be better to call you Juho?" "Yes, no need to be so formal." Then, being conscious of the people around her, she added, "It seems like you've been doing well yourself, Juho." She drove a British car. After putting his bags in the trunk, Juho entered the car and sat in the back seat, while Nam Kyung sat on the passenger's side. Enjoying the comfortable ride, the young author looked out the window and watched the scenery roll by. Although the sights were unfamiliar, there was nothing that felt new because Juho was able to understand every word Isabella and Nam Kyung was saying in the car. Rather than a foreign country, it felt more like his first time visiting Myungdong. A yellow cab rushed passed them. Then, stopping at a red light, Isabella said, "We're headed for Manhattan now, and you'll be staying in Coin's apartment there for the next three days." "Three days?" "Yes. You might as well get a look around while you're in the States before you see Coin. After that, we'll be on our way to his villa, which he uses as his studio. He should be back from Worldcon by the time we get there. Until then, you're free to look around." Then, she added in a hurry," Oh, one more thing. I'd like for you to understand that our schedule heavily reflects Coin's opinions." After brief contemplation, Juho asked, "Do you think we can see the apartment building in Manhattan?" "It's a luxurious building that Coin bought for himself with the money he made from his books. I'm sure he means to ensure that his guests have a good time." At that, Juho was made certain that Coin was looking to show off his possessions and wealth. "When we get to his villa, you'll be able to meet Susan as well." Knowing that Susan had made appearances in a number of Coin's books in various forms, Juho grew curious as to what she would be like in person. "Is the villa luxurious too?" "It's a place known for corn plantations. You'll see why he chose that place to write when we get there." From then on, Isabella took Juho and Nam Kyung around Manhattan, to Fifth Avenue and the St. Patrick's Cathedral. "Well, how are you feeling? The Hugo Award Ceremony is just around the corner," she asked, locking eyes with the young author through the mirror. Then, he cracked the window open slightly and said, "Not bad. Not bad at all." "You seem a lot calmer than I thought you would be. Are you expecting you'll win?" "No way." "If I were in your shoes, I'd be dancing up and down." "It's too early to celebrate, isn't it?" "You'll see what I mean once we get to the bookstore," having a solid understanding of the characteristics of the Hugo Award, she said honestly. Similar to the time when Coin came out with his sophomore title after his debut title turned out to be a failure, Yun Woo was currently among the most prominent figures in the literary world. While everyone was wary of the young author on one hand, they were curious on the other. Whether they viewed him from a positive or negative perspective, it was undeniable that they were fixing their eyes on him. "You, Mr. Woo, are a very strong candidate," Isabella said. Many of her professional acquaintances shared a similar opinion. Yet, with a shrug, the young author answered modestly, "You never know, just like how I had no idea that Kelley Coin would invite me to his house." "You got me there. I had no idea that you'd come to the States, either," she said, studying Juho's face. Unlike Coin, he was calm. He wasn't in the habit of frowning or cheering out loud. He was quite the riveting person, and she thought to herself that Coin should learn to be more like the young author. "If Coin were in my shoes, do you think he would've been going around telling people that he'd win?" Though Isabella was caught off guard by the young author's timely question, she was still able to respond with ease, "I'd say to the point of arrogance. He'd even go as far as telling people that it would be wrong for that trophy not to end up in his hands." "Well, I guess he's earned the right to." Then, looking ahead, she added, "So have you." Much like Coin, Yun Woo was also a world-renowned author. However, the young author simply smiled quietly. Meanwhile, listening to their conversation, Nam Kyung read the articles that were turning up in real-time on his phone. --- "The Double Crown! The Next Challenge of the First Asian Nebula Winner!" "What is the Hugo Award? A Prestigious Literary Award Named After the President of a Famous American Magazine with a History of Half a Century." "Who Has Earned the Double Crown Thus Far? Will Yun Woo Be Able to Jump the Wall That Was Too High Even for Kelley Coin?" "The Doubts of Critics Overseas. 'How Was a Country Void of Support, Educational Facilities, and Investiment for Writers Able to Produce an Author Like Yun Woo? He's Like a Bird That Came Down from the Sky. We Don't Know Where He Came From or Where He's Headed." "Yun Woo, the New Wave in the Literary World. His Future Trajectory. What Makes His Writing So Special?" "The Ever-So-Controversial Writing Style of the Young Author. Split-Personality Theory, Proven To Be True? Critics Overseas Speak." "Yun Woo, a World-Renowned Author Who is Still in School. What's He Got to Say? Where Is He? A Wave of International Media Floods South Korea. His Publisher Remains Silent." "'Cast Your Votes!' Who Will Be the Next Hugo Winner? A Closer Look at the Authors and Participants of Worldcon." "Team Korea Gets a Formal Invitation, but Where's the Author? Reported to be Staying at a Hotel Nearby." "An Interview with Yun Woo's Competing Nominee. 'It's an Honor Regardless of Who Wins. Come Join the Readers and Their Favorite Authors at Worldcon. You're Missing Out!'" "Kelley Coin Appears Again! Participating as a Representative. His Prediction?" "'I Don't Care Who Wins. It's None of My Business. Enough with the Same Old Questions.' Photos of the Angry Author." "The Award Ceremony Just Around the Corner. Who Will Readers Vote for?" --- "Man, I love Yun Woo." "If not Yun Woo, then who else? Just give it to him, already." "Yun Woo! Get that Hugo, man!" "I love all geniuses that exist in this world, but among them, I love Yun Woo the most." "If he really ends up getting the Double Crown at nineteen, that will be a record that nobody will be able to break for at least another century." "I predict three centuries. His record will stand until God in 'Language of God' dies." "So proud of him! The fact that I even get to talk about something like this is unbelievable. It brings tears to my eyes whenever I think back on how science fiction has been received in Korea." "The unthinkable has happened." "I don't think I've ever felt this way toward an author. That's just amazing." "The Double Crown will really suit him well. I think Yun Woo has what it takes to carry that weight." "Whenever I read his books, I can't help but struggle to find the adjective that sufficiently describes him. His writing is life-changing." "Maybe this is what it felt like to be living in the same age as Shakespeare." "I wish the entire world knew about him." "Commenting here after watching Taylor Sander's special interview for the Hugo Ceremony. I think it's worth watching if you wanna know more about the author." "I just saw it, too. He had a lot of subjective things to say, but they'll remind you that Yun Woo never lets us down. There's a translated version available, so go check it out." "I think it'd be more accurate to say that he's an astounding specimen rather than just another translator who excels at subtle nuances when translating." "I don't have to talk about how amazing his writing is, but it seems like he has a talent in translating, too. Sanders had a lot of good things to say about him." "Sanders is one of the most highly-acclaimed translators around, and yet, he had nothing but good things to say about Yun Woo's translation." "'I respect him.' His own words. He said he respects Yun Woo not just as a writer, but as a translator, too." "So that's what happens when your language skill is on overdrive." "When a genius pursues the path of music, they become the next Mozart. When they pursue art, they become the next Leonardo Da Vinci. When they pursue writing, though, I would say that they become Yun Woo. We're reading novels written by a genius, people!" "That's a fancy way to put it. It makes me feel super privileged just reading his books. I definitely recognize Sanders and his works, but the fact that I get to read Yun Woo's book in its original language is really something." "I really hope he keeps writing for a long time. I'd buy every single one of his books. I never second-guess myself when buying books." "..." -- "Yun Woo is a marvelous author. He's bound to be happy if he were to win." An avid science fiction fan participating in Worldcon was reading an article in a magazine. It had an exaggerated title that read, 'The Chance Yun Woo Has of Achieving the Double Crown According to Taylor Sanders, the Translator of 'Language of God.'' With the ballot before him, the fan was feeling conflicted. Six blank spaces. Five candidates. With the exception of the option to abstain from voting, all five candidates were excellent authors who had written excellent pieces of writing, which were considered to be the most outstanding science fiction fantasy novels of the last two years. Of course, the fan had read every single one of them, and not a single one had brought him disappointment. Because of fans like him, those five novels were able to make it all the way to the finals. "Choices, choices." The fan pondered, thinking back on each and every one of the novels. Then, his eyes went to the magazine he had been reading. Frankly, he had been hearing about one particular nominee up to the last minute. To be precise, his head had been filled to the brim with thoughts about his novel. The novel had won him over with its very first sentence, and the fan vividly remembered the experience of shock and awe he learned just by whom the novel had been written, by an author who was growing increasingly popular in the States: Yun Woo of 'Language of God.' The fan brushed his hand across the author's name on the ballot, listed as the fifth candidate. There was no end to explanations of how excellent 'Language of God' was. Along with theories on Yun Woo, 'Language of God' was a common topic in a monthly gathering the fan had been going to. Since the winner of the Nebula Award had been declared, and the Hugo Award Ceremony had started, the topic of Yun Woo had become even more popular. "Yun Woo, the Eighth Wonder of the World." That was the title the group had decided to give the young author. Like the Great Pyramid of Giza or Machu Picchu, asking questions about Yun Woo only led to more questions. There was no solid evidence of anything, anywhere, only questions. How? How was he able to write like that?" Science fiction fans tended to love authors of excellent science fiction fantasy novels. They looked up to them, and that same affection was directed toward Yun Woo just as intensely. They loved and respected the young author. Then, why couldn't they vote for him more willingly? That was because Yun Woo was simply too massive of an identity. Humans tended to be overwhelmed before an identity that they couldn't comprehend, denying it. Then, the fan read Sanders' response to the interviewer in the magazine. "Yun Woo is real. He's alive. He eats with chopsticks and types away on the keyboard of his laptop. Not only does he translate, but he also writes. We can communicate in the same language. He's also the youngest and the most mature author of all the other authors I've met thus far. He knows how to contemplate, make decisions, and be responsible with the results of his choices. While he's ordinary at times, he can also be anything but." The fan read on. "The one thing I can say for certain is that I've never met anybody like him. He's truly unique!" The fan recognized the young author's existence. There were traces left by the author that were simply undeniable, too real to think that he didn't exist. A Nebula winner, not only did he send Kelley Coin as his representative and meet with Taylor Sanders, but he also took part in translating his own novel. Yun Woo was very much real. However, the same question returned the moment one accepted that truth: How was he able to write like that? "Damn it. The last time I had this hard a time making a decision was deciding where to go out," the fan let out, rubbing his face irritably. A part of him made him think that he didn't want to cast his vote for an author who was putting him through such misery. While he wanted to vote for Yun Woo, another part of him didn't want to. Whenever the fan thought about the young author, he couldn't help but find himself wrestling with contradicting thoughts. Next to the young author on the ballot, was a fifty-five-year-old author who was being nominated for the Hugo Award for the fifth time. The fan felt his heart leaning toward him. 'Who did others vote for?' A lot of people had to be going through what he was going through. Then, after wrestling long and hard with his thoughts, the fan made up his mind. He wasn't certain as to how his vote would affect the results, but he was certain of one thing. "If Yun Woo achieves the Double Crown, then I'm starting a protest to demand he reveals himself." With that, his arduous voting process finally came to an end.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Mr. Woo is resting in his room," Isabella said, conveying the news about Yun Woo to Coin, who was staying in a hotel in Denver, Colorado. He had finished his room service meal by that point. Coin was solely responsible for Juho and Nam Kyung being forced to walk about the streets of New York. As he relaxed with his feet on the table, Isabella said, "Was that really necessary? You hardly ever touch the place." The apartment he had provided Yun Woo with was in one of the buildings that he would visit once or twice a year at most, and he was leaving the management of the building to a hired hand. "That's gotta be the dumbest question I've ever heard." "What is?" "My houses, cars, properties. I paid for them with the money I made out of my books. If I don't show them off to Yun Woo, then who else can I do that to?" Holding back her laughter at his shameless remark, Isabella said, "One would think that you bought those houses just so you can show them off." "That's right. I wanted to show that pretentious journalist up." "That's gotta be the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Then, without giving an answer, Coin redirected his attention to the view out the window, from where he could see countless cars and homes. "I make a living by writing." "That, I know. What else would you have left without it?" "My social skills and sense of cooperation." "That's a terrible joke," she said, looking at the author. However, he was serious. "I mean it. There's no way to get around them, no matter how well-off I might be. Those are skills necessary for survival, don't you think? This damn ecosystem of ours," he said, looking down at the streets and the pedestrians walking on them. Looking at his back, it sounded, to her ears, like he was picking a fight with the rest of the world. "I know my place in the literary world, and it all started when I threw a punch at the face of this world's hierarchy." "You punched a person, I believe." At that, Coin's shoulders moved up and down as he laughed. His face wasn't visible from where the editor was. "Good point. You see, it's strange how I made enemies with the rest of the literary world and some societies when I punched that person." Although his personality had definitely been one of the major contributing factors to his reputation in the industry, there also existed an even bigger contributing factor, and Isabella was also well aware of that. If it had been the nose of another rookie author that Coin had broken with his fist, things wouldn't have blown out of proportion like they had. In fact, nobody would've remembered it ever happening. Coin had authority, and breaking some rookie author's nose wouldn't change a thing. Those with authority tended to have connections. Lots of them. "I've won both the Nebula and Hugo four times each, along with countless awards in the genre, pure literature, screenwriting, and children's literature categories. My skills have been approved, and even though people might hate my guts, they have no choice but to approve of me as well. At the end of the day, my books are the ones flying off the shelves." "So, you survived solely on your skill as a writer." "That's not entirely true," he denied it, which took the editor by surprise. "Then?" "Luck. The fact that I'm the only survivor is evidence of that." Coin was a world-renowned author, and of course, given that he had had a rough start as an author, getting to that point meant having to fight his way through. Isabella recalled shedding tears when reading Coin's writing. At the same time, she also recalled shedding tears reading books written by other authors. There had to have been authors who hadn't been as lucky as Coin, and even more suffered under an unfair system. "It's all made by men," Coin said. Both system and authority had been born out of the hands of men, and that applied to just about everything Isabella saw when looking over Coin's shoulders. It was a bitter reality, and it was all the more vivid to Coin. "In this world, there are murderers as well as doctors." "Yes, just like in your writing," Isabella said, remembering one of Coin's manuscripts in the past. A murderer and a doctor had been two of the characters in one of the novels Coin had written. "Someone who committed a murder in order to protect their child, and another who revived the dying patient for money and fame. Someone who became a murderer after killing a burglar, and another who became a doctor after saving a murderer." "That's right. It's my job to write about people," Coin said with his eyes fixed on the window. Although Isabella wasn't seeing anything particular, Coin had to think otherwise. "Now, tell me. Whose side are you on?" Crossing her arms, Isabella played along with the author's childish attitude. "He stabbed a person to death, though." "But the court rules it's self-defense." "... I'd still take the doctor's side." "Right. You mean the one that takes bribes and only accepts patients he feels like," Coin said with an apparent sarcasm in his tone. "Yep, that doctor. The one that neglects patients who are poor and helpless," the editor answered, standing her ground. "Why?" "Because the murderer bought his innocense. I just can't accept it." "I knew you wouldn't. I'm sure there are plenty of readers out there who think like you. At the same time, there should be just as many who would disagree with you," Coin said. "But you know what? Both sides of the argument are wrong. Both of those characters are monsters, so there's no use in choosing a side. Those characters changed once they tasted the sweet temptation of their world." "I thought it was your job to write about people?" Isabella said poignantly. "That's the problem. The monsters always turn out to be people in the end." Coin's writing was both warning and insult. It was a means of pointing fingers at the uncomfortable truth that said, 'There exist people like this, and you, too, may very well be like them one day. In fact, some of you are already there." "Then, whose side are you on?" Isabella asked. "I'm on my side," he said at once, and the editor played along, "Opposed to what?" "To myself before I started writing. As everyone knows, I tend to soften up when I write. It's only gotten worse as of late." "That's something I don't hear every day. The difference must be apparent only to you." "Well, in any case, that's why I'm on my side." Isabella clicked her tongue. Although she wanted to let him have it, there was no means to do it. She couldn't think of anything to say. Then, she remembered a coworker of hers who had decided to leave the company last month. The coworker had already been searching for a new job, and their young age didn't work to their advantage. Everyone around them, including Isabella, had tried to talk the coworker out of their decision because they knew just how cruel the world could be. It would be a battle that the coworker had no chance of winning. When hearing Coin say that he had softened up, Isabella couldn't help but chuckle. According to the world-renowned author she had been working with, she was supposed to be rooting for him rather than opposing him. Then, Coin turned away all of a sudden. "So, I have no problem showing off to Yun Woo. If anything, I should be showing myself off to him because it's something to be proud of. All these literary societies will have to give me more awards, and more people will have to read more of my books. Even if Yun Woo were to achieve the Double Crown, he would still have a ways to go until he caught up to me, and I have been going out of my way to let him know that." Isabella shook her head at the author's paradoxical thought process. "There's nothing tackier than showing off your wealth." "Maybe in the hierarchical sense." "Huh. Does that mean you recognize that Yun Woo's skill level is equivalent to yours?" At her question, Coin's mood deteriorated in no time. Then, he turned around and laid himself on his bed. Letting him be, she checked her phone and said, "Why don't we make our way to the ceremony, now? The people from Dong Baek Publishing are already there." The author remained silent, and Isabella sighed heavily, saying, "Here we go again." In the end, Coin and Isabella ended up running late for the ceremony, interrupting the presenter working the crowd up. In wasn't long before the crowd in the hall, which was significantly bigger than the one for Nebula's ceremony, recognized Coin's unnecessarily confident presence. Everyone there was an author, and authors tended to be sensitive to their surroundings. "Kelley Coin," somebody let out. Among them, were those who blamed Yun Woo for sending Coin as his representative. --- "Why isn't he saying anything all of a sudden? Juho asked looking at the presenter on the screen. Although talking uninterruptedly even up to a moment before, the older, half-bald presenter was looking into the distance in a daze. Meanwhile, Susan shrugged while eating her popcorn, "Who knows? Maybe there's been an accident of sorts." Juho had flown from New York just the day before. He had stayed in Manhattan for three days before that, catching up with Nabi in the meantime, who was on a business trip. Unfortunately, meeting with Sanders proved to be difficult due to their conflict in schedules, forcing them to hold off on their meeting. Meanwhile, eating bread made and offered by Susan, Juho thought back on the time he met with Nabi. She had taken the young author to a Korean restaurant in the States. "It still feels surreal to think that I was at the ceremony when you won the Nebula. You weren't there, of course, but that's just a minor detail. That had to be one of the happiest days of my life." "That's wonderful." "But I'm not ready to let up just yet." Juho didn't find her words surprising. She was an ambitious person, and it seemed like her mind was already full of thoughts about the Hugo Award. As the young author remained unfazed, the agent slammed her hand down next to a plate on the table and said, "If you were to achieve the Double Crown, you'll be the center of global attention, Mr. Woo." "You mean, more than I already am? I don't know if I like the sound of that." "What are you talking about!? Everyone will look up to you! No author has ever made a name for themselves at your age!" she said, looking straight at the young author's eyes. "Everyone will think that you've led a successful life." At that, Juho chuckled and said, "You think so?" "Of course! There are plenty of people out there who want to be like you, live like you, and lead a life like yours, even as we speak." Juho couldn't remember what he had said to Nabi in response because he had been distracted by another thought. He reminisced to his past. Everyone had probably thought of him as someone who led a failed life, and the name Yun Woo had always been associated with downfall and misfortune. The media had constantly shown his face on the screen and brought up his name once people forgot about him. Did the unfortunate author think that he had led a failed life, too? Perhaps that had been why he had drowned his brain in alcohol as a means to avoid thinking about his life. "What do you think?" Juho looked up at Susan's voice. She was holding a shiny white teacup in her hand, which looked new. "About what?" "The results." "Oh, you mean the Hugo Award." Then, Susan stared intently at the young author. "What's the matter?" "You don't seem nervous. Not one bit. Your editor, on the other hand, seems like he's on the verge of having a heart attack." At that, Juho looked at Nam Kyung, who was sitting next to him, and whose limbs were shaking uncontrollably. "Are you OK?" "I feel like my heart's about to burst," the editor said, looking deathly pale. At that, Juho was made certain that he wasn't joking. "Should I call an ambulance?" "I'm OK… for now." Juho looked at the two talking candidly. There was not one bit of awkwardness in the air from the moment they first met. Being an editor, Nam Kyung excelled in interpersonal relationships. On top of that, Susan was just as interesting. "It's an honor to be sharing this moment with you, Mr. Woo." "Same here," Susan said, placing her hand on the editor's, which was still shaking uncontrollably. "Me too. Watching the ceremony on live TV at Kelley Coin's house? I'm flattered." At that moment, the crowd on TV exploded into applause, and the three turned their eyes toward the screen at once.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Huh. I read that book." "It's a good read." Juho looked at the screen. The authors who won the award in the short story category were running up to the stage from the dark. There were two winners sharing the prize, and both of them seemed to have paid close attention to their clothes. They were each dressed in a black, one in a suit and the other in a dress. The female author received her trophy first, and with the consent of her co-recipient, she gave her speech. Looking deeply moved, she spoke clearly, facing the audience. Meanwhile, the black trophy in her hand shone from the spotlight. She brought up the messages she had conveyed through her writing, as well as some of the realities she had faced while writing. At that moment, Juho felt a weight on his arm. "This is it, Mr. Woo." Next, was the full-length novel category. There had been five novels that had been nominated for that category, including 'Language of God.' Meanwhile, feeling Nam Kyung's hand tightly grasping his wrist, Juho felt just how nervous the editor was. It was ice-cold, and the young author was fully aware that his hands were just as cold. Then, afraid that the editor would catch on to his faster-than-usual pulse, Juho move Nam Kyung's hand off his wrist, chuckling. "Breathe, Mr. Park," the young author said. Nam Kyung tried to look composed, but to no avail. Despite having taken no part in the book that had been nominated for the award, Nam Kyung was still on the edge of his seat. Having been reading Juho's writing in its rawest form, Nam Kyung was the strictest and most level-headed when it came to editing the young author's novels. Juho reminisced to his failures in his past life. He recalled Nam Kyung trying to talk him out of a decision that would lead him to tragedy, but Juho hadn't listened to him. As a result, their relationship had come to an end. "Now, I'm getting all nervous," Susan said, rubbing her hands together. She was enjoying the contagious thrill. "I think you're gonna get that award, young man," Susan said with her eyes fixed on the TV. The camera was showing the hall. "What makes you think that?" "Because nobody there is as riveting as you are, aside from my son," Susan said, and Juho smiled. Seeing his own writing on the screen was quite the fascinating experience. And now, after causing a ruckus, it was chasing after an award. "This must be how parents feel, wishing that their child gets the award," the young author said. "Well, ain't that an interesting analogy," Susan said, laughing, but she soon disagreed with him. "How are they different?" "How often do parents go up on stage on behalf of their kid? If their kid did well, then the award will go to the kid, and what the parents end up with is the gratitude of their kid, not their award." At that, Juho nodded in agreement. Coin had mentioned his mother's name frequently in his speeches at award ceremonies. "But books don't thank their creators. Books don't get awards because they don't do jack." Then, thanking her parents in closing, the female author stepped down from the stage on the screen. "The way I see it, my son's been getting those awards because he earned them himself." "Your love for your son is admirable." Laughing heartily at the young author's remark, Susan said, "So, stay on your toes a little. After all, one gets nervous when one expects something, like your editor next to you." At that, Juho looked at Nam Kyung, whose legs were shaking uncontrollably still. He was genuinely hoping that Yun Woo would receive the award. Then, before Juho had time to say anything to him, the editor pointed toward the TV. "All right, now, that brings us to the full-length category," the presenter on TV said, holding an envelope that contained the name of the winner within it. The three fixed their eyes on the screen and watched the presenter open the envelope in his hand, slowly taking out the paper within it. Juho clasped his hands together. They were cold and damp, telling him just how nervous he was with expectation for the award. "C'mon," a voice murmured from the side. At that moment, the presenter on the screen moved his lips for a split second, announcing the winner. At that, Nam Kyung jumped from his seat, and Susan threw both of her hands in the air. The audience was exploding into applause, its loudness incomparable to that directed toward the previous winner. "Yun Woo! Congratulations! Oh, right. Also known as Won Yi Young!" the presenter added in a hurry, but it got buried by the applauding audience. At that moment, as Coin rose from his seat, a handful of the audience members let out a gasp in awe. Everyone there knew that the young author had set a new record in winning the two awards considered to be the highest honor in science fiction. Then, the camera focused on Coin going up to the stage, wearing a seemingly sulking look on his face. The applause continued even as the presenter handed him the trophy and while Coin took a piece of paper out of his pocket. With both of his hands on his head, Nam Kyung was about to fall over backward, and Susan was getting a good laugh out of him. Meanwhile, Juho couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from turning up. Taking the hand that he had shared Nam Kyung's anxiety with, Juho covered his mouth and locked eyes with Coin on the screen. "Mr. Woo!" Nam Kyung let out, charging toward the young author. His weight tipped the young author backward. Then, with his back on the floor, the young author burst into laughter at the sight of the ceiling. --- "Starry night," the young author let out, looking up at the sky outside. Although it was late, he was wide awake. Juho recalled seeing only two stars in the sky when he'd first asked Coin to be his representative. And now, the sky was full of them, more than he could count. Depending on where he was, the night sky also changed its appearance. Since news had gotten out that Yun Woo had won the Hugo Award, Juho and Nam Kyung were getting flooded with phone calls. Nam Kyung, in particular, had to answer call after call, all the while trying to calm himself down. Meanwhile, Susan took them to a restaurant in order to celebrate the young author's victory. Although it wasn't exactly close, their food turned out to be worth the drive. "It's so flat here," the young author said as he looked around at the scenery. Although he had felt that way when he first arrived at Coin's house, the view was completely different from Manhattan. Unlike downtown, which was filled with skyscrapers, famous brands, and pedestrians, there was nothing around the house but flatland stretching endlessly into the horizon. Coin's house was built in the middle of nowhere. Juho recalled corn being the only thing he had seen on his car ride there. It was the countryside, and seeing the open field brought peace to the young author's heart. It made sense that Coin had decided to write there. After a little while, Juho saw a pair of lights approaching from the distance. A car was coming. The house was just about the only thing around in the area, which meant that it was highly likely that the car was headed for the house. Juho stood straight as the car approached the house at a dangerous speed, stopping shortly after. "Coin," the young author let out as the driver came out of the car. Coin, too, was looking in Juho's direction, looking as crabby as ever. "Why aren't you sleeping?" "Because I can sleep when I want to." It didn't sound quite like a conversation between a guest and the person who invited him to the States. Then, as if he was having a similar thought, Coin, too, snickered. After that, taking something out of the car, he threw it at Juho, and the young author caught it by reflex. It was a trophy. "Did you have to throw it? It would've shattered into pieces if I hadn't caught it." "That's a shame." Long and shaped like a rocket, the trophy had some weight to it. After feeling it and tapping on it, he asked his representative, "Aren't you gonna congratulate me?" "No." Of course. "All right. I still have a ways to go until I get congratulations from Kelley Coin." "You should be showing off." "That's not necessary for a person who actually has something to show off." "Why? Because you're Yun Woo?" "Well, you're not wrong." Then, after turning off the engine, Coin approached the young author. "Can't sleep, huh?" he asked, looking around at the dark. "Yep." "You must be pretty excited," Coin said, narrowing his eyes at the young author. To which, Juho answered honestly, "It's the jetlag." "Yeah right." "I'm serious." Coin didn't believe him for a second. Then, seeing a smirk on his face, Juho remembered something he had seen on TV earlier that day. "Seemed like you caused quite a ruckus at the ceremony." "I didn't do anything." Then, Juho quoted his interview, which took place after the ceremony, "I don't think I'm lesser than Yun Woo. In other words, the reason I couldn't get the Double Crown is solely on you people, who clearly haven't learned how to count." Among the suspicions that had been following Coin, were also scandals relating to the ballot, which most people knew about. "Seems like things are about to get noisy again." "When haven't they been?" "I guess you're right." "You make it sound like it only applies to me." Just as Coin had said, Yun Woo's decision to have Coin represent him at the ceremonies turned out to carry just as much noise. "Do you have any idea how much of a hassle it was to answer all those questions about you?" Coin said, wearing a similar expression to the one he had had on the stage. "I'm never doing this again," he said, just like Juho had expected he would. From the start, the young author didn't think that he would be able to ask him to do it again. On top of that, nobody else would be as daring as Juho to ask Kelley Coin to receive an award on their behalf. "Well, I appreciate you trying. Although, I don't think I can ask you to do this again. I'm afraid you'd break my trophies." "Oh, no. I'm sorry. Maybe I should've snapped it in half on my way here." As absurd as it sounded, it was more than possible for Coin to carry that out into action. And knowing that, Juho didn't comment on it any further. Then, the two went into the house, and each went back to their rooms. That night, Juho couldn't get any sleep. When Juho went downstairs the next morning, he saw Susan on the couch, watching the TV with a cigarette in her mouth. Although it wasn't exactly late, she seemed to have finished all the housework that she needed to do. Juho walked over to an antique-looking chair next to her and sat on it. "Do you know that your son came home last night?" "I saw his car." "He must've driven into the night. What was the hurry?" "There is none. He's just impatient," Susan said, shaking her head subtly. Then, following her looked over his shoulders, Juho turned back and saw that Coin had also come downstairs. "Kind of early for gossip, ain't it?" he said. Still wearing his pajamas, it seemed like he hadn't even washed his face yet. Despite having come home well into the night, he had managed to wake up quite early. He, too, had to have quite the stamina. "Did you sleep well?" "Yep," Susan said, picking up a magazine from the stack on the table. "I already ate. I made soup." "Is there bread?" "I bought some hand-cured bacon, too." Juho remained silent between their conversation. Then, he watched Coin go into the kitchen and take a frying pan out. "Are you gonna cook?" "I'm hungry," Coin said. As Coin took a couple of eggs out of the box, Juho stood next to him and asked, "Are you gonna make me some, too?" Coin remained silent, and it wasn't clear what answer he was giving Juho. In order to confirm, Juho observed the space left and where the oil was on the the frying pan. "There's one more aside from myself, don't forget." "Are you telling me to make breakfast for somebody who's not even awake yet?" "I'll go wake him up." "Well, hurry up. You wouldn't want it to get cold." With that, Juho went upstairs. There were five rooms on the second floor. While two of them were facing each other, there was another room that was facing the stairway, which was Coin's bedroom that also served as his studio. Standing in front of the first room, Juho knocked on the door. "Mr. Park?" Juho called to him, wondering if the knock was too subtle. Then, he heard a rustling sound coming from the room. When Juho opened the door and went into the room, Nam Kyung was putting his glasses on. "Come get your breakfast. He says he might change his mind if we don't come down in time." "But I don't eat breakfast." "It's made by Kelley Coin, himself, though. Would you still not eat it?" "I'm coming." Blinking his bloodshot eyes, Nam Kyung went into the bathroom, which was connected with the room. He was making quite a bit of noise washing his face. And as he came out shortly after with water dripping from his face, he looked at the young author, looking slightly more awake. "That wasn't a dream, right? You winning the Hugo Award?" Perhaps he wasn't entirely awake, just yet.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Upon being reminded by the young author that he had had his hands on the trophy that previous night, Nam Kyung's face lit up. "I gotta see the trophy myself," the editor said as he walked right past Juho. Then, while Nam Kyung was busy making a big fuss after seeing the trophy sitting haphazardly in Juho's carrier, the young author left him be and went downstairs. Coin was cooking the egg in bacon fat, which gave off an irresistible smell. Juho helped Coin by putting the soup into bowls until Nam Kyung came down. Seeing as though the young author was acting tactfully, Coin didn't say anything. "Man, I gotta say, Mr. Coin. You're a great cook!" Nam Kyung complimented the author with a cheerful expression on his face, unlike his normally rigid demeanor. Coin shrugged it off. "All I did was panfry," he said while cutting his bacon. "Which is one of the foundational skills in cooking." "This is good bacon," Juho chimed in, and instead of giving him an answer, Coin brought mashed potato up to his mouth. Meanwhile, looking unbothered, Nam Kyung chewed away at his food. "What do you have going on today?" Juho asked the editor. "Why do you ask?" he answered. "I wanted to look around a little." Because of the location, Juho had to be accompanied by someone else even if he wanted to go out alone because he had to rely on those with driver licenses. Meanwhile, with an ambiguous expression on his face, Nam Kyung said, "I do have plans to visit a publishing company in the afternoon." "Great. Do you think you can take me with you? You can just drop me off anywhere." "Without a guardian? I can't do that." "It's really OK." "On the off chance that you get into some sort of accident, things will become much more complicated. We might not have to deal with the language barrier, but might I remind you that we're in another country, Mr. Woo," the editor said, clearly with no intention of letting the underaged author loose. Although Juho didn't have a problem being on his own, he also understood that Nam Kyung was justified in his attitude, especially as an editor. With that, Juho had to make due with going on walks around the house. "I'll take you," Coin interjected. And sensing the puzzled look the guests were giving him, the author explained, "I'm the one who invited you here, so I should see it to the end." "You're not gonna leave me in the middle of nowhere, are you?" "If that's what you want." Juho imagined Coin forcing him to get out of the car in the middle of nowhere, shouting, "This is the end, kid!" By contrast, Nam Kyung was delighted by Coin's suggestions. Frankly, looking around the country while staying in Coin's house was an incredible luxury. "Well, I'll be counting on you," Juho said as he finished his meal. Letting Susan know that he had enjoyed the soup, the young author went upstairs to his room, which was the second to the left from the stairs. The first room on the right was for Nam Kyung. As he was going into his room, Juho saw the tightly shut door to Coin's room. Although he briefly entertained the thought of taking a peek, he chose to prepare to go out instead of carrying it out. "What's with that hat?" "Is it weird?" "You'll look right at home standing in the cornfield." Because he had started showering when Juho when to get his hat from his room, it wasn't until much later that Coin showed up, after the show Susan had been watching had ended. Juho was puzzled by why he had taken so long when he saw the author in his T-shirt, unshaved. Then, putting on his sunglasses and hat, which looked like the type explorers would wear, he rushed the young author, "Shouldn't you cover yourself up a little more? What if people recognize you?" "No need when I grow out a beard. This is how I usually dress. Must I make more adjustments to my lifestyle for you?" Juho looked at him. Although he was unmistakably Kelley Coin to Juho's eyes, Coin had already covered more than half of his face. "Aren't those the same sunglasses you were wearing in Korea?" "You have a good memory," Coin said as he started the engine. The car started moving without trouble. While his car was clean for the most part, the cup holder had vivid coffee stains on it. When Juho cracked the window open, he was greeted by the earthy scent in the air. "This place is massive," Juho said. The entire area was flat, even into the distant horizon. Having lived near the mountains all of his life, it was quite an unusual sight. "It's nice, isn't it?" "It sure is," Juho said in response to Coin's confident remark. It was a nice place indeed. Peeking his head out the window, the young author looked back at the house as it grew farther away into the distance. The white building reflected bright lights, enough to make his neighbors complain to him about it. If he had had any, that is. Built in the middle of nowhere on flatland, the house looked more steadfast than lonely. "What you lookin' at?" "You know, that house looks a lot better from afar." Instead of looking back while driving, Coin revisited his memory of the appearance of his house. "My house looks beautiful, no matter from where you look at it." "Right. Your house is known for its interior," Juho said, remembering an article about the beautiful interior of the infamous author's house. "I heard you had somebody you met during an interview do the interior of your house. Is that right?" "That's right. You know your facts." "I also heard that he's one of your only friends." At that moment, as the car shook violently, and Juho immediately closed his mouth. "It's a professional relationship." "Gotcha." From then on, they remained quiet for a while. Then, by the time a corn plantation appeared in view, Juho opened his mouth again and said, "Where are we going again?" "There's nothing but corn around here, so I'm taking us downtown. They have some stores and restaurants there, at least. Well, I don't know if there's gonna be anything to do for a kid like you. Maybe a basketball court?" "I've been to the restaurant, though." At the mention of the restaurant, which Susan had taken Juho and Nam Kyung to, Coin nodded his head. Then, he raised one of his fingers on the hand with which he was holding the steering wheel. "It's a bit of a drive, but there's a state park with a lake beach a little farther out. I'm sure there's a flea market happening right about now. The beach is perfect to walk around in. The only thing is that it gets way too packed since there are more things to look at in that area." Then, Coin raised another one of his fingers. "There's also a small neighborhood park nearby, but there's nothing there that's worth the time. They don't even have an art center, let alone a gift shop. On the other hand, that also means there are less people there. There's a decent spot in the park under a willow tree. It is well maintained, so you'll see people taking wedding photos there every now and then. So, what's it gonna be?" After some contemplation, Juho answered, "Somewhere quiet." Without saying anything, Coin jerked the steering wheel. --- "Havin' a long day, hon?" The journalist opened his eyes at the sound of the voice asking him a question. When he turned toward it, he saw a lovely face looking in his direction. He had been working on an article until the day before, and work had been getting increasingly busier, as it tended to be around that time of year. "Something crazy happened this year, which means things will be even busier for me." At that, his wife brushed her hand across his face. "Maybe we should've waited a little longer." "No, no. I can't just think about myself, you know? There's nothing more important in my life than you." "In that case, should we just leave for our honeymoon this instant?" At that, the husband quietly begged for her forgiveness. To which, she smiled and brought up what had made his schedule so hectic, "It's because of what happened with Yun Woo, right?" "Yep." "I get a lot of clients who are Yun Woo fans, so I talk about him a lot." Being a yoga instructor, there were definitely moments when she would talk candidly with her students. In her class, Yun Woo had been the hottest topic, and the husband thought that made a lot of sense. "The Black Book was incredible. Do you know which one I'm talking about? 'Sublimation?' I got curious, so I ordered his other books, too," she said, and he nodded. Yun Woo had been active across various styles, like pure literature and genre novels. "He might be young, but he's versatile." "Have you ever seen him in person?" The journalist chuckled at her childlike question. "I don't even know what he looks like. The people we send to Korea have been coming back empty-handed." The journalist remembered his visit to Fernand Publishing. He hadn't been able to get a single piece of information out of its senior editor, known for the pungent cologne he wore. "Man, if only I could find out," he let out with a sigh. He was curious about the identity of the mysterious author, Yun Woo. 'What does he look like when he writes?' he wondered. Unfortunately, the only thing he knew about the young author was his voice giving brief answers to questions during Kelley Coin's interview. "He's still young. He should be protected." "Right," he said affirmingly, but he wasn't being entirely genuine. Yun Woo might be underage, and he definitely needed to be protected from the press, but he was a world-class author. 'In that case, it wouldn't be an issue even if I were to know, as long as I kept it to myself.' Then, as if she had read his thoughts, his wife whispered to his ear, "If you find anything out, though, you let me know, all right?" Though he felt pricked in the heart, he acted candidly and said, "Of course. I couldn't possibly keep secrets from you." With that, the two kissed each other. At that moment, the car came to a stop, and the cameraman, who was driving, looked toward them and said, "We're here. Get outta here, ya lovebirds." The journalist got out of the car, holding the hand of his bride-to-be wearing a white dress. --- "Whoa! This is actually kind of big," Juho murmured, looking up at the willow tree before his eyes. Meanwhile, instead of giving him an answer, Coin, who had been standing next to Juho with a paper cup filled with coffee, sat under the tree. He didn't seem to mind his pants getting dirty, and Juho was quite familiar with his demeanor. "You come here often?" "Occasionally. It's a good spot to rest my mind." Juho observed the small pond in front of him. The landscape carried a western feel. With the bridge in the center, there were symmetrical sceneries to either side of it. The park was, aesthetically speaking, quite beautiful. Streams of water were springing up from the pond with angled corners, which was surrounded by various plants. It wasn't clear if the trees were of species that didn't have budding flowers, or if they were simply not in the proper season, but it was green throughout the entire park. Unlike how Coin had described it, the park was more than big enough for Juho. "It's peaceful here," the young author let out. Then, he walked over to the pond and looked into the water. It didn't seem like there were any fish, or ducks for that matter. There was only grass and pebbles, and because they couldn't move on their own, the pond was completely still, as if time had stopped ticking. Nevertheless, it was romantic, and it made sense that people chose to take their wedding photos at the park. "So, there's this author I know. She lives in the mountains." "In the mountains?" "Yes, mountains. She built a studio in the middle of nowhere." Coin pulled his sunglasses up above his head. Meanwhile, his hat was already rolling around in the grass. "The way to her house kind of looks similar to this place." "What's her name?" Coin asked, focusing on what he wanted to know. "San Jung Youn. She won an international award in Italy, I believe. Do you know her?" "I've heard the name," Coin said, which made Juho certain that he had read her book. Then, after looking at the charming sight of the willow tree from the pond, Juho joined Coin in the shade. "Can you take that thing off?" "I don't understand why people hate this hat so much. I just don't get it." "It's tacky as hell. It hurts my eyes when I look at it and it's annoying me." Although Juho didn't necessarily agree with him, the young author decided to practice some flexibility and take the hat off. The breeze blowing through his hair felt quite refreshing. Juho brushed his hair back, watching the pond rippling in the wind. It almost looked like an omen of sorts. "You happy?" Coin threw the question at the young author out of the blue.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Coin asked the young author a question out of the blue. After thinking about where he might be coming from, he answered while fiddling with his red hat in his hand, "About what?" "What do you think? Getting the Double Crown." "Of course, I am. It's the highest honor an author can receive." It was needless to say that the young author was happy. There was no reason not to be. The Double Crown was one of the few honors an author could experience. Juho had written even after having lost his house, wealth, health, and eventually, his life. In the end, he had been rewarded with insurmountable joy. "A genius," Coin said. "First Asian, Korean and the youngest winner of the two most prestigious literary awards," he added, and Juho looked toward him. Coin was looking at him like he was testing him. "What's with the titles?" "You like 'em?" "I don't have control over what people call me." "That wasn't my question." "I don't know. But I gotta admit, it doesn't feel half bad hearing it from Kelley Coin himself." "Smartass," Coin let out, and Juho laughed by reflex. "What makes you think that, though? Genius is a good word," the young author said. "Don't play coy with me now. What you're saying might be true elsewhere, but not in this field. If you didn't know that, you'd be on cloud nine still." Juho looked at the water trickling down into the pond. There was nothing weird about a stream of water falling from a height. It was simply returning to where it belonged, just like how it was unnatural for humans to fly. "You're right," Juho admitted. He wasn't fond of the fact that the water trickled downward. "I'm not a fan of the word," he said in a calm tone of voice. Juho's face wasn't visible from where Coin was. Then, Juho heard him standing up. "And what's your reason?" "I've heard it too much for way too long." "How long?" "Very long, long enough that thinking about just how much I've heard people call me a genius makes me gag." The young author was not satisfied with the title. He had fallen despite having been called a genius by people, and people were still calling him by the same title to that day. It brought Juho a sense of crisis and it forced him to write, making him kick desperately in order to stay above water. "I won those awards because I'm alive, and to live is to fight. I stood my ground with everything I had, and I won." "The victory belongs to those who survive." "Right." He had survived. When he breathed in, he smelled the water in the air. To write was to repeat that process over and over. "There is no talent in surviving," Juho said. It was with the help of countless people that he had gotten to where he was currently. "'Genius' isn't enough. I don't find it satisfying. I'd much prefer something even bigger, shinier and more embellished." Then, a burst of hearty laughter came from behind, and Juho turned his head to look toward Coin in order to catch the moment. Coin was bending down while holding his sides. It was a rare sight. "I knew it. Pure, huh? You want more people to agree with you and recognize you. You want every person in this world to read your writing." Juho didn't deny it since he knew those very desires were hidden deep within him. "You're the same, aren't you?" he asked. Coin had published about two-hundred forty pieces of writing in different genres, and his study was filled with even more pieces that were yet to come out to the world. He was rugged and blunt, and Juho already knew what his answer was going to be. "Of course," Coin said. Then, narrowing his eyes, he looked at the young author. "You know, you tend to act like an old man who's pretending to live his second life." "What's that supposed to mean?" Juho asked, trying to remain calm while feeling pricked in the heart. Then, as he waited for Coin's answer, Juho heard a group of people approaching in the distance. The two authors looked toward them, and soon, the group came up to the stone bridge. All were dressed formally, and one was in a white dress and another in a tuxedo. "Wedding photos." The white dress of the bride was, by far, the most captivating. The bride was smiling brightly. Juho took a step forward in order to get a better look. As he got out of the shade, the Sun beat down on him. As Juho covered his eyes, the bride in the white dress looked in the young author's direction. Then, confirming that there were other people in the park, she looked away. The shutter sounded off, and they seemed like they had already had a number of photo sessions in other parks prior to that. As the bride and the groom switched places, the groom became more visible. At that moment, the bride whispered something into his ears, and the groom looked in the direction of the two authors. "Uh-oh." At that moment, a shadow cast over Juho as Coin stood in front of him. When Juho looked up at him, puzzled, he was wearing his sunglasses. "What are you doing?" "Put that hat back on." "But you hated it." "He's a journalist." "What?" Juho let out by reflex as he put the hat back on. Meanwhile, Coin's brows furrowed with annoyance. "He's coming toward us. I think he recognized you." "No, he didn't." "I think he did. So much for the beard." "Shut up." "We're not in trouble, are we?" "What can a journalist in a tuxedo do without a camera? He's coming," Coin said quietly. Unlike the things he was saying, he was speaking quite fast. Then, he put his hands into his pocket, looking defensive. Meanwhile, Juho remained standing candidly next to him. "Kelley Coin! I wasn't expecting to see you here." "Have we met?" "Oh, shoot. Where are my manners? Pardon me," the man in the tuxedo said, looking through the inner pocket of his jacket by habit. Then, realizing that he wasn't in his usual attire, he reached for the back pockets of his pants and took a slightly crumpled up business card out of his wallet. There was a logo of a famous magazine on it, which Juho also recognized. It was a magazine that introduced books that were published by Fernand, and Coin, too, had published quite an array of works through the company. "Seems like you're in the middle of a photo session." "That's right. I'm on the other side of the camera for once." "Well, I'll let you get back to your business, then." "Oh, no. It's fine. We're taking a break. And don't worry. I have no intention of interviewing you." "Well, that's another reason you should be on your way." "C'mon, now. Bear with me, would ya?" It wasn't clear if he was simply oblivious or if he was merely pretending, but despite the apparent look of displeasure on the author's face, the journalist didn't seem like he was going to walk away anytime soon. He kept trying to strike up a conversation with Coin in a friendly manner, saying how he knew that he lived nearby and asking if he came to the park often and raving about how beautiful of a park it was. As the exposition went on, Coin grew increasingly annoyed, and Juho started to naturally walk away from them. "Speaking of which, who's your friend? I love his hat." As the journalist brought attention to the young author, Coin answered in a hurry, "I don't know him. Just some local kid who's been pestering me, like you. Actually, this is perfect. Why don't you try talkin' to him instead, and you can let me go?" 'What's he up to? Is he genuinely annoyed and trying to get himself out of the situation, or does he have some sort of plan?' Juho wondered, pulling his hat down as he couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. "Hey!" the journalist greeted him in a friendly manner, and instead of greeting him back, Juho responded with a subtle nod. "Did you know he was famous?" the man in the tuxedo asked, pointing at Coin, and after some contemplation, Juho answered, "He's written some books, hasn't he?" "Haha! That's right!" As Coin looked down at the young author quietly, Juho resisted his piercing glare and pressed on with the conversation. "So, I saw a street performance recently. It was of a story that takes place in the UK, and the actor who played the king was wearing a red hat that looked just like yours." "You mean a crown?" "Yep." "Was it really that similar to my hat?" "Very." Juho lowered his eyes slightly. The journalist was sounding the young author out. Kelley Coin and an Asian boy. It painted too clear of a picture for it to be a coincidence. 'I wonder what he made of the conversation I was having with Coin earlier,' Juho wondered. Then, pretending not to know, Juho kept on, "Was the performance any good?" "I guess so? It was all right. Although, I can't say the same for the costumes." "That's hilarious coming from a man in a tuxedo." "Oops. I forgot I was wearing one," the journalist said. Then, he sighed quietly as if he was about to give up on something. "I loved your speech at the Hugo Award Ceremony." 'Does he know?' the young author asked himself, looking up slowly. The journalist was looking toward Coin. An unfounded belief didn't have much use. On top of that, the man didn't even have a camera, let alone a recording device. As Juho remained silent, Coin said in a calm tone, "Why don't you ask Yun Woo when you see him?" "Sure, sure. Here's the thing, though. Will I ever see him?" "Why ask me?" "No reason. Call it a lingering attachment," the man in the tuxedo said. He had to turn back although it was probable that the boy in the red hat was Yun Woo. That day, he would have to be on the opposite side of the camera from the one he was normally on. On top of that, the bride was waiting for him. "Hey, you in the red hat." "Yes?" "Show me what you look like next time, will ya?" Juho gave no answer. Then, saying a brief goodbye to Coin, the journalist crossed the stone bridge. "He clearly underestimated my fame." "Let's get outta here." With that, the two authors left the park in a hurry. Later, when the man returned to the same spot as a journalist, there was nobody there. --- The journalist was at his bachelor's party. Despite the name, it was closer to a get-together between friends. Although the man of the hour showed up nearly an hour late, his groomsmen had already started enjoying themselves without him. Some of his closest friends had come together, from the friends he had made after he became a journalist to friends from school. "So, anything fun?" one of his friends asked, one who dug up information in politics for a living. Pushing him aside, the groom took a swig of liquor in order to soothe the lingering attachment in his heart, which bothered him quite a bit. 'I should've been direct and just ask. Maybe I should've been audacious and just taken his hat off," he thought to himself. Even the thought that the boy might have been Yun Woo made his hands shake. Although that would have been as pretentious as he could have gotten, he didn't even dare to think about getting his hands on the boy's hat. "It was probably a coincidence," his friend let out. Then, the groom was struck by a sudden realization. "What was!?" "Yo, get off me!" The boy had to be Yun Woo. An Asian boy who was accompanying Coin, speaking fluent English in a similar voice to the one he had heard in the interview. It wasn't uncommon to see an Asian child speaking fluent English, and unfortunately, the journalist didn't have the ear for voices. It might have been exactly like Coin had said, "Just some local kid." Although there was not a single piece of evidence, the journalist couldn't shake off the feeling that the boy could've been Yun Woo. His heart started beating faster, and as the alcohol entered his body, his emotions became more intense. He had spoken with Yun Woo in person. The young author had been right before his eyes. "Damn it." If the journalist hadn't been in his tuxedo, he wouldn't have thought twice about interviewing him, which would've given him enough to write a myriad of articles. Although his wife-to-be comforted him, telling him that he had made the right decision, the journalist felt a desperate need to get drunk. "You listenin'? What's a coincidence?" his friend asked relentlessly, pestering him. The next day, when the journalist woke up with a terrible hangover, the world was flipped upside down with the news of the boy wearing a red hat. "Yun Woo Was in the States. Asian Boy in Red Hat Spotted?" he read the short sentence out loud. He felt nauseated and, needless to say, he couldn't remember a thing. However, one thing was certain: he had done something unbecoming.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Can I see it?" Juho asked while drinking tea with Coin. Neither Susan nor Nam Kyung were around. "See what?" he asked, looking up from the book he had been reading. "Your studio." It was a peaceful afternoon with all the electronics switched off. Juho closed the philosophy book in his hand, which he had borrowed from the study on the first floor. The vocabulary in a philosophy book written by an actual philosopher tended to be quite different from the norm. If anything, it was closer to being another language. Philosophy was one of the characteristics of a country, and one needed to be taught to understand its language because of the widely perceived notion that it was difficult to understand. Fortunately, just like anything else in this world, it was possible to get used to it, and once one got used to it, it became more fun: To peek into the worries of a proud intellect, while resonating with them as a fellow human, and the intellectual joy that came with understanding the language. "What gave you that idea?" "It just occurred to me while I was reading this." After reading the book, Juho became curious about Coin's studio. It would be absurd not to see his writing space when he had flown all the way from another country. Then, wearing a brusque expression on his face, Coin rose from his seat and said, "Come." At that, Juho followed him with a mug in his hand. Within the scenery he had gotten used to seeing, was a door that had always remained tightly shut. Then, as Coin cracked the door open, the first thought Juho was struck by was: "It's messy." There were paper cups and mugs spread throughout the room, most likely filled with coffee. The walls were surrounded by bookshelves containing his books and research data. There was also a metal desk facing the window, and there were stacks of papers jumbled in no particular order. A lot of Coin's writing was also visible, and it dawned on Juho that the author had an atrocious handwriting, probably from being half asleep or drunk with caffeine. His letters were rugged and sharp, like their creator. "Because I've been writing up until recently." "Do you need help cleaning?" "Don't even think about it," he said, waving his hand as if scaring off a fly. "You don't seem to keep your trophies here." "There's not enough room." Considering the number of trophies and the cash prizes he had won thus far, what Coin was saying made sense. There would be more than enough to fill every inch of his room. "It kind of feels like an attic, too. Maybe the wooden walls got something to do with it." "Bah, I don't care," Coin said indifferently. Although it was a big room, Juho was getting the impression that everything was close to each other. While he was looking around, Coin sat on his bed, drinking his coffee. Then, Juho walked over to his desk. "There's nothing here I shouldn't look at, right?" "I know how to take care of my data." Juho felt the words 'I don't think you can say the same about your room, though,' welling up to his throat, but he chose to swallow them instead. Looking through sentences arranged in a context that only Coin would know, Juho moved on to the medical and legal data. "A lot of technical stuff here." "I'm sure there are even some you wouldn't be able to understand." "You think so?" There was not a single written language the young author couldn't read. Dilated Cardiomyopathy. Batista Operation. Ineffective Tissue Perfusion. Escharotomy. "Quite an array of data you have, here. It didn't end up in your books, did it?" "That's right. It got left out," Coin said, looking intently at the young author. "Your language skill developed in the most obscure places. You were reading a dense philosophy book earlier without trouble, and I know for a fact that one needs to be taught how to read those." "That's the kind of author it takes to write a novel like 'Language of God.'" "Your self-esteem is just through the roof after getting those awards, isn't it?" At that, Juho gave Coin an evasive answer, saying that he had experience researching for his novel as well. Then, after taking a swig of the coffee in his hand, Coin said, "I didn't see any medical things in the Black Book." "The Black Book? You mean 'Sublimation?'" "Yeah, that." "Well, it's an honor to hear that you've read it." Then, Coin brought his mug up to his mouth again. "What was with that ridiculous writing? That ending bothered the hell out of me. I hated it," Coin said harshly, but the young author shrugged it off. "Let's just say that I went through hell to come up with that ending." At that moment, an explosive sound came from the hallway instead of an answer. When Juho glanced over in that direction, he saw that the mug, which had been in Coin's hand up to a moment ago, shattered in two pieces. "... Uh…" "I'm not angry. I just can't help myself whenever I think about that ending. I have to throw something." "... Are you expecting me to do something for you?" "Just stay where you are," Coin said, taking a newspaper out of a corner of his room. Then, violently ripping it in half, he added, "You just wait. My current work-in-progress will be far superior to that absurd ending of yours." At that, Juho slowly raised his hand and scratched his cheek. It was a favor that the young author simply couldn't grant, unfortunately. "You seem confident about it." "That goes without saying." "That sounds like you, all right. The thing is, if what you're saying is true, then it makes me wonder how convincing you can be when you're asking me about my 'ridiculous writing.' If your novel is going to be far superior to mine, but you can't understand my ending, then how convincing could that be?" "There's is such a thing as a tolerable level of trainwreck. Anything beyond that makes the writing ambiguous and convoluted. Just listen to the people who read the Black Book, saying stupid things like the Eighth Wonder of the World." Unfortunately, the words that were coming out Coin's mouth weren't that far off from the words of those who called the ending of 'Sublimation' the Eighth Wonder of the World. Instead of bringing it up, the young author smiled. "Aren't you being a little harsh, though? It did turn out pretty good in the end, so why don't you go easy on this young author and congratulate him on a job well done?" Juho said light-heartedly. To which, Coin snorted and said, "There is no such thing as rank here, in the literary world. There is no difference whether you're in second or tenth place. But I'll tell you what there is. Subjective opinions and discouragement. Do you have any idea how many greenhorns are out there, discouraged, void of confidence after reading your book?" Juho was all too well-acquainted with the discouragement that came with the realization that he was inferior to others. He had gone through it way too many times in the past. "Let me show you the manuscript," Coin said, placing the shattered pieces of his mug on the newspaper. He was crouching, like an ember that was ready to burn up at any given minute. "All right," Juho answered quietly, remembering the manuscript that he had revised on the plane ride to the States. It was a frame story. "Would you like to read mine and keep yourself occupied in the meantime?" "Let's see it." Just like that, the two authors exchanged their manuscripts with each other. While Juho read through Coin's manuscript on his desk, Coin read through Juho's lying on his bed, flipping through it abrasively. They didn't talk to each other. While Coin sipped on the new cup of coffee he had brought to the room, Juho changed his posture while reading. Although they were similar in length, their contents were completely different. The message they conveyed, the stories, characters and writing styles. It was a difficult piece to compare his writing to, so Juho decided to focus on reading instead of lingering in thought. Four hours had passed by the time the two authors had finished reading the manuscripts. There was a long silence. Then, as Juho flipped to the front page of the manuscript he had been reading, Coin did the same. "Good stuff." "Not bad." They said simultaneously. Their words may have sounded different, but they were essentially the same in meaning. Juho put the manuscript down. Nobody was discouraged. If anything, something told the young author that they had both tapped into heightened emotions. 'Does that mean I'm not below him, at least?' Juho asked himself, hoping it was true. Then, they heard somebody coming into the house downstairs. After wondering about the first floor for a little while, the person came up the stairs shortly after. Because of the room's location, it was easy to identify who was coming up. It was Nam Kyung. Upon seeing the two authors together, he stopped in his tracks and slowly walked toward them, trying to grasp the situation. "I came with Susan. I'm not interrupting, am I?" "No. I was just showing him around," Coin said and left the room shortly after. As Juho followed the author out of the room, Nam Kyung poked at his side as he moved aside to let the young author through. "I'll tell you in a little bit." "Don't forget." Later that day, Nam Kyung couldn't have been more excited after hearing Juho's story. --- "Trapped." Having come up to his room after dinner, Coin was staring up at the ceiling while lying on his bed. There was a bunch of crumpled up manuscripts in his hand. An image of a picture came to mind, but it wasn't necessarily because of Juho's new frame story. A trapped image was proving to be an effective tool when it came to portraying the foolish tendency humans had of staying in one place for their entire lives. Coin looked at the camera on his desk along with his research data. After reading Juho's manuscript, the experience of holding a camera had turned into something completely different, and Coin found the influence to be undesirable. Then, in order to put the camera away, Coin got out of bed. While he looked around his room with the camera in his hand, he noticed a commotion coming from downstairs. When he went down the stairs, he saw his mother standing by the door, looking disgruntled. "What is it?" he asked. "Reporters." "Reporters?" Standing in front of Susan, he looked out the door through the crack. There were quite a few reporters crowding the doorway. At that moment, he was struck with the realization that it had something to do with the young author. 'That punk,' he thought to himself. As he opened the door angrily, the reporters came flooding through. "What do you want?" "We heard that Yun Woo was staying with you," one of the reporters said, followed by a series of voices speaking over each other. Then, annoyed, Coin took the camera and took a picture of them. The flash took the unwelcomed guests by surprise, as if they weren't used to getting a picture taken of them, an irony of their occupational habit of bringing their cameras up to their eyes before asking questions. "You all came at the perfect time. I'm suing the hell out of each and every one of you. Mom, call the cops." "Way ahead of ya." "Is it true that you're currently with Yun Woo?" At that moment, as a slower-to-catch-on reporter asked a question, Coin took yet another picture. "He's not here, damn it." "We had some leads that he's here." "And you must've missed what I said just now. I'm suing all of you. You're screwed," Coin said and took a step forward toward the reporter. "I don't know where you're from, but something tells me that your company isn't well off enough to put themselves through a mud fight just to save your ass. If you're here to interview me, that already goes to show how disposable you are to them." As the reporter remained silent, the author took yet another picture of his face. "But don't you worry. I'm a generous man. I'll sue your whole damn company." At that moment, sirens sounded off in the distance. Recognizing that the cops had arrived, Coin closed the door and walked back in. While Susan was watching the TV and eating popcorn, Coin sat on the chair next to her. The two being the only people in there, the house was quiet. "About damn time," Susan said sarcastically. It was clear who Coin took after. "Seriously. Yun Woo left ages ago," he said as he took some popcorn from his mother. Yun Woo had already left, and he had to be flying back to Korea by now. Then, bringing his phone out, Coin checked for an update. Yun Woo had definitely been in the States. "Boy in Red Hat Spotted." "Ugh. Couldn't they take it elsewhere??" Susan grumbled, raising the volume on the TV. It was a peaceful day. 'Yun Won in the States? Was He at Worldcon? Confirmation in Progress with Broadcasting Stations.' 'Yun Woo Finally Reveals Himself. A Man of Asian Decent Caught On Camera. Confirmed to be Yun Woo.' 'Yun Woo Caught On Camera? The Man Reported Being Chinese American. "I'm not Yun Woo."' 'Yun Woo Was with Kelley Coin All Along? He's Everywhere! Foreign Reporters Return Home Empty-Handed.' 'Presses in Desperate Search for Yun Woo Criticized by Fans.' 'The Reporters at Coin's Residence Reported being Driven Out without an Answer.' 'The Young Author Flooded with Congratulatory Messages. Yun Woo Puts on Both Crowns. Will He Be Able to Handle It?' 'Yun Woo, the Boy in Red Hat? Theory on the Asian Boy Who Is Reported To Have Been with Kelley Coin? Where's the Evidence? Yun Woo Disappears into Thin Air.' 'Where Is the Champion? Gone with the Wind.' '"Yun Woo Is an Amazing Writer" Becoming an Inarguable Truth? What Are Some of the Rumors Surrounding the Young Author?' 'Yun Woo's Language Skill as Showcased in "Language of God." His Writing Is, Simply Put, a Language of God.' 'Yun Woo, the Readers' Choice. Humiliated by the First Asian Winner? What's the Significance? The Ratio of American Hugo Winners.' 'The Dispute that Brought Yun Woo to His Present Glory. "We Knew He Had What It Took, All Along." His Accomplishments Outside of the Alias Yun Woo.'

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Seems like we've made quite the noise during our trip," Nam Kyung said while looking at the articles. The news had gotten out that Yun Woo and his editor-in-charge had been in the States. Thankfully, it wasn't until they were on their plane ride back to Korea that the news really started to spread. The scenery out the window was telling them that they were flying over Korean soil, and the plane was about to land at any given minute. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung was chuckling while reading the articles written in English. "Look at this," he said, showing one of them to the young author. Then, after glancing at it, Juho said, "Why would I read that article?" "To see just how popular you are." "And what good would that do me?" "Oh, you know. Help you think about your figure and all." Then, fond of the words that had come out of him on a whim, the editor kept on, "The single most important thing in importing a book is whether or not it will sell. In that case, what do you think would be the most efficient way to pick out a book that would sell?" "Going with a book that's already famous." "Man, you've always been quick to catch on! That's exactly it. It's rare that a book gets pushed out of the bestsellers' list once it reaches it. Of course, there are different ways by which a book becomes known, and winning a prominent award is definitely one of them. Even Korea has been importing a bunch of science fiction literature that was nominated for some literary awards." Then, leaning back on his seat, Juho said, "It sounds like you're saying that my books have finally met that standard." "Many times over. Your name carries power now. Yun Woo literature." "I'm not sure what to think of that," the young author said in an even tone of voice, and while Nam Kyung looked at him, Juho thought, 'When power grows, incidents are bound to happen. No matter how much anybody discusses the name Yun Woo, there's no way they can predict what's going to happen in the future.' Then, telling Nam Kyung to stop looking at the articles, Juho pulled out a picture he had been holding in his hand. "Look at this picture. It came out well, didn't it?" It was a picture of himself and Coin standing in front of his house. Taking the picture from the young author's hand, Nam Kyung looked around to make sure that no one was nearby and started looking at the picture in peace. While one person was calm and peaceful, the other was edgy and sharp. Their characteristics were being reflected explicitly. Surprisingly, Coin had been the one to suggest that they take a picture before Yun Woo and Nam Kyung headed for the airport. "Maybe it's because he read your writing?" he said, and the young author shrugged it off. "Maybe it's just for research." "For what?" "Who knows?" Juho said and looked out the window. The plane had safely brought the young author and his editor-in-charge back home. From then on, upon arriving home, Juho collapsed on his bed and fell sound asleep. --- "Hows was the trip?" Seo Kwang's mother asked. Having been excused from school until the following day, Juho came out for a walk and ended going as far as Seo Kwang's parents' store. Because Seo Kwang had told him ahead of time that he was planning on ditching the late night study session and come straight to the store, Juho decided to wait for him there. Upon seeing him, Seo Kwang's mother greeted the young author gladly. She, too, had been aware that Juho had gone to the US recently. "It was great." "That's good to hear. You should be going around while you're still young," she said. She didn't seem to have a negative perspective toward traveling despite the fact that he looked like a run-of-the-mill high school junior. "Maybe I should go on a trip, too," she said, giving serious thought to the idea. "Well, Seo Kwang should be here any minute now, so eat something while you wait. Oh, feel free to read anything you want." "Thank you." Juho looked at the books on the shelves. His Black Book was being displayed in the most visible spot in the store. As the young author walked toward it, he stopped in front of the promotional banner when he saw the words 'Nebula Winner.' There was yet to be mention of the Hugo Award. Nevertheless, his books had to be selling at a rate higher than ever. He saw a customer reading while sitting at a table. She, too, had a copy of the Black Book in her hands. Then, after picking up his book for no apparent reason, he put it back down and picked up a book from the stack next to it, which was of copies of the book written by Yun Seo. Then, sitting where he normally sat, he read in peace, all the while enjoying himself a cup of tea. At that moment, the bell attached to the door rang noisily. When Juho looked up, wondering if it was Seo Kwang, it turned out to be another customer, who soon walked toward the window. "I'm here," she said, tapping the woman who had been reading at the desk on the back of her head. Then, looking away from her book, the woman poked her friend in her belly and said, "OK, all right." 'They seem close,' Juho thought and redirected his attention to the book he was reading. However, he couldn't help himself but take interest in their conversation. "Yun Woo? Again?" one of them criticized the other for reading a Yun Woo book, looking at it with disgruntled eyes. However, she didn't seem genuine in her displeasure toward the book. Then, the friend who had been reading the book hugged it and said, "Well, yeah!? This has gotta be one of the most original pieces I've ever come across in my twenty years of reading. The fact that there's a creative boundary that's beyond my understanding is something to take delight in." Meanwhile, her friend who had just come into the store was looking like she had heard those words way too many times. Then, adding to her misery, the Yun Woo fan said, "He's a genius." With that, the friend walked over to the counter in order to place an order for their drinks. When she returned to her friend, they started talking about a different subject. With the exception of the two friends and Juho being the only customers, the cafe was empty for the most part. Juho focused on reading his book, which was written by Yun Seo. It brought peace to his heart. Yun Seo's writing had a satiating effect on readers. It filled them up and put them in a state similar to food coma. It wasn't until then that the young author realized just how tense he had been up to that point. Perhaps that was how Yun Seo had been able to come back with a new book. In a world filled with unresolved tension, her writing was like an oasis in the middle of a desert. Losing track of time, Juho read on. Then, by the time he was completely immersed in the book, he sensed a person sitting across from him without even asking for his permission. "Been a while." It was Seo Kwang. Upon realizing who it was, Juho took Seo Kwang's gift out of his bag. "For you." "It's a book!" Juho had pondered on what to get him as a gift for a good while. In the end, he had concluded that his friend would much prefer a book over just about anything. "I got it from a bookstore in Manhattan," Juho said. Meanwhile, with a big smile on his face, Seo Kwang picked up the book. It was written by one of his favorite authors, in its original language. Then, Seo Kwang opened the book, buried his face in it, and inhaled deeply. "Ah, smells like New York," Seo Kwang said, which rewarded Juho with a sense of accomplishment. "You like it?" "A lot," Seo Kwang said flipping through the pages quickly. He was proficient enough at that point to be able to translate and interpret sentences written in English. "I'm gonna savor this and enjoy it for a long time," Seo Kwang said. Then, he asked, "What was the bookstore like in New York?" Remembering the environment of the bookstore he had been to, the young author answered, "It's not all that different from the bookstores here. There were a lot of chairs though. Ones that look like that." Juho pointed at the series of bar stools with circular seats, which were lined up by the window. During his recent visit to the States, it stood out to Juho that there were seats ready throughout the store for those customers who wanted to read. "There were bookstores that sold clothes too." "Oh! I heard of that. I've been eying them for some time. So, did you go to one?" Seo Kwang was better versed in the bookstores in New York than the young author who had recently been there. Hearing Seo Kwang say that he wanted to visit a used bookstore in the States at some point, Juho was struck by the thought that if they were to go to the States together for a trip, it would quickly turn into a bookstore tour. While Juho was listening quietly, Seo Kwang brought up something that occurred to him, "Oh, did you see this?" "What is it?" With an exhilarated look on his face, Seo Kwang took his phone out and handed it over to Juho. It had an image of a foreigner holding a picket sign that read: "Tell us who Yun Woo is!" Juho read the letters written in red paint on the picket sign. The paint running down the sign gave off an ominous look, almost like it had some sort of curse written on it. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang nodded, still chuckling. "I think he's holding a one-man protest in front of Fernand's building." The building behind the man was unmistakably that of Fernand Publishing. "Why there of all places?" "Dude, you said it yourself: he's expressing the burning curiosity of the fans desperate to know who Yun Woo is. This guy's pretty well known in the science fiction community, actually. He runs a blog, too." "Does he, now?" Juho asked. He looked closely at the man's face, but he didn't recognize him. On the other hand, Seo Kwang seemed to be well acquainted with him. "His blog is really something. It has this power to make you buy books before you even realize it." Considering that he would buy whichever book he felt like with or without some blog's recommendations, Juho didn't find his claim all that convincing. Then, reading Juho's thoughts, Seo Kwang added with more emphasis, "I'm serious! You can just feel his passion. Here, he put up some pictures he took at the Denver Worldcon this year." There were an array of people and places behind the avid science fiction fan in the pictures, and it certainly was Denver. "He looks like a cheerful guy," the young author said. The man was opening his mouth in some pictures while sticking his tongue out in others. It was clear that he was enjoying the convention to his heart's content. Then, Seo Kwang lowered his voice and said, "He's mentioned Yun Woo in his blog too. Several times." Seo Kwang's statement made the young author wonder what the man thought of him as an author. "What did he say?" After organizing his thoughts, Seo Kwang answered, "He didn't have a lot of good things to say at first." Yun Woo was a young author, and a piece written by a young author was inevitably less mature. Science fiction or fantasy novels were strictly fictional. At the same time, that very quality served as a delivery mechanism for poignant portrayals of reality, conveying political messages and philosophy. In that case, Yun Woo's age made him laughable at best. How much would a nineteen-year-old know about politics? The world? Reality? "That was his response when Yun Woo had just started making a name for himself through pure literature, which was also around the time when the rumor that Yun Woo was planning to write a fantasy novel started circulating. This isn't a post in his blog, but it's his response to a comment in one of his posts that said, 'What are your thoughts on the author by the name of Yun Woo?'" In other words, it had been before the avid fan had read 'Language of God' himself. Not only did he know nothing about the young author, but he also didn't even bother to know about him. His posts tended to be quite emotional. His bouts excitement and anger were explicit in the way he wrote, just as much as his curiosity and joy. Nevertheless, people found that side of him entertaining. "Then, after some time, this comes up," Seo Kwang said, showing another post to the young author. "This is it," Juho read the first sentence out loud. An explanation followed saying that it had been the first realization that he had been struck by upon reading 'Language of God.' It was a post recommending the book. The avid fan was describing his emotional state in great detail of when he tried searching for Yun Woo on the internet. In the end, the only thing he had learned about the young author had been his age. There had been hardly any information on him. In the meantime, Seo Kwang showed Juho the most recent post on the avid fan's blog. "I want to know more about him. When I found out the results for the Hugo Award, I just couldn't take it anymore. I'm going to the publisher, and since there's no way I can meet with the author, I just hope the publishers understand where I'm coming from." Then, another post followed, which read, "Yun Woo, if you're reading this, I sincerely hope that you give some sort of answer. Where are you?" "Time's running out," Seo Kwang said. When Juho looked up at him, he had a book in his hand. However, instead of the book Juho had given him as a gift, he was holding Yun Seo's book. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang's expression indicated that he knew full well why he was holding that book in particular. "You know where I'm going with this, don't you?" As the young author remained silent, Seo Kwang continued, "Remember what you promised? People are getting antsy. Their patience is running thin." At that, Juho remembered why he had decided to remain an anonymous author from the beginning: He had wanted a comfortable school life. "We're about to graduate," Juho said with a smile, but Seo Kwang maintained the look on his face. Then, the young author read one of the sentences in the book, "There's an end to everything."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Congratulations, Mr. Woo! The Double Crown! You've done it!" "I was so overwhelmed when the presenter said your name!" Dong Baek and Jang Mi said, sitting in front of a wall with red wallpaper on it. Juho was seeing them for the first time since winning the Hugo Award. While the young author had watched the ceremony live from Coin's residence, both Dong Baek and Jang Mi had been at the scene. Juho bowed to them as an expression of gratitude. If it weren't for them, 'Language of God' would have never come out to the world. A book had to go through a slew of processes until it was released. When an author won an award, the honor wasn't meant to be hogged by the author alone. "How was your trip?" Jang Mi asked, curious about his visit to Coin's residence. Then, the young author gave her a brief description of the house, starting with Coin's apartment in Manhattan and then talking about the corn plantation on the way to the house. The president and the editor listened intently to the young author's story. After all, it was about none other than Kelley Coin. "He made us breakfast, too." "Oh, my! How'd it taste?" "It just tasted like bacon." The bacon had been quite the delicacy in and of itself, and cooking it on a frying pan had only enhanced the flavor. Meanwhile, Jang Mi looked at the young author with envy and added that she was a fan of Coin's books. "How about you, Ms. Hong? How was Worldcon?" "The best," she said, sticking her thumb out. With that, Jang Mi and Dong Baek told the young author about their experience at the convention. Because the location varied every year, the convention also tended to change slightly every year, and according to the two, the Worldcon in Denver had been quite liberating. "We were getting a lot of questions about you, too." In some sense, it was natural for people to ask about an author who wasn't attending the ceremony. While they talked, Jang Mi spun the Lazy Susan on the table, and the dishes on it switched places with one another. "A lot of people were asking if we had pictures of you, too." "And just as many people were curious about your writing process." "We were getting a lot of questions about what kind of books you read." "As well as your favorite Hollywood celebrity." According to Jang Mi's own words, Worldcon had been a one-of-a-kind experience. Then, the young author was struck with the thought that the piercing in between her nostrils would've shone all the more at the convention. "We've been getting those questions in Korea every day, but it felt different hearing them in another country." Then, she brought up the names of the people who had asked her questions. From a bestselling American author to an editor from a publishing company in the UK, a leading official of an association, and a competing candidate for the same award, there was quite an array. Considering the occasion, it wasn't surprising that titles like those were being brought up. "Was it fun?" Juho asked, and Dong Baek smiled at the young author's innocent question. "Honestly, we were there to work, so we had to be on our toes a lot of the time. There was some trouble while we're there, too. At the end of the day though, it doesn't change the fact that it was an unforgettable experience." "I mean, we were the first Koreans to be invited to the ceremony! Yes, it came with a heavy responsibility, but the result couldn't have been more rewarding." Then, dipping his chopsticks into his noodle soup, Juho said, "Do you think it would've been better for me to be there?" Though his tone was indifferent, the meaning was much more profound. At that, the president and the editor locked eyes with each other, communicating that they were on the same page. The young author seemed to be pondering something important, so Jang Mi took the initiative. "Well, it would've been nice for us. I definitely think you would've had a lot of fun if you were there. There were a lot of things to see. Although, it was kind of hectic." Then, Dong Baek backed her up, "But, let's put it this way, you were able to stay in Coin's residence BECAUSE you decided not to attend the ceremony, am I right? Every decision has its pros and cons." That time, picking up a piece of bok choy out of his soup with his chopsticks, Juho said, "Should I reveal my identity?" A rattling sound reverberated throughout the room at the jarring statement from the young author. Meanwhile, the young author simply smiled. The comfortable atmosphere froze over in a matter of seconds. "Uh…" Jang Mi let out, moving her lips in an attempt to speak. However, putting the thoughts running amok in her mind into words was proving to be a challenge. Yun Woo revealing his identity was a substantial matter, and it was especially true in the time they were living in, immediately after a nineteen-year-old author had achieved the Double Crown. "May I ask how you came to that?" Dong Baek asked quietly. To which, the young author answered in a calm tone of voice, "I thought it was about time for me to start thinking about it." "I see." The room sank into silence. Sensing the tension in the room, the young author said, "Frankly, I've been hearing mostly good things since my first book." "Right. The beginning of Yun Woo," the president said. It was a rather heavy answer to a light-hearted remark. "I had just come up to high school back then, and something was telling me that things were about to get complicated, so I figured it would be wise to take a step back. You know?" "Right. I agree that it was a wise decision," Dong Baek said. "I've written a number of pieces from then on, and thankfully, I've yet to disappoint my readers." "On the contrary, you've brought them joy." "But here's the thing. That's not why I write. I'm not writing in order to please others." Dong Baek and Jang Mi nodded at his statement simultaneously. According to their experiences, each author had their own motive for writing. Not only was it their means of making a living, but it was also a need that arose from self-realization. While some dedicated their entire lives to their writing, there also existed those who simply wrote as a means of passing time. At that point, Juho added, "Not to say that I'm looking for negative criticism, of course. I'm human too, so I do think about it. If I were to be honest, I want every single one of my readers to be happy." "We understand." "You do?" Juho asked "What was that? Oh, right. Yes. I believe contradiction is the word we're looking for here." Then, leaning back on his chair's backrest, Juho asked, "So, should I come clean about my identity?" The room sank back into silence. Then, Dong Baek asked as he took a sip of water, "Is that what you want, Mr. Woo?" "I'm not sure." "Or would you rather stay anonymous?" "I think that would bother me in the long run." "... So, it seems like it wouldn't help one bit if I were to suggest that you follow your heart." Juho nodded at his statement, and Dong Baek added with the proper posture of a businessman, "Well, here's my thought." "Please. That's why I brought this up in the first place," Juho said. 'He's really mature for his age,' the president thought to himself. Then, he brought up the thought he had been having for a long time, "I think you should reveal your identity." He wanted the young author to come out to the world with his mask off. "Why is that?" Juho asked. To which, Dong Baek answered without even taking the time to breathe, "Because it'll boost sales substantially." "Sales, huh." "Yes. If you were to reveal yourself, the books would sell even more." "But, my understanding is that my books are already selling well." "They'll sell even more," the president emphasized. They'll sell even more. As the president of a publishing company, Dong Baek was well aware that every author wished that their books would be read by more people. "You seem to be certain of that. How would you know? It's very possible that people will be disappointed to learn that Yun Woo was nothing like the Yun Woo they had imagined." "You're incredibly charming, Mr. Woo," Dong Baek said, and Juho looked away at the president's sudden, slightly uncomfortable compliment. Nonetheless, Dong Baek didn't let up. If anything, he pressed on, "You have a mysterious side to you. For example, your calm, unfazed nature, as if you had poured all of your feelings into your work, and your maturity. You're strangely mature for your age, but I find us often speaking the same language, Mr. Woo. I see how you're able to write like that, and to understand is to accept." Dong Baek was certain. "I still remember the day when I talked to you for the first time. As far as I'm aware, you'll be greeted with opened arms by your fans, Mr. Woo." Juho recalled the president showing similar confidence previously. It had happened when they first discussed 'Language of God.' His prediction had become a reality, and it showed that he had the ability to read the market and the readers. Charming. Shaking off the memories of the lowest point in his past life, Juho said, "You're very convincing, Mr. Lee." As Juho picked up his water cup, the atmosphere eased up again. "Anyway, those are my thoughts. Should you need a press conference, please don't hesitate to let us know, Mr. Woo. We'll take care of it." "I'm not sure if that'll be necessary." "Just so you're aware of the option," Dong Baek said as he spun the Lazy Susan. "There's still time, so think it over, Mr. Woo." It was the complete opposite of Seo Kwang's opinion. Nevertheless, Juho nodded with a smile on his face. --- "Should I reveal my identity?" Although Juho was murmuring to himself, it was still loud enough to be heard by those around him. Then, a pool cue came into Juho's view, and Seo Joong sprung up from his place, asking, "What!? Are you serious!?" "Say it louder, why don't you?" a voice said, criticizing Seo Joong and his behavior. It was Dong Gil. "How can I be quiet!? Yun Woo's gonna reveal his identity!" "Nobody's said anything about revealing anybody's identity. It was a question." "Well, when people ask questions like that, they usually have an answer in their minds." Then, looking toward the young author, Seo Joong said, "Am I right?" "Maybe?" With that, Juho rose from his seat. Then, three of the balls on the table sank into holes with a crisp sound that reverberated through the living room. One cue ball was moving the entire table. Buzzing through each other, the other balls dodged or collided with the white cueball, either bouncing against the cushions or sinking into a hole. When a ball started moving, it couldn't stop itself. "Having trouble figuring out what you wanna do?" Dong Gil asked, and Juho said with a shrug, "Just something every high school junior goes through." "Oh-ho! Man, you're a junior now, huh? I spent ages deciding on whether or not I should go to college." "That's different," Dong Gil said with a disgruntled look on his face as if annoyed with Seo Joong for putting his own insignificant worries on par with Yun Woo's, and Seo Joong responded by taunting him, wiggling his butt. "Eh, how different can it be? Everybody feels like their bad decisions will make the world fall apart at one point. I mean, I was going through a living hell when I was writing 'One Room,' but in hindsight, I realize that it was hardly any different from the time when I was trying to decide whether to go to college or not." Then, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, he added, "So, coming from somebody who wrestled with similar concerns, how about you give it about five years or so? You know, think long and hard." "Don't listen to him. It won't help at all," Dong Gil said, giving Seo Joong a disgusted look. Then, he shared his thoughts unhurriedly, "I've never been anonymous, let alone win the Nebula or the Hugo. I've never written anything like your pieces, either. I'm not sure what kind of advice I can offer." "Right." "What I do know is that it's impossible to stay hidden forever," Dong Gil said, sharing his level-headed opinion. Just as he had said, considering the circumstances, it would be incredibly difficult to conceal his identity, both impeccably and indefinitely. Seo Joong interjected, "All right, how about this? You wait it out as long as you can. That doesn't sound half bad, does it?" It was an interesting opinion. "Why, though?" "If what Dong Gil said is true, then it means your identity will come to light sooner or later. In that case, just enjoy yourself." Before the young author even had time to answer, Dong Gil said cold-heartedly, "No, it'd be better to reveal it yourself in that case. It's your identity, after all." "Do you have to exaggerate everything like that?" "You tend to make light of the world around you." "And you're so rigid. Ugh, makes me feel like I'm choking." In between their conversation, Juho organized his thoughts.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Sigh," Juho let out. Upon returning home and opening the door to his room, the young author was reminded that there was yet another thing on the list of things that needed to be organized: the boxes of manuscript paper. They were like mountains made of paper. Because he was running out of space for the boxes, some of them had been taking up one of the corners of the living room. His mother would always tell him to move the boxes elsewhere or throw them out every time she came into his room. Then, with the conviction that it wouldn't be long until he'd lost his bed to the boxes of manuscripts, Juho turned toward the window and opened it. Of course, the boxes were getting in the way of him doing that. Nevertheless, the young author didn't find his room suffocating because everything that had stifled him at one point had all been turned into writing and was sitting within those boxes. The stacks of paper were the very proof that Juho had successfully alleviated his emotions. Having digested all of those emotions, it made sense that that much writing would've come out of him. Then, Juho took a book out of his backpack. It was the book written by Yun Seo, which he had been reading constantly. Yun Seo had started writing that book just when she had thought she had had nothing left as an author. Although she had always claimed that she had had no more stories left to write, she had successfully created yet another outstanding story. She was just as great of an artist as she had always been, as well as a respected novelist. Her book had the power to revive people. Yun Seo's book carried a certain warmth to it. The fact that the young author was reading her book at that point in his life, in particular, was far from coincidence. Yun Seo had the ability to write books that people would reach for whenever they found themselves at a crossroads. "A genius," Juho let out as he remembered the conversation he had had with Coin. Juho had disliked the word quite a bit. However, regardless of how much he hated the word, Yun Woo and Won Yi Young had always been geniuses in the eyes of others. But what did that mean for Juho Woo? He was a run-of-the-mill high school student, and Juho much preferred that than anything. However, his peaceful school life was short lived. An underclassman had appeared and started calling him by the very title he disliked so much. It had to be a sign, a sign that Juho wouldn't be able to get what he wanted staying where he was, and that the time to make a choice was imminent. It was a powerful sign, and Juho recalled hearing it even from his book-loving, yet cheerful friend. Then, a bird chirped outside the window. The young author thought back to the conversation he had had with Dong Baek. He had described him as being charming. However, Juho was fully aware that, within him, lived a homeless, alcoholic man. He closed his eyes. He wanted to keep the conversation going and bring up what he couldn't bring himself to bring up. The red wallpaper appeared before his eyes. In fact, everything was red, from the floor to the chairs. An image of red flowers lingered in Juho's head. "You're incredibly charming, Mr. Woo," Dong Baek said. "You have a mysterious side to you. For example, your calm, unfazed nature, as if you had poured all of your feelings into your work, and your maturity. You're strangely mature for your age, but I find us often speaking the same language, Mr. Woo. I see how you're able to write like that, and to understand is to accept." Dong Baek was certain. "I still remember the day when I talked to you for the first time. As far as I'm aware, you'll be greeted with opened arms by your fans, Mr. Woo." Juho recalled the president showing similar confidence previously. It had happened when they first discussed 'Language of God.' His prediction had become a reality, and it showed that he had the ability to read the market and the readers. Charming. That time, Juho didn't try to shake off the image of himself at the lowest point in his past life. "I might end up homeless, completely incapacitated from alcohol abuse." Then, Juho added the truth, which sounded all too much like an excuse, "It could happen to anybody." Although the young author couldn't make out Dong Baek's face, his answer wasn't a serious one: "Well, that would leave me feeling uneasy, if you put it that way. I am the president of a company at the end of the day." Dong Baek, too, had a fear of failure. Meanwhile, Jang Mi, who was sitting next to him, nodded with exaggeration. Everything was as red as a warning light. "In that case, everyone would blame the one who failed. In this case, the president." It was ugly and pitiful. Blaming those who had fallen away from society was easier than breathing. At the same time, it came with a strange sense of pleasure. Those who blamed were able to rest assured because they knew that they were in the position of being able to blame. "Most likely," Juho said. "I'm afraid." The young author was afraid of getting blamed. He was afraid to fail, as well as of humiliation and the wound that came with it. Juho knew all too well just how painful that could be, and he never wanted to be on the receiving end of his readers' disgusted glares. "But, if I were to stay afraid, I wouldn't be able to write." There was nothing more crippling for an author than fear of failure. It prevented them from writing a single word as their minds became filled with worry and insecurity. 'What if there's a better sentence? If I wrote this one sentence, would it ruin the entire thing? What if people say that I should've left that sentence out?' The thoughts only grew scarier, leaving the author to obsess over a single sentence until it was impeccable. "There is no such thing as a perfect sentence." Failures were painful, and it was only natural to fear things that caused pain. However, lingering in that fear left one entirely incapacitated. In that case, did that mean that it was natural for them to feel like they couldn't do anything, making everything they had done up to that point unnatural? The answer was no. Fear hadn't been the only emotion the young author had felt, and it only tended to come out when a concoction of emotions was becoming a piece of writing. "Interesting," Dong Baek said. He was listening to Juho's every thought. "You seem to be at a crossroads." "Very much so." "You know, that's not a bad thing. It's just the process of reaching a conclusion of your own. After all, it's part of life to ponder, act and problem solve." "But it leaves the mind in a jumbled mess." "I agree, and it's definitely not something you want to make a habit of. Everything in moderation, right?" Then, Jang Mi chimed in, "I think you're in denial, Mr. Woo." And the table started spinning as if it would never stop. "You're not thinking about what's actually important." Juho nodded in agreement to Jang Mi's statement. "It's not an in-depth analysis of the nature of failure that you should be thinking about. Rather, it's whether or not you'll face it." "I'm sure we're sharing the same knowledge here, Mr. Woo." "And we're not the ones you should be worrying about." Then, along with what sounded like wailing, another person walked into the room. It was Kelley Coin. "Genius." Juho heard the conversation they had had. The young author definitely recalled saying, "'Genius' isn't enough. I don't find it satisfying. I'd much prefer something even bigger, shinier and more embellished." Then, a burst of hearty laughter came from behind. "I knew it. Pure, huh? You want more people to agree with you and recognize you. You want every person in this world to read your writing," Coin said. 'Of course,' Juho thought. He didn't deny it since he knew those very desires were hidden deep within him. The wailing didn't stop. Then, when he looked at the wall with floral-patterned wallpaper on it, he saw a black stain that looked like a burnt spot. "The bird's here," Juho let out, seeing the crow sitting still on the table. The table was still spinning, and although the crow flapped its wings by reflex, it seemed to be enjoying the ride that made the world around it spin, as if oblivious to the fact that the fun would eventually come to an end. Juho was fully aware of what he had been avoiding. He had to make a choice. The world was full of terrifying things. From eating to walking, there was not a single thing that didn't involve some sort of hazard. The young author had always been afraid of failure, but he had been just as afraid of success. A success beyond what one could handle was no different from a failure, and remaining in a place of success all by himself was the same thing. Once fear started creeping in, there was no end to it. With that, as if seeking advice, the young author asked the crow, "Have you grown weary?" The bird shook its head. "Are you tired?" That time, the bird took some time to think, but it soon shook its head once again. "In that case, you could probably handle taking one step forward from where you are, right?" The young author had sought advice from a number of people. While some had encouraged him to reveal his identity, others had tried to discourage him from doing so. Eventually, Juho came to realize what he really wanted. The crow cawed. Juho wanted to be great, but what did that mean? Everything in toward that path was ambiguous, and the young author didn't know how to get there. Nevertheless, that wasn't to say that he was apathetic. He might have been afraid to fail, but he didn't seek after success either. Then, Juho swung his hand toward the crow. The table stopped and the crow, caught off guard by the young author's sudden movement, took a step back, frightened. However, its eyes were still fixed on Juho. It was looking to resist him. Flapping its wings about, it hesitated out of fear, pondering. "You and I are actually on the same page for once." Then, as if mocking him, the bird turned away from him, and it was at that moment that Juho opened his eyes. He looked at the book written by Yun Seo in his hand. 'I'll make a decision once I finish this book. That's a pace I can manage to keep without falling on my face." --- 'Will we ever come to see Yun Woo? While the Earth keeps spinning, and time passes, the high school juniors in Korea are absorbed with preparing for the upcoming SAT. The number of days left until the test day is getting crossed off one by one on the chalkboard. I was both delighted and unsurprised by photos of a scene from a typical high school classroom, those that turn up every year. However, thanks to Korea's very own world-class author, things are looking a little more special. Having debuted at an early age, his debut title had not only been received with critical acclaim, but it also quickly became a bestseller. BUT, that isn't to say that's the only thing that's bringing him so much attention. There's yet another factor that is bringing a type of curiosity that feels closer to torture. Anonymity. Yun Woo's identity has been a mystery. In reality, there have been quite a few authors who have chosen to remain anonymous. Authors who are less popular, authors who suffer from social phobias, and surprisingly, even some authors who are credited with writing some of the greatest pieces in history. 'As far as I'm aware, Yun Woo had personally requested his publishing company to keep his identity hidden in order to ensure his comfortable school life. Then, what would it mean for the young author once the SAT is over, and the juniors graduate? Would Yun Woo reveal his identity? Would he face his readers in person? Would he expose himself to the press? If not, would he remain anonymous to ensure a peaceful life as a college student? There are a number of possible scenarios… I, personally, share a hope similar to the rest of the fans across the globe. I hope that Yun Woo will reveal himself. Why? Because he's our favorite author, who writes our favorite books. When it comes to somebody we're fond of, we tend to want to know everything there is to know about them.' Nam Kyung let out a deep sigh as he put the paper down. There were tens of other versions of similar drafts. That one had been written by a fan who hoped the young author would reveal himself, and similar posts had been turning up on the bulletin board of the company's website. The inquiries kept flooding in while the editor was busy trying to decide on the kind of paper to use for a book, looking at samples of bookmarks, setting dates for a meeting with clients, and even during a company meeting. "Is Yun Woo going to reveal himself?" Although the meeting in the editing department had been long over, the reporters had lingered in the meeting room. It had been an occasion to disclose information about Yun Woo that wasn't going to be revealed to the public, and everyone had hoped for an official statement from the publisher. "We'd have to wait for a response from Mr. Woo himself." Although it was unfortunate for the fans hoping earnestly to find out more about the young author, the publisher didn't know what the young author was thinking, either. "Mr. Park." At that, Nam Kyung resisted the urge to sigh heavily.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Because Nam Kyung had been the only connection between fans and the young author, the editor quickly became the center of attention. "Are you sure we aren't rushing this?" "You know the situation." "Mr. Woo has to graduate, too." "Whoever said anything about keeping him from graduating? Nobody has the patience to wait around anymore. Do you have any idea how many people out there are desperate to hear from him?" "Words can't be taken back," the editor said lukewarmly, and the editor-in-chief pointed toward the window, saying, "There's a whole crowd of 'em just outside of our building." Nam Kyung was fully aware of that. He had been running into the crowd on his way to work every morning. They were a throng of Yun Woo's fans wanting to see the young author. There was a crowd of anywhere between forty and fifty people gathering at the entrance of Zelkova Publishing, watching those who went in and out of the building. Even when the publishers would call the cops on them, the crowd returned the next day. It was a sight similar to that of an entertainment agency. Nam Kyung had never seen anything like it in his time working at the company. The situation had forced the sales event to be delayed indefinitely, and going in and out of the staff room became seriously dangerous. Needless to say, the security guards in the building were on full alert. "What I don't get is, how are they planning on seeing him when they don't even know what he looks like?" "Where they're coming from makes sense, though." "It seems like Mr. Woo's really starting to be treated like a celebrity." The crowd had been gathering in front of the building since the day after the news of Yun Woo winning the Hugo Award. Coupled with the reporters, the front of the building was always in disarray. "Shouldn't we push the book festival back, too? The one that's happening at the book district?" Mr. Maeng said anxiously. Often held in the book district, the mini book festival was just around the corner. Then, with a troubled look on his face, the editor-in-chief shook his head. "No. It's not like we're the only ones involved, and we've already advertised for it. We'll suffer a substantial loss," he said, bringing up the name Yun Woo again in order to keep things from digressing. "Maybe it's best if we just reveal it," Ms. Song said. "I don't know. I think it'd be better to wait until after Mr. Woo graduates," Mr. Maeng answered. Since the individual directly involved was absent, they weren't going to reach a conclusion no matter how much they discussed the matter. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung thought of Juho, as well as all the other authors he was responsible for. Yun Woo's personality aside, he was still underage. Revealing himself meant standing before the eyes of the masses, which also meant bringing him face to face with the power he possessed as an author. By no means, was it a simple matter. "What are your thoughts, Mr. Park?" Ms. Song asked. Nam Kyung found himself in a dilemma. While he wanted to see Yun Woo reveal himself confidently, he also wanted to respect the young author's space, especially if it meant having a negative impact on his creative process. "I'll meet up with him in the near future," Nam Kyung said evasively. Everyone had different expressions on their faces while trying to predict what Yun Woo would do, but it was clear that they were all both worried and hopeful. "Personally, I really, really hope he reveals himself. So many people have been giving me a hard time, asking how I don't know his face when I work for Zelkova." "There's definitely pressure from around us. Although, I don't see that changing anytime soon, even if Yun Woo were to reveal his identity." "All the details aside, I'm dying to know what Mr. Woo looks like." "Do you think he's good looking?" "How would an author benefit from good looks? What matters is their writing." "Sure, but is that what most Koreans would think, though? Looks come before everything else." Nam Kyung sighed heavily between his coworkers. If that was the kind of conversation that was taking place within a publishing company, it had to be much worse everywhere else. Having been next to Yun Woo since the beginning, Nam Kyung had been asking himself lately, "Why do people need pictures? Why do they need to know what the author looks like when they buy their book?' If anybody were to say that it's to know the author better, then it would be much better to show them a picture of the author's hand. After all, authors wrote with their hands, not with their face. "Maybe they'll talk about how ugly or pretty his hands are and compare them side by side." "What was that?" "Why don't we get back to work? We have a lot to do," Nam Kyung said, leaving through the door that would keep all the information in the room from going out. "Mr. Park." During the break, Nam Kyung looked back at the voice calling for him and saw a new employee, who had recently come from another company. The editor was in a discussion with Jiyul Sohn about whether 5 percent was an appropriate figure for royalties or not. Nam Kyung didn't know too much about him since they worked in different departments, but the editor did recall having talked to him a few times in the past. Seeing the pen in his chest pocket, Nam Kyung remembered seeing a similar pen in the same spot when they first met. Secretly, the editor had been entertaining the thought that the pen was actually some sort of recording device, contrary to its appearance. "Yes?" Nam Kyung asked, and raising the paper cup in his hand, the new employee said, "Nothing really. I was just passing by and it seemed like you were talking about something fun. Back in my old workplace, people would always talk about minimizing the amount of time spent doing other things aside from working," he said, joining in on the conversation candidly. Due to the demanding nature of the job, quite a few editors tended to burn out. In terms of experience, the new employee would probably be just as competent as all the other editors in the company. Nam Kyung was made all the more certain of that after talking about work with him. Then, changing the subject seamlessly, the new employee said to Nam Kyung, "Everyone seems anxious to know whether or not Yun Woo will reveal himself." Because that was the hottest topic within the company, Nam Kyung didn't find the transition in their conversation jarring. Besides, he was often approached by other employees within the company who wanted to know about Yun Woo. "I'm getting curious myself," the editor said genuinely. "Seems like Mr. Woo has yet to give an answer?" "No, unfortunately." "That's not surprising. After all, we're the anxious ones," the new employee said and reverted the subject back to work. He seemed to have talent in storytelling. As Nam Kyung laughed at his joke, he asked, "Hey, why don't we go for a drink one of these days? What's your schedule like?" At that, Nam Kyung groaned with regret and said, "Ah, man. I'm actually leaving on a business trip tomorrow and have dinner plans with Mr. Lim the next day. He recently decided to publish a book through our company." "Oh! Yes, I heard. You're a busy man, Mr. Park. You must be hard pressed to make time for Mr. Woo." "Don't worry. I intend on making it happen at all costs, even if it means staying up all night." Then, laughing cheerfully, the new employee checked the time and said, "Well, I better get back to work now. Nice talkin' with ya, Mr. Park." After watching him from behind, Nam Kyung, too, went back to his desk. --- 'Paparazzi Academy. Capture anybody you want, even Yun Woo!' Juho looked intently at the advertisement. Although he had heard that there had been paparazzi out to capture him on camera, the young author had never actually run into one. Defined as a hungry insect strolling about for an opportunity to feast, the word paparazzi had its origin in Italy. Nevertheless, it was most commonly associated with celebrities. Most recently, there seemed to be quite a few of them infiltrating illegally operated karaokes and private institutes, reporting them for rewards. Unfortunately, the paparazzi were one of the reasons that the young author couldn't go near the publisher's building. Since Yun Woo's victory over the Hugo Award, more and more people had been lingering around the company building in order to capture the young author on camera. The name Yun Woo was still drawing massive attention. Although one might wonder how the paparazzi would take pictures of him without even knowing what he looked like, media tended to focus much more on the potential for attention than the truth, much more than most people thought. There were a handful of people who had been mistaken for Yun Woo because they had been at the award ceremonies, which was further proof of that. Even when articles that denied the rumors turned up, it took time until the excitement died down. "You're early," Juho said upon seeing Nam Kyung when he arrived at their meeting spot. As the young author sat across from him, Nam Kyung told him, "I drove here." Then, sipping on the fresh fruit juice that Nam Kyung had bought him, Juho observed him. Something was different about him. "How's school?" the editor asked. "Same ol', same ol'." "And the Literature Club?" "It's been fun. The new members have been getting noticeably better at writing, so I've been on my toes as of late. I think our library can expect some fine pieces of writing." Then, Nam Kyung sucked on the straw in his cup. However, drinking the juice with a straw was proving to be harder than it looked. Something had to be caught in the straw. Meanwhile, the young author observed him quietly. The conversation wasn't all that different, but there was something awkward about him. Although Juho had a vague idea of what it could be, he decided not to bring it up until Nam Kyung brought it up first. "Well, that sounds nice. A quiet, humble life." "It sure is," Juho said. It wasn't bad at all. Then, after nodding, the editor gave his straw another try, but to no avail. Eventually, he pulled out the straw and threw it away as his patience failed him. "Man, what the heck is wrong with this straw!?" he said, opening the lid on his cup and pouring the juice directly into his mouth in a very animated manner. Meanwhile, Juho drank his juice with a straw, peacefully. Then, after crunching on ice chunks, Nam Kyung swallowed them and said in a determined tone of voice, "Mr. Woo." To which, the young author answered calmly, "Yes," noticing the editor's Adam's apple moving up and down. "Do you know what the most popular subject between the people in our company is?" "I wouldn't know. I can't remember the last time I was there." "It's you, Mr. Woo. Yun Woo," Nam Kyung said, adding, "Everyone's dying to know about you." Despite his slightly unusual demeanor, he still had a look on his face that Juho knew very well. Then, the editor asked in a low, resounding voice, "Are you planning on revealing yourself, Mr. Woo?" At that, the young author answered calmly, "Yes." Then, blinking, Nam Kyung said, "Wait, what did you say?" As Juho gave no answer, the editor took a deep breath. "Did you say you ARE going to reveal yourself!?" "Yes." "You're serious!?" Juho nodded and said, "I fully intend on doing so." The young author seemed to have already made up his mind and was ready to come out to the world with his mask off. At that moment, Nam Kyung couldn't help but feel like his entire company had been made a fool of. "Just like that? Was it that easy all along?" he asked, perplexed and suppressing all of his pent up emotions. "I wouldn't say it was an easy decision." "Actually, it sounds like it was very, very easy," Nam Kyung said and Juho simply shrugged it off. There was no need to explain every detail of his thought process. "Are you sure about this?" the editor asked repeatedly in disbelief. Juho was ready to accept that there would be times when he would second-guess his decision. He knew all too well what it meant for him to reveal himself from firsthand experience. "Yes. I'll be fine." 'I've gone through it once. It shouldn't be that hard the second time around,' he thought to himself with unfounded hope. At which point, Nam Kyung poured even more chunks of ice into his mouth, organizing his thoughts while chewing viciously. "Then, I'll arrange with the press…" "No," Juho interjected, raising his hand and Nam Kyung asked, taken aback by the young author's sudden response, "Pardon?" "It won't be through the press." "... Then, how are you planning on doing this?" "The common way." Because of the distance between Yun Woo and the word common, Nam Kyung couldn't grasp what Juho was referring to. "We'll include a picture in my new book," Juho said, referring to the 'About the Author' section of every book. At that, Nam Kyung thought of the format of the book that was to be released in Korea and overseas. Although it was common in Korean books to include a summary of the author in either cover of the book, that wasn't the case for books in other countries. Assuming that they were putting Juho's plan to action immediately, there was only one book that would allow them to reveal the young author's face in the most efficient way. "The Insect." "A working title, but yes." At that, Nam Kyung chuckled involuntarily. Things were taking an interesting turn. In that case, Yun Woo would be including a picture of himself in his book for the first time, which carried a story that he had thought of after watching a video of himself speaking on the phone. He would be including himself in a book about people who were trapped, while at the same time, forever trapped in a photo. 'Impeccable,' Nam Kyung shouted internally.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I gotta say, there's an irony to it," Nam Kyung said, feeling hopeful. Whenever he would edit one of Yun Woo's books, he felt like things were getting closer to the ideal picture in his head. He became curious about the readers' reactions to the book they would buy just to see what their favorite author looked like. What would they think of the book? Nam Kyung sensed success. "But I have to remind you. Once your face is known, you won't be able to avoid interacting with the press. They'll come for you, and they won't let up." "Yes, I know. But I'll keep it at the lowest key possible. I'll interact with them when and where I chose to. But in terms of revealing myself to my readers, I'd like to do that through my book." "Of course, Mr. Woo." Not only was Yun Woo prominent enough to make requests like that to the press, but Zelkova Publishing wasn't exactly the smallest company, either. They, too, were big enough to host an annual award ceremony. "All right, then. That should take care of the reporters camping out in front of my workplace." Juho smiled at Nam Kyung's witty remark. Then, the editor moved on to tell him about what had happened at his workplace during their visit to the States, which hadn't been all that different from the current situation. "Interview requests will be flooding in from overseas. It won't be easy to choose." Juho sighed quietly at the dreading reminder of the interview requests. He still remembered having to set aside essentially an entire day for interviews. Because reporters and journalists would ask a series of similar questions, it ended with Juho having to repeat himself over and over. He had been blatantly greedy toward fame back then, wanting to be recognized by everyone until he couldn't roam about the streets in peace. Although the goal hadn't been bad in an of itself, what he had lacked had been his understanding of who he was: an author. If he wanted to be famous, what he really should've done was write rather than participate in interviews. It wasn't until much later that Juho learned his lesson. Everything became clear in retrospect, and it dawned on him that he most likely wouldn't have listened to anybody, no matter how much they tried to talk him out of going in the direction he had had in mind. A realization had little meaning unless one came to it on their own, and it wasn't until much later that a person could reach one. "Seems like you're about to get a lot busier," Nam Kyung said. Just as he had said, the young author was about to be unbelievably busy. Then, after checking his schedules on his phone, Nam Kyung decided to share some news with the young author, "By the way, did you know Mr. Lim is coming out with a new book soon? We haven't decided on a release date yet, but we've been really pushing for it." At that, Juho remembered what he had heard from Hyun Do previously. "Now that you mention it, he did say that he was working on a manuscript." "Oh, wow! Are you two that close?" "Just something that came up during a meal." However, the editor didn't pay all that much attention to his response. "Does that mean I can expect to see you two in an interview together?" "Hard to say." "Or on TV?" "Mr. Lim isn't a fan of getting involved with the press in any way, as far as I'm aware." "Man, just the thought of it puts a smile on my face," he said simpering. No matter what Juho said, it most likely wouldn't register to Nam Kyung. "Oh, are you planning on taking pictures? Would you like a studio recommendation from me?" Nam Kyung said, adding that the young author had to pay close attention to his first official photo session in order to leave a positive impression on his readers. "I know you're not gonna like it when I say this, but you have to pick the one that comes out the best. You are Yun Woo, after all," the editor said as if ready to take Juho to a photographer at any given minute. However, the young author shook his head. "I already have a picture in mind." "Oh? What's look like? How'd it come out?" Nam Kyung asked, and Juho nodded confidently. Juho, too, was aware of the significance of the picture, and he was expecting that his fans would have differing opinions about his looks, as well as the things that brought them doubt. Even if he were to present the publishers as his witnesses, there was bound to be people who doubted whether he was real. 'Is this boy really Yun Woo?' 'He looks a lot better than I imagined.' 'He isn't as good looking as I thought he would be.' It was unlikely that the process, which involved an author who lived in people's heads as an image becoming an actual person in reality, would go smoothly and noiselessly. Being well aware of that, Juho didn't plan on choosing a picture of himself according to the expectations of his fans. Rather, he went with what seemed the most fitting for him. "Since it would be our first time meeting, it would be a courtesy to introduce myself. In that sense, I thought there would be nothing better than this picture." "Well, which picture is it?" "One that you've already seen." "I have?!" Nam Kyung asked with a perplexed look on his face. "You know, the one we took while we were in the States?" The States. Coin's residence. As the picture came to mind, Nam Kyung clapped his hands together. There was no picture like it, and Coin had the original. "That'll do." It was a perfect choice, and it would allow the fans to be able to accept the truth without too much trouble. It had to be the most convincing evidence when proving the young author's identity. A picture of Yun Woo and Coin, standing side by side in front of Coin's residence. Both authors were in comfortable attire, and their hairs were blowing in the wind. Although not exactly the tidiest photo, it was bound to make a positive impression on the fans. "I'm not gonna lie, Mr. Woo. I thought this would be a lot more time-consuming," the editor said, delighted that everything was going seamlessly. At that, a subject came up in Juho's mind, "So, I saw this advertisement on my way here." "An advertisement?" he asked, puzzled. "Yes. It was for a paparazzi academy, but I thought their phrasing was quite threatening." 'Capture anybody you want, even Yun Woo!' At that, an ambiguous expression appeared on the editor's face. While his mouth was smiling, his brow started to furrow gradually. "Paparazzi, huh," he said. Nam Kyung didn't believe that people would be able to take pictures of the young author when they didn't even know what he looked like. At the same time, it was slightly disconcerting. "Mr. Woo, you have to understand how hard we try to keep your identity hidden from the masses," he said with a sigh. Then, remembering a manual in his department, which was made exclusively for Yun Woo, he added, "There are a total of three people who know what you look like in the entire company, and we've minimized the number of people who have access to information about you. We put a warning on every piece of data that has anything remotely to do with you. 'Confidential. Destroy after reading.' The general atmosphere within the company has been pretty cautious. I think people are assuming that they would be driven out of the industry if they leaked any information about you. We've been having our meetings in a different place every time," the editor said, emphasizing that the company had been taking a number of precautionary measures in addition to normal. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Mr. Park." If it weren't for Nam Kyung and Zelkova Publishing, Juho wouldn't have been able to remain anonymous for three years. Then, with a look of relief, Nam Kyung said, "Well, just a little longer now. We'll keep our eyes peeled just a little longer until the book is released." At that, the young author nodded affirmingly. --- The paparazzo smiled as he watched the secret meeting between Yun Woo and his editor from the inside of the car. The shutter sounded from his camera, and after taking some pictures of them, the paparazzo lowered the camera to check the photos of the two talking and drinking their fruit juices inside the shop. The young author and his editor appeared to be quite close to each other. 'Is this really Yun Woo?' the paparazzo asked, looking at the face that he didn't recognize. Then, he took a recording device out of their chest pocket, which contained the make and model of the editor's car and its plate number, his schedules, and a recording of his voice about a future meeting that was more than likely to happen. According to his informant, the editor should have left on a business trip that had long been planned for. However, he was still in Korea, meeting someone. More precisely, meeting Yun Woo. The man tried to suppress the wave of excitement washing over him. "Well, things can always change." So far, everything had gone according to his informant, but as long as the paparazzo didn't know what Yun Woo looked like, there was no way to be certain of anything. In comparison to the photos the paparazzo had been selling up to that point, the set of pictures he had taken that day lacked any substantial evidence that would prove their legitimacy. However, it was hardly going to be an issue because they were going to be sold regardless. There had been many companies looking for items of provocative nature rather than the truth. The name Yun Woo had already been a sensation a number of times previously. The paparazzo swallowed anxiously. 'How much would I get out of these photos?' It had to be enough to cover the amount he had spent on the piece of information just to be able to capture the young author on camera. Then, the paparazzo picked up his phone. --- "You. Bring your phone up here," the P.E teacher said to a student, taking their phone away. Meanwhile, having had their phone with them in secret, the student looked like they were about to burst into tears at any given minute. "Make sure to clean up before you go inside." That was the typical end of the weekly P.E class. While some students were quite fond of it, others couldn't stand it. With that, picking up a basketball, Juho shot into the basket. The students had been told that their test scores would be based on the number of shots they had made within a one-minute time limit. That day, the class had been mostly practicing for the exam, and the class was far from special. Then, Juho went into the school building, which was noticeably cooler than outside. The junior had heard that the school was planning on going into renovations after he graduated, making a slew of improvements throughout the campus, like a lawn in the schoolyard, better air conditioning and heating, and repainting the outer walls of the building to a brighter color. Suffice to say, the juniors had much to complain about the slew of improvements that were taking place after they would graduate. No matter how much better the school became, it made no difference if they couldn't take advantage of the improvements. Internally, they had to be coming from a place of sincerity, wanting the underclassmen to enjoy the new and improved learning environment, as well as from a place of mean-spiritedness. Walls with scribblings on them. Dusty hallways. Windows with metal beams. The lockers, desks, and chairs, which were visible upon opening the classroom door. Chalkboard and podium. Looking attentively at those things, Juho took his seat. Students who had changed out of their P.E clothes were mingling with students who were yet to do so, either getting ready for the next period or snacking on something. On top of that, there was a mention of Yun Woo. "If I were Yun Woo, I'd do backflips in front of everyone." "What's that even mean?" "It means I'd enjoy the heck out of being the center of attention." The young author chuckled quietly at his peer's ridiculous remark. At that moment, the bell started ringing, and the teacher walked in through the door. Then, with the teacher's strict voice, the classroom grew silent at once, and the teacher proceeded to teach. Taking notes and underlining their textbooks, the students marked the subjects they were told to expect in the upcoming exam with stars. Although nobody knew for certain whether or not they would revisit their notes, they took them and marked their textbooks busily. Then, as the teacher called a random call number, a student rose from their seat, barely answering the teacher's question and sitting back down. The sounds of other students in P.E and shouts came from the open window. Then, the bell started ringing again, and the students started rushing out of the classroom. Meanwhile, the teacher packed their belongings unhurriedly and rose from their seat. The Broadcasting Club was playing background music during lunchtime, and recently, they had started reading quotes or English texts recommended by teachers in collaboration with the Newspaper Club. However, nobody seemed to pay any attention to it. Although it was time for club activities, that was merely a formality, as it was really independent study for the juniors. Meanwhile, leaving his peers behind, Juho walked out of the classroom along with one of his peers, who was part of the Broadcasting Club. There were only a handful of students who were still going to their respective clubs during the club activities period. "Hello." When Juho arrived at the science room, the sophomore and the freshmen were already there, ahead of him since their classrooms were closer to the room. As he was greeted by them, Juho went over to his seat. "Juho, did you see our stories in the library?" "I sure did." "We loved the cover design so much!" Designed by Baron, they were just as captivating as they had always been. Although, he let it seem like his schedule was busy enough to make him live on campus, the former club member had willingly designed the covers for his clubmates after reading Juho's writing. The twins seemed to be blown away by the fact that their books were being exhibited in public. Meanwhile, Bo Suk raised her thumb, impressed by Baron's outstanding work. "I'm sure this is a no-brainer, but your book is the most popular out of all of ours, Juho," she said. However, unlike what she had said, that wasn't as obvious as the sophomore thought. As Juho was about to explain, she beat him to it, "But frankly, it seems like people are less interested this time around when compared to last year. Maybe it's because we don't get to advertise using Baron's posters." Then, after some contemplation, Juho played along, saying, "Maybe. It's important to promote."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I miss Baron." "Ask him to come visit." "He's super busy though." As Juho and Bo Suk talked about Baron, a loud clapping sound came out of nowhere. "What if you go professional? You know, as an author! You'll be so popular," Gong Il said looking like she was both serious and joking, while her twin brother was agreeing with her enthusiastically. At that, Juho simply smiled without saying much. Meanwhile, Bo Suk stared intently at the young author. "There's something about the name Yun Woo that makes people wanna buy more books. You have more than enough potential to be like him, Juho." "I have a better idea. What if you guys try to bring more people in with your writing?" "That's easier said than done," the twins said, shaking their heads. Then, as the bell started ringing and the entire Literature Club came together in the science room, Juho opened his laptop. Although he didn't have anything to work on necessarily, he had been in the habit of writing on a whim. And as usual, there was nothing out of the ordinary during club activities. While some talked to each other about books, others either joked around or help the younger members with their writing. "Bye-bye." At the end of club activities, the club was divided into two groups: the juniors, who went back to their classes, and the underclassmen, who headed home. Unlike his peers, Juho had permission to go home like the sophomore and the freshmen, but because he had a place to be of his own, he parted ways with the younger members. It was the small library within the school, and as Juho had expected, there was nobody inside when the junior opened the door. It was as quiet and peaceful as usual. Remembering his younger clubmates telling him that the exhibition in the library had been getting fewer visitors than the previous year, Juho walked further into the library, toward his piece. Along with the sign that read 'Literature Club,' there was a brief description of each piece. There were quite a few books since all of the juniors and the younger members had participated that year. Then, as the junior looked through his clubmates' well-written stories, he came across his own writing: 'Fingernails.' Although he started skimming through it briefly, it wasn't long before he closed it back up and returned to pieces written by his clubmates. "Very nice." Upon looking at them, Juho realized that his peers had come a long way from way they started. They had reached impressive skill levels, and each and every one of them had improved drastically since first joining the Literature Club. They had grown, matured, and become proficient, and as if to prove that, Juho saw traces left by other students who had read their stories. In other words, readers. At that moment… "I enjoyed it." … a familiar voice said from behind him. 'Isn't she was my age? I didn't think she'd be here,' Juho thought to himself. To Juho's surprise, the girl was still in the library, holding a book in her hand. She was the reader who had expressed hope that Juho would keep writing. Then, with a lingering attachment in her eyes, she stared intently at Juho's piece. "I guess I won't be seeing your writing for much longer. It's the only reason I'm not looking forward to graduating." "That's flattering," Juho said. Actually, he was quite fond of what she had said. "Will I ever come across your writing again in the future?" she asked. "Without a doubt," the young author answered confidently. That day would be coming soon. Then, she looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face, as if confused by his confidence. "I'm sure I will, as long as I'm alive." "That's a fancy way to put it," Juho said. She seemed to be going through something in her mind. Then, after a brief pause, she said, "When I discover that not a single university in existence wants me, for example." Juho shrugged. Books had always been within their readers' reach. As long as they made up their minds to reconnect with them, books were readily available for them. In the meantime, she returned to her post, and that was the end of their interaction. Coming out of the library, Juho walked down the stairs and, finally, out the front gate of the school. Then, standing still in front of the metal gate, which was closed halfway as if to convey that only certain individuals might pass through it, the young author looked up at his school. The security guard was nowhere to be found. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the person standing in front of the gate was a junior who was about to graduate in the near future. The realization that he didn't have much time left in that school left a bitter taste in Juho's mouth. Then, after staring up at the building for a little while longer, he went on his way. --- "Should we go somewhere?" Juho said to his mother, looking out of the patio window. The weather was pleasant and, as if aware of that, the pedestrians on the street were all in a hurry to get somewhere, all while their faces were filled with joy. "Sounds good! Should we go to the Han River or something?" While talking about a potential picnic, Juho's eyes went to the TV, which they had left on for a no apparent reason. It was showing a number of celebrities, and among them, was Myung Joo Mu, who Juho hadn't seen in a while. The actor had been busy appearing on a bunch of TV shows in order to promote his new drama. "He's a good actor," Juho's mother said while looking at the actor on the screen, and the young author agreed. Myung Joo was an incredible actor, and most viewers who had seen him onscreen were bound to agree. His versatility as an actor brought joy to his fans. Before Juho realized, the subject of the conversation had taken a completely different turn, from a picnic to the actor. "Do you still keep in touch with him?" "Not really." Unlike with Sang Young or Soo Jung, Juho hadn't kept in touch with the actor. Although he had his phone number, they were never close to each other, and their relationship was no more than that of a fan and a celebrity. Besides, Juho hadn't had the time to watch the drama Myung Joo was in, which meant there was even less of a reason to call the actor. Nevertheless, the young author was happy to see the actor onscreen. "Your phone's ringing." Juho rose from his seat at the sound of his phone vibrating on the desk in his room. Entertaining the possibility that it might be the actor, he checked his phone's screen. However, to his disappointment, it was his editor, Nam Kyung. Blue sky. Picnic-goers. Peaceful day. Then, a disrupting buzzing noise came from Juho's vibrating phone. Something wasn't right. "Hello?" There was no response. "Hello? Mr. Park?" "Your picture's turned up." "What?" 'What does that mean?' Juho wondered. The first thing that came to mind at the word picture was Coin's face. Then, in his distinctively low voice, the editor said, "Yun Woo's picture's turned up." "What are you talking about?" "Look online." "... Online?" The internet was the largest communication network for computers in the world, which connected the entire globe. Also referred to as 'the sea of information,' it was to that place that Nam Kyung was directing the young author, and Juho started to have a bad feeling. "Why?" he asked. "I told you. Yun Woo's picture's turned up," Nam Kyung repeated himself. Because Juho had left his computer on, it didn't take long for him to access the internet. The first thing he saw were the most searched words, which were updating in real-time. Yun Woo. Yun Woo's identity. Yun Woo's face. Yun Woo picture. When he clicked the last one, he saw a list of articles that referred to another article with the word exclusive next to its title. The article at the top of the list read, 'Paparazzi Snaps a Photo of Yun Woo Having a Meal with His Editor-in-Charge. Photo Revealed.' Applying pressure into his fingers, Juho clicked the article in order to read it. Then, a massive picture of Nam Kyung and Yun Woo appeared on the monitor's screen. "This..." "Have you seen it?" Nam Kyung asked. "I'm looking at it," Juho answered and added, "This isn't me, though." At that, a deep sigh came from the receiver of Juho's phone. Just as the title of the article suggested, Nam Kyung was definitely in the picture. However, the person eating with the editor wasn't Juho. "It's my nephew," Nam Kyung said. "He's your age. We ate together some time before I met with you," the editor added, remembering the canceled business trip that day. He had met up with his nephew in place of a canceled business trip he had had one day, and it wasn't until a week later that he met with the young author at their usual meeting spot: the botanical garden. "So does that mean the paparazzo took a picture of some random person thinking that he was Yun Woo?" "That's right," the editor said. Nam Kyung was well acquainted with the company responsible for distributing the photo. "Their articles are just ridiculous. I mean, their most convincing one is on a theory on the moon actually being a man-made satellite," he said as if forcing the words out of his mouth. Then, getting lost in the details, Juho asked in a delayed response, "How's your nephew?" At that, the editor answered with a sigh, "He's having the time of his life. He's exhilarated that he doesn't have to go to school until this commotion dies down, and that he's become a superstar overnight. I'm telling you, it kills me when I see him." The photo had come out with quite the energy to it, and Nam Kyung complained to the young author that his nephew had been fond of that. "That's good to hear," Juho said and moving on to the next question, "So, how are you planning on going about explaining this?" "How else? I'll let the press know that it was my nephew. Although, the higher-ups seem to be worried about what to tell them first. In any case, there should be an article turning up by the end of today." The publishing company had the young author's confirmation that he was planning on revealing himself. In which case, there would be a number of ways to go about handling the situation. One way was to leverage the commotion to their advantage. If they were to make a federal case out of an event, in this case, one of their employees experiencing hassling, it would prove to be a great promotional tool. While it was likely that people would criticize the publisher for mishandling the situation, people were bound to be equally curious about Yun Woo and how he would respond. At that point, the company would draw a line by the end of the day. It was clever judgment on their end. "Everyone's on full alert. There's the book fest that we decided not to push back, for one, and there's even a bigger crowd gathering in front of the building to see you. There are even reporters now." "That makes sense." "Anyway, DO NOT come near the building, all right? I gotta go," Nam Kyung said and hung up in a hurry. Then, as the call ended abruptly, Juho stared at his phone intently for a little while, the busyness on the other end of the line still lingering in his years. Juho had been told a number of times not to go near the building by that point due to the paparazzi and reporters lingering around the vicinity of it. 'There are just too many eyes. It's risky for you to be here.' Yun Woo's popularity far surpassed what anybody could have imagined, and ironically, the young author himself was the only person who wasn't aware of that fact. Looking intently at the picture of Nam Kyung and someone who was being assumed to be Yun Woo for a little while, Juho rose from his seat. "I was planning on coming clean anyway." With that, he changed out of the clothes he was wearing. When he walked out of the room, his mother, who had been listening to his conversation with the editor, asked, "Is something wrong?" "Oh, no. I think it'll sort itself out," Juho said, adding a brief explanation of what was happening. "I'm goin' out." "Where are you going?" "The publishing company." "What for?" "I want to see it with my own eyes," he said with a smile. With that, the young author went on his way. It had been a while since he had been on the bus going toward the company. Although the bus was filled with people, it moved forward unhindered, passing the restaurant Juho had a memory of visiting with Nam Kyung. The photo believed to be of Yun Woo spread at an increasing rate. Meanwhile, Juho got off the bus along with many others who had been on the bus with him. "So crowded in there," somebody said. Just like they had said, the book fest was booming with people. When the young author went inside, there were a slew of booths set up by officials from various publishers, serving as guideposts while selling and promoting books. The book covers in different colors painted a beautiful scenery. If Seo Kwang were to be there, he would have been completely mesmerized by the view. Unfortunately, fate was cruel to him since he was a high school junior. People were looking at the books, talking to their groups about them. While it was quite crowded, Juho didn't sense any real danger. For a reason he couldn't quite understand, Juho found himself having trouble remembering where to go. Perhaps, it had been simply too long since he had been in the area, or maybe, it was the busyness of the book fest. After meandering through the crowd for a little while, Juho was able to find his way to Zelkova. He was made certain of that by the changing scenery around him growing farther away from the festival crowd and its friendly and welcoming atmosphere. They all faded away, as if the air had carried one's desire for possession away. "Who's that?" a person in the crowd let out at the alarming sight. Reporters were camping out in front of the company building with large, black cameras set up to aim toward the building. A handful of them were aiming toward the crowd gathering in front of the building. Then, Juho realized that one of the circular lenses was pointed directly toward him.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Are they filming?" "I think they're waiting for something to happen." The crowd talked among itselves. Meanwhile, Juho was observing the crowd of curious fans and reporters from afar. Staring intently at whoever went in and/or out of the building, there were no doubts that their purpose was completely different from that of the crowd at the book fest. A handful of them was even looking in Juho's direction. 'So that's the crowd Nam Kyung was telling me about.' Similar in number to the time when the schoolyard had to be shared between three classes, fans had gathered in front of Zelkova's building in order to see their favorite author, sitting on the ground as if knowing that it wouldn't happen any time soon. "What are they doing? That's just ridiculous." The pedestrians were glancing in the direction of the crowd sitting on the ground. While some whispered to each other and mocked them, others exclaimed with admiration, impressed by their determination. The standing crowd took pictures of the crowd sitting on the ground, while the cameramen captured them. Meanwhile, the crowd from the book fest was watching everything taking place from their respective spots. The crowd grew even bigger over time. Knowing that the crowd was there with ill intentions, Juho felt sorry for the building. Standing still, the young author kept observing them from the distance. When a person left, another came and filled the spot. The dynamic was mutual across the entire crowd. While some withdrew, others held their places. "You mean this whole crowd is here just to see Yun Woo!?" somebody let out. It didn't take much until the entire street buzzed with voices. At that moment, while the crowd was buzzing passively, a group of people started moving, another group of reporters who had just arrived at the scene. Then, one of them approached the crowd sitting on the ground and, as if they had previous experience being interviewed, a person sitting in the frontmost row complied with the interview request. "Are you a fan of Yun Woo?" the reporter asked. "Yes. I own every single one of his books," the fan said clearly, their confidence exuding intelligence. "What do you like about him?" Upon hearing that question, a smile appeared on the fan's face, and it was clearly visible even from where Juho was standing. "He's just incredible. Not only is he a young genius, but he's anonymous and he's even managed to win some really famous literary awards. His writing drives me nuts. I just can't get enough of it." Then, as the fan looked straight at the camera, the reporter walked a little closer toward them. "How can you know whether you'll see Yun Woo here or not?" "I'm counting on my luck. As you said, there's no telling if I'd be able to recognize him even if I were to see him. But who knows? That person might just be Yun Woo. And if he really is, then I will have met him." "How will you confirm the answer?" "The answer?" "As in, whether you really met him or not." "Oh, that. It's simple. I'll know as soon as Yun Woo reveals himself." At that, the reporter continued as if the fan had taken the bait, "Are you aware of Yun Woo's picture floating around the internet?" "Yes, I am." "So, what does that tell you about your answer?" the reporter asked and the fan hesitated for the first time. Then, with a slight disappointment in their face, the fan said, "I wouldn't be here right now if it did anything to help me." As the reporter was about to ask a series of questions about what they had said, but the fan beat the reporter to it, saying, "But now that I know what Yun Woo looks like, I have the upper hand. I'll be able to recognize him the moment I see him." "Do you think Yun Woo will show up today? It seems highly unlikely to me," the reporter asked, and the fan responded with a shrug, "Only Yun Woo would know." With that, Juho turned his head by reflex to look at the people around him. Some were sighing, while others were growing irritable, frowning. They were all dying to meet the young author. At that moment... "Huh…?" … Juho locked eyes with somebody standing next to the cameramen. Although Juho was about to ignore it, the man didn't seem to be thinking about doing the same. Then, raising his hand, he pointed in a direction, opened his mouth, and let out, "It's Yun Woo!" The situation took a turn suddenly. As the man said repeatedly, "It's Yun Woo. He has to be," the people around him looked around frantically. Meanwhile, the young author was still locking eyes with the man, even as his name was being called out. The man's finger and tongue were both directed toward him. The crowd on the ground jumped up at once, and the crowd in their feet took their phones out simultaneously. At that moment, as the tightly-shut door of the building flung open, a number of people poured out of it, including Nam Kyung. Then, with an urgent look on his face, he shouted, "Hey! What do you think you're doing here?" Not only did the editor look furious, but his voice also sounded quite agitated. However, none of it was directed toward the young author. When Juho turned back, he saw Nam Kyung's nephew standing with a cheerful expression on his face, and a camera in his hand, capturing the chaos around him. From his appearance, seeming to be recording a video, Juho was made certain of what Nam Kyung's nephew was feeling. He was having the time of his life as people called him Yun Woo. He was on cloud nine, as if he had become somebody significant, and it was at that moment that Juho saw his old self overlap with the nephew's appearance. Drunk with fame, Juho had participated in interviews one after another in an attempt to expose himself to the press as much possible. The young author saw himself in the naive nephew, getting angry at people who didn't recognize him, his body shaking with humiliation. At that moment, Juho felt somebody pushing him from behind. The world shook before his eyes, as if he was being washed away by a strong current. It was an incredible amount of force. It was dangerous, and Juho felt an urgent need to escape. However, he couldn't move an inch as he was stuck in the crowd crushing and suffocating him. Juho felt an impact against his jaw, and pain on the back of his hand as well as his foot. The entire street roared with shouts. Feeling dizzy, Juho closed his eyes. When he opened them again after a little while, he was distant from "Yun Woo." The young author had barely managed to escape. Then, after gathering his senses, Juho observed the situation. The crowd surrounding Yun Woo as if there was an invisible boundary around him could be seen in the distance. Then, as employees squeezed through the crowd in order to protect him and as the barrier became clear, the crowd started going wild, throwing themselves at it in order to break through. It was quite intriguing when considering human nature was to be afraid of the things unseen. No matter how much the employees shouted at them to back up, it was no use. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung was desperate to take his nephew into the building. "This is getting serious. What if people get hurt?" Juho let out. While the crowd was growing uneasy, they were also quite agitated. "It's Yun Woo! Yun Woo's here!" A camera flash went off, and people were completely preoccupied with capturing the moment. The wall of voices and flashing lights was quite hectic. At that moment, Juho's mouth moved on its own, saying, "I'm Yun Woo…" The boy people were surrounding was not Yun Woo. Juho was the one responsible for writing those novels. Yun Woo wasn't where people thought he was. When Juho looked up, he realized that nobody was listening. "I'm Yun Woo." … but to no avail. "Are you serious?" Juho thought he was hearing things at that moment. As his mouth stopped moving, Juho turned to the side and looked at the person standing next to him. 'Click.' The shutter went off, meaning that the real young author had been captured on camera. Then, the air sank back into silence. "Yes, I'm Yun Woo." Despite the chaos, there was still somebody willing to listen to him, and Juho couldn't stop himself from chuckling at just how absurd of a situation he had found himself in. --- "Gong Pal, look." While Gong Pal was playing video-games, he looked back upon hearing his sister's voice. Because he was fighting a boss, he couldn't afford to look away for too long. When he glanced in her direction, what came into his view was her phone. "What?" he said, watching the boss losing its hit points. It won't be long until it met its demise. "This is Yun Woo, apparently." "Yun Woo?" His fingers slipped from the keyboard at the unexpected name. It was at that moment that Gong Pal found himself in a dilemma. While he couldn't afford to let up during a boss battle, he wanted to see what Yun Woo looked like just as badly. Unfortunately, while he was wrestling with the conflicting desires in his heart, the boss took that opportunity to kill his character. Then, stopping the game, Gong Pal turned around on his chair and looked at his sister with his long and thin eyes and a sullen expression on his face. "Let me see." At that, his sister handed him her phone, which was showing an article claiming that a paparazzo who had been following Yun Woo's editor around had managed to capture the young author on camera. Although it was obvious that the picture had been taken in secret, Yun Woo's face was clearly on it. It was a face Gong Pal had no recollection of seeing. "Is it really this guy?" "Read it." Then, Gong Pal read through the article, which went into great detail about the situation. The article was claiming that the paparazzo had received information from an employee in the publishing company. The fact that Nam Kyung's business trip had been canceled out of nowhere and that the two people in the photo frequently ate together made the photo all the more convincing. With that, Gong Pal moved on to the comments and came across somebody claiming that Yun Woo's real name had been revealed, including which high school he went to. "The age seems to match," Gong Il said. However, Gong Pal was yet to be convinced. "Is this really Yun Woo's editor?" he asked. "Apparently." Apparently. Did that mean the man in the picture really was Yun Woo's editor? Was the person he was eating with in the photo really the youngest and the first Asian and Korean winner of the Nebula and the Hugo? Was he really an acquaintance of Kelley Coin? Was he really responsible for writing some of the greatest novels in literary history? "Something's not right," Gong Pal said honestly. Although he didn't quite understand what he had expected either, it was clear that he was disappointed by what he was seeing. "Right?" Gong Il said, agreeing with her brother. It was common for the twins to have the same thought in the same situation. "Not quite sure how to put it, but something feels out of place," she said, and her brother nodded in agreement. It was out of place. Of course, what he was feeling was only natural since he had never met Yun Woo, but there was something about the Yun Woo in the photo that lacked affinity. "I don't know why I'm even expecting Yun Woo to be friendly toward me, but that's how I feel." "Maybe you already had somebody in mind that you hoped would be Yun Woo?" "You think so?" "I don't know." Gong Pal looked intently at the photo on the phone's screen. He looked entirely ordinary. If he really was Yun Woo, Gong Pal would eventually come to believe it. Besides, the article claimed that not only the person was having a meal with his editor-in-charge, but that he also matched the description of Yun Woo's age. It had also stated that there had been information provided by an employee of the publishing company. Then, a finger appeared on top of Yun Woo's face, and Gong Il took her phone back from her brother. "Everyone else in the club probably knows, right?" "Probably. At least, I'm sure Seo Kwang knows about this." "What do you think Juho would have to say about this?" "Who knows?" At that moment, they thought of 'Grains of Sand' and 'Fingernails,' along with the emotional experiences they had after reading them. Yun Woo and Juho Woo. The twins remembered comparing the two not too long ago. A world-renowned author and an ordinary high school student, member of a literary club. Frankly, they were incomparable to one another. "Why do I like Juho's writing better?" Gong Pal asked himself. When they compared things with Juho's face in mind, the twins found themselves preferring Juho's writing over Yun Woo's. Then, having stood still for a little while, Gong Il said to her brother on her way out, "Well, I'll let you play your game." "All right." Because he didn't have a reason to stop her, he went back to his game without hesitation. However, he quickly realized that he was having trouble focusing on the game. Nevertheless, he pressed on and forced himself to play through it. Then, by the time he felt hungry, Gong Il came into his room again. "Hey, look." "Ugh! Thanks a lot. I died again." "Just look!" she said with agitation that time. "What is it?" he asked, puzzled by what could have shaken her up. "Yun Woo." "You showed me earlier." At that, Gong Il put her phone right in front of Gong Pal's face. Being that close, it was hard to make out what was on the screen. "All right! OK! Give it here," he said irritably. That time, it was a post written by an ordinary person rather than an article. "The real Yun Woo?" Gong Pal read the post, which was written in the form of a dialogue. 'This is insane. This is unbelievable!' he exclaimed internally. His heart started jumping. In between the things said by the writer of the post, were what the narrator had experienced in person. The chaos in front of the entrance to the publishing company, and Yun Woo's editor making an official statement. Yun Woo turned out to be at the scene, and as if expecting people to be skeptical, the narrator included a picture of the young author. Then, when Gong Pal saw the picture, he couldn't help but let out, "Juho!?" At that moment, he jumped out of his seat. It was clearly Juho. "He's Yun Woo," his twin sister said. "Juho was Yun Woo all along." At that, Gong Pal nodded quietly. That time, there was nothing strange or off-putting about the conclusion. If anything, Gong Pal found the post much more convincing than some article written by a journalist. The post contained the raw emotions of what the narrator had gone through. Juho Woo was Yun Woo. As the pieces in Gong Pal's head started coming together, he started to feel overwhelmed. "Do you think everyone in the club already knows about this!?" "I don't know. Let's find out." With that, the twins called Seo Kwang that instant. Meanwhile, the post was spreading through the sea of information at an incredible rate.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Wearing his uniform, which had the name of his school sewn on it, and after eating a quick breakfast, Juho went on his way earlier than usual. Because it was still early in the morning, there weren't all that many people on the streets. He walked unhurriedly. Whenever he would walk up the hills, Juho would find his body tensing up. To go to school was to climb up a hill. Because of its location, there was no other way to get there. Upon arriving at the building, Juho had to walk up a set of stairs... as if he hadn't been climbing enough. Eventually, he got to his classroom before anybody else. Although it was way before school would start, the junior had things to do. After putting his backpack down on his desk, Juho opened the window. Even the schoolyard was eerily silent. With that, after looking down at it for a little while, he headed for the staffroom, where he found his homeroom teacher. "Good morning." At that, the teacher turned around. "Mornin'," he said while wearing his usual expression. However, something was different. Then, without saying much, the teacher rose from his seat and started walking toward another room, which was connected to the staffroom. Being the tactful student that he was, Juho followed him into the room. Juho remembered seeing some of his peers, who had some of the highest GPAs in the entire school, in that very room with a teacher, discussing their career paths. There was a clunky-looking desk in the center, which had a sheet of green cloth between its surface and the sheet of glass on top. Underneath the glass but above the cloth, was a list of things students needed to be mindful of when deciding on a career path. Each and every one of them sounded cumbersome. "So, you're Yun Woo, huh?" the teacher asked somewhat awkwardly. It had to be his first time saying something like that. "Yes." The teacher raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?" "I'm serious." Staring at his student intently, the teacher burst out into a hearty laughter, either as if in disbelief of what Juho had just told him or that he had been Yun Woo's teacher all long. "So, is there some sort of document you can bring that will prove that?" "And what kind of documents would that be?" The teacher didn't seem to have an answer in mind either. In the end, what came out of his mouth was a suggestion that didn't sound like it was well-thought of. "Well, you know… paperwork that shows that you've actually published those books. You can talk to your publishers about it, can't you? If you really are Yun Woo, that is," the teacher said, adding the last sentence quietly. At that, Juho was reminded of the living hell that he had found himself in in front of Zelkova's building. Although he felt bad for his teacher, the young author had no intention of submitting any kind of document to him because he didn't feel the need to do so. Then, thinking about the amount of time he had until the release date of his new book, Juho said, "It might take a while." "All right. Sooner, the better." With that, the teacher stopped talking, as if trying to figure out what to say next. "You know, I've taught for thirty years now, but I've never experienced anything like this." Then, he added, "Although, it seems like going to college won't be a challenge for ya. If you really are Yun Woo, that is." That time, the teacher let his thoughts out blatantly, but packaged as a light-hearted joke. Listening to him chuckling, Juho also said what was on his mind, "I'd like to drop out." "Come again?" "I'd like to drop out of school." After repeating the words drop out to himself in a murmur, the teacher said, "I wouldn't advise it." That time, the teacher looked much more at peace. After all, he had a teaching career that spanned three-decades and he had to have met a number of students who had wanted to drop out of school. "We're almost at the end of the semester anyway. Besides, you're a junior. You've met the required number of attendance days already. I understand where you're coming from, so it might be better to just not come to school instead," the teacher said. Surprisingly, he didn't try to force the junior to come to school. "There's a whole process you have to go through in order to drop out. Not only will it be time-consuming, but you also have to go through counseling for a number of weeks. By the time you're done with everything, all of your peers should be graduating." Adding some slight exaggeration, the teacher tried to talk Juho out of dropping out. As for Juho, it didn't matter as long as he didn't have to come to school. According to his past experience, his peaceful school life was about to come to an end. Although he would have considered staying in school if he had been younger, he was already a junior, which meant that he would be with his peers in an area secluded from the underclassmen. Because there had been times that his anonymity had worked to the disadvantage of others, Juho wanted to be as mindful of those around him as he could be after having revealed himself. Besides, he had never been all that attached to school. The only thing that was holding him back was the Literature Club. Although Juho wasn't adamant about dropping out of school, he wasn't exactly adamant about graduating either. Still, he asked, "If everyone else will be graduating by the time I can drop out, what difference would it make if I were to just drop out?" The teacher looked at his student as if looking at a naive child that knew nothing about the realities of the world. Then, Juho remembered that his teacher knew nothing about what kind of life he had led up to that point. At which point, the teacher gave him some lackluster advice. "You won't get your diploma," the teacher said, as if telling him an answer to a question on a test. "You'll regret it." Regret. Juho nodded in agreement. He had regretted attending a university in the past. But would it be the same this time? It was a possibility. Regret tended to come as an afterthought and, unfortunately, regret had always been able to latch itself onto most decisions. In other words, it was always possible for Juho to regret the life he had led up to that point altogether. After some contemplation, the junior said, "I don't believe that I'm at a tight spot." "What?" "You said I'll regret it if I drop out, didn't you? One only finds themselves in a tight spot when they're forced to do something they know they'll regret doing. You see, I don't think I'll have to worry about regretting my decision because dropping out seems like a legitimate option for me." Then, caught off guard by his answer, the teacher said to him as if he was a freak of nature, "That's because you're Yun Woo." "So, now you believe me," Juho said with s mil.e At that moment, somebody came in through the door. It was Mr. Moon. As Juho greeted him, he greeted Juho back and told the homeroom teacher, "The principal wants to see you. Oh, bring him with you." At that, the two rose from their seats, opened the door and headed for the principal's office, which was on the same floor. There had been quite a few students who had come to school while Juho had been in counseling with his teacher. Meanwhile, when the students who had been standing in front of the staffroom saw Juho, their eyes widened, as if they wanted him to walk away from them far enough so that they could talk about the young author among themselves. Just as they were wishing, Juho went into the principal's office. "Good morning," he greeted the principal, who was sitting on a leather chair. As if preoccupied with something, he asked Juho and his teacher that they take a seat and wait. As Juho breathed in quietly, he noticed the smell of red ginseng in the air. Soon after finishing up, the principal sat on his desk, and Juho started to have a bad feeling that things were about to get complicated. "Yun Woo?" "That guy?" "Seriously?" Juho heard those words a number of times after he walked out of the principal's office and as he was climbing the stairs. The fact that people had started calling him Yun Woo made the junior feel frustrated. At the same time, part of him also felt relieved. While it all felt foreign to him, it also felt familiar at the same time. Juho stretched toward the ceiling. The talk with the principal had proven to be quite cumbersome. Maybe it was because it had been mostly the same as what he had talked about with his homeroom teacher. Repeating himself was quite tedious. At that moment, he heard Mr. Moon chuckling from behind him. "So, you're Yun Woo, huh?" he asked despite already knowing the answer. Still, Juho played along, "Yes. I'm Yun Woo." "The twins are losing it." "I know. We talked on the phone." "What'd they say? Did they even believe you?" Then, as Juho saw all the text messages piling on his phone, he was reminded of when the twins had learned that he was Yun Woo. He had called them without a delay, without fear, because he was confident of the evidence in his hand. In case the twins didn't believe him, Juho had planned on bringing up the new book he was releasing. Gong Pal already knew a part of it and it would be more than enough evidence on top of the photo of himself with Kelley Coin. However, as soon as the ringing stopped, the twins let out with excitement, "So that's what it was!" They were exhilarated, like they had figured out the answer to a difficult question. When hearing their voices, Juho couldn't help but chuckle. "Everyone else is in the science room," Mr. Moon said. Juho recognized the need to explain the situation to his clubmates. As Juho walked up the stairs and along the hallway with Mr. Moon, James turned up. Upon seeing the two, the English teacher walked toward them at once. "So, that voice WAS you!" James said in English. It occurred to Juho that James might have recognized his voice since they had had quite a few conversations. "Yep. You recognized my accent, didn't you?" While looking like he couldn't believe that he was acquainted with Yun Woo, James also seemed quite excited to have learned the truth. He had accepted that Juho was the mysterious young author all along, and his knowledge of Juho's language skill had to have contributed significantly to that. "Your name always came up whenever my friends and I would talk about Yun Woo. I would always tell them that I have this student with an unbelievable sense of language and that he's so impressive that I want to introduce him to a professor I know. But who would've thought that you would be Yun Woo? Everything's falling into place!" Juho had never heard James talk so fast since they met. "Life can be funny, don't you think? By the way, I put your data to good use." "Wait… you don't mean…?" "For 'Language of God.'" As James' earlobes turned bright red, he threw his arms up in the air. It would be obvious even to students who didn't speak English that he was exhilarated. Although James wanted to talk some more, Mr. Moon intervened, saying, "Juho has a place to be. Why don't you two catch up another time?" "Another time? Who knows when that'll be!? Are you planning on still coming to school?" "Nope." "See?" Then, Juho calmed James down by sharing his phone number with him. "If there's anything I want to ask regarding the English language, I'll give you a ring." "You got it. I'll give you a call if I have a question about English as well," James said briefly, nodding, and Juho smiled. Even if Juho were to graduate, there were relationships that were meant to continue. Then, as Juho walked through the hallway with Mr. Moon, the teacher looked at the young author and said, "It feels like it was just yesterday that I doubted you were Yun Woo." "Tell me about it." The hallway had been empty back then. But now, there were a number of students around them staring at the young author. Because he was with a teacher, Juho probably looked like he had gotten himself in trouble. Although there were students who put themselves on equal footing to Juho or that looked down on him, Juho paid no attention, knowing that they were coming from a place of lack of trust. Thankfully, there were no more students around by the time he and Mr. Moon were getting close to the science room. As Mr. Moon opened the door, Juho saw his clubmates sitting around his seat. "Hey," Seo Kwang said, waving at him, and waving back, Juho took his seat. Then, as soon as he sat down, the twins struck up a conversation with him, "Yun Woo." "What do you want?" "Oh!" "It's Yun Woo!" the twins let out, locking eyes with each other, intrigued. The rest of the club also brought up the name Yun Woo for no apparent reason. Meanwhile, Bo Suk asked with her eyes sparkling just as much as her name, "Did you hear? The library is off limits." At that, Juho brow furrowed slightly, and he asked, "It's not because people are rushing in to read my writing, is it?" "It's precisely that." "Oh, no." It wasn't all that difficult to imagine the situation. There were still students who doubted whether Juho was really was Yun Woo. In order to find an answer, they had all rushed to the library to read the piece written by Yun Woo, which had been written under the name Juho Woo. "I'm telling you. The name Yun Woo is an advertisement in and of itself," Seo Kwang said, nodding. Meanwhile, the twins had unusually cheerful smiles, and Mr. Moon had an unsurprised look on his face. Then, Juho sighed as he gave up trying to explain himself and said, "Yep. It sure is important to promote."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I don't know what everyone else will think, though, since Yun Woo and Juho have such different writing styles," Bom said, sounding concerned. Meanwhile, Sun Hwa, who was resting her chin on her hand, said indifferently, "What can they do? He really is Yun Woo." "That's true…" "I'm sure Yun Woo had some sort of plan when he dropped a bomb this size, right?" At that, Juho came clean, "It was half on impulse." "I knew it," Seo Kwang let out, nodding. "What did I tell ya? He has an impulsive side to him! If he ever gets into gambling, he'll lose money left and right." While Sun Hwa gave Juho a pitiful look, Bom stepped in to save him, "But you managed to hide it for three years, though. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't have lasted a week." "That is true. You know, we played a big part in that too," Sun Hwa said, and just like she had said, Juho was also grateful to his clubmates for keeping the secret. "I gotta admit though. Part of me was thrilled to know something others didn't. Now, I get to go around and show off, saying that I've written alongside Yun Woo," Seo Kwang said while stretching, and everyone agreed. The club members seemed to be in a good mood. "I've decided not to come to school from now on," Juho said. The room sank into silence. "But what about college?" Sun Hwa asked, breaking the silence. "I won't go to one." "You're still graduating, right?" "I was planning on dropping out, but my teacher doesn't think it's a good idea." "Of course! The semester's almost over. I'd say the same thing." "Is that really necessary, though?" Bom asked quietly, looking sad. To which, Juho responded with a shrug, "Things will be in perpetual chaos as long as I'm around. People will come rushing to see me from other classes. I mean, it's Yun Woo of all people." "You're so full of yourself," Sun Hwa murmured, but ignoring her, Juho continued, "I don't know if that's what I want." "Does that mean you're not coming to the Literature Club anymore?" Bom asked looking intently in Juho's direction. Tilting his head, he answered, "I guess so." "Does that mean we don't get to read your writing anymore?" the twins asked, their expressions growing darker. At that Juho smiled and said, "You'll find them in bookstores." "That's not what we meant. We want to read your stories while they're still fresh in their manuscripts." "Yun Woo's manuscripts tend to cost a little more." "But we joined the Literature Club because of you…" Although Juho had definitely played a role in talking the twins into joining the club, it was more accurate to say that Juho had provided them with an opportunity to join. "What? You're gonna leave just because I'm not around anymore?" "No, we're not." The time they had spent together up to that point was definitely enough to help the twins realize just how fun and rewarding writing could be. Seeing that the younger clubmates were about to burst into tears at any given minute, Juho comforted them, "I'll buy you guys food if you call me." "Even fried chicken?" "You got it," Juho said, thinking that it had worked even better than he had hoped for. With that, the young author looked around the science room. Half of the room was occupied by junk, like old chairs and desks and experiment equipment and data for science class. Not only was the room dusty, but it was also quite small and dark. Yet, the young author had written a stupendous amount there. Juho had received many priceless things during his time in the Literature Club, such as relationships, Mr. Moon's lessons, and him pointing the young author toward a new dream. The fact that one had a place where they belonged was something to be cherished. However, where there was a beginning, there was also an end. There would always be a next time as long as everyone was alive. With that, the young author rose from his seat. --- "Break a leg," Seo Kwang said, patting Juho's shoulder in front of the classroom. Although Juho wasn't sure of what Seo Kwang was getting at, he gave Seo Kwang an affirmative answer for the time being. Because he had spent quite a bit of time in the science room with his clubmates, class had started long ago. As Seo Kwang and Bom went into their classroom, Sun Hwa looked at Juho and asked, "You're gonna be OK, right?" "Probably." Despite Juho's ambivalent attitude, Sun Hwa flung the door open. Suffice to say, as everyone looked toward them, Juho felt the piercing gazes on his cheeks, making him scratch them for no apparent reason. First period was math, and there were beautifully-drawn shapes on the chalkboard. While teaching the class how to solve an equation, the teacher merely glanced in Juho and Sun Hwa's direction and returned to solving the problem on the board. It seemed like he had been informed by Mr. Moon ahead of time. However, the students were having trouble looking away from the young author. Sensing that they had a lot of questions they wanted to ask, Juho deliberately walked toward his desk and took his seat. For the time being, he took out his textbook and decided to stay until the end of the first period. Although math had always been one of the classes that had bored him to death, the realization that he was never coming back made it somewhat special. Meanwhile, the students remained distracted, whispering and passing notes to each other, glancing over in the young author's direction. "All right. We'll stop here for the day," the teacher said, and the class immediately broke out in a commotion. Because the bell had yet to ring, the students couldn't go outside. Meanwhile, Juho started taking his textbooks out from underneath the desk and pack up his belongings. While he was busy separating what to keep and what to throw out, he heard someone trying to strike up a conversation with him, "Hey." When Juho turned toward the voice, he saw the peer who had been sitting next to him. He had always hung out with his own group of friends. "What?" Juho answered nonchalantly. He had already seen him communicating with his friends nonverbally, with his eyes. Then, taking advantage his seat's location, the peer asked, "It's you, huh?" It wasn't exactly the most pleasant question. "What did I do?" As Juho asked briefly, a slightly irritated look appeared on the boy's face. He seemed to be growing impatient. "You're the one who claimed to be Yun Woo, right?" To them, the fact that Juho was Yun Woo was merely an opinion. Then, Juho gave him the answer he had been looking for, "Yep. That would be me." Although Juho said it calmly, the boy looked at him as though he was desperate for attention. There was a noticeable difference between those who believed and those who didn't. "Are you really Yun Woo?" the boy asked mockingly. "Yep. I really am Yun Woo," Juho said sarcastically, imitating his peer. At the young author's confident tone of voice, everyone else around them turned toward Juho and his classmate. "You mean, you wrote all those books?" "Yep." "And you're friends with Kelley Coin?" "Yep." "And you've been to the US recently?" "That's right." As the young author repeated the same answer, his classmates grew even more impatient. "Can you prove it?" "Can you prove to me that you're really you?" Juho asked, still in his calm tone of voice. At which, the boys brow furrowed. He seemed to be thinking that the young writer was slow to understand things. "You know that's not what I meant." "Why not? I'm Yun Woo, and Yun Woo is me." "Then, tell me every single book you've written up to this point." That would be a walk in the park. Not only would Juho be able to recite the names of each and every book he had written up to that point, but he would also be able to tell him the name of the new book that hadn't even been announced yet. Yet, the young author chose not to. "If I were to tell you, would it prove that I'm really Yun Woo? All you gotta do is type the name on a search engine on the internet. Anybody can do that." "Then, tell me something only you would know." "Do you think you'll be able to tell whether or not I'm telling the truth?" The boy's expression grew darker and darker as the conversation strayed further away from the direction he had had in mind. Meanwhile, Sun Hwa's shoulders moved up and down as she desperately resisted the urge to laugh. "You're lyin' to me, aren't you?" the boy said in a slightly agitated voice, and looking intently at him, Juho said, "No." Although a brief answer, Juho was genuine. However, his classmate seemed to think otherwise. "Don't you play games with me now." No matter how much the boy denied it, it didn't change the fact that Juho was, indeed, the young author responsible for writing all those books under the alias Yun Woo. Neither did it mean that it invalidated the relationships he had built over the course of his writing career, nor the emotions he had pulled out of the depths of his heart that no longer belonged to himself. With that and without saying much, Juho looked away from his peer. However… "Hey." … the boy called to him shortly after, yet again. Unfortunately, the students sitting around them seemed to be hoping that the two would continue on with their conversation. "What?" "Why are you packing?" "'Cause I'm not coming to school anymore." "What!? Why?" "'Cause I'm Yun Woo." 'Is he serious?' Then, despite the young author having told the truth, the students started playing truth or dare among themselves. It was quite an interesting phenomenon. However, the students seemed to be approaching the matter with all seriousness. Soon, they moved on to Sun Hwa, who was sitting right in front of Juho. "Hey." "What do you want?" Sun Hwa said with an irritated look. "You're part of the Literature Club, right?" "Yeah. And?" "Is this guy really Yun Woo?" "Why are you even bothering me? You don't believe him even when he's telling the truth." "You've seen him write, haven't you? Well? Does he really write like Yun Woo?" As the classmates showed no indication of letting up any time soon, Sun Hwa said, "Yep." It was an emphatic affirmation. Having hoped that she would weigh in on their doubts, the students started pouring out questions. "C'mon! Tell us! Is this guy really Yun Woo or not?" "You need to work on your question-asking skills, man. I can't even tell what you're asking me. What does it even mean to write like Yun Woo, anyway?" Then, as he was about to speak, Sun Hwa gave him the finger. "Get lost and stop wasting my time. I need to study." With that, she turned around, and the students around her giggled at the sight of the student getting flipped off. Thankfully, it usually took a lot more than swearing for things to become tense between students. At that moment, the bell started ringing, and after glancing over in Juho and Sun Hwa's direction, the teacher left the classroom. As soon as the bell sounded off, the hallway suddenly came to life, and Juho focused on packing his belongings. There were quite a few things that he needed to throw out. "Hey, look. You got visitors." The boy sitting next to Juho seemed to have a lot to say that day. Unfortunately, there was a whole crowd of students where he was pointing at, including the underclassmen from the lower floors. Although Juho was well acquainted with the situation, it wasn't quite the same as the past. That time, the crowd of students wasn't looking at the young author in a positive light. "He's gotta be fake," somebody let out. Something was tugging at their hearts. Most of the students seemed to believe that Juho was getting expelled as punishment, and his classmates enjoyed the situation from a distance. Although there were some juniors who weren't pleased to see the underclassmen on the juniors' floor, the majority of the crowd seemed to take delight in the situation. "Him? Yun Woo?" They were referring to Juho. At that moment, Juho remembered the time when the title of genius had fallen away from him. Revisiting an old memory was a strange experience. The young author felt his hand slowing down while he packed. People had been seeing impostors of the young author regularly. Those who they had believed to be Yun Woo had always turned out to be fake. When one became too familiar with one conclusion, it became harder to think outside of it. Similarly, maybe Yun Woo, too, had become too used to hiding. Then….. "Huh?" Juho let out as a book appeared in front of his eyes. When he followed the hand holding the book, he learned that it was Bom and behind her, Seo Kwang. "Can you sign my book?" she asked with a somewhat mischievous smile. Then, pushing all the preexisting thoughts from his head, Juho chuckled as he remembered something entirely different. Juho remembered the timid clubmate wanting to get her copy of 'Trace of a Bird' signed by an imposter during their freshman year. "With pleasure," Juho said, taking the book from her willingly. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang, also with a book in his hand, was standing in line behind Bom. "Man! I only have workbooks on me!" Sun Hwa let out. "It'd be rude if I were to ask you to sign one of my comic books, wouldn't it?" "Dude! You're part of the Literature Club and you don't carry a single book!?" "Are you saying that comic books don't count as books?" In the middle of the commotion were familiar voices, and the sound of them alone was enough to turn the humble book-signing into an entirely different experience from that of the young author's past. Then… "Give me a break," a spiteful voice interfered. "I'm telling you, you're wasting your book, a student said with an apparent look of displeasure. Upon closer look, Juho recognized jealousy in his face. It was jealousy toward somebody who had succeeded early in life. The student was not keen on the fact that Yun Woo was around him, which was too much for a high school student living in a reality filled with uncertainty for the near future. Therefore, he chose not to believe, and most of his peers were more or less in similar positions. With that, Juho quietly packed his belongings. "Bye," Juho said. Then, as he rose from his seat, he was struck by the realization that he had remained mostly silent out of habit. At which point, he had to ask himself, "Is it really time for me to go?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Want me to see you out?" Seo Kwang asked, and Juho shook his head as he gathered his senses. "It's fine. The next period is about to start." With that, his clubmates waved goodbye since they couldn't leave the building. And with a reference book in his hand, which he planned on throwing out, Juho went down the stairs. When he reached the hallway, he came face to face with even more people. The long, straight hallway made it impossible for anyone to hide, as it exposed anybody walking through it. Being well aware of that, Juho walked while looking straight ahead. The students murmuring to each other became clearly audible, and Juho could tell that they didn't look at him in such a positive light. It was quite strange. Not everyone seemed to think of him as a fake. There had to be those who believed that Juho was actually Yun Woo. However, it was likely that they wouldn't dare speak up. The responses were obviously one-sided, and it was clear what the dominant beliefs were. 'Yun Woo is a fake, at least in this school.' It wasn't exactly a conclusion Juho was fond of. "Yo, Yun Woo," a voice called to the young author mockingly. Then, shortly after, Juho felt something hit the back of his head and fall to the ground. When he looked down, he saw a crumpled up piece of paper. Bending at the waist, he picked it up and opened it. It looked like a set of incomplete notes. Although Juho looked around in order to return it to whoever it belonged to, his efforts were in vain. Whoever it was, they were hiding in the crowd, never to reveal their face. In a situation where anonymity was maintained, even the crassest of deeds were tolerated. Feeling the heftiness in his hand, Juho couldn't help but sigh. Then, he looked up at the sky, which was blocked by the concrete ceiling. With that, the young author went on his way unhurriedly. When he was just about to go down the stairs, another voice called to him, "Hey!" When Juho turned around, wondering what kind of projectile was coming toward him that time, he saw the monkey charging toward him at a frightening speed. Then, grabbing onto his shoulders, he asked, "You were Yun Woo!?" Looking at the monkey gasping for breath, Juho said, "Yeah." "I knew it!" the monkey said, clutching his hair as soon as he heard Juho's response. He didn't seem like the type who cared about how others looked at him. "I got an interview out of Yun Woo!" The monkey was having a deeply emotional experience, and after writhing with joy for a little while, he looked up all of a sudden. "This will look good on applications, don't you think?" "I wouldn't know." "C'mon. It's interview time! The Yun Woo Special! Oh, yeah! Remind me where you were going again?" He seemed to be thinking out loud at that point. "Home," the young author said briefly. "Come again?" "I'm not coming to school anymore." After blinking quietly, the monkey started asking desperately for the reason behind Juho's decision. Because he wasn't in the mood to explain himself all over again, Juho gave him a brief summary instead, "Because I'm Yun Woo." Thankfully, that sentence was enough to convince the monkey. "Right. Right. Then, what about the interview?" "I'm afraid you're too late." At that moment, the joy that had been on the monkey's face disappeared at once as regret washed over him. Since becoming a junior, he had been distancing himself from the Newspaper Club for various reasons and, because of that, he hadn't been able to interview the young author even after 'Fingernails' was exhibited in library. He had chosen to focus on preparing for the SATs instead. Meanwhile, Juho comforted the monkey, "You gotta study." Unfortunately, Juho's attempt at trying to encourage the monkey turned out to be in vain. "How's that an issue when Yun Woo's right in front of me!? Are you trying to play hard to get now that you revealed yourself, or what!?" "I turned down your interview last year too, didn't I?" "No! You can't do this to me! I'm barely starting to understand your writing, which means I can ask even better questions now. I'm not letting you go that easily. Oh, no," the monkey said desperately. Unfortunately, his desperation made little difference to Juho. While he was pushing the monkey away as he clung on to the young author's arm, which was already heavy from the sheer weight of the things he had been carrying, a voice said to the monkey, "He's not actually Yun Woo." It seemed to believe in what it was saying. Then, the monkey rolled his eyes around in order to find out from where the voice was coming, but he gave up shortly after. "And how do you know that?" That time, there was no answer. Instead, what returned to the monkey in place of an answer was anger. Rather than supporting its conjecture with evidence, the voice was backing up its statement with its emotions. Caught off guard by the sudden outburst, the monkey appeared to be slightly intimidated by it. Meanwhile, Juho quietly listened to the angry voice. He found himself remaining silent yet again, as if he didn't have a mouth. Then, the young author brushed his hand down his face. "I guess I can come clean now." "Wha-?" Juho looked at the monkey. The young author was able to communicate with him just by looking, as if he were talking to him. After all, he was Yun Woo. Then, he handed half of the things he had been carrying to the monkey. Although taken aback, the monkey took Juho's things from his hands. With that, feeling much lighter than before, Juho ran down the stairs, nearly leaping. His hair was blowing in the wind. Although he was clearly running downward, the young author felt as though he was flying. The faster he ran, the farther away he got from the voices around him. He bolted across the hallway. "Hey! Where you goin'!?" the monkey asked with a puzzled look on his face, following him. To which, Juho answered while putting pressure onto his stomach, "The broadcasting room." "What for?" "You know how to work the machine, right?" Juho asked, thinking of the broadcasts that played through the speakers during lunch every single day. The Newspaper Club had also taken part in them before. Meanwhile, the monkey answered, sounding unsure, "Sort of…?" "OK, that's good enough." "Why the broadcasting room, though?" "Why else?" By the time the two arrived at the broadcasting room, the monkey was huffing and puffing. As Juho opened the door, he was greeted by an empty room that smelled of dust. Then, after turning the light on, they put down the things they had been carrying. "Turn it on." "What?" Walking past the monkey, who was questioning the young author with a dumb expression on his face, Juho closed the door. "Turn the thing on and make my voice go out every speaker in the school." "... I didn't actually think you'd go this far, but isn't this a bit excessive?" "I'm just trying to explain myself, that's all. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?" "But you didn't get permission." "Nobody out there got permission to insult me, either." As the monkey hesitated, Juho patted him on the shoulder. "All you gotta do for me is to turn this thing on. You can go after that." "All right." Although he sighed, the monkey didn't seem like he was completely dreading doing what he had been asked. If anything, he looked excited. He knew his way around the complicated-looking console, which was filled with all kinds of buttons. Then, moving only the necessary parts, the monkey managed to activate the P.A. system. Although his movements were still awkward, the system seemed to be in working order. Then, a jingle sounded throughout the entire school, indicating an incoming announcement. As the monkey nodded at Juho affirmingly, Juho brought the microphone up to his mouth. "One. Two. Can everyone hear me?" There was no answer. Then, peeking his head out the door, the monkey raised his thumb up at Juho as a gesture of saying goodbye and a signal that everything was good. "We'll save the interview for another time," the monkey said, mouthing the words silently. Then, he left the room without even looking back. Because the door couldn't be closed from the inside, Juho found a broomstick and put it against the door in case anybody tried to come in. "Hello. Yun Woo speaking," he said into the microphone. Introducing himself with a microphone in his hand was quite a foreign experience. "I repeat. This is Yun Woo. By now, I'm sure everyone heard the news that Yun Woo is in this school. Well, you heard it right. I'm Yun Woo." The hallway was still quiet for some reason, which gave the impression that everyone was listening to what he was saying. It wasn't hard to imagine the students sitting in their classes, looking up at the speakers, discussing among themselves whether it was really Yun Woo or not. Among them, were a handful who recognized the voice and smiled. "I was planning on leaving quietly, but I kept getting the impression that I'm not very well liked around here. Now, I realize that there is one last thing I want to say. Oh, is there anybody who doesn't want to hear me talk? I understand. I know what that feels like. I heard some really harsh things through the course of the day. Well, anyway, sorry if you were expecting me to tell you how not to hear my voice." Then, Juho licked his lips, feeling somewhat thirsty. "It seemed to me that a lot of people were having trouble accepting that I'm actually Yun Woo. I mean, at the end of the day, I can't tell you what to believe or not to believe, but that isn't to say that you can say whatever you feel like to me. Nor am I saying that you can throw stuff at me. I'm not saying that you can treat my friends badly, either. I'd like for you all to know this." With that, Juho moved around a little. As the microphone shook, a dull sound came from the speakers. "Today's been seriously hectic, let me tell you. You see, I've been planning to reveal myself for a while now, and I'd discussed with my publishers before putting it into action. But then, an unforeseen circumstance happened that forced my plan to take place much sooner than I had anticipated." Then, he paused, took the time to catch his breath and continued, "In other words, I had a very formal way of going about this in mind, and in there, you'd definitely find clues that would prove that I really was Yun Woo all along. If things had gone according to plan, though, I probably wouldn't have been so excited about coming into the broadcasting room." The school was still quiet, and it was not a bad feeling. "Thanks to those who claim that I'm a fake, my plan isn't completely ruined." Juho cleared his throat. "I'm Yun Woo, whether you believe me or not." No matter how much that offended people, nothing would change that fact. It couldn't, it wouldn't. "Would you like to know the truth?" At that moment, Juho heard footsteps approaching in the distance. It had to be of those who wanted to know the truth. In which case, Juho had only one thing to say, "Read the books. Not only will you find the wisdom of life, but also clues that will lead you to Yun Woo. Read the books." With that, Juho paused in order to resist the urge to chuckle. The message that had been delivered to an entire school would eventually be known to the rest of the world through another medium. 'There has to be at least one person who's recording all this,' he thought to himself, rising from his seat. Then, he made a brief closing statement, "Thank you." With that, Juho walked out of the room, leaving the system still on. As soon as he walked out to the hallway, he saw a crowd walking toward the broadcasting room in the distance. At that, he rushed down the stairs and out to the schoolyard. Although he had a lot to carry, it wasn't enough to slow him down. Then, a voice came through the P.A system, "Yun Woo. Juho Woo! Where'd he go??" Upon hearing that, Juho felt satisfied in knowing that he had been heard. 'That should do it,' he thought to himself. When he looked back, there wasn't anyone following him in the schoolyard. Soon, the bell started ringing through the entire campus, indicating that the next period had started. Assured that he had gotten away, Juho walked unhurriedly. At that moment, Juho saw a familiar face standing under a tree. "Baron." Wearing ordinary clothes, the recent graduate had been watching the young author since before Juho even realized that he was being watched. "What brings you here?" "I came here to see you. Heard you revealed your identity." "Did you hear it through the P.A system?" "I would have heard it even if I didn't want to. I heard it all the way from the other side of the walls." 'It must have been pretty loud,' Juho thought, shrugging. "I see that you've hardly changed." "I haven't?" "But it seems like those around you are also always looking to cause a ruckus." "I am Yun Woo after all," Juho said. He couldn't remember how many times he had said those exact words, and it felt like he was trying to finish all of the homework he had been putting off at the last minute. "Right," Baron said in agreement. The schoolyard was empty and silent. Initially, Juho had decided to remain anonymous so that he could have a peaceful school life. However, as time passed and situations changed, the young author also changed his mind and eventually revealed himself to the public. Nevertheless, there were still quiet moments in life. "How does it feel now that your face is known?" Inhaling deeply, Juho said, "I think I'll manage." "Tryin' to play it cool?" "I mean it." With that, Baron walked toward the school building, and looking at that brought Juho a sense of peace. Just because one had graduated, that didn't mean that they could never return to their school. Then, Juho walked out of the gate to see, in the distance, a broadcast van heading toward the school, so the young author made haste. That day, when he arrived at home from school, he received a text message from Nam Kyung telling him that the company had made an official announcement. Zelkova had talked to the press about Yun Woo's decision to reveal himself and detailed how the young author was planning to go about it. Then, news regarding his new book turned up, and Juho logged on to the internet without a delay. There wasn't even a need to type anything in the search engine. He simply looked at the list of most searched words. "'An Insect Leaves No Trace.'" It was the new and finalized title, the result of the working title 'Insect.' Not only did it fit the contents of the book, but Juho was also quite fond of the critical edge pointing at his picture, which was included in the book. Then, unable to hold back any longer, Juho burst into laughter.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl 'Yun Woo's photo. In the book,' Nam Kyung thought. In a sense, Yun Woo's new book was drawing more attention than any other book he had edited up to that point. Along with the two most prestigious literary awards, Yun Woo's identity and the company's promotional strategy were some of the biggest contributing factors. There were unfounded predictions regarding the new book running amok on the internet. On the other hand, people's expectations were through the roof, in anticipation for what kind of story Yun Woo would release after 'Sublimation.' For the sake of research, Nam Kyung read through each and every one of the comments. The international fans weren't exactly quiet about the young author either, and news of the senior editor of Fernand visiting Korea was drawing massive attention. "Fernand," Nam Kyung let out, leaning on his chair's backrest and thinking back to the recent past. "They'll probably start with one million copies." Nam Kyung asked Mr. Seo about the number of first editions. Considering the current situation, it would be safe to start the new novel off with a generous figure, hence one million. Nam Kyung believed that Korean publishers needed to be just as generous to Korean literature as they were towards any famous foreign literature. Meanwhile, Mr. Seo was staring into the air with an ambivalent expression on his face. "Who knows? No publisher in their right mind would be that generous right off the bat." At that, Nam Kyung objected immediately, "I don't think that's being generous at all. You know just how much attention Mr. Woo's new book has been receiving." Mr. Seo nodded in agreement. Not only was the book written by Yun Woo, but it also contained a photo of the young author. On top of that, he was the first Korean winner of both the Nebula and Hugo Award, which were two of the four most prestigious literary awards for science fiction in the world. Although there was no promise as to how the book would do in other countries, the publisher was confident that it would do well in Korea and in the US. Following in the steps of those awards' winning authors, having Yun Woo added to that equation would only make the results more promising. "But it can be risky. There have been cases when books that sold nearly a million and a half copies in other countries ended up selling a third of that in Korea. The content plays a big role." Since they were not running a non-profit organization, they had to make profit a priority. They couldn't afford to be generous. Nam Kyung, on the other hand, was growing impatient, "But this is Yun Woo we're talking about. It hasn't even been half a year since he's got the Double Crown, and throw a picture into the mix? It'll sell! No matter what! For starters, I'm getting three copies for myself." Mr. Seo laughed hollowly at that. In that case, he, too, had taken requests from those around him, including his children. No matter how much he had nagged at them to read more, his kids had paid no attention to their father, immersing themselves in video games instead. But now, they were begging him to get the new book for them. There was a clip floating around the internet with a massive number of views of the awards' ceremonies' hosts calling Yun Woo the winner on live television. "The thing is, though, Mr. Woo's face is already public." "That isn't the same as the photo of him standing next to Kelley Coin. The way I see it, I think it's better that people know what Mr. Woo looks like. Koreans tend to obsess over results rather than the process. That's just how they were taught and brought up. But thanks to Mr. Woo, the book became the answer to the curiosity burning within readers' minds." It wasn't until after pulling his immature nephew out of that living hell in front of the company that Nam Kyung realized that Juho had been at the scene all along. Although everything had been in a disarray back then, the editor became hopeful once he realized how things were actually unfolding, The result was the answer to the fans' burning question: a book containing the truth. The expectations were through the roof. "That's not all. The writing is solid, too. If it was some mediocre book, I would've done everything I could to talk you out of it, Mr. Park. I mean, we gotta be mindful of the time, right?" There were times when expectations turned into burdens. Authors often wrestled with the burden of not letting their readers down, and as Yun Woo's editor-in-charge, Nam Kyung had to be more sensitive to that than anybody else. However, the piece of writing that he came across was beyond his expectations. "He will NOT disappoint. Yun Woo still has a lot to show." "I know that," Mr. Seo said, smacking his lips. "Then, we can probably start with one million, right?" "Well, there are about four-hundred thousand copies on pre-order already, so there's hope." "Right?" "C'mon, Nam Kyung. Cut me some slack here." "Hold on, Mr. Seo." "Well, I'm getting back to work." While the two quarreled, Mr. Maeng turned up from behind them. He looked quite excited for some reason. "I was looking everywhere for you Mr. Seo. Hey, Nam Kyung." "What is it?" "It's Mr. Woo." "What about him?" Nam Kyung and Mr. Seo took turns to ask, and Mr. Maeng said without a delay, "They're printing one million copies as the first batch." "Eh?!" "Are you serious!?" While Mr. Seo looked puzzled, Nam Kyung was about to throw his hands in the air in celebration. At that moment, Mr. Maeng blurted out the rest of the sentence. "In the US." "What?!" Nam Kyung let out, standing in an awkward stance and looking at Mr. Seo, whose mouth dropped open. "In the States??" "Yes! In the States! One million copies!" With that, after revisiting his memory, Nam Kyung sat up on his chair. One million copies. He didn't resist the corners of his mouth turning up, and seeing the editor smiling on his own, Mr. Maeng gave him a weird look. Then, wanting to see the reaction of the fans, Nam Kyung clicked an article on the internet. --- "Yun Woo's New Novel, 'An Insect Leaves No Trace.' First Edition Reported to Start with One Million Copies in the States. Zelkova Publishing Decides to Start with Eight-Hundred Thousand in Korea." "Fernand, the Publishing Titan, Said to Print One Million Copies of Yun Woo's New Novel, 'An Insect Leaves No Trace.' First Figure in the Millions for a Korean Author. The Young Author Isn't Finished Just yet." "Yun Woo Draws International Attention. First Novel Since the Double Crown. It's Pure Literature This Time." "The Publisher Remains Silent. 'Nobody Knows Until the Book's Released.' Yun Woo's Actual Appearance!" "The Top Secret of the Publishing Industry Comes to Light! Is He Really Yun Woo? 'We Might Have Seen Him Already.'" "The Mystery That Is Yun Woo. What's the World Like through His Eyes? Take a Closer Look at All the Events Up to Today." "The Astounding Accomplishments of the Young Author. The Message of Yun Woo Literature?" "There's Never Been Anything Like It! What Makes Yun Woo's New Novel Special? His Profile Picture Said To Be Included in the New Book. Fans Finally Come to Face Their Favorite Author." "Yun Woo Finally Comes Out of Hiding After Wandering like Coincidence. Picture Said To Be Included in His New Book. The Publisher Speaks Up: 'You Won't Be Disappointed.'" "Is He Really Yun Woo? Fans Still in Doubt? 'Yun Woo Only Exists in Our Minds.'" "Yun Woo Reveals Himself. Book Districts on Their Toes. What's the Young Author Like?" "Who is Yun Woo? Does He Exist?" --- "What did I just read? Is Yun Woo really gonna reveal himself?!" "Yun Woo! Finally! I'm dying to know what he looks like." "I don't care if it's Yun Woo or his book that comes out first. Just hurry up already!" "Wow, I never thought I would see the day that I'd wait for a book to come out so desperately." "I agree. I'm going to the bookstore the day the book is released. I don't think I have the patience to wait for it to arrive in the mail." "I'm going to the bookstore to see what Yun Woo looks like! They're not gonna keep it all wrapped up, right?" "Looks like there are more people going to the bookstore to see Yun Woo than for his book." "I'm going for his book! Personally, I'm super stoked for his new novel. I mean, he made it to the top at the age of nineteen. How can you not check it out." "Wonder what it's like to be that successful at that age." "I wanna live like Yun Woo." "If only I could write like him. Please, Mr. Woo. Would you write my self-introduction for me?" "Isn't he about to go to college? I wonder what his self-introduction would look like." "Probably the best self-introduction of the year." "He's probably one of the recommended students." "Which school is he going to?" "Heard he's not going to college. Although, it's strictly a rumor." "Look up a video called 'Yun Woo in the Broadcasting Room.' That was the last time he was seen apparently." "Is that real though?" "Who knows?" "I doubt it. He sounds different." "I thought he sounded the same." "Isn't he just desperate for attention?" "What if he's real?" "We'll find out when the book comes out. The book holds the key." "In the video, he says to read the books, and there's a rumor going around that he's implying something." "That sounds plausible." "C'mooon, I wanna know!" "I wonder what he looks like. Any day now, Zelkova." "Is 'An Insect Leaves No Trace' the sequel of 'Trace of a Bird?'" "I just read the plot and it seems like they're not related at all. It's gonna be about love, apparently." "Is this gonna be Yun Woo's romance novel??" "Blech! Romance. Well, as long as it's written by Yun Woo." "A pure love story of a high school student?" "Wonder how it relates to the title. How can one fall in love with an insect?" "Seeing how Yun Woo's saying that there's no trace, I don't think he knows what true love is." "The book isn't even out yet people…" "I'm gonna be at the bookstore right when it opens! The curiosity is killing me." "What's with the publisher telling fans to look forward to the picture? Are they that desperate for profit?" "Maybe there's a twist? Who knows?" "What if Yun Woo isn't actually revealing himself…!? What if it's a picture of some guy!?" "That better not happen." "I'm gonna start a protest in front of the publisher's building." "I'll blow up their website again." "Noo, that can't be! Somebody, please tell me none of that will happen!" "All right, now I'm getting all anxious. I'm really gonna have to go to the bookstore now." "I guess everyone's going to the bookstore. I better join in on the party." "I'm surprised my parents haven't said anything. I guess it's because I'm going to the bookstore to get books." "I'm surprised that I'm even reading books." "I usually don't have time to read 'cause of work, but I always carry one of Yun Woo's books around." "I don't think I ever stayed up all night to read." "Yun Woo! Show yourself!" "Zelkova! Hurry up!" "We want it now!" … --- "What the heck?" Juho let out. That morning, he had decided to walk to the book district for morning exercises and, when he arrived, he was greeted by an astonishing sight. It was just past nine in the morning, and the bookstore wouldn't open until 9:30 a.m. Which meant, the crowd had arrived long before opening time. It was a rare sight for a bookstore in Korea. Like Juho, there were other pedestrians walking by, looking at the strange phenomenon. Similarly, even the employees inside the store were busy taking pictures of the people waiting in line outside. "Is something happening today? What's with the line?" somebody let out. Juho knew the answer to that. His book was being released that day, and that meant that he was officially revealing his face to the world as of that day. 'But are all these people really here just to buy a book though?' Juho asked himself. Then, his phone started vibrating. It was Seo Kwang, who had to be in school by that point. When the young author answered the phone, Seo Kwang's excited voice came from the receiver, asking, "Your book's coming out today, right?" Looking at the people waiting in two separate lines, Juho said, "Yep." "Man! If only I could be there right now!" Seo Kwang shouted genuinely. It was quite funny to hear that coming from someone whose parents owned a bookstore. Seo Kwang was in school. After the SATs, the juniors had kept going to school for no apparent reason. "Wait, you didn't turn your phone in?" "Don't bother asking the obvious." Seo Kwang said. Judging from what sounded like the noise of a video game coming through, things had to be quite lax in school for the juniors. "Oh yeah! Did you see the articles? People are lining up at bookstores." Of course, the press wouldn't let something like that slide. There were pictures turning up on the internet in real time, both from reporters and fans. "I'm looking at them." "The articles?" "The lines." "... Where are you at right now?" At that, Juho repeated the same exact words that Seo Kwang had just used on him, "Don't bother asking the obvious."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Man, I knew I shouldn't have come to school today. I'd kill to be there," Seo Kwang said earnestly. "I'm seriously missing out! This is what happens in bookstores in other countries! Man, this sucks," Seo Kwang complained repeatedly. Then, Juho heard another person shouting at Seo Kwang, "Hey! Zip it!" With that, Seo Kwang's grumbling came to an end. "Are you with Sun Hwa?" Juho asked. "Yep. Bom and I came to see her." It wasn't hard to imagine them hanging out. With that, Seo Kwang gave him a brief update on the status quo of the school. "Everyone's anxious to find out whether you're really Yun Woo or not." "Is that right?" "Yep. There are guys making bets even. I did too." Juho laughed at Seo Kwang's snarky remark. In actuality, it was a wise decision on Seo Kwang's end. "Which side are they voting for?" "That you're fake." "Well then, seems like you're gonna win big time." At that moment, Seo Kwang already had a victorious smile on his face. He told Juho how Mr. Moon and the club members had been getting flooded with questions since Juho had dropped out of school, which made complete sense since the individual in question had left. Neither Mr. Moon nor the club members answered any of the questions coming in. Although the teachers were remaining silent about the matter in order to prevent the juniors from getting distracted from the SAT preparations, the club members had a slightly different reason for keeping their schoolmates in the dark: to show everyone up. "What use is there in telling the truth to people who'll never believe you?" "It makes sense that they wouldn't, though." Then, Seo Kwang snorted and said, "I can't wait to see the looks on their faces when they find out. I'll make sure to get a good look on your behalf too." "You don't have to do that." "Then, should I take some pictures and send it to you?" "That won't be necessary, either." "It's fine. I didn't mean any of that anyway." Then, as they hung up, Juho saw that he had received a text while he'd been talking on the phone. It was from Gong Pal. He had probably also seen the massive lines in front of bookstores. Underneath the article he was sharing in the text, there was a message that read, 'Looks like the crowds in front of video game stores when some games comes out." When Juho looked around, there were even more people getting in line. The time flew by, and as it got closer to opening time, people waiting in line started growing anxious. Similarly, those around them also started whispering among themselves. However, the door to the bookstore remained tightly shut despite their hopes. The employees and employers seemed to be having a meeting. And just like that, another thirty minutes flew by. Then… "Somebody's coming!" … an employee appeared on the inside of the store and opened both of the doors, and another employees also came out in order to keep the crowd under control. "Ladies and gentlemen, you may now enter in an orderly fashion." However, those words didn't hold much power. The crowd went rushing into the store, and the employees tried to slow them down in vain. It wasn't long until the store was filled with people. Meanwhile, Juho looked at the scene attentively from beginning to end. An astounding number of people were all headed for the same place. "Wow," somebody murmured. The people each picked up a book at the same time, and the stack disappeared at an increasing rate, one book at a time. When people got their hands on a copy of their own, they immediately opened the cover, where they were told they would find the truth. Finally… "Yun Woo!" The fans got to see the face of their favorite author. They could finally say that they knew the young author. At that moment, somebody shouted for joy, and those who laughed at that also joined in on the celebration. The store was filled with the sound of shutters, as the crowd surrounding the stack of books was a sight to behold. Although the employees tried to keep people from taking pictures of the new book, it was all in vain. While some started getting in line to pay, others were busy putting the pictures up on the internet. With that, Juho went into the store, and the voices became clearly audible. "So, he was real." "Who would've thought that he would include a picture with Kelley Coin? Now, I have to believe it." "So, that's what Zelkova meant when they said to look forward to the picture." "Man, if it was just another picture of some guy, I'd have been so pissed." "So, that's what he looks like." "He looks like a good writer, all right." "That's Coin's house, isn't it?" "Is that the Hugo trophy? So, that thing IS real!" "Where's the red hat?" "He looks different from what I imagined." "They should've been a little closer to the camera." "Where is this? That's Yun Woo, right?" "The dynamic duo." "Boy, I would love to meet him." "Wonder what he looks like in real life." "That's a good picture." "They look so normal." "Looks really nice. He's got a good taste!" 'Things aren't looking too bad,' Juho thought to himself as a smile spread across his face. "What the…" a voice let out. When Juho looked toward the voice, he locked eyes with somebody holding a book, whose eyes got wider and wider as they took turns looking at the picture and at the young author. At that, Juho took a step back. "Yun Woo," the person let out upon recognizing the young author, looking straight at him. At that moment, a strange emotion beyond what words can describe washed over him. "It's Yun Woo!" the person said again. "You're Yun Woo, right?" At that, people started looking up from their books, and the sound of shutters stopped. The very eyes of those who had been looking at the devices in their hands were now looking in the young author's direction. "It's Yun Woo!" somebody shouted although Juho himself hadn't said anything, and people believed what they were hearing without even knowing from whom it had come. They were calling the young author Yun Woo without needing to be convinced. Similarly, they would no longer call him an impostor, even if Yun Woo were to try desperately to convince them of his identity. They were no longer getting him mixed up with someone else. Nobody would walk past him not knowing what he looked like. Meanwhile, the employee stared at the young author, taken aback, and those who had been looking into the store from the outside looked even harder upon realizing what was happening in the store. Only those who were yet to have seen the book were clueless as to what was going on. "I'm a fan!" "I love your work." "Oh my goodness! It's Yun Woo!" "Let me shake your hand!" As a hand appeared out of nowhere before Juho's eyes, the young author grabbed it gently and the person started stamping their feet. Then, after shaking it up and down for a little bit, Juho let go of the hand and said, "Enjoy the book." Upon hearing his voice, the person started screaming with joy, and Juho walked out of the store. While some followed him, others remained in the store. Some paid for their books, while others were attempting to leave the store without even paying. Needless to say, they were stopped at the exit. Meantime, Juho ran as fast and as far as he could, past the lake and the park. 'Was this liberating or am I just in another cell?' he asked himself, unable to come to a conclusion. The scenery zooming past him was all in a blur. Although nothing seemed clear or definitive, one thing was certain… "Hahaha!" … he was in a great mood. --- "Yun Woo spotted." Since arriving at school, Seo Kwang had been looking through the articles about Juho. Seeing his friend's name getting brought up on the internet all day long was quite entertaining. Considering his personality, it made things even funnier. "So, he really was Yun Woo." The classroom was filled with the sound of students clamoring about Yun Woo. As the young author's book was released, not only did his face become known to the world at an incredible rate, but what had merely been a secret joy to the students had become public knowledge. The picture included in the new novel was impeccable proof that the young author in the picture was, indeed, Yun Woo. It was clear that it was a carefully calculated decision. Although an insect might not leave a trace, Yun Woo was making his presence known. Then, looking up, Seo Kwang looked around the class. The very students who had mocked Juho when he revealed his identity as Yun Woo were exhilarated by the fact that Yun Woo had been in the same school as them. They seemed to change their opinions according to the situation they found themselves in. "If I had known this was gonna happen... I should've gotten an autograph." Whenever they expressed their regrets jokingly, a small sense of gratification washed over Seo Kwang. Since the truth was out, it was visible in their faces that they realized that they had been wrong. Seo Kwang made sure to get a good look at them, even going as far as visiting Sun Hwa's class just to see those faces. As if knowing that or because she had her own things that she needed see, Sun Hwa didn't visit Seo Kwang and Bom's class first. She reminisced about that day, instead. "It's true." What had started it all was a confession. "He really is Yun Woo." Who the students had thought to be an impostor had actually turned out to be real. What they had thrown out thinking it was a worthless rock turned out to be a priceless diamond. A piece of land they had gotten rid of thinking that it was useless had actually turned out to be the most valued property on the market. They had placed their bets on the wrong side, and now they had suffered an irrevocable loss. With the realization that they had made a poor decision, regret washed over the students. "What'd I say?" Sun Hwa said with a bright, victorious smile. "I told you, idiots. He writes like Yun Woo." Not a single person objected. And before long, those students started talking about the young author and expressing their admiration for him in an exaggerated manner. "I seriously had no idea. Who would've thought? Yun Woo's incredible." At that moment, Seo Kwang felt an unusual urge to write. "What you doin'?" A crisp voice disrupted his thoughts. It was Bom, who was sitting in front of him. "I was just thinking back on that day." At that, a mocking smile, which didn't quite suit her, appeared on Bom's face briefly. It was obvious that she didn't look at the group of students that had come together just to ostracize the young author in a positive light. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang showed her the screen of his phone, which was filled with news of Yun Woo. Upon seeing that, Bom chuckled quietly and said, "Getting fancy now, are we?" "He was lingering around some bookstore on the date of his book's release, and somebody took a picture of him." "People are flipping out, huh?" Just like Bom said, everyone sharing their encounters with Yun Woo had been in an elevated emotional state. The fact that they could recognize the young author now had only made the experience more intense. It only made sense when considering all that he had accomplished without revealing himself. "It's explosive." What had been lurking beneath the surface was now peeking above the ground. "Hey," a voice called to Seo Kwang. It came from a group of people he had never really hung out with. "What?" Seo Kwang asked, and one of them asked curiously, "You're close friends with Juho Woo, right? Did he ever do your writing assignments for you or anything?" Then, a smirk appeared on Seo Kwang's face. "Did YOU ever do his writing assignments?" "He's an author though." "What? Were you thinking that he would just write away anywhere he wanted, just because he's an author?" "No?" "No!" From then on, the boy kept trying to strike up a conversation with Seo Kwang despite them never having interacted before. Things like that had been happening more frequently as of late. "Did you get an autograph?" "Is that supposed to be a question?" Seo Kwang said nonchalantly, resting his chin on his hand. "How many?" "None for you. Stop asking." "C'mon. Help a brother out." "Are they talking about Juho Woo?" Then, upon hearing their conversation, other students nearby came and surrounded them. As Seo Kwang was busy pushing them away, the homeroom teacher walked in through the front door. However, as if they had become useless to him after the SAT, the teacher didn't bother to say anything. All the while, the desks were still scattered about untidily. "Seo Kwang and Bom." "Yes?" "Come out with me," the teacher said, gesturing at them with his hand. All eyes were on the two who were walking out through the door after the teacher. As the last person closed the door, the teacher started walking. Then, they saw Sun Hwa in front of the teacher. "They're here to interview you guys," he said as he took the three juniors down the stairs. An interview. Grasping a feel for what it was going to be about, Seo Kwang asked, "Is this about Yun Woo?" "Who knows? They want to know more about our Literature Club too, so talk to them. All you gotta do is sit in the English class and wait." "Why there?" "Make sure to look tidy for the camera. If you're not in uniform on the outside, then take it off. Don't try to stand out too much," the teacher said, blatantly avoiding his question. Nevertheless, it didn't matter since Seo Kwang already had an idea of what the answer was. It had to be because the science room was small and run down, which meant it wouldn't be an ideal background for the camera. Not only was it small, but it was also quite messy. Therefore, the school had provided a slightly better room for their interview, hence the English class. "But it's cold without my jacket," Seo Kwang complained to no avail. At that moment, a thought occurred to him, 'Maybe I should just make a run for it, like Yun Woo did.'

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Following the teacher to the English class, Sun Hwa, Bom, and Seo Kwang saw Mr. Moon talking to James in English. "Mr. Moon." "Hey there," Mr. Moon said with an odd expression on his face. While he seemed bothered by the situation on one hand, he seemed proud on the other. On top of that, James, who was standing next to him, was quite excited. "I'm about to have a new addition to my list of things to show off to my friends." "Are you now?" the teacher answered briefly. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang caught on to what they were talking about. "Are we gonna be on TV?" Bom asked with a puzzled look, and Mr. Moon said, "They already interviewed the teachers in the staffroom." Soon, another teacher brought the younger club members to the English class. Although they seemed confused initially, their faces brightened up as soon as they saw the juniors in the room. At the same time, they seemed to be somewhat excited by the situation that had come out of nowhere. "What's going on?" Gong Pal asked. "We're being interviewed apparently," Seo Kwang answered. "Interview? What interview?" "Who knows?" While Seo Kwang answered Gong Pal's questions haphazardly, he heard a group approaching in the distance. The first person to come into the room was the cameraman, who started setting up all the necessary equipment throughout the classroom. A camera with the logo of a broadcasting station was placed on top of a tripod to look down at the club members. Meanwhile, the principal was discussing something with someone else, the juniors' counselor, who was yelling at the other students lingering around the room to go back to their classes. At the same time, Seo Kwang looked attentively at everything that was taking place around him because of his personal obligation to tell his friend all about it. Then, Sun Hwa murmured from the side, "They're not even bothering to offer an explanation or even ask for our consensus." "I guess the school did it for us." Sun Hwa clicked her tongue, and Mr. Moon told them, "The interview's gonna be on the air apparently, so make sure you don't have anything stuck in your teeth." "I don't eat breakfast." "I don't have a mirror on me." As Seo Kwang looked for a mirror, feeling slightly anxious, Bom took a small mirror out of her pocket and handed it to him. While he was checking his teeth with his mouth gaped open, a person who introduced themselves as the producer sat across from him and explained how they could go about answering the questions in a friendly manner. While they were friendly, the producer had quite a bit to say, and it wasn't until then that Seo Kwang realized just how nervous he was. There were cameras surrounding them from all directions. "Don't mind the cameras. All you gotta do is answer the questions like you normally would," the producer said in an effort to comfort the club members. Unfortunately, that proved to be less than helpful. As Seo Kwang answered him reluctantly, another person, who introduced himself as a reporter, came and sat in the producer's place. After greeting the club members briefly, he started preparing for the interview immediately. Then, Seo Kwang turned his head slowly toward his clubmates. With the exception of Bo Suk, who was looking around curiously, the rest of the club members didn't seem all that calm. "All right, here we go." With that, the interview officially started. Seeing as though Mr. Moon was standing behind the camera along with the others, he had to be next. "Hello." At the signal, the reporter started off with an opening remark in a voice noticeably brighter than before. The club members also greeted him back, "Hello." "So, you guys are from the same Literature Club as Juho Woo, who turned out to be Yun Woo, right?" "Yes, that's right," the club members answered, nodding awkwardly. There wasn't a whole lot to say about the matter. The camera rolled, recording every second of it. "Could you guys introduce yourselves briefly?" Self-introduction. At that moment, Seo Kwang felt the anxiety melting away. Simultaneously, his clubmates chuckled as if they had had the same experience. Resisting the urge to look at Mr. Moon, Seo Kwang focused on the interview, and out of his mouth, came the self-introduction he had written a number of times up to that point. "I love books and that's why I joined the Literature Club," he said. It wasn't hard to imagine how Juho would have gone about introducing himself. 'He would've raved on about some grilled mackerel and stayed in his seat with a nonchalant look on his face, while everyone else around him was confused beyond all hope,' Seo Kwang thought to himself while suppressing the urge to laugh. As if hoping that the club members would talk about Yun Woo more, the reporter scratched his temple and said, "All right, great. You all seem to be good speakers. I suppose it makes sense considering you're part of the Literature Club." With that, the reporter got to the actual interview portion of the event. "How was Juho Woo as a friend?" As a camera approached Seo Kwang, he said, "Out of his gourd." Then, Sun Hwa elbowed him at his side irritably, and the principal burst into exaggerated laughter. Nevertheless, the junior's behavior wasn't all that different from what they saw from his peers in the other classes. Meanwhile, the reporter had a merciful smile on his face, as if he had expected an answer like that from a teenager. "He was a great writer. So much so that he even turned out to be Yun Woo. How do you think I felt when I read his writing before I knew he was Yun Woo?" "It must've been unbelievable." Not only had it been unbelievable, but it had also been shocking. It was a shock that carried enough impact to blow the dream that was lingering in the depths of Seo Kwang's heart away. However, Seo Kwang decided not to go into detail. With that, the camera moved on to Sun Hwa. "What was your first impression of Juho Woo?" "... He was really full of himself," she said, unable to think of any other way to answer the question. Describing Juho became much more difficult without using harsh language. And knowing that, Seo Kwang chuckled. "He's just too good of a writer. All the training we had gone through in the club was hardly a challenge for him." At that, the reporter smiled, nodding. "How did you find out that your friend was Yun Woo all along?" Because it was a long story, the club members gave a brief summary instead, and the reporter listened to them with a satisfactory smile on his face. "So, you already knew?" "Yes." "Didn't you wanna tell other people that your friend was Yun Woo?" "Of course, I did, but I still kept it to myself. I mean, all hell broke loose when Yun Woo himself revealed his identity to the rest of the world. I don't even wanna think about what it would've looked like if we were the ones to spill the beans," Seo Kwang said. He wasn't confident that he would be able to handle a commotion like that. With that, the reporter moved on to Bo Suk. "So, how does it feel to have Yun Woo as an upperclassman?" "Very good," she said briefly and without hesitation, and the reporter moved on to the next person. "... Hm, how about you?" "Us too." "We joined the Literature Club because of him from the get-go." "What do you mean?" the reporter asked, blatantly wanting to hear more about Yun Woo. "What kind of activities did you mostly do in the club?" "There's writing, first of all. And we'd compete in essay contests here and there." "Does that mean there are still pieces written by Juho Woo around in school?" "Yes. His short stories are being exhibited in the library actually." Although the reporter pretended to be astonished by Seo Kwang's answer, he already seemed to know. "Everyone must have read it without even knowing that it was written by Yun Woo." "Right." "Well, was he popular before everyone knew who he was?" Then, Seo Kwang answered with a shrug, "He was popular as Won Yi Young, too." Although the exhibition itself had never really taken off, those who visited the library would always read Juho's writing. At the mention of Won Yi Young, the reporter nodded as if he caught on to what the junior was getting at. "You mentioned something about competing in essay contests. What kind of contests did Juho Woo compete in?" Nobody remembered what kind of contests Juho had competed in detail since he had intentionally chosen contests that were more obscure. On top of that, he had never brought back an award. While everyone was struggling to answer, the reporter asked, "Did he ever bring back an award?" "No. Bom here is the only person who's ever won an award in the entire club." "... You mean, Yun Woo never won an award in an essay contest?" the reporter said, looking toward Bom with narrowed eyes, as if he had caught on to something. Simultaneously, realizing that, Bom explained in a hurry, "He forfeited most of them. Not going up to the stage to receive his award, for example." Then, with an affirmative answer, the reporter asked no further, much unlike his attitude of viciously trying to dig up information about Yun Woo up to that point. Just as Sun Hwa, whose brow was furrowed, was about to speak up, the reporter beat her to it. "What's it like to write alongside Yun Woo?" The cameras were still rolling. The role of the club members was to answer the questions they were being asked. They didn't have the option to revisit the question that the reporter had moved on from. Nevertheless, the club members participated in the interview with slightly anxious hearts. Then, two or three questions later, their interview came to an end. "All right. Now, can we interview the teacher?" "Sure." The club members looked at the reporter with displeasure, but he seemed to pay no attention to them. Mr. Moon and the principal waved at them, gesturing for them to get off their seats, and the club members dawdled out of the room. "Good job. You may go back to your classes now," the counselor said in a much gentler tone of voice than usual. Meanwhile, other students on the same floor kept watch from afar. "Sun Hwa?" Bo Suk called to the junior quietly and said, "I think I've thought of what to write next." At that, Sun Hwa patted the sophomore on the back, as if encouraging her to keep writing even after she and the other juniors had graduated. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang sighed deeply while looking at the two. 'I'm sure he'll be fine. Besides, he has a mouth now.' --- Juho was watching the interview on the TV in the living room. The crew was going back and forth between the staffroom and different classrooms, asking about Yun Woo. The students in the hallway were busy complimenting the young author. "He's the best." "I'm so proud that we went to school together." "I had no clue that Juho Woo was Yun Woo." "I always thought that he was a good writer." "He was always writing during recess, too." While he had vague memories of their faces, Juho didn't recognize any of them. They all sounded noticeably more rigid and excited than usual, as though saying what they had been told. Then, the screen transitioned to a classroom in the middle of a lesson. Although it was obvious that the students knew they were being filmed, they were looking straight at the chalkboard. Even as the camera went into the classroom, not a single person was startled by it. "Do you know Yun Woo?" the reporter asked and every single student answered, "Yes, I do." Juho couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, it's him," he let out as he saw the boy who had sat next to him in class. "You used to sit next to Yun Woo, right?" "Yes." "Did you read any of his books?" "Yes, I read 'em quite often." "Are you a fan?" "Yes, I am." There was something awkward about the way he spoke, and it was obvious that he wasn't being genuine. Neither was he in the habit of reading, nor did he like the young author, and the fact that he was only blurting out shallow answers was further proof of that. "Were you close to him?" "We were OK," the boy let out after some contemplation. He seemed to have lost the courage to be honest in front of the camera.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho was able to understand the absence of courage in the boy on the screen, who answered the reporter's questions while cautiously studying his expressions. The boy's behavior was closer to basic courtesy and bore a close resemblance to pretense. "How did it feel when you found out that the classmate next to you was Yun Woo all along?" "I was taken aback." "Had you noticed anything strange before?" "Yes, I had." "Then, how would you like to leave a message for Yun Woo?" A troubled look appeared on the boy's face, and the camera was capturing every moment of it. "Hey. So, you were Yun Woo all along, huh?" He was unbearably awkward, and Juho heard the students in the background looking and laughing at him. At that moment, Juho had the liberty to watch the interview whenever he felt like. "Did you know that Yun Woo was a part of the Literature Club at his school? We will now take some time to meet his clubmates, who were active in the club with Yun Woo, also known as Juho Woo." "Finally," Juho let out. He had been waiting anxiously for his clubmates to appear on the screen. However, something was odd. The camera showed the crew heading in a completely different direction from the one Juho had in mind. They were headed for the English class. Yet, the crew kept on as if nothing was wrong. As they arrived in front of the classroom and opened the door, Juho let out, "What the..." The screen showed his clubmates sitting shoulder to shoulder in the English class, tense and frozen. The atmosphere was noticeably different from that of the science room, which was run down, yet welcoming. Juho started to get a feel for the situation. The camera focused on his clubmates' faces, one by one. They looked quite funny. "Could you guys introduce yourselves briefly?" the reporter asked. Knowing that his clubmates were capable of fulfilling the request, Juho was able to relax. Seeing his friends on the TV screen was quite a strange experience, but an entertaining nonetheless. "What??" However, as the self-introductions dragged on, Juho noticed the segment had been cut short by adding strange visual effects along with their names and grades in subtitles. It was clear that the interviewer was interested in Yun Woo and Yun Woo only. The interviewer asked the club members the same ol' questions, and the entire interview lost its charm at once. The interviewer kept asking questions the club members had no way of answering. Yet, they were answering them to the best of their abilities. "... You mean, Yun Woo never won an award in an essay contest?" As the interviewer let out, a sound effect came from the TV speakers, and the screen quickly transitioned to a different scene. It was the part of the science room where they used to keep Bom's trophy. In other words, it was completely void of Yun Woo's awards. It was a scene that was included to emphasize that Yun Woo had never won an award at an essay contest. It was unexpected, shocking, and intriguing all at the same time. Then, after raving on about his thoughts in the matter, the screen transitioned to yet another scene. Mr. Moon was nowhere to be seen for the entire show. "They must've cut him out completely," Juho said, wondering what the teacher might have said. --- 'Yun Woo. What Kind of Student Was He? We Visited His School in Search of the Answer.' 'We Find Out Just How Popular Yun Woo Is. The School Puts Up a Banner with His Name on It: "A Proud Author."' 'Yun Woo's Real Name Reported to be Juho Woo. An Ordinary Member of a Literature Club was Actually Yun Woo!' 'Anecdotes Relating to Yun Woo. The Writing That Shocked His Peers.' 'Juho Woo, the Proud Pupil. His Teachers Speak Up. "There was Something Extraordinary About Him."' 'The Student That Stood out for Some Reason. Juho Woo, a Teacher's Pet?' 'Yun Woo was a Model Student. Remembered to be Well Behaved.' 'The Pride of the Underclassmen. Yun Woo According to the Younger Members of the Literature Club.' 'Viewers Respond to the Interview. Highest Viewer Rating at the Time. The Show Marks the Highest Viewer Rating in History. The Interview of the Literature Club. The Best One Minute?' 'Did Yun Woo's Friends Know About Yun Woo's Identity? "It Was Hard to Keep the Secret."' 'Yun Woo Was NOT in School During the Hugo Award Ceremony! All the Pieces Come Together!' 'What was Yun Woo's Response After Winning the Nebula? Reported to Be Calm and Unfazed. "I Didn't Notice Anything Different."' 'A Closer Look at His Peers' View on Yun Woo as Juho Woo, and His Ordinary Daily Life.' 'Yun Woo Really is Nineteen? What Makes It Shocking When We Already Knew It? The Reason He's Drawing So Much Attention.' 'An Unexpected Truth Revealed During Interview. "Yun Woo Never Won an Award in an Essay Contest!"' 'To Yun Woo is to Double Crown? 'Juho Woo Had No Part in It?' A Suspicious Truth Discovered.' 'What Were Some of the Contests That Didn't Give Yun Woo an Award? Controversy Rises.' 'The Web in Confusion. "There's Not Enough Room for a World-Renowned Author in This Country?"' 'An Author That Nobody Recognized. Why Did the Essay Contests Neglect Him?' 'Who Won the Awards That Yun Woo Couldn't Win? Inquiry In Progress.' 'What Are the Criteria in Essay Contests? Varies Per Contest. "There's More than a Possibility That Yun Woo Couldn't Win."' 'Yun Woo Reported Having Separate Manuscript for Contest. "It's Not the Same As Writing a Book."' 'Why Couldn't Yun Woo Win? Questions Grow.' … --- "Questions?" Nabi let out with a chuckle. The so-called questions were a mere product of the media. Despite the interview containing noticeable edits, the reporters were spewing out articles that caused confusion among fans. "These morons," Nabi said internally. Yun Woo was an author of international recognition. In other words, it wouldn't be long before the video of the interview spread to other countries. Yun Woo was essentially the face of Korea at that point. Yet, the broadcasting industry was preoccupied with its own benefits, all the while making a fool of itself. "Not a chance," she said while looking at the data on her ongoing projects. She was in the process of reviewing the various requests flooding in from overseas. The press started coming for the young author as soon as he revealed himself, and Yun Woo also seemed to have accepted that reality, as if he had been expecting it. He was quite trustworthy, and as his agent, Nabi had been giving her best in every regard. What she wanted wasn't just another interview for the sake of damage control for the recent so-called interview, which was of embarrassing quality. She believed that people needed to have a long-term perspective since Yun Woo would continue to write for a long time. Therefore, his fans needed a deeper understanding of the young author, and Yun Woo's activities had to work in conjunction with that. Looking at the renowned companies that wanted Yun Woo, Nabi comforted herself. "Yun Woo doesn't have to hold back anymore." The theories and assumptions running rampant in the media would no longer be true. --- "Is it time?" Juho said, checking the time and rising from his seat. In order to avoid being recognized, he had been wearing a hat whenever he had to go out lately. And just as a precautionary measure, he put a mask in his pocket. At that moment, he received a text on his phone. It was from Nam Kyung, saying that he had arrived at the front of his house. As the young author stepped out, he saw a car, and as he soon as he got into the car through the passenger's side, the editor said with a determined look on his face, "Today's the day." Juho was well aware of what was happening that day. "It sure is. The first official interview." "Yun Woo's first official domestic interview to be precise," Nam Kyung said as he pushed his glasses up. From then on, the car would be heading for the station. "Did you warm up your face and all?" "Yeah, sort of," Juho said with a yawn. From what he had been told, the questions had been chosen based on the number of votes they had received by the fans. "Seems like they did a lot of the work." "Of course. They're interviewing Yun Woo of all people. They have to." Juho looked forward to how the interview would go. And opening the window, he said, "I'm sure they'll keep us on track. Besides, it's not live either, so they can always edit things out later." "Absolutely not. Do not trust anyone there. They're determined to get as much out of you as possible. They're enemies, every single one of them. Do you understand?" Nam Kyung's driving was slightly more aggressive than usual, and Juho knew the reason behind it. It was because of the articles that said that Juho Woo, unlike Yun Woo, hadn't won a single award in an essay contest. The young author reminisced to the day when Nam Kyung had first called him regarding the matter, as well as to bring up the plan that he had had in mind, "What do you say we do an official interview, Mr. Woo?" In other words, he was suggesting that they fight against the press in the way the press understood best: with media exposure. Juho was also aware of people's reaction after the interview had aired. There were quite a few people wondering why Yun Woo hadn't been able to win a single award in an essay contest. There had also been signs of conspiracy theories brewing. Because the young author had yet to make an appearance on TV, all the articles up to that point had referred to the photos included in his new book. Seeing as though his picture with Coin was floating around on the internet, Juho had had a good feeling, and because he had discussed things with Nabi prior to the question, he had been able to reach a decision with relative ease. "Aren't you nervous? It's your first interview," Nam Kyung asked, and Juho said with a smile, "Probably not as much as you are." "Me? I'm not nervous." "Is that right?" Juho said, looking at his deathly pale face. "It's not my first time, technically." "What is?" "Being interviewed." Though Nam Kyung seemed puzzled for a brief moment, he caught on to what Juho was referring to shortly after. "You mean the interview at school?" "Yes," Juho nodded, thinking of the monkey. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung's brow furrowed, and he said, "That's different. Do you not know where we're going?" "Of course, I do. To an interview that we chose carefully." "You know, I feel uneasy looking at you at times." "I feel uneasy about you driving feeling uneasy, Mr. Park." At that, Nam Kyung grasped the steering wheel by reflex. "I know you're not the type to get fazed by anything, but things might be different once you get there. Prepare yourself. I brought some sedatives too, so let me know if you need any." "Will do," Juho said, nodding for the time being. After a brief silence, Nam Kyung brought up a different subject, as if feeling the need to comfort the young author, "Well, how's it been? Things are a lot different now than they were before you revealed yourself, huh?" "Not that different, actually. The only thing different is that there are more people who recognize me." "C'mon, now. Don't be modest. Tell me what it's like to be a star," Nam Kyung said, but the young author responded by simply smiling. After looking out the window for a while, Juho felt the irresistible urge to yawn. Because he had gone to bed late the night before, he felt his eyelids getting heavier. In the end, the young author told his editor, "I think I'll get some shuteye." "What?" "I'm sorry. I feel bad when you're the one driving." "No, that's not the issue. Are you saying that you're gonna take a nap now?" "What's wrong with that?" "You do realize you're about to make a TV appearance, right?" "Of course, I do. I can't fall asleep during taping, so I'll get some sleep while I still can." "You're serious? That wasn't a joke?" Instead of an answer, Juho pushed the backrest of the seat all the way down. --- "Rise and shine! We're here." Juho opened his eyes at the sound of Nam Kyung's voice. When Juho sat up and looked around, he realized that they were in a parking lot. As he rubbed his face with his hands, Nam Kyung said in a dumbfounded voice, "You slept like a baby." "I sure did," Juho said, feeling much lighter. He didn't feel too terrible. "C'mon," Nam Kyung said, rushing the young author while getting out of the car. After putting his hat on and pulling it down, Juho followed him. "Hello, Mr. Woo." "Pleasure to meet you." The two exchanged greetings with two other people who had come out to welcome them, the main producer and the main writer, respectively. There was a banner that read 'Yun Woo' on the door of the waiting room, and following the young author into the room, the main writer gave a brief explanation of the show and left the room, returning yet again shortly after. There were bento boxes on the producer's and the writer's hands. It seemed excessive that two people were carrying such a load. "Please feel free if you haven't eaten yet." "Thank you." Along with four kinds of side dishes, there were pieces of deep-fried pork cutlet next to the rice, and on the wrapper of the wooden chopsticks, was the logo of a famous bento box chain. Even after handing the young author the bento boxes, the producer and the writer lingered in the room, as if they had a question. In the end, Juho looked at them and asked, "Would you like some?" "Oh, no. We already ate. But, uh… Would you be willing to take a picture with us?" the writer said, adding that he had enjoyed the new book with a cheerful smile. Since he had no reason to decline, Juho posed for a picture with them. "Enjoy your meal, Mr. Woo." With that, the two finally left the room, and having been feeling hungry since waking up, Juho picked up one of the bento boxes.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Hello, Mr. Popular," Nam Kyung said playfully. "You're gonna eat, right? Juho asked, ignoring his joke. "No. I think it'll sit in my stomach like a boulder." "All right, then. Don't mind if I do." Leaving Nam Kyung be, who seemed to be growing increasingly nervous, Juho took the wooden chopsticks and split them apart. Meanwhile, the editor looked at Juho eating without a care in the world with admiring eyes. "You haven't been appearing on TV without me knowing, have you? How are you so calm?" "I wasn't aware that eating was such a nerve-racking activity?" "It is in a broadcasting station." Then, looking at the mirror on the wall, Nam Kyung said, "I'm sure the host is guzzling water down on an empty stomach too. It is Yun Woo's first official TV appearance." Juho smiled at the editor's slightly exaggerated remark. About thirty minutes had passed by the time the young author finished his bento and started getting ready. Judging from how the voices coming from the distance sounded, it seemed like taping would start soon. Sure enough, the producer and the writer, who were earnestly trying to comfort the young author, came to the room to get Juho. "Things will follow the questionnaire for the most part, so you don't have to be too nervous." "Right." "You don't have to worry about the cameras at all. Just make yourself at home and think of it as having a nice conversation with the host." "Gotcha." "I'm sure there will be questions that are trickier to answer. In that case, take all the time you need to think about the question before you answer." "OK." "We prepared a bottle of water for you next to your seat, so please feel free should you find yourself getting thirsty." "Will do." As the young author stepped onto the set, a series of cameras and monitors surrounding the studio and a crowd surrounding the set came into view. Then, following the producer's guidance, Juho sat on the chair on the set. The chair was quite rigid. There was also a massive rectangular table, which kept the lower half of his body out of view. As Juho quietly waited on his seat, the people around him grew even busier. Seeing as though Nam Kyung was talking to the writer, it didn't seem like the taping would start that soon. "Here's your microphone." Somebody walked onto set with a microphone. Juho rose from his seat to let the person do their job. Then, he noticed that people were starting to come closer to the set one by one. Maybe it was because they had seen somebody walk up to Juho. "Would you take a picture with me?" Wearing a lanyard around his neck, the man seemed to be an employee of the station. Just as he had done previously, the young author nodded willingly, and the two took a picture with the set in the background. There were also people who wanted to shake his hands and/or ask him to sign their copy of the young author's book. "Break a leg." Each and every one of those people left Juho with encouraging remarks. Nobody stuck around for longer than necessary. They approached when the timing was right and walked out of the set once they had gotten what they'd wanted. They seemed to be planning on sticking around for the entire shoot. Then, as Juho looked around, he saw somebody with whom he was very well acquainted. The harsh, bitter criticism of the man immediately came to the young author's mind. "We finally meet." The man struck up a conversation as he approached Juho without hesitation. It was Pyung Jin Lee, the book critic. He had a cheerful smile on his face. The pieces of cubic zirconia sparkled brightly on the tie dangling from his neck. It had to be the most decorative tie in the entire studio. Juho bowed and greeted him, and the critic introduced himself to the young author with a delayed response. "I've been watching 'The Great Book Club.' It's a good show." "Really?" Pyung Jin said, astounded by what Juho had said. "A lot of writers watch it, surprisingly. Oh, wait! I better let the producer know about this," the critic said, making small talk with the young author while taking his phone out. Meanwhile, Juho stood in his place and observed him quietly. "I didn't get any sleep last night," Pyung Jin said, and Juho asked why. "Because I finally get to hear your answers. I didn't know what to do with myself." While Juho was smiling awkwardly, feeling slightly uncomfortable, a voice called to him just in the nick of time. It was the host, who was dressed tidily in a suit. "Hello, Mr. Woo," he said, reaching out for a handshake. At that, Juho shook his hand and greeted him back. He looked somewhat familiar since Juho recalled having been interviewed by him in the past life. While his questions hadn't been necessarily aggressive, he had closed in on the main points quite relentlessly. He excelled in identifying the things viewers would find interesting, and because the young author had watched his interviews frequently, he was also one of the only few TV hosts who stood out to Juho. Meanwhile, the host exchanged brief pleasantries with Pyung Jin, as if they had already known each other. "How was your trip getting here?" the host asked. Juho recalled making small talk with him in the past, before an interview. And remembering Nam Kyung's driving, which was slightly less stable than usual, Juho said, "It was good. There was no traffic, so that was a plus." He noticed the host studying his expression. Then, after locking eyes with him briefly, the host walked over to his side of the table and took his seat, and Juho, too, went back to his seat, feeling like they had talked for a little longer in the past. As Pyung Jin sat next to the host, Juho was reminded that he was the protagonist of the interview when he saw the seat placements. There were a number of cameras that remained steady, taping him. As the host took his seat, the crew began to make haste. The employees who were stopping by to watch were standing in the distance, and the cameramen brought their faces closer to their cameras. Meanwhile, Juho watched the busyness of the studio in a daze. According to what he had been told by the writer, they were planning for the camera to focus on Juho as soon as the host finished talking. That also meant that the only way for him to be part of the background was to wait for the host to start talking to him. Then, with the host and the producer exchanging a quick look, the taping started. There was no obvious indication that it had started. Rather, it was quite subtle and natural. When Juho looked out into the distance at the studio, he saw Nam Kyung shaking his legs anxiously, and he had to hold back his laughter with every bit of strength within him. "We have Mr. Lee here, who will be joining us today. How are ya?" "I'm doing great, thank you." The host and the critic exchanged a quick bow, and as if to prove that they had been in separate places before taping had started, they greeted each other again. "I, personally, have been very much looking forward to this day," Pyung Jin said to the host, and with a smile, the host answered, "I believe you! Today is a special day, indeed. I've met so many different people up to this point, but I've never been so curious about what a person looked like." "I agree wholeheartedly." "I'm sure our viewers can sympathize with us. In which case, let's get right to it, shall we?" the host recited the introduction that was on the script. Realizing that he was about to be invited into their space, Juho sat up and loosened up his shoulders. "This author took us by surprise every time he released a book. The first Asian author to have achieved the Double Crown. Please welcome, Yun Woo." Then, the camera pointed toward the young author, and Juho felt the red lights beaming at him. "Hello," the host took the initiative to greet him first, and Juho, too, bowed in return "Hello." "Thanks for joining us today. I'm sure there have been a number of other outlets wanting to interview you, am I right?" The young author nodded. Just as the host had said, Juho had quite a bit of trouble deciding on which interview to participate in. "Yes, quite a few." "I have to ask, what brought you to us over everyone else?" Since he couldn't say that he had had experience with them, Juho stated a different reason instead, "I asked around, and a lot of people seemed to like you guys." Then, the host moved on to the next question written on the script, almost like a promise or an agreement. "So, we don't get visitors here often, but today, I've seen quite a few of the employees here in the station coming down to the studio for pictures. It was pretty crazy." "Yes. I was glad to see that I'm welcomed." "Your popularity's just unbelievable, Mr. Woo." As the young author smiled without saying anything, the host turned his direction to his script. "As you know, we've tried to reach you a number of times in the past for an interview. If I recall correctly, we were desperate enough to settle for a phone interview." Juho did recall that, and he had turned down every single interview or TV appearance request. "And you turned it down every single time." "I did." "I gotta tell you, our staff was pretty disappointed back then. But now, here we are, talking face to face. It's all thanks to you, Mr. Woo, for revealing yourself." "And thank you for having me." Then, a subtle smile appeared on the host's face. "Was there a particular reason that brought you to reveal your identity?" The host had asked a question Juho had been expecting, and after a brief pause, the young author said, "Let's say I had a reason for not revealing myself more so than revealing myself." "And what was that?" "I hoped people wouldn't know that I was Yun Woo." It was obvious, and the interviewer wasn't looking for anything in particular. Then, the host asked again, "Why was that? You were on the rise as the genius author back then." "I mean, I'm a writer because I write, not because I get compliments from people, right? It was a decision that I came to hoping that things would look up." Pyung Jin nodded by reflex at the young author's answer, and after taking a brief moment to grasp his answer, the host changed the subject. "Now, as a result, consequently, you had a peaceful school life until recently, just as you intended, correct?" "Yes." "The show that aired recently covered your school, and it seems to be quite popular to this day." It was just like the host said. The attention was almost overwhelming. "Though it was received in a positive light for the most part, there were some controversies regarding what was being shown, that being the Literature Club and the question of why couldn't Yun Woo win an award." The phrasing was quite provocative. "As I mentioned earlier, it's hard to imagine Yun Woo not winning an award at an essay contest. Yet, the amateur writer by the name of Juho Woo has yet to win an award in that span of three years. Of course, it's not entirely up to the individual whether or not they're getting the award, but what are your thoughts?" "First of all, I'd like to address that the media and the press contributed in a major way for the controversy grow to this point. I realize just how determined everyone is in those fields, and it dawned on me then that there was wisdom in my decision to remain anonymous as a student after all." The crowd around the studio chuckled quietly. "Some posed the question that Yun Woo was hiding his skill on purpose." "I never hid my skill on purpose. I've always written earnestly and honestly," Juho answered, and the host asked again, "In that case, does that mean that the judges of the contests you competed in were intentional about concluding that your writing wasn't worth receiving an award?" "I'm sure they thought that they couldn't give me an award." That made sense considering how much his writing tended to deviate from the rules, and a confused look appeared on the host's face. "According to what we've found out, you competed in three essay contests during your time in high school." "Yes, that's correct." "And you had already debuted as a professional writer by that point, right?" "I was planning my second book when I first competed in a contest." "As a professional, was there any hesitation on your mind because you were competing in an amateur contest?" "I was told that anybody's eligible to compete in those contests as long as they're high school students." The air sank into silence briefly as the young author answered in a calm tone of voice, but it wasn't long before the interview resumed. "But I'd be lying if I were to say that it wasn't on my mind. I purposely competed in contests where I wouldn't have a problem giving up the award. You know, the ones where I'd be the one accountable for not showing up to the award ceremony." Then, the host asked away without hesitation, "Have you ever given up on an award?" And the young author answered honestly, "Yes, I have." With that, the flow of the interview changed completely, and the critic interjected, "Could you start from the beginning? I just gotta know."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl The crowd behind the cameras started whispering to each other, and to make sure he was grasping the young author's answer thoroughly, the host asked again, "You mean you only competed in contests that you could give up the award?" "Right. Where the winner gets disqualified if they're not present at the award ceremony." "That sounds to me as though you were open to the possibility of winning. Did you ever think that you might win?" "I did, just like every other contestant," Juho added calmly. As long as one decided to compete, there was a chance to win. "What were some of the awards that you gave up on?" The questions were becoming more and more specific. Then, along with the name of the contest, Juho answered, "The first place." At which point, the host emphasized that it was the highest possible award in an essay contest. "Were you hesitant to give up on those awards at all?" "Not really." "It didn't bother you at all?" "As far as awards are concerned, no." "How many awards have you given up so far?" Juho saw the crowd of employees who were visiting the set to watch the taping. Among them, had to be those who thought: 'What else could it be? He just fell short. Yun Woo still has a ways to go. He's young and inexperienced.' "One," the young author said. "One?" "Yes. There was only one that I gave up of my own accord." It was more than enough to shake the crowd. While they were busy going back and forth between trust and doubt, the host remained unaffected and asked, "Does that mean there were other reasons that made you unable to win the other contests?" "They're inherently different contests, so the situations were also inherently different." As Juho gave him a nod, the host calmly moved on with the interview. "So, it's clear that your record thus far was the fruition of your intended plan. It appears to me that you weren't after the awards after all." "Not at all." "Then, I have to ask. Why did you compete in those contests? Most people usually compete for the award." 'Why did I compete?' Juho thought. Then, remembering his very first essay contest, he said, "There were a number of reasons, but at the end of the day, I competed because I wanted to." "You wanted to?" "I just wanted the experience. I was more interested in the contests themselves than their awards." "What about those contests caught your interest?" "I wasn't used to the idea of writing as part of a big group." The idea had been so foreign to the young author that it disrupted his thought process during the contest. Although Pyung Jin seemed like he wanted to hear more about it, the host decided to approach the interview from a slightly different angle. Meanwhile, the crowd had come closer to the set in order to listen better. "Then, does that mean you find enough satisfaction just in the fact that you competed in a contest? You even gave up on the awards, didn't you? Frankly, I'm finding myself at a bit of a loss." Then, Juho shook his head and said, "Of course. That isn't to say that I came home empty-handed." "What did you get out of those experiences then? The host asked without hesitation. "Lots of things. I learned that there are a lot of really talented writers out there, and that the idea of writing in a group was foreign to me. I also learned just how delightful it is to write outdoors." With that, the young author looked at the crowd surrounding the set along with the cameras. There had always been doubt about his skill as an author, and Juho remembered when those doubts had been true. He had been perpetually anxious and sitting for an interview like that would have been unthinkable back then. He had had nothing to say, and the only thing he had been able offer his readers had been disappointment. "Oh, there is one more thing I got out of those experiences." However, things were different now. The young author was better equipped with the experience he had accrued. He could afford to tell a story or two that would prove his readers wrong. "I wrote the ending to one of my books during a contest. Have you heard of a book by the name of 'Sound of Wailing?'" "The ending to 'Sound of Wailing?!'" the critic let out, taken aback by what he had heard. "My first contest experience was during the time when I was planning for my second book, remember? I was a freshman back then." Then, the host asked Juho in order to make sure that he had understood the young author accurately, "When you say you 'wrote,' that means you actually wrote the ending of the book in that setting, correct?" "That's right. I happened to have a pen and some manuscript paper on me, conveniently." "What's the word I'm looking for… Plot? Was it? So, you weren't just thinking of an idea for your book?" "The book was still in its early stages. The manuscript has gone through a number of revisions since then." At that, the critic smiled, impressed, and the host kept on with the questions. "Aren't you given a specific topic or set of topics at an essay contest?" "That's right. Which is precisely why I was disqualified." "When you say the ending to 'Sound of Wailing,' you're talking about that scene where the protagonist goes out to meet her son, right?" "Yes. Seems like you've read the book." "I sure have. It came out even before the hype for 'Trace of a Bird' died down. Not only that, but the content carried a completely different feel from its predecessor. I gotta say, it was quite remarkable." Most of the viewers could still recall their experiences with the book. Then, Pyung Jin spoke up, "I think I'm starting to get why you couldn't win those awards, Mr. Woo." Because a contest was a means of determining a rank, there were always standards by which the competitors had to abide, and failure to abide by those standards meant disqualification from the contest, even for Yun Woo. "From what I've noticed, most people who don't write within the given standards of the contest seem to end up either really making it or seriously breaking it. But you, Mr. Woo, seem to be an exception to that." Then, avoiding a direct answer, Juho said, "A lot of people seem to think that I competed in like twenty different competitions. The truth is, I didn't even compete in half that. Maybe one competition a year, on average." With that, the young author successfully explained himself, and a sigh of relief sounded from somewhere. As the crowd took a step back in accordance to one of the staff member's instructions, Juho saw that they had a look of trust on their faces. Then, everyone acted accordingly, as if trying to move on from the case that had been solved. "All right. So we've discussed the recent controversies surrounding Mr. Woo and his record of awards. Let's move on to the next portion. Mr. Woo, we have something special for our viewers here. It's something relevant to Mr. Woo's school life," the host said, changing the subject to Juho's school life. There was a newspaper in his hand, but there was something different about it. It had been published by the school. With his eyes on the newspaper, the host asked, "So, this is your school's newspaper, which you brought with you, right?" "Yes. They're hard to come by outside of my school." "From what I heard, before your identity was known, you used to write in your school's Literature Club under the name Juho Woo, and you were interviewed at your school regarding that matter. And this newspaper contains that very interview. Would you care to tell us a little bit about this newspaper?" the host said, and Juho answered that he had participated in an interview that had been planned by his school's Newspaper Club in light of the school festival. "So, I suppose that means this isn't your first interview, technically?" "It would be the first as Yun Woo." "I have to be honest with you. I wasn't getting the impression that it was your first time speaking in front of a camera. You're a good speaker, Mr. Woo." After the long and fierce set of questions, the atmosphere eased up. And, as if enough had been said, the host moved on to the newspaper, starting a whole new conversation regarding Yun Woo's two hidden short stories. "As far as we know, our understanding is that you've published two short stories as Juho Woo." "Yes, that is correct. They're both being exhibited at my school. Although I don't know if published would be an appropriate word to use in this context." Juho felt the critic's piercing gaze on his face. The light reflecting from the stones on his tie were hurting the young author's eyes. Meanwhile, the host struck up a conversation with the critic. "So, we read the newspaper ahead of time, and we learned that the conversation that took place was quite sophisticated. Even the journalists in the literature department were impressed." "Thank you," Juho said, thinking that the monkey would be delighted to hear those words. "Mr. Lee, why don't you give us a brief synopsis of the short story?" With that, the critic started telling a concise summary of the plot of 'Grains of Sand,' all the while looking straight at the young author. "The plot's quite simple. It's about a woman who goes to the beach to see the ocean. She decides to go out when she receives a set of new clothes as a gift. Now, what's interesting here is that there's no dialogue in the piece whatsoever. Although it's been done before by other writers, it's gotta be the first time seeing it in Mr. Woo's writing." Then, he asked, "What was your reason for leaving dialogues out?" "She's not the talkative type." "It seemed to me that the story centers around the theme of change. Is that right?" "Yes. It's a story about somebody wishing that things would stay the same as they are forever," Juho said briefly and after a brief pause, the critic asked, "Did you use a different writing style?" Those who had read Yun Woo's writing were bound to catch on to the meaning behind the question immediately. Looking at the nervous critic, Juho said, "I'm sure you've seen it elsewhere." The young author had already revealed his entire arsenal of writing styles. Then, just as the critic, who caught on to the young author's attempt to weave his way out with an ambiguous answer, was about to speak, the host stepped in to mediate, "I'm sure 'change' is a topic with which all fans of Yun Woo would be familiar. My understanding is that you talked about it in 'Language of God' as well." "'Language of God' is a story about change-in-progress." "Was the book about the same topic?" "They're polar opposites, I'm afraid. The only thing the two pieces have in common is the time when they were written." "Oh! You mean you wrote them at the same time?" "The ideas came to me at the same time. I thought about which one to write first for a little while, but I just decided to write them together." At that, Juho noticed that the host was taking more interest. 'Language of God' had been the book to take Yun Woo out to the world, and it was also the book that appealed to the masses the most. "So, you CAN write two stories at the same time, huh?" the host asked with a surprised look on his face. It was only natural when considering how complicated and technical it sounded on the surface. Although it wasn't exactly easy to execute, there were authors who preferred to write in that manner. "Does that mean the two are connected somehow since you wrote them at the same time?" "There's no direct correlation, but there are similarities in terms of the settings. Siblings, if you will. While they are each unique to themselves, they do share some similarities," Juho said. Meanwhile, the scenery of the beach rushed past his mind, along with the two characters who were just the opposite of each other. They had despised each other. "I mentioned how I came about writing 'Language of God' in one of the award ceremonies recently. Are you aware of this?" To be accurate, it was Kelley Coin who mentioned it. As if thinking the same thing, an ambiguous expression appeared on the host's face. "Yes, I am. You said you followed your fellow author's advice and made a spontaneous trip to the beach, which is where you thought of the plot for the two stories." At that moment, the critic interjected subtly, asking, "Is that the same beach as the one you mentioned in the interview in the newspaper?" Juho answered Pyung Jin's simple inference affirmatively. "I'm not gonna lie, that sounds incredibly tempting. Do you think we can expect that piece to be published in the near future?" Then, looking at the critic, whose face was filled with anticipation, the young author said, "I highly doubt it." "And why is that?" The young author shrugged at the critic's unexpectedly emphatic response. At the end of the day, 'Grains of Sand' was a piece written by Juho Woo, not Yun Woo. "I think it's a piece that should stay in a school and I think that's just where it belongs." "No, no. That's now true at all!" the critic let out in order to convince the young author, and as the discussion dragged on, the host interjected, "Now, now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet. There's yet another piece that we most likely will never come across. 'Fingernails,' was it?" "Yes. I wrote it fairly recently, as a junior." Then, Juho gave a brief synopsis of the piece. It was about a narrator with a strange obsession for fingernails. "It's a story that jumps back and forth between the protagonist's past memories as a student and her present as an office worker. Oh, it's also a short story." With that, Juho thought of the cover designer, who he had observed from afar: Jung Eun Kong. He distinctively recalled her colorful nails. "I wrote a book by the title of 'Sublimation.'" "Yes, I know this book," the host said. "We had to spend a little more time on the cover design than usual. 'Fingernails' was influenced by a certain event that occurred during that time." Pyung Jin sighed quietly. Every single word said by the young author had been provoking his possessive nature. Writing styles, 'Language of God,' 'Sublimation,' and a certain event. Like most critics tended to be, Pyung Jin, overcome with the desire to read, asked the young author desperately, "Where can I get myself a copy of 'Fingernails?'" To which, Juho gave a cruel answer, "You won't find it in stores." Then, studying the reaction of the host, the critic, the filming crew and the visitors, the young author said, "I'm sure the viewers who see this will share your feelings, Mr. Lee."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Feeling the dry air in the set, Juho opened his water bottle and drank from it, thinking, 'Good thing I ate that bento. I would've been hungry by now." "All right. We've asked our viewers what we should ask you," the host said, adding that the staff had actually gone out to the busy streets to interview the fans while accepting requests on the website. "We were reminded of just how curious your fans were about you and your books." While Juho felt concerned on one hand, he looked forward to it on the other. Then, without hesitation, the host revealed the first question. "Are you really afraid of birds or do you actually like them?" It was a question which the young author had heard many times. "I used to get that question a lot," Juho said, feeling relieved by the familiar question. "Did you now? Well, how are you with birds? Are you afraid of them or do you like them?" "It's hard to say. As you probably noticed from my writing, I'm kind of ambivalent toward birds, and my feelings tend to take on different shapes. It never stays in one uniform shape. I find them cute and adorable on one hand, but I can't stand them on the other," Juho said, being mindful not to limit the significance behind the portrayals of birds in his books. "The next question is about the film adaptation of 'Trace of a Bird.' Are you close with Myung Joo Mu? What was one scene from the movie that stood out to you the most?" 'Movie,' Juho thought to himself as he organized his thoughts. The answer was quite simple, especially regarding the actor. "First of all, it's hard to say that we're close. We haven't seen each other all that much." "His congratulations to your recent victory over the Nebula Award were quite the sensation at one point. Are you aware of this?" "Yes. I found that out through articles." "Yet, you two aren't close?" "I'm just a fan," Juho said in order to make time for the next answer. Since it never occurred to him to give specific scenes a ranking, he needed time to decide which scene from the movie had stood out the most to him. "I think the ending is the first thing that comes to my mind." It was the scene where the bird flew up to the sky as the dark background became gradually brighter for the first time in the entire movie. The striking visuals and soundtrack made for a gratifying experience. Meanwhile, as the young author answered with ease, the host came back with yet another question. "What do you like most about your books" "Oh, my books?" "Yes, about the books you've written up to this point. I don't wanna be redundant by saying this, but you've written some top-notch novels. Were there any scenes in particular that you enjoyed writing?" "Uh…" It was the trickiest question by far. "Is this a tricky question to answer?" the host asked, and after a long silence, the young author barely managed to speak up, "... No. They were all mediocre at best." Then, observing the young author, Pyung Jin asked, "You don't seem to like your own works." "I'm always looking for ways to improve as an author." "That's surprising. Don't you get a lot of compliments from the people around you?" "Thankfully. I think that's why I'm so hard on myself." "How intriguing." Contrary to their perception, it was far from it. Unlike what they had thought, Juho was an ordinary person on the inside, which was why they were finding the young author's answer intriguing. Juho simply smiled. "I think the brother was the scene stealer of the movie. His character had some weight to it, even in the original novel as well. What was your take on Myung Joo Mu's portrayal of the character?" "He had some trouble understanding the character while they were filming, so I told him my thought process from when I came to create the character for the novel. It didn't take long at all for him to accept and embrace my explanation. I, personally, was relieved that Myung Joo Mu was cast for the role." Although Juho knew nothing about acting, from the point of view of the creator of the original, Juho considered Myung Joo a great actor. Then, as the young author thought, 'That should do,' another unexpected question came his way, "Who are some of your favorite celebrities or musicians?" His ideal type of woman would be determined by how he answered that question. Meanwhile, the critic asked light-heartedly, "There are a bunch of celebrities who are popular among teens. Don't you talk about them with friends?" At that, Juho thought about his immediate friends. From a bookworm to a comic book buff, an avid gamer, and nuts and bolts fanatic, there existed a whole array of interests among the young author's friends, but not a single one was into celebrities. Influenced by the previous question, Myung Joo Mu was the only name that lingered in Juho's head. "You see, I spend most of my time writing and I don't get to watch a whole lot of TV. I'm afraid there aren't that many celebrities or musicians I know." "Not even one?" Realizing that they weren't going to let up anytime soon, Juho thought of an answer to weave himself out of that situation. At that moment, a certain individual came to mind. "If I were to choose one, I do have a favorite singer." A look of interest appeared on the host's and the critic's faces. They had to be expecting somebody popular, and Juho's answer was bound to disappoint them. However, Juho pressed on. "She performs at this park that I go to frequently. She always hums wordless melodies and goes about her way." As expected, an ambiguous look appeared on the host's and the critic's faces. Nevertheless, the young author continues, "I like her songs the most. She told me once that she'd write lyrics for her songs one day, which means that wordless humming won't be around much longer. There are times when I get impatient waiting for her to write her lyrics, and I find myself itching to hear her sing." "What's her name?" the critic asked. "I'm afraid I don't know her name." That was about the extent of Juho's relationship with her, and realizing that there wasn't much else to ask, the critic let up. The producer looked as though he had expected more. Nevertheless, the young author was quite satisfied with his answer. The next question was about the Nebula Award. "I believe we brought it up just now. You mentioned a fellow author giving you advice. Who was that author?" "I've been wanting to know this myself," the critic added. Then, after some thought, Juho said, "Would it be OK to bring up his name without getting his consensus?" "It's not like you've done anything bad. You'll be fine," Pyung Jin said, waving his hand in order to reassure the young author. Meanwhile, the producer and the writer at the front signaled to him emphatically, encouraging him to say the name, and when Juho looked at Nam Kyung, he nodded slowly with an ambivalent look on his face. 'Hope he doesn't get mad at me,' Juho thought as an image of the author gently admonishing him crossed his mind. Despite the gentleness, Juho couldn't help but be afraid. And eventually, after wrestling with his thoughts for a little while, the young author brought up the name cautiously, "It's Mr. Lim. Hyun Do Lim." At that, a look of shock appeared gradually on the critic's face. "So, it was Mr. Lim!" he said, his voice getting louder by reflex. Seeing his reaction, the host asked, "I've read his books too. He's known for the depth of his descriptions, right?" "He certainly is," the critic said. Then, he started raving about how great an author Hyun Do was, until the host had to step in to stop him. Pyung Jin's praise toward the literary great was very much valid, even from an objective standpoint. "He's also known for not asking favors from other authors. He turns down every testimonial request, no matter who it's from. He declined yours too, didn't he, Mr. Woo?" "I didn't realize that was such a widely known fact." "Those who know will know." Hyun Do Lim had taken the initiative to talk to Yun Woo, and as a result, 'Language of God' was born. Meanwhile, thrilled by what he heard, Pyung Jin started raving on about Hyun Do all over again, as if he had forgotten that he was on TV. Seeing the critic growing rambunctious, Juho started to feel uncomfortable. "That's incredible. It makes me wanna get a peek at your daily life, Mr. Woo." "It's nothing out of the ordinary," Juho said. However, the critic didn't believe him. "Are you planning on publishing an autobiography or an essay anytime soon?" "Not at the moment, no." "Don't be so quick to brush it off, Mr. Woo. Give it some thought. Every single person in this country will buy it. You could also include your short stories while you're at it." "I'll consider it." From then on, an array of questions followed, from Juho's relationship with Kelley Coin to how the young author started writing, his habits when writing, and tricks and tips. Although they seemed to have chosen questions that were more personal in nature, such as preferences or hobbies, Juho answered each and every one of them with complete sincerity. With that, break time came, and Juho rose from his seat in order to stretch. "Gettin' long, huh?" the host said to him with an apologetic smile. "A little." "We tried to condense it as much as possible, believe it or not. You see, there are quite a few questions that have been backed up for the last three years," the host explained, and Pyung Jin agreed emphatically, adding, "One of these days, Mr. Woo, I'd love to have an long, in-depth discussion about your books." At that, Juho chuckled awkwardly. Soon, the taping resumed for the latter half of the show. "OK. Now, let's talk about your books." As the host listed the young author's books in the order they had been published, Juho took a sip of water from his bottle, and Pyung Jin straightened his tie. "You've managed to write all these books in the span of three years." When Juho heard the titles of his books in the form of a list, it dawned on him just how much he had written up to that point. "I'm a fast writer." "Is there a reason for why you write so much?" the host asked. "Nothing in particular. I just write when I think of something I want to write about, and here I am three years later." At that, Pyung Jin exclaimed quietly. It was a signal of sorts, and with the host's permission to speak, the critic said, "There are still conflicting opinions about Mr. Woo's prolific writing, even to this day, because not only does it dilute the point of interest, but it also becomes increasingly difficult to maintain the quality of each piece. And there are authors out there who struggle with this." "Am I one of them?" Juho asked the critic. To which, he answered, wincing, "Not at all," and proceeded to tell the young author what he wanted to hear, "Each of your pieces has a distinct flavor. Not only are they new every time, but they also bring precisely what the readers want from Yun Woo. Quickly at that. The length is also a plus. The readers tend to want to cherish and savor a piece written by their favorite author. Your books reassure the readers that they made the right decision to get into Yun Woo literature, and frankly, that's not easy to pull off." It was quite the praise, and Juho couldn't help but roll his eyes. "So, I've been dying to ask this in person," he said in all seriousness. "How were you able to do that?" Pyung Jin was referring to the deep emotional experiences that came from Juho's books. People had different ways to explore the incomprehensible in their lives, and asking questions had to be one of the most effective ways to go about this. Asking somebody a question conveyed to the other person just how earnestly one wanted to know the answer. Then, Juho looked straight at him and gave him an honest answer, "I write every day. I don't write a set amount within a certain amount of time or anything, but I'm in the habit of writing every day. One time, our Literature Club teacher taught us just how easy it is to become a better writer. And that was to write more. In order to write more, one has to ask themselves what they have seen up to that point. That's the only way you can get the hand moving. I collect raw materials and I make a story out of them. The fewer the ingredients, the shorter the story. Likewise, the heavier the ingredients are, the weightier the story becomes. Although, it's not always accurate." Then, thinking of all the manuscript paper he had used throughout his career, the young author added, "Sometimes you end up with a defective product, but there are rare occasions when you're awarded with a piece of writing that isn't too shabby. But more often than not, it's not long before you notice all the flaws, which is why I rewrite the same story over and over again." "So it seems like you're not just being figurative here," the host said, and Juho answered honestly, "No, there are days I don't write." "If you've been writing that much, I can only imagine just how many stories there are." At that, Juho couldn't help but be reminded of the stacks of manuscripts in his room. "Yes, there are quite a few." "Do you pick which ones to publish out of that reserve?" That time, Juho shook his head without delay. That was unthinkable. "They're all failures, every single one of them. I wouldn't even want to look at them." "What do you mean by failures?" the host asked.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl In response to the host asking about failures, the young author said, "It's exactly as I said. I'm sure you've experienced failure at some point in your life, right? It's embarrassing, and you'd do anything to go back and fix it. Yet, you hope it will benefit you somehow in the future. That's how my failures are to me." At that moment, a quiet chuckle came out of nowhere. It was Pyung Jin. "I'm not gonna lie, Mr. Woo. That sounds odd coming from you." "I don't blame you. I get that a lot," Juho said. He had often been referred to as an author who was immune to failure. Whenever he would hear that, the distance between others and himself dawned on the young author all the more. Now, he was finding himself in a similar position to the host's. The reason they weren't making small talk with each other was simple: they were strangers to each other. Meanwhile, the host took the opportunity to speak as the conversation came to an end, "Does that mean you went through the same process when writing the new novel?" "'An Insect Leaves No Trace,'" Pyung Jin murmured quietly. "You can say that." "It's a very interesting title. It reminds me of the title of your first book, 'Trace of a Bird.'" Then, as Juho shifted his position on the seat, the host asked the very first question about the new novel, "Is there any connection between the title of your new book and your first?" When the finalized title was announced, many had made a connection to Juho's debut title, 'Trace of a Bird.' However, the young author shook his head slowly and said, "No. The working title was 'Insect.' I kept playing around with it until something came to me, and that's how the title came about." "So, there's no correlation between the two whatsoever?" "I wouldn't go as far as saying that they're completely unrelated, either. The atmospheres of those two novels are just the opposite of each other. If 'Trace of a Bird' can be described as simple and liberating, 'Insect' is convoluted and closed off, which explains why a bird would leave a trace when an insect wouldn't." The host listened intently and with a determined look on his face, as if he wasn't going to miss even the most minute of information. And when Juho finished speaking, he looked at the critic and said, "What was your take on the book, Mr. Lee? Would you mind enlightening us as a critic?" "This is slightly embarrassing, especially with Mr. Woo around," the critic said, hesitating. However, despite his attitude, Juho was fully aware that he was a person who wasn't afraid to speak his mind. Remembering the bitter criticism he had heard from Pyung Jin, the young author said, "Please." Then, straightening his tie, the critic said, "Frankly, when I first heard that your new novel was going to be about love, I immediately expected to see the pure side of Yun Woo. I was curious about how you'd portray love on one hand, all the while holding on to my preconceived notions about your age on the other." Juho listened to him quietly. "But all of that shattered completely about five pages into the book. Into thousands of pieces," the critic said, emphasizing the last part of the sentence. Meanwhile, the host played along to him, nodding. "A claustrophobic feel. Forgotten and revived memories. The frame story really shined as a stable delivery mechanism for such a bizarre story about raising a bug," the critic said, his sparkling tie moving with him everytime he spoke. "Everything worked in perfect harmony, and it was very impactful. Before I knew it, I caught myself thinking, 'Yun Woo's done it again.' There was a reason behind your fearlessness in releasing a new book at a time like this. I realized just how confident you were." Then, Juho noticed the camera focusing on him, observing as if they were going to capture even the smallest change in his expression. However, the young author simply blinked. "And there were also things that went beyond my understanding this time around." "And what were they?" the host asked. There was no way that he was going to let that opportunity slide. As he gave the floor to the critic, Pyung Jin said, "The book hasn't been out for that long, so I won't go as far as spoiling it, but I think anybody who reads the book will know where I'm coming from." "And where exactly is that?" Juho asked. Although his expression shook initially from the young author's straight-forward question, the critic got right to the point, "Have you ever drunk alcohol, Mr. Woo?" Then, barely managing to keep a straight face, Juho said, "I have. A handful of times when my parents offered me some." "Have you ever gotten drunk before?" "In front of my parents? I wouldn't dare." "It happens growing up. If I were to be honest, when I was a student, I drank with my friends without the adults knowing. At a school trip, for example. Did you ever take alcohol to those trips, say, in a water bottle?" "No," Juho answered honestly. (TL's Note: It's a common school experience in Korea to go on school trips that span a number of days. This is where students who are more "curious" bring alcohol without their parents and/or teachers knowing, most likely to share with their friends at night.) He had never gotten drunk in front of his parents or snuck alcohol in his water bottle to a school trip or retreat. However, he did recall drinking day and night as an adult. "Why are we talking about alcohol all of a sudden?" the host said as if keep Pyung Jin from going too far. However, that was merely another way to continue the interview. "There are a number of scenes in the story, both inner and outer, that involve gradual memory loss. But the way everything unfolds has an uncanny resemblance to someone who's growing drunk," the critic said. He was catching on to the young author's intention quite accurately. "Memory serves as an important piece and a device within the novel. It brings a paradoxical element to a story that is gradually closing up as it progresses, and it brings readers a sense of liberation. It's bound to drive somebody crazy because of how frustrating it is. At the same time, it's just so incredibly satisfying. You might be wondering what I'm getting at, but you'll know as soon as you read the book yourself," the critic said, skillfully adding a subtle recommendation for the book, like someone who was a regular in a book-related TV show. "How were you able to portray that with such realism when you're underage yourself?" "I'm flattered, but there's not much to it. I just observed people around me when they were drinking. That's all," the young author answered unhurriedly. At that, the critic shook his head subtly, as if he wasn't buying Juho's answer. "In that case, how did you think of utilizing something that you have yet to experience in your book?" "I saw something that's left quite the impression on me once. After that, I realized just how ugly a person can be when they're drunk." "... I see," Pyung Jin said as he let up. However, he was merely looking for another opportunity to ask even more questions. "Have you ever had any urges, then?" "As in?" "Like wanting to try alcohol yourself or wanting to get drunk so that you can have a deeper understanding of what you're writing." Like a critic, Pyung Jin was well aware of the tendencies of authors. "Would you rather me just come clean?" "Yes." "I have had those urges, and it turns out they become stronger over time." Without a doubt, Juho had had the urge to drink, and it became more pronounced when he wrote. It had to be a change that came with time. His life had become a mess from alcohol abuse in the past, but the more he grew further from that past, and the more his memories of that past faded, the stronger the urges became. However, Juho chose not to give into his urges because, within him, there also lived the fear of failure. "And how do you alleviate them?" "I'd say liberate is a better way to describe it. After hearing Coin's personal account of his experience with alcoholism, I drive them out with fear." It was widely-known that Coin's alcoholism eventually led him to admit himself into a hospital. Nevertheless, as the host briefly explained Coin to the future viewers, Pyung Jin still didn't seem entirely convinced. "Is that all?" he asked. "Would you like to know how I was able to write that scene with such realism?" "... By all means," Pyung Jin said, his eyes sparkling as much as the stones on his tie while glaring at the young author. At that, Juho decided to quote a piece of advise he had received from another author. "So, this is something I learned not too long ago." "Yes?" "When you don't know something, all you gotta do is ask, apparently," the young author said. He had asked questions to his old alcoholic self the entire time he wrote. 'Is this close enough? Is this good enough to get some sort of reaction out of you?' "I know somebody who wasted his life away, all the while blaming it on his issue with alcohol. When I took my manuscript to that person, he turned me down in the blink of an eye, saying that he couldn't afford another drink with what I was offering to him." At that, a certain look appeared on the critic's face, as if he was thinking: 'He dared treat Yun Woo's manuscript with such disrespect?' "So, I made revisions so that he could at least afford a drink, but to no avail. According to his own words, it was so boring that the words shook before his eyes. We repeated that process a number of times, and eventually, he snatched the paper from my hand and wrote the words himself. Although, they were only legible to him, unfortunately." It was truly a bleak sight. "So, what happened in the end? Did he read what ended up on the final draft?" "Yes, he did." "What did he say?" Pyung Jin asked. "He just quietly listened and went about his way," Juho answered. Unfortunately, the man hadn't said anything. That had been the end of it. No compliments or affirmations. Finally, the critic let up quietly. From then on, the host asked a number of other questions, and as the taping neared its end, the host turned toward the critic and said, "Mr. Lee, if you'd like to add anything before we wrap up, now would be the time." At that moment, Pyung Jin seemed quite dissatisfied. "I can't help but wish we had more time. I was hoping we could get to talking about your other books. Oh, before I forget, there's a show that I've been appearing in. Do you know which one I'm talking about, Mr. Woo?" It was 'The Great Book Club.' "Yes, I'm a fan." "Is that so? Then, I'd like to take the opportunity to ask you to join us in the near future. I'd love for us to touch on the topics that we couldn't get to today." "Is it OK for you to bring up another show here?" "It's fine. They're from the same station." Although Juho felt that he had answered a quite a few questions, the critic still looked as though he wasn't satisfied. Seeing that, it dawned on the young author just how curious his fans had to have been for the last three years. "Well, that was your first official interview. How was it?" "Yes. I didn't have any trouble, thanks to you." "Do you think our viewers will get to know your identity, which was shrouded in mystery up to this point, a little better?" "I sure hope so." "I'm not sure what the final cut will look like, but I'm sure nobody's going to doubt that you wrote those books yourself after seeing it," the host said after some brief contemplation. As the young author smiled subtly, the host added, "Thanks for joining us today, Mr. Woo," looking at him and bowing. When Juho looked up, the camera was focused on the host, and that told the young author that he could no longer speak. Then, the host bowed to the camera, marking the end of the taping session. "Great job, everyone!" The producer and the writer shouted as they rose from their seats. Meanwhile, feeling his strength leaving him as his body loosened up after the taping, Juho breathed a sigh of relief, paying no attention to his shoulders dropping. Then, the very people who he had greeted him before the start of the show came and greeted Juho all over again, as if they'd gone somewhere else once the taping began, "You did great, Mr. Woo. You're a great speaker, just as I thought you would be." As the young author responded accordingly, the same people asked, "Would you mind if I ask for your autograph?" "Not at all." So, the visitors, who had watched the taping, started crowding around Juho once again. There were still some people who had yet to received the young author's autograph. Taking the books one by one, Juho wrote his name and signed them, taking pictures with those who requested it. After that, the young author returned to the waiting room with his editor, and, to Nam Kyung, who was complimenting him with excitement, Juho said, "Can we go home now?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl 'A Peek at Yun Woo's First Interview! The Web Gets Excited.' "So, that's the kind of person he is. I had a smile on my face the entire time I was watching it." "He's so confident when he speaks. He doesn't even look nervous or anything." "I'm in love! A fitting creator to his craft. Yun Woo will forever be a hero." "I was getting a kick out of the look on Pyung Jin's face. He wouldn't stop raving about how amazing Yun Woo was in 'The Great Book Club,' and he'd become a saint all of a sudden." "I can tell that he was really intentional in his choice of tie." "I think it sparkled even more than Yun Woo." "I love that Yun Woo's talking about his own books. He answers all of the questions so seamlessly, too." "I can really tell that he wrote those books." "Man, he really was nineteen! He really did start writing books when he was sixteen!" "He did say that he writes every single day. He's not the youngest, first Asian winner for no reason." "He seemed pretty sincere when he was talking about failures. I mean, I can only imagine just how terrifying it must be to succeed at such an early age." "I really felt that he is going in the right direction with his life." "One can only imagine the burden. But then, he's Yun Woo." "I, personally, am interested in the short stories in his school. The look on the critic's face, that was exactly the look on my face the whole time I was watching the interview." "Zelkova! Get your butt in gear and publish those short stories! I'll buy them! No exception!" "I wonder how he was inspired by the cover design, though. I'd love to get my hands on those short stories." "'You won't find it in stores.' Yun Woo, you savage, you." "I'm curious about who that homeless man was that he talked to while writing." "Same here. They seemed to be close. A family member, maybe?" "Shoot, I'd be willing to go homeless if I got to read Yun Woo's manuscripts before anybody else." "It sounds like he revises the heck out of his manuscripts. I guess it makes sense considering the quality. A genius that actually works hard. I wonder how that homeless man felt as he read the story taking shape." "I think I get what the homeless guy was feeling when Yun Woo said that he didn't say anything and went about his way." "He's gotta be the luckiest homeless person in the whole world." "Hey, I drink a lot. You could've asked me." "Company dinners for a week straight. I might as well make alcohol my middle name." "Philosophy major here. Count me in." "Corporate worker here. Count me in." (TL's Note: Philosophy majors have a reputation for their drinking habits in Korea. Corporate workers, on the other hand, are often exposed to social drinking with their coworkers and superiors.) "But, how can a person who's never been drunk in his life write something like that?" "I guess that's what makes him Yun Woo?" "I mean, there's the whole spiel about alcohol, but I'm more surprised by his portrayal of love. Is he really nineteen?" "I second that. I think this book really proved to people that they shouldn't judge him by his age." "I can tell that he's a thinker. You're genius, man." "Authors do a lot of self-reflection when they write, apparently." "I wanna know that singer he likes so much! I wanna hear her hum, too!" "Whoever it is, it sounded like somebody Yun Woo would like." "It dawned on me just how young he is when I saw his face on TV." "But one would never be able to tell from reading his books." "He's probably livin' it up at that age. So jealous." "Wonder how much he made from his books." "I'm sure he's loaded from the royalties alone. His books are sold worldwide." "Isn't it obvious? Everything about him is beyond our imagination." "I thought I'd know more about him after watching the interview, but now, I have even more questions than I had before I watched. He was weaving himself out of all the questions, and I feel like I didn't get a single answer to my questions." "I really hope Pyung Jin brings him to 'The Great Book Club.' C'mon, producers! Get on it!" "I'd pay to see that." "I heard that was the only interview he agreed to participate in." "For real?!" "Whaaat!? After all this time staying hidden and mysterious!? He can't do that! That just ain't fair! C'mon, Yun Woo! You gotta do at least five. What? Are you tryin' to drive your fans crazy!?" "I'm just thankful that he's decided to reveal himself." "There's truly no end to human greed." "I don't know English, but can somebody remind me of which country his next interview is going to be in? I'm sure somebody's going to translate the thing, right?" "I'm sure it won't take long at all until a translated version turns up on the internet. Where there's demand, there's supply." "Another interview? Is he making an appearance on TV in the US?" "I think I saw an article say that there was nothing set in stone." "The US can't be the only country tryin' to get a hold of him. I'm sure there are a bunch of other countries tryin' to do the same." "Pretty sure the people at his agency have it up to their ears." "They really have to take care of the little guy, especially when things are so hectic! They can't let him get dragged around and get all torn up." "That's a legitimate point. He did look pretty modest. I seriously hope he doesn't change." "C'mon, people. It's not like he's been popular for a day or two. If he wanted to let it get to his head, it would've already happened." "I like every bit of that interview, but the fact that Yun Woo is acquainted with Hyun Do Lim made me love it even more. He's just surrounded by good people, from the authors who he published the magazine with to Yun Seo Baek." "Hyun Do Lim. Is. The. Best. My parents and I love him." "Same here. I first came across his books through my mother's recommendation." "Too bad neither of them are fond of making TV appearances. Ugh." "I heard somewhere that Yun Woo is a super unpleasant person to be around." "Where's this from?" "Seems like you're the only one with that knowledge, buddy." "I just heard that he shook hands with his fans." "C'mon. He even shook hands and took pictures with everyone on set after taping. What about that makes him unpleasant?" "You get a glimpse of his personality just from his friends' interview at their school. They kept his secret till the end. Friends that loyal are hard to come by these days." … "Boy, look at you!" Juho's mother let out with a satisfied smile on her face. She had watched his interview on repeat a number of times. In the end, Juho, who was eating after waking up late, asked her, "Haven't you watched that enough already?" "What? The more I watch it, the better," she said with her eyes fixated on the TV. "You're a good speaker." Being a mother who had been watching her son grow up since he had cooed as a baby, she seemed incredibly proud to see him speaking with clarity. Meanwhile, Juho picked up a piece of the grilled mackerel and brought it up to his mouth. It was pleasantly savory. Although he wasn't saying a word, his voice was reverberating through the living room, and just the sound of it made him feel sick. "We have to keep this with us somehow. Do you know how to record TV shows?" "I'm not sure," Juho said, focusing on chewing. Meanwhile, his mother seemed to be set on recording the interview for the sake of preservation. Unlike on the set, the final cut of the interview gave off a much more serious atmosphere. There were only three people on screen. "Who's this homeless person you're talking about?" she asked unsuspectingly. Because he had never told her about having a homeless man as a friend, Juho had to put his brain to work in order to think of an answer. In the end, he gave her an honest one, "It was just an analogy. There's always a lingering fear in people living within capitalist societies, and I was simply reflecting that through my answer." At that, his mother nodded slowly and asked, "Is that so? People seemed to think that you actually talked to a homeless person." "Everyone's entitled to their own beliefs." "That isn't to say that you can make them think that they were lied to. You can't afford to lose their trust." "Yes, mom," Juho said without resisting. His mother's words were always right. With that, she redirected her attention to the TV. Despite having watched it enough times to memorize all the lines, it was incredible how focused she was still. 'Maybe I get my tenacious side from her,' Juho thought. Then… "You're moving out soon, right?" she asked out of nowhere. Thankfully, since it was a topic that they had been discussing frequently, Juho was able to answer without any trouble, "Yes. I'm almost done packing." Then, he looked at his room. The door was open, revealing every corner of the room. It was, simply put, a trainwreck. Ropes and newspapers were wrapped around the stacks of paper, while all the boxes had been set aside to one side of the room. Juho had expressed his interest in moving out to his parents, and just as she had always done, his mother fully supported his decision. The first time the topic came up was when they were discussing what to do with the boxes of manuscripts that were starting to pile up in the living room. "Should I throw them out?" she had asked cautiously. "Sure…" Juho had said. Although he had made it seem like he had had no problem with her throwing them out, he had felt conflicted. When the time for a decision finally caught up to him, he couldn't help but feel attached to the stacks of paper. "I wouldn't mind keeping them around, but as you already know, we don't have a whole lot of room around here," she'd said, and Juho had asked her in response, "Should we move?" "I mean, you don't go to school anymore, so there's no reason you shouldn't." Because his mother had been willing to discuss the matter with her son, they had talked in order to reach a decision. And by the time he'd started leaning toward moving out, Juho had brought it up, "What if I move out?" Knowing that his mother would never get upset, no matter what he brought up, Juho hadn't been nervous about bringing up the idea of moving out. "That's not a terrible idea. You wanna give it a shot?" she'd said, giving off a strong impression that he should experience it for himself. The reminder to trust the process over result tended to lighten the burden in one's heart. From then on, things had progressed quickly. Until the publishing day of his new book, that is, until his face was officially known to the public, Juho and his mother kept looking around for houses. Since he hadn't been looking for anything too spacious, they had looked for something within a reasonable price range. "Accommodations are expensive nowadays." That had been the young author's realization as he'd gone around looking for his new home. It made sense that he had ended up homeless in the past. "Well, it's a good thing we found a decent place for you," his mother said, and Juho nodded while scooping the rice up from his bowl. Then, as if curious about how her son was feeling about living on his own for the first in his life or influenced by the interview, which she had watched on repeat for the last several days, she asked, "How do you feel?" "Not too bad," Juho said after chewing and swallowing a mouthful. "I was really excited when I first moved out," she said, reminiscing about her past. Meanwhile, Juho was also reminiscing about his past. After moving out on his own and going through repeated failures, he had grown distant from his parents. Not only had their interactions been limited to occasional phone calls, but there had been nothing sincere about those conversations either. Juho had been busy covering up his less-than-impressive life. "Feel free to come back anytime if you ever feel lonely," she said, just as she had done in the past. However, it hadn't been long before the foolish son had forgotten about what his mother had told him entirely. "We'll always leave some space open for you, so don't worry." Juho brought another spoonful of rice up to his mouth. It was deeply satisfying. "I will. If I ever feel miserable, I'll come back," Juho said, deciding to take up on her offer that time should things go south. --- "I'm beat," Juho said to Nam Kyung on the phone. "Just one more while you're at it." "I'm exhausted, Mr. Park." Nam Kyung had asked the young author about making another TV appearance, which Juho turned down without delay. Interviews were quite taxing, especially when there were cameras around. After suggesting it a few more times, the editor let up since other plans had already been made. "You're coming over in a little bit, right?" "Yes." Juho had decided to pay Zelkova a visit in order to decide on an interview request from another country and to meet with Nabi. "Be safe, now. Things are NOT what they used to be." "I know." "Don't forget to wear a hat." "Gotcha." After checking the time for their meeting, they hung up, and Juho went back to packing his belongings immediately after. Although he had the choice to call a moving service, Juho didn't feel entirely comfortable with letting other people touch his manuscripts, especially when considering the nature of the manuscripts in the boxes. The idea of letting others see them was even more undesirable. In the end, he chose to put his time and strength into packing them himself. What he came to learn from that was simply how heavy papers really were. In fact, they were just as heavy as books. "All right. Better get going," he said, pushing all the boxes to one side of the room. After putting his hat on and a mask in his pocket, Juho left the house and headed for the bus stop. It was quite windy out, so he had to push his hat down to keep it from flying off. There were quite a few people waiting at the bus stop, and Juho also waited for the bus to arrive. It was a process he was well acquainted with. After waiting for about five minutes and seeing the bus approaching from the distance, Juho took a step forward as people got in line ahead of and behind him. It was obvious that they were looking to get on the same bus. The bus stopped just past the spot that Juho had predicted. As the front door opened, people started getting into the bus one by one. Then, as Juho was about to get on the bus, somebody let out, "A red hat?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Upon hearing the set of words that sounded all too familiar, everyone in the bus looked in the direction the voice had come from and at the person who was still waiting in line to get on the bus. Standing close to the bus stop still, she was looking precisely in the young author's direction. Then, just as he was wondering if he had been caught, another voice came out of nowhere. "You're Yun Woo, right?" It was the person standing just behind Juho. Then, holding on to his hat, Juho thought, 'How'd they know?' In the end, he answered honestly as he got on the bus, "Yes, I am." As the young author answered awkwardly, the man pulled out his phone and asked, "Would you mind taking a picture with me?" "Uh, yeah. Sure." Although Juho had taken turns to look at the driver and at the passengers and had hoped that the man would have realized that he was in a bit of a tight situation, the man had taken his phone out to the young author's disappointment. In the end, Juho stepped out of the bus. The passengers on the bus started peeking their heads out of the window, and those who were waiting in line were hopelessly confused. Then, a voice shouted from the inside of the bus, "Are you getting in or what!?" At that, Juho walked further into the street, away from the bus stop, and a number of people got out of the line to follow him. There would always be another bus that would come around, but the chance to meet Yun Woo wasn't as promising. "I'm a huge fan!" "Would you take a picture with me?" While the young author took pictures with those who had been waiting in line, the bus took off unhurriedly. However, it came to a sudden halt soon after, and a number of people rushed out of it and ran toward Juho. "You ARE Yun Woo, aren't you!? Take a picture with me, would ya??" The sound of a camera echoed, and the pedestrians who were passing by stopped in their tracks, taking interest in the commotion. "Who is that?" a voice asked, and another voice answered, "It's Yun Woo." Similar conversations could be heard from all directions. "Me too!" said the woman who had called Juho's red hat, walking toward him. "I loved your interview," she said after taking a picture with the young author. "Thank you." She repeated herself a number of times as they took pictures. Because she kept pressing the shutter release, the sound was even noisier than usual. As more and more people recognized the young author, the line for a picture started getting longer. The crowd was growing increasingly dense. Looking at the people screaming at the sight of Yun Woo before their eyes, Juho sighed internally and thought, 'Guess I'm running late.' It wasn't until tens of minutes later that he finally managed to free himself from the crowd. "Finally." As he got away from the crowd by the skin of his teeth, Juho decided to catch a cab. When he messaged Nam Kyung that he was running late, the editor responded saying that he'd be waiting with Nabi while having a cup of tea. After one already-occupied cab and another that simply drove past him, Juho was finally able to catch himself a cab. The two cabs that chose not to let him in would most likely be clueless to the missed opportunity of having Yun Woo as their customer. As Juho told the driver his destination and rolled the window down, the driver greeted him, "Hello, there." Juho saw that he was wearing gradient sunglasses. 'I need to get me one of those," the young author thought to himself. "Say, weren't you on the TV recently?" "... I'm not really a celebrity." "Aren't you a writer, though?" "Yes, I am." His popularity had caught him by surprise. In the past, there had been quite a few people who had walked right past him, unable to recognize who he was. Resisting the urge to sigh, Juho decided to take the opportunity to ask the driver, "Where did you get those sunglasses?" "Oh, these? My daughter got them for me as a gift. Why do you ask?" "I was thinking of getting a pair for myself." Then, after chuckling for a little while, the driver said, "Should I ask my daughter?" "No, that won't be necessary." Since the destination was quite far away, Juho spent plenty of time talking to the driver, who turned out to be quite loquacious. Starting from how he had started driving a cab to what had happened to his family when the economy had hit rock bottom. Along with all the other pieces of information about him, the young author also came to learn that his daughter was a fan. "Would you give me an autograph later? Or a picture?" "Sure, of course." Saying that there was more for him to show off to his daughter, the driver delighted to learn new information. Then, as if looking to extend that list of things about which to brag to his daughter, he started bombarding the young author with questions. "You write some good books from what I heard." "Thank you." "I think authors are incredible. Are you dating right now?" "No, I'm not." "How much do you make per book?" "I make enough to make a living." "Writing a story must be hardly a challenge for you. Your pen practically moves on its own when you write, huh?" "Not as smoothly and effortlessly as you're describing." "You know, you're a good speaker. I thought so when I was watching the interview." When it came to things that weren't really worth hiding, Juho answered them honestly. The cab was quite fast, and since there was hardly any traffic, Juho was able to arrive at his destination a little earlier than he had anticipated. Then, as promised, he took a picture with the driver and gave him an autograph before getting out of the cab, thinking, 'I'm adding that to my excuse for being late.' With that, he walked into a building, which was incomparably quieter than the street booming with people. "Mr. Woo." The employees greeted the young author as he walked into the building. It was quite a strange experience locking eyes with those who had walked right past him in his previous visits. "May I shake your hand?" Then, it occurred to Juho that it was going to be a while until he reached the conference room. --- "I'm surprised you're late this time." "It'll all make sense once you hear my explanation," Juho told Nam Kyung as he took the hat off. Meanwhile, Nabi waved her hand in denial, gesturing that it's OK. "You were held up by the fans on the street, huh?" "Something like that." "I've been getting a lot of questions about you, too. Twice as much, in fact." People seemed to interpret Yun Woo's recent identity reveal as a sign that he was willing to share every piece of personal information with them. And having witnessed that in person, Nabi could only imagine how the person directly involved felt. "It got cold, but here," Nam Kyung said, offering the young author the coffee he had bought for Juho. Since Juho was thirsty, the temperature of the coffee was hardly a concern, and he was able to let go of the anxiety as he drank. "OK, now that we're all here, should we take a look?" The desk was filled with data and magazines from the companies that wanted to interview the young author. "Are you really just gonna pick one? The number of countries alone is astounding," the editor asked, and Juho answered emphatically, "Honestly, I was over it after the most recent interview." At that, Nam Kyung gave Juho a perplexed look and asked, "You seemed predisposed to interviews from what I saw. Why are you so emphatically against them?" "And what gave you that impression?" "You're being the type of person who can eat his bento in peace just moments before taping." At that, Juho chuckled, admitting to himself that the editor had a point. After all, the young author had been eager to get himself out there in the past. "What's good is that the interview is being received incredibly well. Frankly, I was getting somewhat anxious since not a whole lot is known about you." "You got that right, Nabi. You have no idea how nervous I was!" Nam Kyung expressed his anxiety on the set. There was no doubt that people were clueless as to just how experienced Juho was with media exposure, which probably meant that people like Nam Kyung and Nabi would have been on their toes, not knowing what to expect from the young author. "Might I add, this interview didn't just prove that you're a good writer. Other companies overseas that have been more passive are starting to express interest in you," Nabi said and Nam Kyung added, agreeing with her, "We've been getting a lot of calls and emails lately too, saying that they're interested in hosting events with you." "Look at this. New York, Paris, London, Tokyo, you name it. All these offers at our discretion. This must be a dream, Mr. Woo!" As an agent, being in the position of turning down all but one offer from some of the most prominent outlets across the globe was, simply put, thrilling. Then, while her hands still shook from the excitement, she added, "This means we don't have to take any nonsense from anybody, anywhere in this country." Pretending he hadn't heard her, Juho looked through all the data on the desk, among which, were some of the most prominent magazines in the US that mostly covered current events and ran critiques on culture. They were names most people would've heard of at least once. "Oh! I know this one," Juho said as he picked one of the magazines up. There was a photo of an Italian author on the cover of the most recent issue. Looking straight ahead, the author was sitting on an antique-looking sofa in a natural position. Perhaps shooting in the study within her home had made the session more comfortable for her. "They've covered Coin before, too, haven't they?" Nabi asked as she recognized the background immediately, and Juho nodded. It was the same magazine that had covered Coin's residence, which the young author had visited recently, in one of their issues. And looking at the content of the magazine over his shoulders, Nam Kyung said, "They cover authors' homes, right?" "That's right. They're pretty big, too," Nabi said and brought up a name that Juho had also heard of. Juho remembered seeing the same set of letters on the business card of a journalist he had come across during his visit to the States. He had to have been affiliated with the same magazine as the one he was looking at currently. Then, Juho opened the magazine and started reading the interview of the Italian author, which was mostly about her upcoming novel. There were also photos of her posing naturally along with the transcription of the interview, and the questions in the interview gave off the impression that they had been more spontaneous than simply chasing after the author's answers. Although the author had mostly talked about her book, Juho couldn't help but feel like he was getting to know her at a much deeper level for some reason. Then, after some contemplation, the young author was able to reach a conclusion. It was the photos, more accurately, the photos of her room, which contained traces of the writer in the background, almost as if telling a story. While Juho was reading the magazine unhurriedly, Nabi asked, "How do you like it?" "I think it's decent." "Should I get in touch with them, then?" As Juho took some time to think, Nabi added that she had been eyeing the magazine herself. "You're about to have your own place now. It works out perfectly." "But I don't even move my stuff yet," Juho said with an awkward smile. "We can always adjust the schedule. As you're probably aware, it's just the right interview for the time." It seemed like a promising direction to take in terms of approaching his readers in a natural manner. And after some contemplation, Juho put the magazine down, reminding himself that there were still a lot more to look through. "Let's see what we have on our hands first, then I'll decide," he said, and Nabi nodded willingly, adding that there were also other magazines that she had in mind. "I just want you to know that your moving situation won't get in the way of finding what you're looking for, by any means." Nabi seemed to imply that the people from the magazines would gladly fly to Korea even if Yun Woo were to live on the streets. Since Juho was in the position to make a choice, he didn't have much to lose. Then, he reached over for another magazine, reading through it along with its data, studying which authors had been interviewed by them and the flow of the interviews. Every single magazine seemed like a decent choice, and while Nabi gave the young author some brief explanations in between, Nam Kyung recommended the ones with more appeal to the masses. Then, listening to his recommendation, Juho set one aside as his second choice. In the end, the one that ended up in his hand was the magazine with the old-sofa. "All right, then! I'll get in contact with them." "Thank you." At that point, Nabi had no doubt that things were going to be smooth sail from then on.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I was told that they prefer that you're in the middle of moving." Juho stopped packing upon hearing the news from Nabi. As he held his phone, which he had had between his face and his shoulder, more securely in his hand, he beheld the untidy state of the room. "As long as you're OK with it, they want to have photoshoot session while you're still moving. What would you like to do?" Having assumed that the interview wouldn't take place until after he had moved into his new place, Juho asked, perplexed, "Do they have a thing for messy rooms or something?" Then, chuckling quietly, Nabi explained, "They like things as is. They're probably going for the dynamic feel of somebody still moving into a place rather than the calm and organized feel of a home that's been settled in already, which would make things a lot less interesting." "Interesting logic." Just like she had said, the magazine often tended to include photos of untidy desks or unmade beds, while revealing authors' favorite baseball teams, favorite drinks, or the pens or pencils they use to write, providing the opportunity to get a better look at the authors' everyday lives. "They seem to understand the benefit of visiting authors at their homes," Nabi said, adding that she was fond of their style. However, Juho couldn't help but feel hesitant. Seeing as it was going to be one of the things that would determine how the rest of the world viewed him, this interview was crucial, and Juho felt the need to be really mindful of what he was showing. "Can I really show them the place? With the boxes and all?" Juho asked. "Like I said, Mr. Woo, they would prefer that," Nabi said and added, "Tell you what, why don't we take the opportunity and do something about the doubters out there once and for all? I think you're just in the right place and time for that." Then, in order to reassure the young author, she told him everything she had heard up to that point. As long as Yun Woo gave the OK, where he lived was hardly an issue. "The untidiness can give the background some character, Mr. Woo. From what I've heard, they've interviewed authors in rooms that looked borderline like garbage dumps. I was told that they want something original, and they also asked me to ask for your forgiveness for interviewing you when you're in the middle of moving." Hearing Nabi's explanation, it occurred to Juho that not all authors lived in neat and organized rooms, and the coffee stains in Coin's room were a good example of that. While the authors revealed themselves, they took photos of them and their living spaces. Then, after some contemplation, Juho made up his mind, "All right. Let's do it." At that, with a more cheerful voice, Nabi gave him a brief explanation about how things would progress from then on. "You just gotta act according to the plan. That's all you gotta do. By the way, is everything going OK with the move?" she asked, and at the sight of the books and manuscripts scattered about the floor, Juho hesitated and said, "Uh… It's going all right, I suppose." "You're not getting sick or anything, are you?" "So far, so good." "You're not gonna be under the weather during the interview, right?" she asked. Although she sounded playful, there was a subtle warning behind her question, made to remind the young author to take care of himself until the interview. "No, I'll take good care of myself," Juho said, and after hanging up, Juho decided to follow Nabi's advice and take a short break, slowly rolling his stiff wrists. Then, he rose from his seat and picked up his sunglasses. 'I'm goin' for a walk.' --- It wasn't until he arrived at the park that Juho took his hat and sunglasses off, which often got in the way of his view. There was nobody around. Nobody who would shout his name when they saw him. Although there had been a handful of people who'd given him suspicious looks, Juho hadn't minded it all that much. As long as he didn't say it himself, there was no chance that people would catch him, and because of that, he was able to arrive at the park more easily than he had anticipated. As he walked into the botanical garden, he was greeted by the warm, damp air that he was well acquainted with by that point. Further into the garden, was a tree that looked a lot like a banana tree, and even further in, was an old door that was rusting from the humidity in the air. Because the leaves were covering the boundary between the doorpost and the wall, the door was difficult to spot, and the door handle was rusty and discolored, enough to make anyone hesitant to touch it. However, in reality, it was just a plain ol' door handle that left no trace on the hand whatsoever. "Why, if it isn't our beloved writer." As Juho stepped in, an unexpected visitor greeted him. It was the custodian, who had explained the history and purpose of the room when the young author had first discovered it. He had described the space as abandoned, although there were no signs of it being off limits. With that, the young author walked to where the custodian was sitting. Like Juho, he was wearing a hat. He also had a cup of Job's Tears tea in his hand. "Long time no see." "Our schedules are different." It was rare for custodians to be in a resting area at that hour, and unlike Juho, most of them either had breakfast before work or a cup of tea during or after work. "You have no idea of how shocked I was when I saw you on TV." From his response when Juho had first walked in, the custodian seemed to know about Juho's identity. "Would you like an autograph?" Juho asked as he put his sunglasses down, and the custodian burst out into hearty laughter. After buying himself a cup of tea from the vending machine, the young author sat across from him. On a shelf that had probably been filled with works of pottery once, were various tools for people, and all that being behind a custodian made for a different sight. "I saw you in a different light when I found out that you are an author." "Really?" Juho asked, holding the warm paper cup with both of his hands, while the custodian fidgeted with his. There was something about him that was more awkward than usual. "So, there's something I've been wanting to know." Perhaps, he wasn't used to seeing Juho as Yun Woo just yet. "What is it?" Juho asked, pretending not to show the bitterness on his face. "Ask away," he said. As soon as the young author gave the custodian permission to ask, the custodian lowered his head, covered his mouth with one hand, and whispered to him, "You had meetings here, didn't you?" "... I'm sorry?" At that, Juho couldn't hold back his laughter, and interpreting that as confirmation, the custodian said with more confidence, "I knew it! I guess I did contribute to keeping your secret, huh?" Although it had been a completely unexpected question, Juho nodded slowly. Just as the custodian had said, he hadn't only been taking care of the garden, but of the young author's secret as well. "I was able to live my life in peace, thanks to you." "I knew something was odd. It's not like there's anything to do around here, especially for somebody your age. Did you write here and all?" "Occasionally," Juho said, and as he learned that he had contributed to Yun Woo's work in some capacity, the custodian smiled with satisfaction. "I knew something was different about you from the first time I saw you here," he said with a proud expression on his face. "But you didn't know I was gonna be Yun Woo?" "Nope. Didn't get that far," the custodian said, pouring the rest of the steaming tea into his mouth. "You seemed like a good speaker on TV. Why didn't you give me some sort of clue?" "We didn't really run into each other all that much." "You came here when I was not around on purpose, huh?" "Oh, no." "We wouldn't have met today if I hadn't come here," the custodian muttered playfully. "I guess that's true." With that, the air sank into an awkward silence, and in order to validate that silence, Juho brought his cup up to his mouth. Since he couldn't understand what the plants were telling him, the place was quiet. "Does that mean you won't be needing this place anymore?" the custodian asked quietly with a slightly playful expression on his face still. And as they locked eyes with each other without saying much, the custodian added, "Since this place was for you to hide that you're Yun Woo, wouldn't that mean you won't be coming here anymore?" "I doubt that," Juho said, lowering his cup slightly and getting a whiff of the tea. "I came here to drink Job's Tears tea. There's something about vending machine teas. They have this unique flavor." "Vending machine teas are all the same, aren't they?" "And teas all taste different depending on the person who makes them." The Job's Tears tea in Juho's hand could be found nowhere else but in that room in the garden. Should the place and/or the situation change, the taste of the tea would also change, even if it were to be brewed exactly as it always had been. Similarly, lunch at a picnic or having a glass of wine with loved ones tended to taste significantly better. The Job's Tears tea was a unique experience that could be found nowhere else outside of that garden. "So I'll probably come by every now and then." The custodian fixed his hat without saying a word. Just like the first time they had met, he neither told him not to come, nor to come more often. Even when the young author set foot on the place for the first time, the custodian didn't try to impose anything on him. "Besides, I think I'm finding myself in a need of a place like this even more now that I revealed myself," Juho said. "Where'd you get the sunglasses?" the custodian asked, nudging the sunglasses ever so slightly and adding as he rose from his seat, "I bought your book. I don't know how far I'll get through this time, but I'll definitely give it a go. So, you keep writing, all right?" "Will do," Juho answered immediately. --- "Is this the country Yun Woo's from?" somebody said while looking out of the window on his plane ride to Korea. The sole purpose of his trip was to meet Yun Woo. Although everything looked similar from up in the sky, the list of differences grew exponentially once one stepped out of the plane, and his reason for insisting on meeting authors in person was similar to that idea: to get a better look at them. Meeting an author person allowed him to learn about them in greater detail. Everything in this world operated under principles that were rather simple. He was carrying a copy of the most recent issue of a magazine, which had a photo of an Italian author on the cover. The company the man worked for never insisted on just interviewing authors. In fact, they interviewed an array of people, from politicians to human rights lawyer, and at times, even presidential candidates. The interviewees were mostly people leading a successful lives. But how many of them were teenagers? "Has no home," he let out the part that had bothered him the most when requesting the interview with the young author. Although Yun Woo did have a home, it didn't necessarily belong to him. It belonged to his parents, technically, as with most teenagers. However, that was a very unusual case for a magazine that often visited authors of international acclaim because no other author had succeeded in their career at such a young age. Since the author was a teenager, not only did they have to wait for the author's consensus, but they also had to respect his parents' decision. Although it was awkward, it wasn't necessarily hindering him in any way. If that was the environment in which the author lived, then it was just what they were looking for. After waiting anxiously, the magazine had received an incredible answer. It was delightful news that the young author was moving into a place of his own for the first time in his life. The young author was becoming an adult, a transitional period in his life, and the man wanted to capture the scene in its entirety. Then, he opened the magazine, which contained his questions and the Italian author's responses like a script. Just like his rightful title, his questions were labeled: 'Interviewer.' "Check your equipment once we land." "Will do," the photographer answered in an excited tone. "You gotta put your heart and soul into this, all right?" "Of course! I was heartbroken when I saw how blurry the first Yun Woo picture that came out to the world was," the photographer said, humming. "Start off with a picture as soon as he opens the door." Then, an announcement came from the speakers saying that the plane was about to land. When reading Yun Woo's books up to that point, the man had been asking himself: 'What kind of answers would he have to offer? What kind of questions would he find tricky? Offensive? Delightful? Comfortable?' He had had no certain answers for those questions whatsoever, as he had never met the young author in person. However, things had taken a turn. Yun Woo had finally come out to the world and revealed himself. "Finally." The long-awaited interview with Yun Woo was finally happening. A conversation with Yun Woo. The interviewer was finally going to see the young author and find out just how he was able to write such incredible books.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Before meeting the interviewee, the interviewer and his team met up with Nabi and the editor of the publisher that often published Yun Woo's books, Nam Kyung. Since they had been in contact, there was no awkwardness whatsoever. "So, this is where Yun Woo lives, huh?" the interviewer said, looking out the window at the scenery rushing past. Although it might have been plain and uninteresting to Nabi and Nam Kyung, it was an unusual sight for the interviewer, who was from the States. He hadn't intended on getting an answer when he said that, so Nabi chuckled quietly and played along, "Have you ever been to Korea?" "No. This is my first time here," the interviewer said looking at foreign characters as the car came to a stop. Since his Korean was limited to basic greetings and pleasantries, he was completely clueless as to what the words meant. "I'm seeing words that I don't recognize, right off the bat." Without knowing their meaning, the words in that foreign language seemed closer to drawings. "Lots of signs and billboards." "Oh! I see something written in English there!" the photographer said, pointing at a road sign, which included an English translation. He took pictures of the scenery from time to time, as if preparing himself before meeting Yun Woo, like he would his stomach with an appetizer before the entree. He was warming up in order to prevent himself from being too taken aback by the encounter. Meanwhile, looking at Nam Kyung, who had been Yun Woo's editor-in-charge since his debut, the interviewer asked, "What's it like to put a book together with Yun Woo?" After some thought, Nam Kyung said, "Is this an official question?" "Not at all." As the interviewer clarified that they were just making small talk, Nam Kyung smiled and said, "Then, I suppose I can be upfront about it. It's incredibly daunting." It wasn't a completely unexpected answer. "I mean, my job involves editing Yun Woo's writing after all. Let me tell you, it's not easy having to comment on a manuscript written by an author who's known as a genius." The interviewer nodded sympathetically. "Editors who work with world-class authors all share a similar concern." It was their job to find ways to make improvements to the manuscript, despite the concerns in their minds. "But it's not entirely daunting, is it?" the interviewer asked, looking at Nam Kyung smiling, and of course, the editor returned the question with a positive answer, "It's actually a lot of fun. I'm editing Yun Woo's writing after all." "So, would you say that's why you're an editor?" "I mean, I need to make a living, too," Nam Kyung said as a joke. He seemed like somebody who would work as an editor for a long time. Meeting the people an individual surrounded themselves with said a lot about the person. Knowing that, the interviewer grew increasingly curious of whether the principle would apply to the interviewee he was about to meet. "We're here." As the car came to a stop, the interviewer got out of it first and looked around. It wasn't all that different from the views he had been seeing on the car ride there. In other words, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Yun Woo was living in an ordinary neighborhood. "There are small, triplet buildings there," the photographer said, pointing at the three buildings nearby, which looked like houses that had been built haphazardly. "I smell something delicious." Although it wasn't clear where it was coming from, there was a potent scent of spice in the air. "We need to go further." Following Nam Kyung, they ended up in a neighborhood that looked relatively new. Then, leaving the staff preparing the equipment behind, the interviewer got on the elevator first. "I'm sure you've met countless authors up to this point," Nabi said, striking up a conversation with the interviewer in the elevator. And with his eyes fixated on the changing numbers, the interviewer answered, "Sure. Not while they're still moving in, though." At that, a subtle smile appeared on Nabi's face, and seeing that, the interviewer sensed the confidence in her attitude. Then, he asked, "You've been here before, right?" "Yes. Just yesterday, actually." "Is there anything special about the place that I should know of?" he asked light-heartedly. Nabi gave him an equally light-hearted answer, "He only has the bare essentials." "That sounds nice." Although she noticed that his tone was becoming less and less formal, Nabi paid no attention to it. Then, with a quiet jingle, the door opened as the elevator came to a stop. As the two got out of the elevator, they turned left in the hallway and ran into a person checking his mail box. When the person looked at the two, he had an easygoing look about him. "Hello." At that, it became immediately clear to the interviewer that he was Yun Woo, and he almost chuckled at just how young the author was. He was younger than any other he had met so far. "Mr. Woo, I presume?" "That'd be me," Juho replied. As always, there was no awkwardness in his English, just like his usual tone. Meanwhile, the door to the elevator closed, returning it to the first floor. "Pleasure to meet you, sir," the interviewer said genuinely. To which, Yun Woo smiled quietly. For somebody who was acquainted with Kelley Coin, he didn't seem very edgy. Similarly, for somebody who had succeeded at such an early age, he was incredibly modest. "How was your trip getting here?" "It was good. Although, I was somewhat surprised by what I saw." "And what was that?" At that, the interviewer gave a roundabout answer, and in response, Juho summed up his words and asked, "Is the neighborhood a tad too ordinary for Yun Woo?" Although the interviewer rubbed his nose and smiled, he didn't deny it. "Where are the others?" "They're still down there. They should be here any minute now." "Well, then. Should we go inside?" "Sure," the interviewer said, trying not to show his excitement. Frankly, the interviewer had always felt nervous before visiting an author at their home. Inviting a stranger into one's house meant that there was a level of trust involved. Then, the interviewer saw that the door was slightly open, which told him that the young author had been preparing to greet the guests. The three arrived at Yun Woo's home shortly after. "So, this is the place." "Yep," Yun Woo said, flinging the door open nonchalantly. Meanwhile, the interviewer and his crew had no choice but to follow the pace with which the young author led them. As the door opened, the hallway lit up at once, and they were greeted with an interior that was entirely white. The interviewer had never been anywhere like it. Then, as the shutters started clicking, the interviewer snapped out of it. "Wow," the photographer, who had followed him shortly after he had gone upstairs, let out from behind. While Nabi was smiling, the photographer gave in to his curiosity and asked the young author, "Did you write all that!?" "Yes. Makes sense that I'm still in the middle of moving in, right?" The sheer amount of manuscripts in the house was breathtaking, and without saying a word, the photographer pressed the shutter-release button repeatedly. The interviewer was just as excited. The pictures they were about to release through their magazine were going to be anything but coincidence. At least that was the dominating thought in his mind. Telling others of one's effort came with a sense of fulfillment. The stacks of manuscripts were proof that Yun Woo had been writing without others knowing. And just as the interviewer and his crew were about to walk into the house to get a better look, Juho stopped them briefly and said, "I do have to ask you all to take your shoes off." --- Juho looked at the interviewer, who had finished preparing for the interview. Because they had planned on making a short video for the website, there was a camera on standby between them. "I noticed that you have no furniture around," the interviewer said, looking at the white walls through the camera. Meanwhile, Juho looked down at the chair he was sitting on, which was a folding chair he had bought for the time being. Not only was it void of back rest, but it was a rigid and uncomfortable chair that rested on four legs. "I was planning on getting new furniture in the near future. It's slightly better in the bedroom, though." The living room was filled with nothing but stacks of manuscripts. It looked nothing like a normal living room, which should have a sofa, a table, a rug, electronics, and maybe some sort of flower pot. Rather, the entire space was filled with manuscripts that were yet to have made it into the study. When choosing where to hold the interview, Juho had suggested to Nabi and Nam Kyung that the interview be held in the study. Not that it was much tidier, but at least the books were on the shelves, which was a slight improvement over a background filled with towering manuscripts surrounded by white walls. However, the interviewer insisted that the interview be held in the living room, adding that he wanted to convey his first impression of the visit to the house to the subscribers as directly as possible. Considering their willingness to have an interview, let alone a photoshoot at a house into which the owner was still moving, Juho realized just how determined they were to achieve what they had come for. Meanwhile, following the boxes around him with his eyes, Juho looked around the house and realized just how bare and undecorated it was. Not only were there old, worn-out boxes scattered about, but the manuscripts that were yet to be put into boxes were stacked up against the wall with some newspaper between them and the wall, making it look like the owner was about to throw them out. At the same time, they weren't too far off from being garbage. They were sentences that didn't make it into the books. Yet, the interviewer and the photographer seemed to be rather fond of the place. "I like that there's no furniture in the house." "Is that right?" Juho asked. "It reminds me that you really are an author." Then, sitting across from Juho, the interviewer asked, "You don't think I can read any of them, do you?" "That, I can't do." Although the interviewer had asked as though he hadn't expected the young author to let him, his eyes still lingered on the stacks of manuscripts. Juho was also somewhat familiar with that feeling because he had felt something similar during his visit to Coin's residence. "Seems like the only trace of you in this entire place is your writing," the interviewer said while looking around the house. To be more precise, the manuscripts around the house. "Pardon?" "I see nothing about your favorite baseball team, celebrity, food, car, or brand." "Oh, right." "Not a single poster." It was a tad too early for posters in a house that was lacking even the most basic furniture. Truth be told, Juho had never had a poster in his room. When he heard the interviewer, it dawned on him just how empty his place was. Then, Juho looked at Nam Kyung and Nabi, who were standing outside of the frame of the camera. The two had visited the young author's new place just yesterday, and Juho had had to give up on organizing all the manuscript before letting them in. When Nabi came into the house with Nam Kyung, the first thing that came out of her mouth was, "Leave them be." "What was that?" Juho had asked, unsure of what she had meant. To which, Nabi had repeated herself in a friendly manner, "You can just leave things be until the interview." "But aren't they going to take pictures of the place?" Juho had asked. "They'll be very satisfied, Mr. Woo. Trust me. They're gonna find just what they're looking for here," she had said with a confident look on her face." "That's right. This will do," Nam Kyung had interjected while picking one of the manuscripts up to read. Although Juho had wanted to stop him, he had decided to let him read it until he had finished reading the page he had been holding in his hand. When the young author glanced at it, he saw the scene about the clown and the single audience member in 'Sound of Wailing.' "But aren't I being too lazy? I mean, these people are guests from overseas," Juho had said, and a smile had appeared on Nabi's face. Then, pointing at the living room, she had said, "You're more than ready, Mr. Woo." At that moment, the shutter sounded from the camera, and as the young author came to his senses, the interviewer asked, "There isn't a whole lot around here, yet you won't even let me read any of your manuscripts." It was just as Nabi and Nam Kyung had said. Fortunately, the interviewer seemed to be more than satisfied by the view. "Are you asking indirectly that I let you read them?" "That would be preferable, but no. I'm just coming to terms with the reality: that I can't really read you still. It almost feels too similar to the time before your identity was known," the interviewer said with a cheerful smile. "All in all, this is all very interesting," he said with a smile, as if asking the young author for his permission to start his questions.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl From the cameras in his apartment to all the filming crew, the photographer, the publishing agent and the editor, everything looked as awkward as the clothes he was wearing, which he usually wore when going out. Nevertheless, it didn't take long to get used to them. "So, you revealed your identity recently," the interviewer said, starting the interview off. Coming from a renowned magazine in the US, the interviewer brought up how the interview had become possible. Because Yun Woo had revealed himself, the young author and the interviewer were finally able to meet. "And I'm sure most people know this by now," he added. And just like he had said, most people knew what Yun Woo looked like now. "I, personally, am curious about your life before you made your identity known, as in your life as the ordinary high school student by the name of Juho Woo. How did you bring it up to the people around you? I'm sure there was a handful of people around you who already knew who you were." "A few, yes." The interviewer started off with a subject that was both light-hearted and specific, and Juho decided to answer the question with one example in particular." "I have a friend who's a serious bookworm. A fiend, really. I had already made my debut as an author when we first met, and he was just as much a bookworm than as he is now. Needless to say, we grew closer and spent more time talking about books." "Did you guys talk about Yun Woo at all?" "We did talk about Yun Woo." "Were you at all worried that your friend might find out?" "Not really, no." "What gave you the assurance?" "The fact that I'm able to write in another style, different from Yun Woo's. Even after reading my writing, he didn't think I was Yun Woo." Being also aware of Yun Woo's alternate writing style, the interviewer gestured to the young author to keep going. "I decided to send a message when I was ready to share my story. There were some similarities between Yun Woo and Juho Woo, like age and writing skill." "So, your friend did catch on to something?" "I think so. I think I might have given out some clues without knowing. I was planning on revealing myself eventually, after all." "So, how did you send a message to your friends?" Juho chuckled quietly as he remembered how he had sent the message to his clubmates that he had been Yun Woo all along. Meanwhile, the interviewer seemed like he hadn't expected the interview to be off to such an interesting start right off the bat. After all, surprises made life just a bit more interesting. "Through my book. I included a message in the epilogue that only my friends and I would be able to recognize, and my bookworm friend didn't let me down." Then, thinking that the young author might be referring to a book that he already knew, the interviewer asked, "And which book was that?" "You probably heard of it. It was from a series called 'Language of God.'" "Huh!" he let out, genuinely caught off guard by the young author's answer. 'Language of God' was Yun Woo's most commercially successful series, and it was in the epilogue of that series that the hint regarding Yun Woo's identity was hidden. It would be a sensation among fans if they were to find out. "When was this?" "When people still knew me as Won Yi Young." "Which means your friends already knew that you were Won Yi Young." "That's right. And they also eventually learned that Won Yi Young and Yun Woo were the same person." "Haha! My goodness," the interviewer let out, murmuring that he would love to interview the young author's clubmates one day. While the interviewer and the crew were left astonished, Nam Kyung and Nabi, looking slightly smug, were enjoying the scene of the secret unfolding. Then, deriving a question from Juho's answer, the interviewer asked, "What was the significance behind publishing under the name Won Yi Young?" "I was already starting to make a name for myself as Yun Woo by that point, which came with a fair share of chaos. People were doubting my skill as an author on one hand, while enjoying my work on the other. I think it stirred up my competitive spirit when I heard people say that any book that bore my name would sell." "Was there a desire to keep yourself hidden? You stayed anonymous for quite some time, so you tend to have that image." "I think that, if anything, I wanted to reveal myself, which was why I presented myself in different ways. If I were to have revealed myself right off the bat, it would have solidified people's first impressions of me as truth, which would consequently have made all the other ways I present myself false." "I see. That makes sense. Then, let me ask you this. Do you feel like you have a lot to show, Mr. Woo?" "Yes. I mean, I can't say that it's anything special, but I don't believe that there's one single thing that can sum me up as a person. We all have thoughts in our minds that are constantly contradicting each other, which is proof that we're multifaceted beings." At that, the interviewer dug deeper into Juho's answer, and the young author focused on understanding and answering his questions thoroughly. After answering another question, Juho took a sip of water. There was still a ways to go with the interview. "You know, the more we talk, the more it dawns on me just how good of a speaker you are, Mr. Woo. As far as I'm aware, you're just as fluent in other languages as you are in English, right? And I believe you've done some translation?" "I've translated one of Coin's books into Korean and one of my own into English." "Being proficient at multiple languages is not easy by any means. Were you trained in any way?" At the word 'trained,' Juho nodded at once, "Of course. One has to come across a language before they decide that they want to learn it. They have to learn to understand, read, and speak it. The only thing that sets me apart from everyone else is that that process happens just a tad quicker." "Are you just naturally talented?" "Not at all," Juho said clearly, and a skeptical look appeared on the interviewer's face. "But you seem to far surpass most people's ability in that area." "That isn't to say that I'm a natural. If that were the case, I would've picked up English at the age of two and learned about eleven more by four, making a name for myself as a child prodigy by the time I'm six. Which isn't true, by the way." "Did you have no talent whatsoever in languages growing up?" "My mother would always compliment me for reading backward." Since the interview wasn't about how to learn a language, the interviewer moved on to another subject. "Are you aware that Taylor Sanders has been speaking highly of your translation?" "Yes. I found out that he brought me up in an interview." "You two collaborated on translating one of your novels, right?" "Yes. It just happened that way." "I heard it was inevitable due to the nature of the book's plot, which involved a drastic change in writing style toward the end. 'Sublimation' did cause quite the controversy." Then, the interviewer started asking more specific questions about the novel, which was still just as controversial to that day. "I find the concept of changing writing styles within a novel difficult to grasp. Would you mind explaining that a little bit?" Juho thought briefly about how far his answer would reach. After being translated into English, his answers would end up on the magazine, which would then be translated into multiple other languages. Those who were curious about Yun Woo were bound to get their hands on a copy. "Yes, I'm aware of the controversies surrounding my writing style." "I don't think it could be any other way, though," the interviewer said, and it was true. As the young author was contemplating where to start, the interviewer asked, "So, how many writing styles do you have? Can you switch between them back and forth at will, like shifting to another gear on a bicycle?" At that, Juho couldn't help but laugh upon realizing just how little they knew about him. "If only," he said. Then, hoping that the message would get across as a whole, Juho chose the words carefully in his mind first. "First, I want to establish that changing a writing style is anything but easy. The idea alone is extremely experimental in nature, and it's not long until it ruins the flow of the novel and turns the entire plot into something completely irrelevant. I actually noticed a lot of inconsistencies while writing 'Sublimation.'" "But the change is still possible, right?" "Otherwise, the novel would've looked entirely different from what it looks like now." "What's it like to be able to write in multiple styles?" It wasn't a difficult question, "It feels like there's an old man living inside of me." "... That's an interesting analogy. Did you ever feel like your personality was being affected in any way?" Juho had also been aware of the split-personality theory surrounding him. Wondering if the interviewer was joking, the young author studied the expression on his face, but he seemed to be genuine. "Nothing like that, no. Striking a balance between the two writing styles was definitely a challenge, but it wasn't to the point of developing a split-personality disorder." "When was it that you put the alternate writing style to use for the first time?" "Are you aware that I used to be part of the Literature Club at my school?" "Yes, I heard that you'd published a couple of short stories there." "That's right. They're being exhibited, even. As I mentioned earlier, people around me had no clue that I was Yun Woo, and that's exactly how I wanted it. Do you know how I was able to make that happen?" At that, the interviewer leaned forward slightly in order to listen to the young author closely. "You wrote in a different writing style." "Exactly. I told myself that I could write, but I couldn't let others find out who I was. And sure enough, when I tried it, it actually worked. I've come to realize that my alternate style carries a noticeably different feel, too." Then, a quiet exclamation came from his surroundings. Juho reminisced to what he had felt in the past. The memories of his past had been very much intact, even after he had come back to life after drowning in the river, and they had been vivid enough for him to put it into writing. "You said something similar in a recent TV interview here in Korea. That was very very brief, but whatever you're about to say might just scratch where it itches," the interviewer said. He had quite a few questions regarding the young author's alternate writing style. However, being the professional interviewer that he was, he moved on quickly without lingering in the satisfaction of learning new information. Then, clearing his throat, he asked another question, "Among the many characteristics you have as an author, I believe change to be one of them. For example, your readers can probably get a glimpse of that in the transition between your debut title and your sophomore title, as well as the change in writing style in 'Sublimation.' What other things are you expecting to change in the future?" "It could be anything. Nobody knows how situations, perspectives or the future might change." "You'd say that you've been writing pretty seamlessly up to this point, correct?" "Relatively speaking, yes." "And you also write incredibly fast. Is there a certain pattern that you follow when writing, such as writing a set amount per day?" "No, but when I'm really into it, there are times when I write for over eight hours a day." "So, you're essentially pouring yourself out at that point," the interviewer said. To which, the young author responded with silence. Then, the interviewer moved on to the next question, "Do you ever find yourself afraid that things might change?" When Juho looked at the interviewer, he looked calm and composed. "Fear, you say?" "I mean, who knows what the future holds? Do you ever worry about being unable to write in the future?" Juho glanced over the interviewer's shoulder. Needless to say, both Nam Kyung and Nabi were looking quite displeased. Picking up the water bottle from underneath his chair, Juho took a sip, and as he was doing that, nobody said a word. "I do come across as someone who's made it big in life, huh?" the young author said, and the interviewer's eyes shook ever so slightly. "Mr. Woo, you've experienced incredible success at an early age. I think that, suffice to say, that's the objective truth." "To an extent, sure. My books are selling well, and I have won awards, too." "Do you not consider yourself successful?" "I think we should move on to another subject. I believe that what you're really asking is whether I'm afraid of having succeeded in life at such an early age, if I'm afraid everything will vanish into thin air one day, right? Fear of loss, if you will." The interviewer hesitated at the young author's slightly exaggerated statement but nodded soon after. "To make a long story short, yes. I do have that fear," the young author said. In fact, he had fear of both success and failure, and he was deathly afraid that everything in his life would slip right through his fingers one day. "How do you feel when that fear creeps in?" "It never comes with a warning." "Is there anything you do to help you overcome your fear?" "Write," Juho said. "So, has writing proven to be an effective way of overcoming your fear?" "I don't know if overcoming is a good way to put it. Fear or terror are natural human emotions, and I don't go out of my way to tackle them on purpose." "Than how does writing benefit you?" "It brings me skills that make me a better writer," the young author said and added without hesitation, "Similar to the fears I have of success and failure, I also have an irrational fear that my luck will just run out when I wake up one day. Luck is part of any result, and there's simply no way around it. However," Juho paused and looked around. There was one thing that never left his sight, no matter where he looked. Then, with a smile, he said, "Who would bother trying to steal all of these manuscripts?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Catching on to Juho glancing over his shoulder, the interviewer naturally followed the young author's eyes to the stacks of boxes and manuscript paper. There was simply too much for anyone to steal, and even if they were to go missing, that wouldn't invalidate the fact that Yun Woo would have actually written the number of manuscripts that would have been stolen. Yun Woo had something that could never be stolen in his possession. After looking at the awe-inspiring sight of cardboard boxes and manuscript paper, the interviewer moved on to ask a question, "So, would it be safe to assume that your method of fighting fear is consistent with your prolific writing?" Writing really was an emotional outlet for Juho, but did that mean that there was a correlation between his way of releasing his emotions and his prolific writing? "Hard to say. What comes out of me as a byproduct of my emotions tends to be… well, overly emotional, so I keep it all at home, as you can see. The stories are so sloppy that I almost feel sick when reading them. But in terms of training my endurance for writing, it seems like it did help in some way." Then, after pausing briefly to collect his thoughts, the interviewer asked shortly after, "So, what about fear? Your fear enables you to write prolifically, doesn't it?" "It does help, but I never publish a book as if I'm being chased by my own fears." "I see." Several of Yun Woo's books were still in the bestsellers' rankings of the bookstores across the country. There was a lot in common between publishing multiple books within a short period of time and sprinting. No matter where one was, the scenery grew fuzzy and blurry when they were sprinting. Then, as the interviewer was about to move on to the next question, the young author said, "I guess it is true in a sense that the surroundings become a lot less visible when sprinting." Hearing the young author's answer, a troubled look appeared on the interviewer's face. At the same time, he seemed delighted by it. "I gotta be honest with you, Mr. Woo. You're impossible to read." "You think so?" "We need more people like you to interview." Unfortunately, Juho had no intention of participating in another interview. Then, taking the notes in his hands, the interviewer flipped them to the next page. "OK. Now, why don't we talk about the results of the awards? You were the first winner from Asia to win two of the four most prestigious literary awards for science fiction. You were staying at Kelley Coin's house in the States when the winners were being announced, right?" "Yes, that's right," Juho said. The magazine had also visited Coin's residence at one point, and at the brief mention of the place, the interviewer played along immediately, saying, "It's a beautiful house." "I agree. The park nearby is really nice, too." Then, after talking about Coin's residence for a little while, the interviewer got right to the point. "How did it feel when you found out that you had gotten the award?" "I was happy. There's no mistake that the award was a tremendous honor. At the same time, I think it felt more like the award came to me as my work grew out of control rather than from me earning it." "Grew out of control?" "Yes. All I did to win the award was to write. That's it. It's nothing new to an author." The interviewer nodded, indicating that he understood where Juho was getting at. "Did you ever regret not being able to attend the ceremonies?" "Not really. At the end of the day, I'm the one who chose not to. More than saying that I was unable to attend them, it'd be more accurate to say that I didn't." "I see. It appears to me that you're not all that crazy about winning awards. You've set a record by being the youngest winner of the Nebula AND the Hugo, and I think 'Language of God' was definitely worth that much. How did you feel when you found out that you were the youngest winner of those awards?" "I didn't feel anything in particular." "Did you ever think that you were moving up too fast?" That thought was no longer in Juho's mind because of the sheer number of years he had lived up to that point. "There's a saying that goes, 'It's never too late,' which makes me wonder if there's even a point in distinguishing when something's too early or too late." "You don't think that your journey leading up to the award was all that short, do you?" "Do you think winning awards was ever a goal of mine?" the young author asked, and quickly recognizing the error in his interpretation of Juho's answer, the interviewer rephrased his question, "As you mentioned earlier, it seems like you define success a little different from most people. Did you not want to win awards?" "I did start developing an appetite for it when I was nominated, but it wasn't even on my mind before that." "Did you not know about the awards at all?" "I knew they were around." "Were you not expecting that to be nominated?" "That's probably a better way to put it," Juho said, and the interviewer asked with narrowed eyes, "Is there something you want more than awards?" After a brief pause, the young author asked, "What made you think that?" "I just don't feel any sense of accomplishment in your answers whatsoever." At that, Juho chuckled quietly. Just as the interviewer had said, it wasn't the awards that Juho was after. It had never been them from the get-go. "I still have a ways to go as a writer, and there are still mountains to climb for me. It's too early for me to indulge in my accomplishments." "Aren't you proud of yourself whenever you see the trophy? Although, I don't see it anywhere in the house," the interviewer said looking around the house. In a place completely void of furniture, chairs, posters, or anything baseball related, it didn't make sense for there to be trophies. Then, remembering where the trophies were, Juho said, "They should be in boxes somewhere. I'm not really sure which ones, though." It was bound to come out eventually, and Juho had a vague memory of having packed them together with his clothes. Meanwhile, noticing the young author's lack of interest in the whereabouts of the awards, the interviewer asked, "OK, I get that winning awards isn't really a priority for you, but you seem almost careless about them. Do you really know just how prestigious those awards are, Mr. Woo? They're priceless in the literary world." Because Juho was well aware of the value and significance of the awards, he shook his head. "You don't think that I went out of my way to write a speech for ceremonies of awards I don't even know the names of just so that Coin could read them on my behalf, do you? Like I said, I was happy to win those awards. What else can I do?" As the young author finished speaking, he noticed the interviewer glancing over his shoulder. Although it was a quick movement, Juho had caught him nonetheless. The interviewer was able to find answers to his questions even without hearing them directly from the young author. Then, without asking if Juho was burdened or afraid to hear the news that he had won, the interviewer moved on, and Juho was able to tell just how experienced the interviewer was in interviewing authors in their homes. "So, what IS your goal in life?" Though it was a question that Juho had expected the interviewer to overlook, the fact that Juho found it easy showed just how deep his desire was to be great. A great storyteller. Meanwhile, the room sank into silence as the young author immersed himself in thought. Finally, Juho decided that now wasn't the right time to bring it up. "Well, to get all my stuff sorted out, first of all. Especially the manuscripts." "Oh, right. That could be a goal, too. It's important to keep things organized," the interviewer said. Although he seemed caught off guard for a brief moment, he kept asking more questions, as if telling the young author that he wasn't going to let up that easily. Nevertheless, that didn't last long. "All right. Well, I have a feeling that I'd be making a fool of myself if I were to tell you my life's goal is. I don't want your readers to think that I'm begging them to buy my books just so that I can get there sooner. I wanna get there with my own ability." "..." After a brief pause, the interviewer raised his hand and let out a subtle chuckle, almost like a sigh. "Perhaps, you're a lot more experienced with interviews than I realized. I didn't think you'd turn down the question like that." An interviewee had the right to refuse to answer any question that they didn't feel comfortable answering. However, exercising that right was another challenge in and of itself, and that was especially true for those who lacked experience with interviews. The simple fact of refusing someone didn't come easy to a lot of people, and most interviewers didn't let up that easily. Knowing all that, Juho reminded himself that he had to be all the more emphatic in his answers, while still remaining polite. Leaving no room for questions, Juho led the interview so that it would be rude for the interviewer to ask about the subject. Although it was clear that the interviewer had a lot more questions about it that he wanted to ask, he got over it by moving on to the next portion of the interview. His impressive concentration helped Juho tremendously, enough to make the young author forget just how rigid and uncomfortable his chair was. "My understanding is that there are some books that haven't been exported yet. Is that right?" Not all of Yun Woo's books had been translated, which meant that they could be enjoyed only by those who knew Hangul. "Yes, a short story called 'River.'" "And I found out that you even won a literary award with that piece, the youngest winner in Korea." "It's a privilege, really." "Would you care to explain a little bit of it?" At that, Juho gave the interviewer a brief summary of the story, which was about a person who was drowning to death. "So, it's about death, then?" "In simple terms, yes." "Death was definitely one of the endings that you showcased in 'Language of God,' and your attitude toward death left quite the impression on me. Is 'River' any similar to that?" They were completely different stories. Not only were the dying people from different social standings and situations, but the setting was also entirely different. "I'd say 'River' is a bit more personal, and it feels somewhat like a confession." "As in, of your own?" "No, I'm referring to the feel it carries." Seeing that the interviewer was expressing a strong interest, Juho decided to take a step back, "Although, I don't know how much is known about the piece, so I don't know if I can even talk about it." Because the interviewer hadn't read the piece, it was inevitable that his questions would be shallow. Yet, he asked again, "How is it like a confession? Have you experienced something similar to what happens to the protagonist?" "Actually, yes. I drowned once." Of course, the interviewer didn't buy it. "I really hope somebody translates this," he said. "It's a short story," Juho said with a shrug, and the interviewer approached the subject matter from a different angle. "It might be entirely foreign to us, but it was incredibly popular here in Korea, right? So much so, that your fellow authors who participated in putting the magazine together had a book concert. You never attended, of course." Juho hadn't publically attended the concert. At that moment, the young author hesitated, and the interviewer caught on immediately. "Is there something you'd like to add?" "Uh, maybe?" "I'm all ears." Because the young author had been giving evasive answers, the interviewer asked upfront, and Juho came to a conclusion that now was the time to bring it up. "It was a while ago, but I didn't attend the concert as an author." "And what does that mean?" "It means I attended as an audience member." "Wait! You mean you were there?" the interviewer asked after catching on to what Juho was saying with a delay. "Yes. I still remember my seat. A13." "... This will catch your readers by surprise, especially those who were sitting next to you. Please, do tell more," the interviewer said, and Juho brought up a certain member of the audience that came to mind. "I remember saying hello to someone who had brought a camera to take pictures of Yun Woo." "And did you two talk at all?" "No, not really. It was while we were waiting in line, so we didn't talk all that much. She was one of the people who had predicted that Yun Woo would be at the concert." "Well, seems like she was right," the interviewer let out quietly, and Juho agreed. "She showed me her camera, saying that she was ready to take pictures of Yun Woo the moment he appeared. I remember thinking, 'Well, now would be the time to press that shutter release button.'" "Haha!" As the photographer behind the interviewer burst into laughter, the interviewer said, "I sincerely hope she sees this interview." "I hope so too. I really want to take a picture with her." They were planning to release the magazine containing the interview in Korea as well. Although there was no way to know whether or not she still remembered that day, Juho was now ready to take a picture with her. From then on, the interviewer asked about his writing process in great detail, such as habits and secret spots, and the young author answered each and every question with honesty. "All right. I'd like to talk about your most recent book for a little bit." He was referring to the book with the photo of him and Coin, which was one of the hottest topics among readers. "'An Insect Leaves No Trace,' was it?" "That's right." "First edition, one-million copies! If that isn't impressive, I don't know what is." As the young author nodded affirmingly, a subtle smile appeared on the interviewer's face.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Your new book has been drawing massive attention since before its release, and the fact that it's your first novel since your victory over the Hugo and that it includes a photo of you only added to the hype," the interviewer said, and Juho nodded quietly. "Also, your portrayal of love was quite riveting. I was completely taken by surprise when I read the book myself." Both fans in Korea and overseas were reacting similarly to the novel, and having read an article about it ahead of time, Juho nodded. "A lot of people were expecting and predicting that the novel was going to be about pure love." "So they did." "So, you knew?" "I know the internet just as well as I know English." As if the interview had just gotten a little easier, the interviewer smiled. "Well, what was that like? I'm sure you already knew that the product you had in your hands was quite different from what most people were expecting." "I knew what people were expecting from me." "So, you weren't all that worried about meeting their expectations, then?" The interviewer seemed to think that the young author took no interest in what other people thought of him. "No, I did try hard. I wrote so that I could meet my readers." Juho had been quite conscious of his readers, and with Juho's answer, the interview took a different turn. "Do you write for your readers?" the interviewer asked. "Isn't that what all authors do? A book can only be remembered if people read it. Readers are incredibly valuable to writers." "In that case, do you ever think to yourself that you want to give your readers what they want to see?" "Of course. There have been times when I felt like giving the world what it wanted to see." As if he had expected that answer, no change appeared on the expression on the interviewer's face aside from a subtle look of interest. "Well, what do you think? Do you think your work up to this point is consistent with the kinds of stories this world wanted to see?" "Hm. I don't think so. They were stories that I wanted to write more so than stories that people from across the globe wanted. At the end of the day, I write for myself as well." Then, without looking at the notes in his hands, the interviewer said, "Your most recent novel was about goodbyes." As the young author remained silent, the interviewer kept on, "And it's implied throughout the earlier parts of the novel. There's no relationship with the opposite gender or any exciting encounter between two individuals anywhere. In fact, it's just the opposite. The story's about lifeforms that are growing further apart, and the only creature that is allowed to go into the boy's body is the insect. Which, to me, sounds more like a goodbye than an encounter," the interviewer said and asked, "So, how exactly did you want to portray love? What was the picture that you had in your mind?" It was a relatively easy question, so Juho said, "I wanted to write a story that was unmoving." With that, the interviewer moved on to the next question without hesitation, "What brought you to do that?" "I went to some amusement park with a romance writer I know." "... You don't say," the interviewer said, looking like he needed an explanation. "There's an author by the name of Sang Choi who is an expert when it comes to romance. We went to an amusement park once, and that's when I thought of writing about love." "In conjunction with goodbye?" "Yes," Juho said, noticing the interviewer's brow furrowing. "I'm having trouble seeing the correlation. Aren't amusement parks typically where people are happy? How were you able to think of an idea that is so contradictory to your surroundings?" the interviewer asked, speaking slightly faster. "He asked me about my first love," Juho said. "Ah, all right," the interviewer let out, sounding more relieved, as if he had found a clue. "That's something I'd also be interested in hearing about." "I hate to disappoint you, but I couldn't give him an answer." "How so?" "Because I couldn't remember," Juho said. He didn't recall feeling anxious that he hadn't been able to remember. After all, it was natural for one to forget about goodbyes. Although, it did leave a bitter aftertaste. "I tried as hard as I could to remember, but I just couldn't for the life of me. Although, I'm pretty sure I was on cloud nine back when I was in love, and it started coming to me just how distant it had all become. On one hand, I felt like I'd matured on, but that I was a cold, heartless person on the other, which made me think to write about it." Then, the interviewer looked away from the young author for a little while. He had to be thinking about the book. "In the beginning, there's a man who's leaving his hometown on a train, which is part of the outer story. He's perpetually anxious, feeling like he's forgotten something," the interviewer said. "Right." "And in light of your personal experience, would it be safe to assume that love is the thing he's forgotten about and left behind?" Even until the end, the novel offered no explanation. Similarly, the young author decided to speak sparingly about the mystery, "The lack of explanation in the novel was intended, but I don't see a problem with your interpretation." At that, the interviewer nodded for a little while and asked, "Let's talk about the inner story for a little bit. Your portrayal of the insect stood out quite a bit. Given that it was one of the central components of the novel, you went into great detail and length about the insect, almost as if you were obsessing over it. Was the insect modeled after an actual insect?" At that, the blueish bug came to Juho's mind. "Yes, I actually came across it in the mountains," he said. "You don't know what kind it was, do you?" "No, unfortunately. It just fell on my forehead," Juho said, pointing at his forehead, and a slight look of disgust appeared on the interviewer's face. "I was relaxing by the water, and something fell from the sky on my face. When I took it off my face, I saw that it was some bug. It was crawling all over me, as if I were a tree." "You're not afraid of bugs, are you?" "Not really, no." "Is the insect in the novel completely identical to its real-life counterpart?" "Not necessarily. It took on a slightly different shape in my head." "Why did you go into such detail about the insect in the novel?" "Probably for a number of reasons. There's the presence of the insect, first of all, and part of me wanted to show readers how the boy came to fall in love with it. I also wanted to make it clear that the insect wasn't a made up image in the boy's mind… but I'd say that the biggest reason was that I wanted to." Juho had never had a solidified plan while writing the novel. His desire to write about the insect in great detail had simply been a natural occurrence, and he had wanted to convey the riveting colors of the insect in his writing. "Maybe there was a part of me that didn't want to forget. Should my memories about the insect start to fade, I could always refer back to my novel, where I left traces of it." "I thought insects weren't supposed to leave any trace?" the interviewer said, chuckling quietly as if satisfied with his level of understanding. "There seem to be a lot of similarities between you and the boy in the inner story, Mr. Woo." "I'm sure a lot of people out there are similar to the boy," Juho said. People were bound to find at least one or two things they had in common with each other as long as they tried. "Is there a character that you consider to be the closest representation of yourself?" "... the closest representation?" "Yes, among the characters you've created up to this point." Juho immersed himself in thought. All of the characters he had interacted with in his fantasy lingered before his eyes. Not only did they each come from different backgrounds, but every single one of them acted however they saw fit. In the end, after some contemplation, Juho said, "I don't think I can pick one." "Is there none?" "I never intended for a character to be a representation of myself. Every character is similar to me in some sense, but at the same time, they're nothing like me in another sense. I want my characters to act according to their own wills." "What do you mean when you say that you want them to act according to their own wills?" "It's exactly as I said. They view their worlds a certain way, influenced by their past experiences. They're capable of making choices, judging what's right and wrong, and doing things that I wouldn't even dream of. Similarly, the things I would do without thinking twice don't even cross their minds," Juho said. "Have you ever found yourself intruding in their territory during the creative process? You are the writer at the end of the day, so I can see that as a possibility." "Rarely. Although, there are times when I find mistakes during revision," Juho said honestly, and exclaiming quietly, the interviewer shifted his position on his seat. Because they had been talking for a while, the young author and the interviewer were able to get to know each other a little better, which prevented the young author from coming across as conceited. "I'd love to see you write one of these days," the interviewer said with a quiet sigh. To which, the young author responded politely, "I hope so, too." Then, the interviewer reverted back to a certain photo that had been previously mentioned. "When discussing Yun Woo, the name Kelley Coin is bound to come up at some point. We can also see this author, who we're all familiar with, in the photo with you. Did you ever discuss using that specific photo with him?" "No. He also didn't know which book the photo would be included in." "Did he have any complaints regarding the photo?" "Nothing yet. He did come out better." "I wouldn't even have dared to think about doing what you did if I were in your shoes. There was a reason you picked that photo in particular, right?" "I get a lot of doubters in general. At the time, it just so happens that there was an impostor causing quite the ruckus. I expected people to be skeptical even if I were to reveal myself, so I thought about how to build trust when introducing a person for the first time." "And you thought Kelley Coin was just the person you were looking for?" "That's right. I needed a mediator who was known both by me and the readers." "A-ha," the interviewer let out. When there was somebody trustworthy between two people who were meeting for the first time, a tacit trust tended to form. If one were to say, "I was brought here by so-and-so," the other would most likely respond, "You must be that person. I heard a lot about you." "This was my so-called first encounter with my fans as well," Juho said. "I see. When was this photo taken?" "Around the time of the ceremony for the Hugo Award, I believe." Then, the interviewer took interest in the young author's relationship with Coin. "He flew all the way to Korea to meet you, right?" "Yes." "How did you two become friends?" "I ordered coffee for him." Having already known about Coin's love of coffee, the interviewer laughed as if hearing a good joke. "He actually didn't recognize me at first. He was practically snarling when he told me that he was there to meet Yun Woo, while the person he was looking for was right before his eyes. He didn't seem too fond of Yun Woo, though." "But you knew that he was Kelley Coin?" "Yes, which was why I played it safe. But he found out eventually." "What did he say when he found out who you were?" "Nothing special. He was pretty candid about it, saying that he had thought something was odd. He had a sharp eye, though. It wasn't long before he pointed out my mistake and caught on to my identity." "Coin's definitely known for his writing, but he also has quite the reputation for his temper. Were you afraid at all when you were with him?" "Coin's a pleasant person to talk to. He's a master at cooking bacon, too," Juho said with a shrug, and seeing as though the young author remained unfazed, the interviewer asked, "Then how do you see him as an author? You've read his books, right?" "I sure have. He's one of my favorite authors, and I was reminded why while I was translating one of his books." "'Belongings,' I believe? Which is one of the books that always comes up at least once when discussing Coin and his works. My understanding is that he chose you as the translator personally, am I right?" "Yes. It kind of came out of nowhere, really." "But you managed to pull it off." At that, Juho chuckled awkwardly and said, "I know he comes across as rough around the edges and narrow-minded, but that's not true at all. He always looks at the bigger picture before he digs into the details, which is exactly what enables him to reach the end of the path he has in mind, his goal."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Then, what does Coin think of you?" the interviewer asked as if agreed prior to the interview. Nevertheless, it was a question that Juho was well acquainted with, and he recalled being asked a similar question before. When reminded of that, Juho knew exactly what to say. "Phone call." "What was that?" "Should we give him a ring?" Despite the unexpected suggestion, the interviewer didn't ask Juho for an explanation because he was also aware of how Yun Woo's voice first came out to the world. Seeing the interviewer busy trying to think of an answer, Juho said, "It's probably best to hear from the person directly involved, don't you think?" "I have no problem with that," the interviewer said, his eyes sparkling with delight. He seemed to be welcoming the situation with open arms. "It's gotta be late there. You don't think it'd be an issue, do you?" the reporter asked. However, it was merely a courteous concern, and the fact that he didn't try to talk the young author out of it was proof of that. "When he called, he woke me up in the middle of the night," Juho said indifferently, and the interviewer said without hesitation, "Then, let's give it a go." There was no need to make a long trip or spend time preparing thoroughly. All Juho had to do was take the phone, which he had switched off for the interview, out of his pocket and switch it back on. As the interview took an unexpected turn, the filming crew was in a state of confusion, while Nabi and Nam Kyung appeared to be discussing something. Though they didn't seem like they were against the idea of calling the infamous author, they seemed concerned about how Coin would respond. "What do you think he'll say?" the interviewer asked. Would he compliment or criticize the young author, or share his honest feelings? Would he lie? The young author tried to picture Coin in his head. Then, a convincing image of the author rose to his mind. "Maybe he'll just hang up." "That definitely sounds like something he'd do," the interviewer said with a bitter smile on his face, and with that, Juho called the infamous author. The signal came from the receiver when he brought his phone up to his ear and, as the voice repeated the same words over and over again, the cameraman started moving busily. "No one's ever had the guts to call the guy," the interviewer murmured with his hand on his forehead. The crowd waiting for Coin to answer the phone kept growing bigger. At that moment, a click came from the receiver of the young author's phone, and the recorded message that had been looping stopped abruptly. "Hello?" Juho said into the phone. Meanwhile, the air sank into silence, and the interviewer looked piercingly at the young author. Then... "What do you want?" an irritable voice came from the phone's receiver. Coin was on the other end of the line. "How've you been?" "I was fine til you called." It was quite funny to hear the infamous author criticizing the young author without the slightest hesitation. Nevertheless, it didn't seem like he had just woken up. "You weren't sleeping, huh?" "I was reading," Coin said. It was common for him to read well into the night. Although Juho wasn't exactly proud of interrupting Coin's alone time, he decided to get to the point without delay while he was at it. "Guess what I'm doing." "Not in the mood." "I'm in an interview." "... with?" When Juho brought up the name of the magazine, a sipping sound came from the receiver, followed by Coin's voice saying, "I was interviewed by them once." "Yep." "As in, I was interviewed by them FIRST." "Heard you loud and clear." There was stubbornness in Coin's voice. However, since Juho was well acquainted with that, he was able to remain unfased. "So, what are calling me for?" Coin asked despite having grasped the situation already. "Why, I had some questions to ask you." "About what?" "What do you think of me?" It was the same question that Coin had asked Juho at one point, and instead of an answer, Coin said, "Your interviewer must be asking some pretty boring questions." "It wasn't my first time getting asked that question, I'm not gonna lie." "And you're asking me for an answer because?" "I've learned. What can I say?" Then, a noise that sounded like a tongue clicking came from the receiver, and after some contemplation, he ordered the young author, "Put me on speaker." "Got it." Juho complied without resisting. Getting a grasp of what he was about to say, Juho sighed and moved the phone away from his ear, and catching on to the situation immediately, the interviewer focused on the voice coming from the receiver. "You asked what I think of you?" Coin said, his voice echoing through the entire house. There was anticipation in the air. However, being the only person reading in between the lines, Juho remained calm. "I'm gonna say this once, so you listen carefully." "All right," Juho said, feeling like everyone was sticking their necks out closer to the phone. Then, Coin's voice came from the device in Juho's hand, saying, "Don't waste my time with useless questions like that." With that, a thumping noise came from the receiver, and the call ended abruptly, leaving the tension he had built up completely unresolved. As the interviewer stood in his place in a daze, Juho said, "Told you." After a brief silence, only his awkward laughter lingered in the air. "That's Kelley Coin, all right." "Haha." "It seemed like he was conscious of you though, almost as if wary of you," the interviewer said, adding that he heard Coin's murmur before he hung up. "You think so?" Then, as if struck by a question, the interviewer said, "Speaking of which, you ran into a journalist in the States before you revealed your identity, right? Although, you probably met him as a groom-to-be rather than a journalist." "Ah. Yes, I did," Juho said as the memory of his red hat rushed across his mind. "It just so happens that I know the guy. This was when the news of you wearing a red hat really started getting around. It was right after the Hugo Award Ceremony, I believe." "That's right." "So, you really were the boy in a red hat!" "That'd be me. Although, I had to play coy with your friend. What's funny is that Coin just flat out left me with the journalist when he started asking a lot of questions." At that, the interviewer chuckled quietly, unsurprised that Coin had done something like that. And after some thought, Juho said, "Thankfully, the journalist didn't bombard me with questions. He probably couldn't see my face because of my hat. Before he left, he asked me to show him my face next time we met, so when this interview gets released in the States, I'll be keeping the promise." "I suppose so. But technically, he's a journalist, too. Are you open to the idea of meeting him in person with a recording device between you two?" "As you can tell from my record, I'm not all that fond of putting myself out there." The reporter accepted Juho's answer without saying much. Then, as he organized his thoughts while looking through the notes in his hands, the interviewer said, "Let's go way back to the time when you first made your debut as an author with 'Trace of a Bird.' You were… sixteen, I believe?" "That's right." "Do you think that you debuted at an early age?" "As a matter of fact, yes. I was really young now that I think about it." "What about your book? Do you feel like your debut title was as young and fresh as you were back then?" Juho paused to choose his words carefully. "I'd say I was ignorant more so than young and fresh." "Ignorant?" "Yes. I wrote without any sort of planning whatsoever. I was certain that I wasn't even going to be considered for the award." "What was the situation like?" It was a memory that Juho hadn't visited in a long time. It had been when he had been contemplating his future. "Most kids start worrying about their futures at around sixteen. I was no different and I was coming to realize that I needed to be able to take care of myself once I became an adult. But you see, I wasn't really good at anything. My grades were mediocre, and I'm not exactly athletic, artistic, or musically inclined, either. I felt like I had nothing to offer, really. When I was struck by the realization that I might turn out a pathetic excuse for an adult when I grew up, it left me with a lot of anxiety." "So, it sounds to me like this was before you really understood who you were because, now, you're a world-class author." That wasn't true. Juho knew himself a lot better than the interviewer thought, and the truth was that he really was a pathetic excuse for an adult. "You're about to be an adult now. Although, it appears to me that you're already there," the interviewer said. Then, with a low moan, he asked, "Are you still afraid of growing up into a pathetic adult?" "I am. Nobody knows what the future holds." "What made you start writing for the first time? You might not always need to plan when you write, but you do need to write, right?" "Nothing really MADE me write. Writing has been more of a habit for me. Even from when I was very young, whenever something good or bad happened, or anything that evoked my emotions, really, I tended to pick up a pen and start writing. But never have I thought to myself that I am a good writer." "Why is that? A lot of people have incredibly high regard for your writing." "You see, all these manuscripts lying around the house are actually products of my habit." Although having rebutted the young author's beliefs, the interviewer quietly accepted the reality of the situation. "So, according to what you've told me thus far, it seems like 'Sound of Wailing' was actually the first piece you wrote as an author. After all, anything that came before that was nothing but byproduct of your habit, right?" Juho agreed. "The wailing in 'Sound of Wailing' was a cry for help, right? The protagonist stops wailing as soon as she realizes that no one's going to listen to her anymore." "In very simple terms, yes." "So, when you compare the novel to your own life, do you think the novel's actually somewhat autobiographical in nature?" "I think they're definitely related. I had an experience that first inspired me to write 'Sound of Wailing.'" "Would you care to tell us?" "I remember catching a stroller that was rushing down a hill once. I caught the baby, but not the stroller. The baby wasn't crying, which made me think that it was dead. That's when I was suddenly struck by a degree of fear that I'd yet to experience," Juho said. The thought of that moment made the tips of his fingers ice cold, even to that day. "So, what happened to the baby?" "It started wailing." "So, it lived." "It did. It was slightly delayed, but it started crying. I don't know... I just had to write after what I'd experienced." "Do you think that that was what made the overall plot of the novel significantly darker than its predecessor?" "Probably." It was the very first piece Juho wrote after coming back from the dead, and Juho didn't deny that it was the bleakest novel he had written thus far. "As I've mentioned earlier, you're on the verge of becoming an adult. Not only will you be allowed to drink alcohol, but you'll also be able to smoke without legal restrictions." "Right." "It seems like authors are keen on alcohol in particular. Does that apply to you too, Mr. Woo?" "My friends and I made a promise that we'd grab a drink together once we became adults, but I want to stay as far away as possible from alcohol. Besides, I'm not fond of authors who rely on alcohol to get by." "Is that your view on alcohol as a minor who has yet to have had a drink?" "It could be. But there's a very high chance that I'll distance myself from alcohol. It tends to ruin the most important things for authors writing, and countless authors have proven that theory already." "Even if it allows you to see things?" At that, the young author chuckled quietly and said, "All the more reason I don't need to drink," Juho said emphatically, and the interviewer didn't ask any further. "I'm sure you'll experience many more things in the future. In light of that, what do you most want to write about?" "It's hard to say. I don't want to keep anything set in stone. Things almost never go according to plan, and I don't really see the need to plan that far in advance. In other words, I want to write about something that I haven't decided to write about yet." "What does writing mean to you?" As Juho took some time to think about the question, a certain word popped up in his mind. Digestion. "Writing is like an internal organ to me. It's an organ that digests emotions." "That's an interesting way to put it. Would you mind explaining that a little bit?" To which, the young author answered, "I probably won't be able to lead a healthy life without it functioning properly."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl As the interview came to an end, the photographer, who had been taking pictures throughout the interview, approached the young author and asked him to pose in various ways, most involved him sitting naturally. In order to create different scenes, the photographer moved the boxes around or angled them in different ways. "You seem to be used to doing this, Mr. Woo," the photographer said. "Is that right?" "I don't even have to ask you to loosen up or anything." Most people tended to tense up in front of a camera, and when they were stiff, the picture was bound to turn out awkward no matter what clothes they were wearing or where they were. Being aware of that already, Juho was trying to appear as relaxed as possible. "I've been photographed often," Juho said playfully, and the photographer chuckled as if he understood where the young author was coming from. From then on. They took tens of more photos around the house. After inspecting through the photos thoroughly, the photographer finally ended the session, and the crew briefly applauded for an unknown reason. "Would you mind taking one more?" the photographer said as he came into the frame of the camera. As the young author gave him permission to do so, a number of other staff members also pulled into the frame. "I loved your book, Mr. Woo." "I'm a big fan." The staff members said in turn, and Juho expressed his gratitude by shaking the hand of each and everyone of them. "You did great Mr. Woo." A voice said in Korean, giving the young author the illusion that he hadn't heard the language in a while. It was coming from Nabi. "I understand why Mr. Park was so nervous," she said, and Juho looked at the editor, who was talking to the interviewer in the distance to invite the crew to an after party. "You think so?" "Oh, yes. Your answers were putting us on our toes." "I don't think I said anything problematic, did I?" "Not really, aside from that bomb that you dropped knowingly." "It's all true though," Juho said with a shrug. "Exactly," Nabi said. People were just starting to view the young author in a positive light. At the end of the day, Yun Woo was also human, an ordinary human rather than an alien or a wonder of the world. The moment one realized that, Yun Woo's accomplishments would shine all the more. "That was a great interview, Mr. Woo," Nabi said with a satisfied smile, and after looking at her face for a brief moment, Juho asked, "What do you think people will think of me?" Once the interview was published and distributed throughout the world, Yun Woo fans would be sharing that knowledge, his answers, with the young author. When that happened, what would people think of him? "Don't worry, Mr. Woo. People will still think of you as an excellent writer. Besides, you shared a lot about the new novel in this interview." Although it was coming from a good place, it wasn't exactly the answer Juho was hoping to hear. In other words, her answer could also mean that the young author was yet to have obtained what he wanted. Then, stretching his arms up to the ceiling, Juho asked, "What should I write about next?" "Are you thinking about writing another book, Mr. Woo? But we just got done with the interview!" Nabi said, chuckling, and Juho, too, chuckled quietly as he enjoyed the subtle responses from those around him. --- Upon returning to the States, the filming crew got to work without delay. While organizing the transcription of the interview, they also edited the videos. The photos that would end up in the magazine also needed to be chosen carefully and under strict guidelines, especially the one that would serve as the cover photo of that issue. Meanwhile, by the time the interviewer finished putting together the first portion of the interview, he received a call from an unwelcome individual. "How was the interview?" It was his recently wed coworker, who had cried out about the red hat in a fit of alcohol-fueled despair. After receiving his coworker's call, the interviewer went downstairs, to the cafe near the office. Needless to say, the coworker was asking about the recent interview with Yun Woo. "It was good," the interviewer said clearly, looking at his coworker, who was in his T-shirt instead of a tuxedo. "I know you wanted to come along." "I was hoping I could take advantage of my connections," the coworker said. "It's never that simple." Aside from the filming crew and their acquaintances, there were countless other people who wanted to meet the young author. On top of that, an interview was not a spectacle. When the interviewer expressed that, the coworker blurted out irritably, "Which is exactly why I didn't tag along!" "And you came to me instead. What is it that you want?" "... You know what I want," the coworker said, staring intently at the interviewer without saying a word. At that, the interviewer threw both of his hands in the air. "I wanted to ask you to arrange a meeting with Yun Woo for me," the coworker said "Then, book a flight to Korea." "I'm not looking to get lost in a country so far away from home, thank you very much." "What were you expecting from me?" the interviewer asked. "Simple. Show me the transcript of the interview." The coworker was quite predictable in his answers. Leaning back on to the backrest of his seat, the interviewer said, "Then, go to the bookstore. Oh, wait! It's not out yet. I guess you gotta wait til it comes out." "C'mon now. We're friends, aren't we?" the coworker said. "I'll just take a quick peek right here, right now, and you'll get it right back. You won't even have to worry about the thing leaking. C'mon. We're coworkers, for goodness sake! I have no intention of becoming a paparazzo, either. Remember when I gave you some information about Yun Woo's upcoming novel? I even told you about the scandals, from what I remember." "That's different. You don't think you're the first person to ask for the transcript, do you?" "That... I figured as much. I know what kind of situation you're in. But you know what? I have a special edge." "And remind me what makes you so special again?" the interviewer asked with a mocking smile. "I made a promise with Yun Woo." Despite having understood the first time, the interviewer asked, "What promise?" "That we'd meet again." "Well, you got what you asked for. It's been quite a while since Yun Woo revealed himself." "That's not what I meant. I said it as an implication that we'd meet in person." "I said this once and I'll say it again: book a flight." "Like I said, I don't wanna get lost there." From then on, the conversation went around in circles, and in the end, the coworker let up. "All right. Fine. You don't even have to show me the whole thing. Just one page then." "If I were you, I'd just wait. I'll send a copy over your direction when it's released." "C'mon, even just one question?" The two were longtime friends, and frankly, showing the transcript wouldn't have caused any issues. The coworker had no reason to leak such important information unless he was prepared to be ostracized by the industry. On top of that, the interviewer had an agreement with the young author. Finding a common theme during an after party was quite normal, and needless to say, there had been talks of the recently-wed coworker. The interviewer recalled expressing concern about this to the young author. "What if he asks me to show him the transcript?" "Show him," Yun Woo had said. The young author was also coming from a place of wanting to see how people would respond to the interview. Then, hiding the fact that he had already made up his mind, the interviewer asked his coworker, "I don't know, man. You become somewhat of a blabbermouth when you're drunk." "I'll quit. Cold-turkey." "And how are you gonna prove that?" "Seriously? We're both surrounded by reporters and journalists. You don't think you'll hear about it?" the coworker said, emphasizing that the case of the red hat had been special. "All right. I drank to get drunk back then. Besides, what I heard wasn't some third-hand information, either, don't you think? I had access to some pretty exclusive information, but what did I do? I chose to limit myself to talking about the red hat instead. I can think for myself. Otherwise, I wouldn't have survived in this industry." "And what if it gets out? What are you gonna do then?" "I'll hand everything over to you. My house, car, everything." "Didn't you just get married?" "That's how confident I am." Then, after a brief pause, the interviewer brought up his negotiable limit. "A third of the interview." "Can we round that up to half, by any chance?" the coworker said. "On second thought…" "All right! OK… Do you think you can throw in a photo on top of that?" The interviewer shook his head. He understood the limit of which he would be able to salvage the situation if things took a turn for the worst. With that, the interviewer invited his recently-wed coworker to his house that same evening, and as soon as he stepped into the house, the coworker asked for the data from the interviewer. At which point, the interviewer handed it over to him. After taking the data, which the interviewer had prepared in advance, the coworker sat on the couch with his jacket still on and started reading through the content. It took about ten minutes to read through an entire page, and the interviewer noticed his coworker's hand shaking ever so slightly every time he flipped to the next page. He was clearly wanting the experience to last longer, and the fact that he was repeating Yun Woo's answers over and over was proof of that. "... All right. I'm done," the coworker said and the interviewer snatched the transcript out of his hands without hesitation, taking it to the sink and lighting it up of fire. It wasn't long until the fire started by a cheap lighter burned every inch of those pages. As the interviewer leaned against the sink, the air sank into silence, leaving only the subtle scent of burning paper and ink. "This is when I bring out a bottle of something usually." "No need," the coworker said with his head dropped. At that, in order to get some sort of response out of him, the interviewer asked, "Well, how was it catching up with Yun Woo?" Without saying a word, the coworker brushed his hair back and leaned back on the sofa, revealing the look of thirst on his face. "Now, I wanna read what comes after," he let out, and the interviewer was left satisfied by his coworker's desperate voice. --- 'Interview With Yun Woo by the Largest Magazine in the States. Release Date Just Around the Corner!' 'A Video on an Asian Website Draws Massive Attention. First Visit to Yun Woo's Home. What Shocked the Crew?' 'Yun Woo Speaks Up About His Writing Style. His First Discovery of His Potential!" 'Yun Woo Proved His English Proficiency. The Interview Reported to Have Been Carried Out Entirely in English.' 'The Words According to the Interview: "Yun Woo Knew Exactly Why We Were Visiting His Home.'" 'Fans Growing Antsy for Yun Woo's Answers. How Will He Surprise Us This Time?" 'The Heat Goes On! The Fans' New Addition to their Wishlists: Yun Woo's Short Stories.' 'Yun Woo's Picture Said to Be On The Cover of the Magazine's Most Recent Issue! The Young Author Comes Out of Hiding and Reveals Himself Confidently.' 'Yun Woo's Editor-In-Charge and Publishing Agent Reported to Have Been at the Scene of the Interview. Rumors Surrounding Unannounced Novels by the Young Author Unmentioned in the Interview.' 'Interview Said to Include Mentions of Kelley Coin. The Upcoming Issue of the Magazine Draws Attention Across the Globe.' '"We Finally Met Him!" A Closer Look at Yun Woo's Identity. "After This Interview, His Books Will Become Even More Interesting."' "Anytime now!" "I'm running to the bookstore on the day it comes out." "This will be the first magazine I ever buy. I just have to since it has Yun Woo's interview in it." "I love the "Homes of Authors" series! You get to see the daily lives of authors from across the globe. Seeing their workspaces and imagining them writing is a whole 'nother type of fun." "I really hope Yun Woo talks more about his books." "Me too." "I heard there's going to be a lot of information about his books in the interview." "I heard he talks about his writing style, too. I'm super stoked about that. His writing style has to be the biggest mystery to a lot of people." "Is he finally bringing the 'Sublimation' secret to light? Was it really a book only he could write, though?" "I can hear the critics rolling their eyes all the way from here." "This is why I HAVE TO buy this magazine." "I just saw the promotional video! I wonder what's in those boxes in the background." "Probably his stuff? Heard they interviewed him while he was still moving into his new place." "Probably. The series is all about storming authors' houses in their most natural settings." "Who packs their stuff like that though?" "Yeah, I don't think it's his stuff, either. Although, he doesn't seem to have a whole lot at home." "We'll find out soon enough when the magazine comes out. I sure hope he brings up the short stories!" "Is he really not gonna publish them? I wanna read the one he wrote alongside 'Language of God.'" "Zelkova! Get to work! People are dying here!" "Their website is full of requests for Yun Woo's short stories." "Huh! I better go join the party." "Seriously, why aren't they publishing those short stories? They'll fly off the shelves." "You don't think Yun Woo writes just to make a living, do you?" "Mr. Woo! Give it some thought! Do it for your fans!" "I have a feeling that there are gonna be a lot of pictures of Yun Woo in the magazine's upcoming issue." "I mean, yeah. He's gonna be right there, on the cover." "I wonder what other secrets he'll bring to light. I hope he talks about all the places he went to while he was anonymous." "I don't know if anybody will believe me when I say this, but I met him at the book concert. He was there. We even talked." "You guessed it right. Not buying it." "I saw him too. He was walking his dog in front of my house." "I go to school with him." "I sat next to him at school." …

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho looked around the house. The books and sheets manuscript paper that had been scattered throughout the entire place were nowhere to be found. Although his desk still needed to be cleaned up, and the sink was filled with dishes that needed washing, the apartment was starting to look more like an actual living space. Just before Juho looked up and around his house, he had been reading the transcript of his recent interview in the magazine, which had a black-and-white photo of his face on the cover. Taken from an angle looking down from above, the photo showed the pigsty of a house that the young author lived in. From the shabby-looking chair he had sat on during the interview, to the cardboard boxes and stacks of manuscripts covered up with newspapers, the photo showed the state of the house quite explicitly. "At least the picture came out well." Fortunately, that was the cover photo of the upcoming issue of a prominent magazine in the States. It was the product of the photographer's skill. With the black-and-white filter applied to it, the photo almost gave off the impression that it carried some sort of eye-opening secret, even if the young author was well aware that all the boxes in the background were merely his belongings that needed to be unpacked. On the release day in Korea, Juho was told that the magazine was sold out throughout the country. Some websites had sold one thousand copies in a span of five hours, while others sold out completely within three. The additional inventory that had arrived just the day before had also been sold out, and preorders were no different. Most places had sold out within a day, and additional orders were flooding the stores. Meanwhile, Juho found himself having conflicting emotions. While he was delighted to hear the news, he felt humiliated at the same time. Opening the cover, Juho looked through the magazine. The names of the interviewer and the young author were written one after the other on a white background, and next to those names were their respective answers, written like a script. There was a brief story, which was told from the interviewer's point-of-view, about his trip to the young author's house as well as a brief explanation of how they had come to interview the young author while he'd been in the middle of moving in. Then, a picture of the apartment's interior followed. It had been the very first picture the photographer had taken on his way in. In the picture, which was in color that time, was an empty apartment full of manuscript paper. Underneath it, was a brief comment from the photographer. Juho looked through his answers on the magazine. The answers that had been turned into sentences felt much more rigid, yet polished, than the actual conversation. The flow of the written interview wasn't all that different from when the interview happened. The description of the brief phone call with Coin carried a noticeably more subjective feel. However, that wasn't to say that the interviewer had forgotten that Yun Woo was the VIP of the interview, and that was apparent in the detailed description of the young author's reactions and changes in his expressions according to Coin's responses. Then, after checking the time, Juho rose from his seat. He was expecting guests that day. The day he had once promised his clubmates had finally come. As Juho was closing the window, which he had left open for ventilation, the doorbell rang. When he opened the door, his friends, who were now twenty years old, appeared, their hands full of food and alcohol. "Drinks are here!" Juho and his former clubmates had made plans to get together to have their first drink, and the friends came storming into the apartment without hesitation. "I'm telling you, it makes life so much easier when you have a friend who has his own place," Seo Kwang said as he plunked down on the floor, and the cans and bottles of alcohol in his bags bumped against each other. "All right! Let's get this started!" "One would think that you're the host." "I don't have a problem with that," Seo Kwang said nonchalantly. "Well, how've you been, Mr. Celebrity, you?" Bom asked, looking at the magazines scattered about. Then, Sun Hwa interjected, "Oh! Speaking of which, I wanted to read that magazine, but it's near impossible to get my hands on it. It's sold out everywhere." "They're gonna have more in stock from what I heard," Bom said. "It'll fly off the shelves and, before I know it, it's gonna be sold out again." Waving his hand as if telling her not to worry, Seo Kwang interjected, "It's fine. We're Yun Woo's friends. It shouldn't be that hard to get a copy or two." Meanwhile, Juho brought out a foldable table that he had brought from his parents' home just in case. Then, he broke out the disappointing news to them, "I only have one copy for myself." "What!?" "Why?!" "Because I didn't want to give it to you guys." Seo Kwang didn't seem to buy the young author's answer. "Pff! Good one. C'mon, bring 'em out. Let's see them." "Do you really wanna keep a magazine with my face on it in your room?" "I love every book in existence, my friend." Ignoring him, Juho took the drinks and the boxes of fried chicken out of the plastic bags. 'I thought I could smell it when they were coming in," Juho thought. "Well, let's dig in." Still intimidated by the idea of getting drunk, the club members decided not to drink on an empty stomach. Seeing as though Juho had actually been serious when he had said that he only had a copy for himself, Seo Kwang clicked his tongue. And seeing the funny expression on his friend's face, Juho asked, "You're asking me for a book when your parents own a bookstore?" "It's just a small neighborhood bookstore, man. We couldn't even get out hands on the magazines. Besides, we don't really do magazines," Seo Kwang said. "On that note, help me out here," he said. Unfortunately, there was nothing Juho could do to help. The young author had intentionally asked for just the single copy. In the end, he agreed to contact the publishing company and request some extra copies for his friends. "I guess this will have to do for now," Seo Kwang said as he picked up Juho's copy of the magazine. Then, looking at the atmospheric photo of his friend on the cover, Seo Kwang let out a long exclamation. "Man! You look like you're OUT OF IT!" he said mockingly. However, Juho didn't bother denying it, since he actually hadn't had any thoughts during the photo session. "Need I remind you that we've all been on the TV?" Juho said, reminding Seo Kwang that he was just as vulnerable to insults in that situation. At that, as the image of a ditzy-looking expression on his face came to his mind, Seo Kwang closed his mouth. "Well, I say we eat while they're busy looking at the magazine," Seo Kwang said, opening up the fried chicken box. However, Sun Hwa and Bom seemed to have a different idea. "Come join us!" "You know what? I'll join you after this," Seo Kwang said, leaving Juho to eat on his own. While his friends were sitting in a circle, reading the questions and his answers, Juho quietly ate his pieces of chicken. He was quite bothered by the fact that friends were reading the interview right next to him. Then, looking at the beer in front of him, he quietly entertained the thought of drinking by himself. "Wow, look at the length of these questions!" "They're intimidating." "But these are some choice answers though, Juho." As the young author ate the fried chicken away, his friends looked at the photos and read through the interview. "Huh! You mentioned us!" Seo Kwang let out with a satisfied look on his face. Seeing words like 'bookworm' and 'fiend' on the pages of the magazine, the club members burst into laughter. "I guess these guys are big for a reason," Sun Hwa said, impressed. "What was it like in person?" Bom asked, returning to where she had been sitting. "It was all right." "Were there any difficult questions?" "Not too many." "It seems like they really base their questions around the authors' books. They asked a lot more about your personal life on TV." "I guess they're just looking for different things." With that, the rest of the club members joined in on the meal. On the other hand, Seo Kwang reached for the chicken after having held on to the magazine until the very last minute. After making a fuss about how tasty the chicken was, they reverted back to the interview. "I think this interview is THE hottest topic right now," Seo Kwang said. As a currently active blogger, his words were credible and trustworthy. On top of that, it made sense considering the number of copies the magazine had sold. "Your answers in the interview are floating around the internet. People who haven't been able to get their hands on a copy of the magazine are making do with what they're finding online." "What if they like Juho less and think he's full of himself?" Sun Hwa asked. It was unclear whether she was joking or genuine. "I hate to disappoint you, Sun Hwa, but people really like him," Seo Kwang said. Meanwhile, listening to his friends, Juho ate pickled radish. "I mean, it's hard not to like him after reading his answers. So, did you really talk to Coin on the phone?" Bom asked, the only person with a smile on her face. "I did. Although, he just hung up after a little while, like it says in the magazine." Bom looked like she was delighted by her imagination alone. "So, that's how your alternate style came about," Seo Kwang murmured as he set the bone aside, and Juho shrugged instead of giving an answer. "Oh, what was that with the stroller? I didn't know something like that happened to you." "And who was this first love of yours?!" "I wanna hear more about this secret language acquisition technique." The club members all let out at the same time, making Juho feel like he was interacting with his readers. However, it was the truth. They were not only his friends but also his readers. "It's all in the magazine. Why ask me?" "Because we have the real person in front of us. Now that you've revealed yourself, there's no getting out of this, Yun Woo." 'Some friends you guys are,' Juho muttered internally. Then, looking at the alcohol getting lukewarm, Juho said in order to change the subject, "Should I put these in the fridge? You guys prefer it cold, right?" Then, just as Juho was about to get up with the bottles and cans, Bom said, "Maybe we should just drink them now." "Yeah! That way, you don't have to go back and forth," Sun Hwa said, agreeing with Bom. "No one's going to force anyone to drink here, so let's take our time with the drinks," Juho said, passing the cans of beer to his friends. The crisp sound of cans opening reverberated through the living room. The club members seemed excited about their first drinks. Then, Juho also opened his beer, and the same, crisp sound came from his can, along with a whiff of alcohol. 'How long as it been?' Juho asked, feeling somewhat nervous. Maybe he was even more nervous than he had been moments before the interview. "Cheers!" Sun Hwa said, raising the can of beer in her hand. Then, after cheering, the club members each brought their beer cans to their mouths, looking refreshed after taking a sip. "We're really drinking, huh?" Bom said, as if having an emotional experience. Juho had finally reached the age that he could drink legally, and seeing his friends, he was reminded of the reality. It wasn't likely that his twenty-year-old body would put him back in his old, alcoholic self of the past. "Why aren't you drinking?" Seo Kwang asked, and instead of giving him an answer, Juho brought his beer can up to his mouth. He felt the liquid pouring into his mouth and the whiff of the alcohol coming up to his nose as his mouth became filled with bubbles. It was bittersweet, and a burning sensation in the back of his throat followed shortly after. The young author exhaled unhurriedly. Just like that, the whiff of alcohol in his mouth told him that he had just drunk alcohol. Then, Juho peeked through the hole in order to check on how much he had drunk. "This doesn't taste very good," he let out with a smile. "Don't worry. You'll get used to it," his clubmates said playfully. They were eating more than they were drinking, and having already eaten before them, Juho sipped his beer instead of eating with them. However, the sipping didn't last long either. Then, taking the plastic bag full of things that she had brought, Bom said while taking the contents out, "Let's have some chips." At which point, the young author accepted gratefully. By the time the fried chicken was almost gone and they had had enough to drink, the club members started moaning about their futures. "I don't know how I'm gonna survive when the semester starts," Bom said. Because of her involvement in the Literature Club and her record of winning an award, she had managed to get accepted by a university as a creative writing major. While Seo Kwang had gotten into a school as an English major, Sun Hwa had gotten into a school as a history major. They were all starting to build a foundation for the jobs they wanted in the future. "We all got into different schools." Even if they had ended up in the same school, it would still have been difficult for them to meet. Yet, the club members were not upset by that. They had accepted that they each had their own path. At the same time, they were anxious about being on a new path. "What if I end up with upperclassmen who are really mean?" Sun Hwa murmured. The only upperclassman they had had was somebody who had sat in the science room with them, drawing. The idea of being around upperclassmen and having to interact with them was still foreign to the club members. It felt like it was yesterday that they had been worried about not getting into a university. But now, they were worried about not adapting to the new environment. It was an interesting phenomenon. Worries tended to follow people around. "The beginning is always the hardest." The principle remained true, no matter what it was. There was no way to predict what the future held, and when that realization started dawning on the club members, the air became heavy with depression. At that, Juho decided to offer a solution… "What if you guys ask Baron when he gets here?" ... and it was to hear directly from an experienced individual.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl At Juho's suggestion to ask Baron, who was in college, the faces of the club members lit up. Not only was it a simple solution, but it was more than possible to put it into action. "Honestly, I was thinking about talking to him too." "Right?" Sun Hwa and Bom said candidly. Although Baron had been the only upperclassman they had interacted with, that didn't take away from the fact that he was their upperclassman. Even if it wasn't clear as to whether or not he'd be able to offer any helpful advice, it was a far better option than remaining silent and hoping for the best. "How close is he now?" "Don't know. Give him a call." Baron was joining them a little later because of his part-time job. At that moment, just as Sun Hwa was about to call him, the doorbell rang, and everyone immediately thought of Baron at the same time. "Do you think it's Baron?" "It's gotta be." Then, after checking through the peephole, Juho said, "I'm telling you. It's almost like he knows when we're talking about him," and opened the door. "Baron!" a voice cried out before Juho even had time to greet the guest. Then, walking into the apartment without hesitation, Baron greeted his former clubmates. Seeing as though they were drinking, he said, "You guys already started drinking?" "We just started." "Come join us!" At the club members welcome of him, which was noticeably more aggressive than usual, a suspicious look appeared on Baron's face. Then, spotting the magazine, he asked, "Is that the magazine that's so hard to come by?" "Would you like one for yourself?" Juho asked, nearly giving up at that point. "Hey! You tryin' to leave me out of this!?" Seo Kwang interjected in order to make his struggle to obtain a copy of it known. "We barely got our hands on it too." "Good job," Baron said haphazardly. Then, he sat on the couch and started reading the interview in the magazine. "I'll just have one. I have to work tomorrow too," he told Sun Hwa, who was offering him a can of beer. There was no excitement in his voice, nor was he making a fuss over the fact that he was drinking alcohol. "College really changed you, huh?" Seo Kwang said. Unfortunately, the upperclassman was busy looking at the photo of the young author. "This is a good photo." "Good thing the photographer knew what he was doing." With that, Baron immersed himself in the magazine, his eyes scanning through the pages. And as Juho watched him quietly, Seo Kwang asked, "Did you ever catch up with that person?" "Who?" "From the book concert. The one that met you." "Oh, her." Juho had yet to have made contact with her. Although, it hadn't been that long since the magazine had been published. "I'm still waiting," Juho said. He was waiting for her to show herself first. At that, a mischievous look appeared on Seo Kwang's face. "I hope she takes her sweet time and makes Yun Woo antsy." "And how would she benefit from me being antsy?" "You know, seeing things from her perspective. Do you have any idea how badly these people wanted you to reveal yourself?" "But you knew. You're guilty by association." "... Touché," Seo Kwang let out as his confidence faded away quickly. Then, ignoring Seo Kwang, who was struggling to understand if he was a reader or an accomplice, Baron, with his eyes still fixed on the magazine, told Juho, "You sound like somebody who's gone through his share of failures." At that, Juho felt as though the can of beer in his hand was getting heavier. "Is it that apparent?" "There's consistency to your answers. You knew the things you were saying." "I did." Then, looking piercingly into the magazine, Baron said, "Judging from these answers alone, I don't think you'll ever let your success get to your head. Seems like your readers will be able to rest assured." That was the reason why so many readers, who had worried that the young genius might change one day, were so fond of the interview. Then, Sun Hwa interjected, "I mean, you can just tell from the apartment that he chose to live in," and pointed around the room. "It is a little modest to be Yun Woo's home," Bom said quietly. "It's so small! It's tiny!" Sun Hwa said emphatically. To which, the young author rebutted, "It's just right for me." "It's just too small for Yun Woo, you know?" she said, impressed, and added, "People will be shocked when they find out what kind of place you live in. Oh, wait. They already do." "That shock is very much ongoing," Seo Kwang said, confirming Sun Hwa's statements. "I don't think it's all that modest. Isn't this house plenty big for a first apartment?" Juho asked. Considering when he had been homeless in the past, his current situation was a tremendous blessing. A good house wasn't determined by its size, and Juho knew that from firsthand experience. As the young author looked around his new home with a satisfied, affectionate look on his face, Bom said, "I think you forget that you're Yun Woo sometimes." Then, nodding emphatically to Bom's statement, Sun Hwa narrowed her eyes and said, "This might be a big house for us, but you can afford to live in a much bigger, nicer place. As his clubmates agreed with Sun Hwa, the young author smiled and asked, "You sound as though you know how much money I have." "Of course, I do!" she said emphatically. "You have quite a lot," she said confidently. There was not one bit of doubt in her voice. At that, Juho stared into the air for a brief moment and said, "Well, yeah. Sure." "What's with the answer? You're loaded, aren't you?" "Hm. Sure." "OK. Now, I'm getting suspicious." "It's just that everything's relative. Besides, didn't you guys have questions for Baron?" "That can wait. Seriously, what's going on?" Despite Juho's attempt to change the subject, being the children of the capitalist society that they were, his clubmates insisted on knowing more about the subject matter, and the fact that there was alcohol involved didn't really help the situation. "Just give me a ballpark, then. I'll tell you how much I make in a year later, too," Sun Hwa said in attempts to make a tempting offer. In the end, Juho fessed up, "I used up all my money." "..." At that moment, an array of expressions appeared on his friends' faces. Then, Sun Hwa shouted, "I knew it! I knew you were just too clean! What is it? Are you a spendthrift? Did you get into gambling? Did you start a business that fell apart?" "They all sound kind of scary for jokes, Sun Hwa," Bom said with a smile. However, the subject at hand remained unchanged. A wealthy boy had spent every last penny in his possession. When that sentence started to sink into the clubmates' minds, they all reached similar conclusions. "If that's the case, then people might view this interview in a slightly different light," Baron murmured. The news would not only affect the interview but the young author's writing as well. However, Baron didn't sound all that serious. "C'mon! Does that sound like something he'd do?" Seo Kwang said, taking Juho's side and asking in a serious tone, "You invested into your next project, huh? What did you need? A world-class painting? A boat? A personal plane? Whose thoughts did you want to know?" "Maybe that's it," Sun Hwa said, nodding as if convinced by Seo Kwang's conjecture. Considering Yun Woo's character, it made sense that he would invest large sums of money into things like that. As everyone's eyes sparkled with curiosity, Juho said, "That's not it," to their disappointment. "Then, what is it!?" "I thought my friend was loaded!" Seeing his clubmates were reacting very emphatically, Juho said nonchalantly, "I just let 'it go where it wanted to." "OK, now you're just pulling my leg. What? Did your money tell you that it refused to be in your pocket?" Sun Hwa said without hesitation. "Ask it." "I would if it had a mouth! Seriously, what did you spend your money on!? How much did you spend!?" As Juho took his time answering, Seo Kwang grasped the young author by the shoulder and said, "All right. I won't force you to tell me. It might be something a lot worse than I realize. But know this, your friend will be living in a perpetual state of fear and unending curiosity." It was closer to a threat. Although Juho didn't deny that he had to think quite a bit before telling the truth, he wasn't necessarily trying to hide it, either. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong. As the young author immersed himself in thought for an even longer time, the silence grew heavier. Then, moving Seo Kwang's hand from his shoulder, Juho said, "I donated it." "Eh?" "I've been donating it to different places." As dumbfounded looks appeared on his clubmates' faces, Juho took the opportunity to take a sip of his beer. "That's it?" a voice let out, disappointed. "Well, that's good," another voice let out, relieved. Eventually, it wasn't long before the sense of relief became mutual among the clubmates. "OK. Fine. Yun Woo's impeccable in every way. Whoop-de-doo," Sun Hwa said, throwing her arms into the air. Soon, everyone was giving the young author an admiring look that made him feel uncomfortable. What Juho had predicted would happen was happening before his eyes, which validated him taking his time in answering his clubmates bombarding him with questions. Then, Seo Kwang straightened Juho's clothes, only adding to the discomfort Juho was feeling. "Well, then, I guess that settles it. So, what was it that you guys wanted to ask me?" Baron said, changing the subject in the nick of time. As Baron started talking about his college experience, it became more apparent to the others that their futures were looking less and less hopeful, which caused them to drink even faster than they had been. Just like that, they acquainted themselves with alcohol. "Slow down, now. Eat something," Juho said in an attempt to keep his clubmates from drinking too fast. Meanwhile, after emptying an entire can of beer in the blink of an eye, Seo Kwang called to him, "Mr. Woo." "What?" Juho answered, checking his face to see if he was drunk. Thankfully, one can of beer didn't seem to be enough to get him drunk. "When are you gonna publish those short stories of yours?" Seo Kwang said clearly, which made Juho realize that his friend wasn't drunk. Juho was well aware of what he was referring to. Seo Kwang had been referring to the two short stories that Yun Woo had written as Juho Woo. Since their existence became known, that became a much-discussed topic among fans, and their requests for them to be published had been ongoing to that day. "I already said that I wasn't going to," Juho said, remembering what he had said in the TV interview. "But things are different now, don't you think?" Sun Hwa said. Just like she had said, the situation had changed. During the interview, Juho had answered the questions with the certainty that those short stories would remain as pieces written by Juho Woo. He had assumed that he'd be able to remain as Juho Woo. However, the young author's assumption had turned out to be false. "Nobody can read those short stories now," Juho said, taking another sip of his beer as the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. The two stories that he had intended on keeping at school had been taken down as the exhibition period expired. "I'm still in denial about what happened at school back then." Juho had also heard the news. As the interview, which had been held at the school, came out to the world, every student at school had the same thought: 'I gotta read Yun Woo's short stories.' Suffice to say, students started flooding into the library, and the policy to keep exhibited books in the library proved to be a disadvantage at the time. "All of our books got destroyed," Bom said bitterly. The books written by the club members had been destroyed by the crowd. The two books that had been exhibited to either side of the two short stories had fallen to the floor. Yet, nobody had bothered to pick them up or even pay attention to them, ruining them eventually. "Mr. Moon was so angry that day." The teacher's anger had been fully justified. Although those books might not have meant much to most people, they had been the fruits of the club members' labor. The books had been put together with the help of many, Baron, who had taken the time to design their covers amid his hectic schedule, being one of them. Care and anguish, burden and effort. Gratefulness and guilt. Those were the very things that had been destroyed by the students who had flooded into the library. The Chinese teacher, who was also the Book Club's homeroom teacher, had even made rounds through the entire school to warn the students of each and every class, saying, "If this happens one more time, there won't be another exhibition, ever!" Meanwhile, Mr. Moon had written an announcement and passed it out to each and every class. It had been a strong warning and it seemed to have had been somewhat effective. However, it wasn't long until the students started acting out again. "And the exhibition eventually ended, just like that," Baron said as if sighing. The result had been obvious. "Thing is, I wish I could say that that was the end of it, but it wasn't," Seo Kwang said, looking at Juho. Then, after taking another sip of his beer, Seo Kwang said, "There was this prick who tried to steal both of your short stories." At that, a bitter smile spread across the young author's face.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl As the value of the two short stories rose at an exponential rate, the school officials also started paying close attention to maintaining the books. Some argued that they needed to be removed from the library in order to conserve the work of the school's very own world-class author. However, the young author wanted the exhibition to continue, and the school had no choice but to respect his opinion. To make matters worse, as the school's concerns about the exhibition grew, one of the attending students had been caught trying to steal the very books the school had been worried about. From then on, it became obvious what would happen next. "Just like that, nobody can read those short stories anymore." The fans were envious of Yun Woo's schoolmates for their access to the young author's short stories. However, that envy had been short-lived, and the schoolmates were no longer the subject of envy. "That moron really stirred the pot," Sun Hwa said, and Seo Kwang gnashed his teeth as if the thief had become his worst enemy. "I feel really bad for the underclassmen. There's only so much fun they can have at school, and without those books, school will become even less interesting for them," Bom said. Meanwhile, Baron was resting his chin on his hand with an unsurprised look, just as unfazed as the time when he had heard his posters had been trampled over by the frantic crowd. "That's as expected. If anything, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. Those were Yun Woo's unannounced short stories." "That doesn't mean some dimwit who can't even control himself should have the same privilege as everyone else. If he had actually gotten away and had those books to himself, that would have been stomach-churning," Seo Kwang said, looking explicitly at Juho. He had to be expecting a certain answer. Although Juho avoided his friend's gaze, drinking his beer instead, Seo Kwang didn't let up. "Are you STILL not gonna publish them?" And after immersing himself in thought for a little while, the young author said, "I don't know." Needless to say, his clubmates didn't find his answer satisfactory. "Just do it already!" Sun Hwa shouted, as if representing the deepest desires of the young author's fans. Seo Kwang, too, nodded with exaggeration and agreed with her. "I think you should do it, Yun Woo," Baron said, sitting on the couch, and Bom also agreed with him. Then, Juho couldn't help but chuckle as he saw an uncanny resemblance to another experience. "I feel like I'm reading through the comments on some article about me." "See? You get where we're coming from. C'mon, we wanna read those short stories again!" "I actually have them with me right now. Do you want them?" As Seo Kwang hesitated noticeably, Sun Hwa grabbed him by the back of the collar of his shirt and said to Juho, "OK, I have to ask you. Why are you so against publishing them?" "I didn't realize I had scheduled a meeting with my readers today?" Juho said. "Damn it, you're killin' me!" Sun Hwa let out, almost as if she'd punch him at any given minute. "They're both incredible, and to be honest, none of us thought that they should stay in school. And now, just look at how things turned out! Just publish them already! What's keeping you?" Sun Hwa asked. Juho was in a tighter situation than he had realized, and he was certain that his clubmates wouldn't take it well if he were to tell the truth. Their piercing gazes came at the young author like arrows, anxious to hear his answer. "I just don't really see the point." "What?!" Sun Hwa let out as her brow furrowed. To which, Juho explained, "I'm not all that interested in the things that have been happening at school lately. Most people are curious about the short stories because of their correlation with 'Language of God' and the Black Book's cover." "But…" "And I, personally, don't think those short stories are all that great. That isn't that say that they're so bad that I'm afraid to let others read them, either. Either way, they still have a ways to go until they're decent, and I don't even feel like reading them again. So, with all that said, I have no passion for publishing them." "Still…" "And there's the writing style. Since I wrote as Juho Woo, they won't feel even remotely similar to Yun Woo's style. If anything, it won't all that long until people realize just how alien those stories feel." "..." With that, Juho took a sip of his beer. "But they're still your stories," Seo Kwang said, and Juho nodded, saying, "That's right. I wrote them." "And you wrote the ending to 'Sublimation,' too." "Yep." "If the short stories get out to the world, people will realize just how versatile you are as a writer," Seo Kwang said in a calm tone of voice, and seeing the lack of change in Juho's expression, he added, "I'm sure you don't really feel like explaining yourself to anyone, but once your readers realize your versatility, they'll be able to appreciate your books at a much deeper level, which also means they'll be able to enjoy them even more." "You think so?" "Both of your short stories are topnotch in terms of quality. On top of that, how many short stories has Yun Woo published in relation to the number of full-length novels? This would be an opportunity for you to give your fans just what they want." "Hm…" "Although, the outcome could always be different from the hopeful picture we have in mind. What IS certain, though, is that your readers are thirsty for them. Desperately so. Are you just gonna neglect them?" "If you put it that way, then that makes me the bad guy," Juho said, chuckling. "Well, you might not be far off. In fact, it won't be long until people start complaining about you not publishing them." Then, Juho asked out of impulse, "Should I?" "Really!?" "But what if Juho Woo gets his feelings hurt? They're his first pieces." "Nah! He's a bigger man than that. He'll understand." "Then, should I go for it?" "You mean it though?" "But they're just too short." "...." As Bom guzzled down her beer, Juho offered her some snacks. "Don't drink too fast." With that, Seo Kwang started moaning about how ineffective his speech had been. However, he couldn't be further from the truth. As it dawned on the young author that he no longer had the luxury to remain silent, he started entertaining the thought of meeting up with Nam Kyung to discuss the matter. Then, remaining unfazed on the outside, Juho put his beer down quietly. "Be safe," Juho said as he saw his clubmates out. Although they looked much more excited, their excitement had little to do with alcohol. "Seriously, give it some thought," Seo Kwang said, grasping Juho's shoulder. "All right," Juho said haphazardly. After waving his hand at his clubmates and closing the door, their voices could be heard fading into the distance. The once-boisterous house was now silent. 'Everyone's grown up now,' Juho thought to himself as he gathered the trash and wiped the table. None of his clubmates were in high school or had to dress in uniforms anymore. The conversation about the immediate future was still fresh in the young author's mind. They were worried about what was ahead of them: the new beginning. Was that because they were no longer within the safe boundaries of school, or were they thinking outside of the boundary of the present? Having become part of their past, high school was no longer a subject of fear for them. At that moment, Juho rubbed his right hand as he felt a tingling sensation on it, struck by inspiration. "School." -- "Oh, yeah! That's the stuff!" After coming home earlier than usual, Nam Kyung took a beer out of the refrigerator upon arrival. Since he had already eaten beforehand, he didn't need anything else. Then, walking over to the living room, he sat down and took his laptop out. His biggest concern had been the requests by Yun Woo's fans flooding the office as of late, wanting the young author to publish the two short stories. "What a mess," the editor let out as he logged into the company's website. The bulletin was filled with people's requests for Yun Woo's short stories. It was quite the contradicting sight from the past, when there had barely been any users. The fan cafes and blogs were in a similar state, and there was a considerable number of people who had become members of the cafes or the blogs for the sole purpose of leaving a request. As a reader and a fan himself, it wasn't hard for Nam Kyung to understand where those people were coming from. After all, the editor was also one of the people who sincerely hoped for the short stories to come out to the world. "I don't blame you people. I'd pay to read those short stories." The two short stories written by Yun Woo under the name Juho Woo had been growing increasingly valuable among his fans. Not only had the stories been written while the young author had still been anonymous, but they had also been written in secret. The fans were entirely justified in their curiosity and their desire to read and own them. Knowing all this, Nam Kyung was predicting that the short stories would be massive success. "Although, it's still a mystery to me why he's so uninterested." However, Yun Woo tended to be aloof when it came to success. While it did set him apart from all other authors, it did leave the editor perplexed. The young author didn't trust the overwhelmingly positive response of his fans. On top of that, the result was only good when he was satisfied with his work, no matter how successful it might be. It was no different this time around. The fact that there were countless people wanting the short stories to be published didn't necessarily lead the young author to believe in his skills. Although Yun Woo's posture made him a trustworthy author, Nam Kyung found himself in a bit of a tighter situation than usual. "I wouldn't be surprised if he decides to publish them now, when everybody wants it the most." If it had been up to Nam Kyung, he wouldn't have hesitated to get started on the publishing process. 'How can I convince him?' Nam Kyung thought to himself as he organized the data about Yun Woo in his mind, thinking about bringing the idea up to the young author the next day. At that moment, as he was looking piercingly at his phone next to him for no apparent reason, the screen lit up all of a sudden. "Juho?" Yun Woo was calling. Then, without hesitation, the editor picked up the phone and answered the call with gladness. "Hey, Juho." "Are you busy?" the young author said in his distinctively calm and peaceful tone of voice. "I'm havin' a drink," the editor said, shaking the beer in his hand. "By yourself?" "Nothing too fancy, though." "I had a drink earlier, too," Yun Woo said. At that, an unexplainable emotion washed over Nam Kyung. The young author, who the editor had known since he was a minor, had reached an age when he was legally allowed to drink. Time had flown by. "Maybe this is what it's like to be a father." "What do you mean?" "Let's go out sometime, you and I," Nam Kyung asked, feeling warm on the inside, possibly from the alcohol. As an editor in Korea, watching an author grow up into adulthood was an incredibly rare experience, and knowing that, Nam Kyung considered himself lucky. "Speaking of which, why don't we meet tomorrow? I have something I want to talk to you about." "Is this work-related?" "Yes." "Then, my answer is always a resounding yes." Yun Woo's writing had brought absolute benefits to Zelkova, which also placed him on a rather influential position. "But what is it that you want to talk about?" Nam Kyung asked. It wasn't common for Juho to take the initiative to talk. At which point, Juho responded in a calm tone of voice, "My short stories." When the very words that he had been thinking intensely about up to a moment before came from the receiver of his phone, Nam Kyung sat up involuntarily. "As in THE short stories!?" "Are we on the same page here?" "School." Then, a low, but innocent-sounding chuckle, which implied confirmation, came from the receiver of the editor's phone. "Are you thinking about it!?" "I just wanted to talk about it with you." "Yeah! Absolutely!" Although it still wasn't clear what it was going to be about, it was certainly good news. Then, after making plans with Juho, the editor hung up, determined to convince the young author to publish those short stories. --- "Been a while since we came here, huh?" "Yeah." For the first time in years, Juho was at the restaurant near the editor's office, which they had visited once in the past. The fact that there were private rooms in the restaurants made it a convenient spot for a meeting. "The magazine's doing pretty well, huh?" Nam Kyung said light-heartedly. Since the release of the magazine, fans had been absorbing every bit of information about Yun Woo like sponges, and its sales alone were proof of that. "There are quite a few people who are impressed that the interview was carried out entirely in English." "Is that right?" Although it was trivial and insignificant, seeing Yun Woo on the screen of a computer or a TV had been alien and distant to his fans. The interview in the magazine had successfully removed that distance between his fans and their favorite author almost instantly. "But nothing comes close to how much people talk about the background in the photos." The place in which the interview had been carried out, the author's home. Stacks of manuscripts of towering height. The fans had grown wild, as if having obtained clues that they had long sought after. They were ecstatic that Yun Woo could be within the boundaries of common knowledge and rationality. "A lot of people seem to see your frugal lifestyle in a positive light." "See, I don't think I'm frugal at all. Yet, I get that a lot." "That's because you're Yun Woo." "I get that a lot, too," Juho said, chuckling quietly. He was starting to get a grasp for how others viewed him, and Nam Kyung seemed to be quite satisfied by how the young author was being received, saying, "I don't think there's been a single reader who came to oppose buying your books after finding out who you really were."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl When the waiter came into the room with Juho's and Nam Kyung's orders, Juho was struck by the thought that he had seen him before. With that, the waiter, who appeared to be the owner of the restaurant, glanced at the young author's face and said, "Enjoy," leaving the room after. Then, after tasting a spoonful of the soup, Juho was reminded of just how delicious the food was, just like what he had thought during his previous visit. Nam Kyung eating there often made sense. After the two talked casually over the meal for a little while, the young author brought up the actual subject matter that he wanted to discuss with his editor. "How's the website doing?"Juho asked about the company's website, which was being actively managed lately. Then, Nam Kyung, looking like he was glad that Juho was asking the question, reached for the side dishes and said, "It's still being flooded by people asking us to publish those short stories. I could show it to you if you want." "Oh, that won't be necessary." The fans were still anxious to get their hands on the short stories, anxious to see what they were like. "So, were you thinking about getting those short stories published?" Nam Kyung asked, and Juho didn't deny it. Seeing that the young author was being ambiguous and more reserved, Nam Kyung took the opportunity to push for it. "I say we go for it, Mr. Woo." It was a suggestion Juho had been hearing quite often as of late. Since he had revealed himself, the distance between Yun Woo and his fans had shrunk considerably, which meant that their requests became all the more apparent to the young author. This time was no exception. Nam Kyung sounded as if he were overlapping with the readers' voices. "I've thought of what I wanna write about next." "Right… what?" Nam Kyung let out, caught off guard and blinking awkwardly. "It's a story that takes place in school." "Ah…" As the situation dawned on the editor, he found himself getting increasingly confused. Yun Woo had a completely different idea. Being the enticing author that he was, any idea for a book would have stirred Nam Kyung's interest. A story that took place in school, it had a pleasant ring to it. "I'm more interested in what I'm going to be writing in the future than what I've written in the past," Juho said calmly, like a true author. "Right." "Frankly, I want to focus solely on mapping out this new book without having to worry about the short stories at all," Juho said, thinking, 'If this had happened before I'd revealed myself to the public, I would've started writing right away without having to explain myself like this.' "But everyone around me seems to want me to publish those short stories really badly," Juho said. As an author, it wasn't right to neglect what the readers wanted. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung nodded by reflex. "And something tells me that this will continue until I make a decision, which is why I wanted us to meet today." As an editor, Nam Kyung was someone who made books, and his role was inherently different from that of an author, who wrote books. As a result, his perspective on writing had to be inherently different from a writer's. When Juho suggested to Nam Kyung that they meet, he had done so with the intention of hearing a certain answer, an answer that the young author hoped to hear from his editor-in-charge. "So, it seems to me that you're debating either publishing the short stories or writing a new book." "OK. Before we go any further, I want you to take a look at this," Juho said as he took a manuscript out of his bag. And after watching Juho in a daze, Nam Kyung asked, "Are those…?" "The manuscripts for the short stories." Nam Kyung took them with both of his hands. Although they looked quite untidy, it didn't change the fact that they were the manuscripts of the very short stories that readers had been desperately asking for. As the editor flipped through the pages, he realized that the two short stories were entirely different from one another, from their contents to their narrators. The first thing that he noticed when taking the manuscripts from Juho had been their sheer weight. However, it didn't take long to read through them. "The writing styles feel quite different from the usual," Nam Kyung said, and seeing as though he was liking what he was seeing, Juho felt relieved. As an author, it was always nerve-racking to see his editor reading his manuscripts, and showing what he had written at school as Juho Woo was quite a different experience from the norm. "Right. I was trying to hide my identity through my writing," Juho said. "It feels heavier and more serious than Yun Woo's." "But there's something familiar about it, isn't there?" "Yes." Nam Kyung recalled having come across that writing style in the past, and he was already working out the details of the plan in his head to bring the short stories out to the world. With that, he scanned through the manuscripts again. "I think we can use these manuscripts as is." "You think so?" "In terms of content at least. But I'd say we revise them at least once. Assuming that you're publishing these, that is. But the length…" The length wasn't quite long enough. 'It'd be nice if we could include a few more short stories and bundle them together into a compilation. A completely different piece, even,' Nam Kyung thought. At that moment, the editor looked up quickly. Yun Woo had just expressed that he had been inspired to write a new book. "Not quite long enough, are they?" Juho asked. "Yes, unfortunately. We're gonna need more." "You see, I just happen to have a story that I want to write." At that, the pieces started coming together in the editor's head, just as Juho had intended. There was only one way to go about this situation, which didn't take long at all until the editor acknowledged it. "So, a new piece on top of the two short stories. That's where you're going with this, isn't it?" "What do you think?" "I see no potential issue." Not only were the short stories of substantial quality, but there was nothing bizarre or out of place with Juho's new story, either. With that, Nam Kyung started calculating in his head, and seeing how excited he was, Juho decided to explain a little more about the new piece. "I don't have all the nitty-gritty details at the moment, though." Nevertheless, Juho fully intended to write it. Then, the young author told the editor about how he came to want for the setting to be a school. "It wasn't until I left school that it occurred to me that I wanted to write about school." "That's pretty common, actually," Nam Kyung said. He had seen many authors who'd gone through similar experiences. "The new story will be entirely different from the two short stories." "And how is it going to be different?" "It's gonna be written in a different style, first of all, and I wanted to write something more cheerful this time." At that, Nam Kyung thought that the timing was just right for the idea because there were readers who missed the feel of Yun Woo's early days as a writer. What really needed to be considered was the writing style. "And how long is this new story going to be?" Nam Kyung asked. "I'd say about a semi full-length?" "So, the entire compilation would be about the length of 'Sublimation,' more or less. One semi full-length and two short stories." "The stories are not gonna be connected this time," Juho said. "I see. In that case, they will really feel like they were written by different authors." Although It wasn't clear how the book would turn out, there was no element of surprise, either. Things had always been that way. "I say we go for it, Mr. Woo," Nam Kyung said. Then, looking at his editor, Juho gave him the answer he had been meaning to give all along, "Let's do it." Nam Kyung's face lit up at Juho's affirmative answer. "The readers will flip when they hear about this," he said. However, Juho was cautious about it all. "I say we wait a little bit longer before we make an announcement. We don't know how things will turn out." "No problem. There's no rush, so let's take our time." With that, the two resumed their meal, which had been put on pause for their discussion. After swallowing what was in his mouth, Nam Kyung asked with a subtle hope in his voice, "Are there any other pieces of writing that you wrote at school?" After some thought, Juho said, "Sure. I spent three years in the Literature Club, as you already know." From time to time, the two had talked about the pieces Juho had written at school. "I was thinking about including other shorter pieces too, like zero-one-zero-eight, or the one about the gem. The one you submitted for the school's essay contest had some character to it too." "I… don't know about that," Juho said. The first two pieces were based on his younger clubmates, and they were essentially his gifts to them. On top of that, the school had deemed the story about the Bonobos unacceptable. "All of those stories belong to somebody," the young author said. "You should look at them, anyway. Can't hurt to look," Nam Kyung said insistently, and Juho gave him a half-hearted, affirmative answer. There was a slim chance that the young author would ever bring up those stories again as he wasn't actually planning on rereading them. However, as if completely oblivious to the young author's intentions, Nam Kyung murmured cheerfully, "Whatever they are, I'm sure they'll sell." As an editor, sales were definitely one of the things Nam Kyung needed to think about. Nam Kyung was confident that young author would bring back products of undeniable quality, predicting that he would be able to continue making quality books with Juho. Then, after staring intently at Nam Kyung, Juho asked, "Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves. What if I bring back garbage?" "I highly doubt that," Nam Kyung said, and instead of giving him an answer, Juho smiled with his eyes. "Like I said, there's no rush. With the number of books you have published up to this point, you can probably take a nice, long break of about three years without having to work a single day in your life." "You don't say? Should I really take a break then?" At that, an unusually confident smile appeared on Nam Kyung's face. "Do you think you could do that?" he asked. To which, the young author raised both of his hands and said, "Probably not." If Juho were to take a break from his writing career, it wouldn't be long until he'd start writing again, even if it was of poor quality. Without writing, there wouldn't be a way to digest and alleviate the emotions hiding deep within his heart. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung was well acquainted with the author, who he had been working with for an unusual number of years. At that moment, Nam Kyung's phone started to vibrate on the table, and the two fixed their eyes on the device simultaneously. "Hm?" After briefly gesturing to Juho with his eyes, Nam Kyung answered the phone. Then, just as he was about to stand up, he stopped in his tracks. Juho was watching everything. "Who called?!" Nam Kyung let out, looking at Juho. It sounded like somebody had called the publishing company. 'Who could it be?' Juho asked himself. Then, a thought crossed his mind shortly after. Seeing the curious look on Juho's face, Nam Kyung moved the phone away from his mouth and said, "from the book concert." At that, the young author knew exactly who Nam Kyung was referring to. It was the reader. The fan from the book concert had finally tried to reach her favorite author after reading the recent interview in the magazine. "Just the person I've been waiting for," Juho said. --- The nine authors had come together in order to publish a literary magazine. Each and every one of them was a well-renowned name, and the magazine had been a massive success, which had even led to the authors holding a book concert. Although it had been widely known that Yun Woo hadn't attended the concert, it turned out that he had, in fact, attended the concert after all. On top of that, the reader had talked to the young author in person. Yun Woo wanted to meet her. It had been through a blog that she had first found out about the interview. In the post that quoted the excerpts of the interview, she had come across a situation that had sounded all too familiar to her. The moment she read that, she grasped that she was the person Yun Woo had referred to immediately. However, at the end of the day, the information she had come across had been part of some blog, which wasn't exactly the most reliable source. It hadn't been reliable enough for her to call the publishing company. In the end, she had chosen to make an effort to get a copy of the magazine that contained Yun Woo's most recent interview, and after some time, she had finally gotten her hands on one. After referring to the original source and checking the post that had gone viral in the fan cafe, she had finally mustered up enough courage to send Zelkova an email. Then, to her surprise, the publishing company got back to her, nearly causing her to have a heart attack. "Should we take a picture?" At the voice coming from nearby, the reader's hands started shaking involuntarily. It was the same voice as the one she had heard in the videos that had been floating around the internet, which she also recalled having heard in person once. It sounded familiar on one hand, and foreign on the other. As she looked up slowly, she saw Yun Woo right before her eyes. "I'm sorry?" she asked, dumbfounded. Although she knew full well what the young author was asking, she couldn't say a word from the moment she first saw him. They were in a restaurant in Cheongdam-Dong on their own. In that spacious restaurant, there were only two more tables that were occupied. It was a place she had never been to, and it was clear that it wasn't going to be a cheap meal. She vaguely remembered hearing about the restaurant and how the head chef had made a TV appearance. "The picture that you couldn't take that day?" Yun Woo repeated himself in a friendly manner. At which point, the reader couldn't help but smile, just as she had done in the past. It was an ambiguous smile that resulted from not knowing what to say. Her cheeks were starting to feel sore from smiling for such a long time. She was clueless as to how to respond to her favorite author's questions, feeling unbearably bashful. "You know when we were waiting in line together?" Yun Woo said. His considerate nature made her all the more embarrassed. "I remember how eager you were to take pictures of Yun Woo, saying that you were certain that he was gonna be at the concert." "I…" Revisiting that memory had always been humiliating. 'What were the odds of running into Yun Woo, of all people?' The thought suffocated her from within. "I'm terribly embarrassed about that," she said, genuinely bashful.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl When the reader looked at the young author, she immediately remembered what Juho had looked like when they had first met while waiting in line for the concert. As the light shone on his face, it dawned on her that Yun Woo was still quite young. "Honestly, I appreciated you talking to me. I'd never been to a concert up to that point." "I'm so glad that I was able to help in some way. I've actually been to quite a few." A concert hall was a familiar environment to her, and the Yun Woo she had seen back then had obviously not been used to being in one. If she had known that the young high school boy was Yun Woo, she wouldn't have been so brave as to strike up a conversation with him so seamlessly. If anything, she'd have frozen like she was in the present, "I'm not quite used to eating at a place like this," Yun Woo said, which the reader thought was directed at her. As she watched the young author looking around the interior of the restaurant, a question that she had been meaning to ask finally came to her. "Is this your first time here?" Which the young author answered calmly, "It is. I asked my editor-in-charge for some recommendations, and he brought up this restaurant. I gotta say, the food is quite good." "Right." The young author's considerate nature was more than enough to melt the heart of the reader. Unfortunately, she had no time to savor the food. With Yun Woo before her eyes, the taste was hardly a concern. Then… "Thank you," she said rigidly, and the young author waved his hand in denial. As his long fingers came into her view, it occurred to her that it was with that very hand that the young author wrote. "The pleasure's mine. Also, I apologize for not introducing myself properly and openly back then," Yun Woo said. "Oh! No, no!" Considering that Yun Woo had had to keep his identity hidden back then, it made sense to her that the young author had had to be so discreet. In her mind, the author didn't owe her an apology. At the same time, his humble and modest nature made him all the more likable. After that, the reader looked up to observe him some more. He was in the middle of eating. She looked attentively at her favorite author, from his eyes, which were looking down at the plate, to his lips, and his thick, dark eyebrows. His straight posture stood out. He gave an impression that he would naturally smell like paper and ink. She clasped her hands together as the desire to take pictures of him came rushing back. Although his pictures were no longer a rarity on the internet, that didn't make her any less willing. There was something special about Yun Woo. If she were to describe him as food, he would be similar to a stockpile of emergency rations: the bigger the pile, the more at peace one would feel. "Did you realize that I was talking about you when you saw the interview?" Yun Woo asked, looking at the reader. "I did. I remember writing a post on the fan cafe. I still remember it." She also remembered Dae Soo Na pointing to the young author in the audience as the concert had neared its end. She recalled having been quite suspicious back then. When she told the author how she had felt during that time, Yun Woo was impressed. "You're quite observant." Then, she felt all of her facial muscles moving up on their own, much like her mood. As an active member of the fan cafe, who uploaded at least three posts a day, her state of bliss was completely justified, and it was no longer possible for her to act normal while the person she had been writing about was sitting in front of her. But what about Yun Woo? This had to be his first time eating with an actual reader after revealing himself. Then, after glancing at him, the reader looked down. There was a question in her mind that she wasn't entirely comfortable asking. "Do you have something you wanna ask me?" Yun Woo asked. "I'm sorry?" "Please, feel free." The young author had an attitude that was consistent with the one he had had in the recent magazine interview. The celebrity author who had been interviewed by a renowned American magazine was sitting right in front of her. In the end, the question that had been lingering in the back of her throat came shooting out of her mouth. "How does it feel to meet with a reader?" At that, a gentle smile spread across his face. "It's confusing." Unfortunately, what came out of the young author's mouth wasn't exactly the sweetest sounding words. "How so?" she asked. "It's my first time. I'm delighted to be here, but I'm kind of nervous at the same time." "Nervous? I wouldn't have known if you hadn't told me." "I suppose that's a good thing." When she discovered that the author was actually nervous, she felt more at peace. Then, as she became more comfortable, the question she had been holding back came out involuntarily. "Would you mind showing me your hands?" "My hands?" "I'm curious about what your writing hands look like." "They're just as plain as everyone else's," the young author said, putting the knife down and putting one of his hands out. Although she reached for it with both of her hands, she didn't grab it. Instead, with her hands lingering around the young author's, she scanned through the hand she had been so curious about. With its long, bumpy fingers, it was a neat looking hand, and the young author had written a number of masterpieces that had brought him to the top with it. When she thought about that, the author's hand looked much more magnificent than any other hand she had come across up to that point. She felt an affection for him. She liked the young author in front of her. More precisely, she liked his writing. "Would you like to take a picture of my hand too?" Yun Woo asked. At that moment, a waiter, who was dressed in the traditional attire of white shirt and black pants, walked past their table, glancing at the young author and briefly locking eyes with the reader. When she saw that another person had recognized her eating, taking pictures, and talking to Yun Woo, she felt a sense of bliss and happiness wash over her. "Oh! I've been curious about the bird." "The bird, you say." "Yes. I've always wanted to know what it signified in your writing." Usually a significant being in his novels, the bird had always been closely associated with Yun Woo, and he had offered no explanation in any of the interviews he had been a part of, either. When she observed him, he was deep in thought. Then, his eyes narrowed shortly after. "I'm afraid I'll have to keep that a secret." "That's not surprising." "But if I were to tell you just a little bit," Yun Woo said, pausing briefly before adding, "There's a part of me that always wants to soar up to the sky." That was the reason for the bird to be included in most of his novels. It was ambiguous on one hand, but it somehow made sense on the other. The bird was a representation of Yun Woo. "Then why did you have the brother twist the bird by the neck and kill it in 'Trace of a Bird?'" Then, Yun Woo looked intently at her, and it occurred to her that she might have made a big mistake by asking that question. "That's a sharp question," he said. "You think so?" With that, Yun Woo looked to the side, into thin air, deep in thought. "That's a good question. Why do you think I killed it?" he asked. However, he didn't sound like he genuinely didn't know. It wasn't a difficult question by any means. In fact, it was so easy that a possible answer came to the reader's mind almost instantly. Ironically, Yun Woo wasn't big on coincidence. However, once the author brought up the answer, her doubt became fact. "You're a handsome man," the reader said in order to salvage the situation. Yun Woo seemed to be caught off guard by her remark, as if he had heard a word that he had never heard before. However, they weren't merely empty words. There were quite a few fans who thought he was handsome, and as an active member of the fan cafe, the reader would be able to testify to how her fellow members thought of the young author and his looks. "Beauty is very much subjective," Yun Woo said as he barely managed to think of an answer. Then, recognizing that the precarious atmosphere had passed, the reader asked another question in order to confirm that the young author was still open to answering more questions. "So, there's something else I've been really curious about." "OK." "I'm not sure if I can ask about something like this." "Ask away." At his answer, the reader felt relieved. Like most fans, there was a burning question on her mind. It was a topic that was bound to come up at the mention of the young author's name: The fate of the short stories. "It's about the short stories," she said, and Yun Woo nodded quietly, as if he had predicted she would ask about them. 'How old was he again?' she thought to herself, feeling less confident about the things she knew about the author. "Will you publish them at all?" she asked. "Would you like to see them published?" Yun Woo asked the obvious question, and the reader responded by nodding emphatically. "Yes. I'm dying to read them," she said, hoping that her eagerness would get across to the young author. However, unlike the reader, a peaceful smile appeared on Yun Woo's face. "So, I'm gonna tell you a little secret." "I'm listening," she said in anticipation for what he was about to say. Yun Woo had always been mindful of his readers' expectations. "They'll come out in the near future." And it was no different that time. The reader felt her heart jump. And being the tactful author that he was, having recognized that she wanted a confirmation, he explained it more to her in a friendly manner, "They'll get released, no matter what." Upon hearing the exciting news, she felt the sudden urge to scream with joy. "You're serious, right!?" "I wouldn't dare lie to my reader." "Would it be OK if I told other people?" After all, good news needed to be shared. "I'd prefer it stay a secret between us, but I don't think it'll change the world or anything if you were to spill the beans, either." Although it was an ambiguous answer, the reader was still ecstatic that Yun Woo was finally publishing the short stories, just like his readers wanted. Then, despite having decided to not let her emotions get the best of her, she said, "Honestly, I had really debated on whether or not I should take pictures of you back then." "Back then as in…?" "In the concert hall." "Ah," Yun Woo let out, indicating that he understood what she was referring to. As Yun Woo answered Dae Soo's questions, the reader couldn't help but think that the boy might be Yun Woo, and her intuition had led her to take her camera out. However, what had kept her from pressing the shutter release button had been the signs within the hall, which read: 'Photography Prohibited.' Although she had been fully aware that she shouldn't be taking pictures, her urges had been quite strong. In the end… "So, I ended up putting it back in my bag," she said, wearing a candid smile for the first time, adding, "In hindsight, I think I did the right thing." Because she hadn't given in to her urge, she had been able to meet her favorite author at the restaurant. If she were to have given in to her desire and taken pictures of the young author, she wouldn't have been able to come out to meet him. She would have been known as a reader with no regards for rules by her favorite author, and it wouldn't have been long until the news had gotten out that she hadn't abided by the rules. "Also, I think meeting you without knowing who you were was for the better." "Why is that?" "Because if I had known who you were, I would have been way too nervous to even say a word, frozen, kind of like how I've been today. You wouldn't have remembered my challenging spirit either," she said, adding shortly after, "and I'm genuinely happy that you took your time with your decision to publish those short stories. Thanks to you, I have the privilege of being the first fan to know." Although she was fully aware of how selfish that sounded, she wanted to remind the young author that there were readers who found delight and joy in his decision. Then, with an ambiguous look on his face, Yun Woo said, "Right," clasping his hands together and rubbing them. The seemingly strange behavior continued throughout the meal. Scratching and pinching, the young author behaved as if his hands itched unbearably, all the while with a peaceful look on his face. However, when she decided that it was time to take pictures of the author, his behavior was no longer of concern. She was also preoccupied with thoughts of getting the best photo possible. With that, she took her camera out of her bag. "I recognize that camera," Yun Woo said. To which, she replied, "I made sure to bring this one." Standing shoulder to shoulder with Yun Woo, the shutter sounded from the camera. "Oh, no! I blinked!" she said. From then on, they took a few more pictures together, and needless to say, the first thing she did after returning from the glorious meeting with her favorite author was to write a post on the fan cafe. --- "I took pictures with Yun Woo! Picture included. A gift from Yun Woo." 'Hello! Yes, I am that person you're thinking of, the one who ran into Yun Woo by coincidence. Well, let me tell you, today was anything but coincidental because I met with him. For those who might not be aware, although you'll know what I'm about to tell you immediately if you've read the recent magazine interview, Yun Woo shared an anecdote in his most recent interview: that he had attended the book concert as a member of the audience. Shocking, I know. And I happened to have talked to him while waiting in line for the concert, all without even knowing he was Yun Woo. Anyway, as you've probably figured out from the title, we had a nice conversation over a delicious meal in a high-end restaurant in Cheongdam-Dong followed by a brief photo session. Unfortunately, I don't have a whole lot to say about the food since I was too nervous to even taste what I was eating. 'First of all, I'm sure most of you are curious about what the experience was like. At first, I was so nervous that I couldn't say a word to him, like a fan meeting their favorite celebrity. Not only did I get a closer look at his writing hand to my heart's content, but I also took pictures of it. He was very open to answering my questions, but I don't think I even went through to a tenth of the number of questions I was meaning to ask him. I guess there's nothing really I could've done to change that, and thinking about that honestly makes me a little sad. But that isn't to say that I came back empty-handed. First, he sent me a copy of each and every one of his books up to this point by mail the next day, including the ones I haven't gotten to read yet. Crazy, right? But that's not even the best part. If you're still reading, I want you to pay very close attention to what I'm about to tell you. I'm only sharing this because I got the OK from Yun Woo personally. Still with me? Good. Then, let me ask you this. What's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of the name Yun Woo? Personally, I think it's his unreleased short stories. A lot of people have been wanting to get there hands on them, myself included. Now, do you see where I'm going with this? That's right. I heard confirmation from the author himself, in person. If I were to describe the situation… Tell you what, I'll just cut to the chase and quote what he said, word for word. '"They'll get released, no matter what." 'All right! How's that for good news? I'm sure you're all doing this already, but let's all take a moment and shout with joy. Let the world know just how happy we are.'

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho woke up just at the tail end of the morning. The house was quiet, and it remained that way as long as the owner of the house stayed quiet. Yet, the house wasn't exactly silent due to the noises that came from both inside and outside, from his toothbrush, which made noise as he brushed his teeth, to the refrigerator, and the cars outside. As the young author sat on top of his sheets, they also made a noise. Then, he went back to the bathroom in order to rinse out his mouth. That day, he was paying close attention to every little task he was doing, which he would hardly have paid attention to normally. He had to write a story in order to introduce the two short stories to the world and he wanted the new story to be something purer and more cheerful than what he usually wrote. "I better eat something," the young author said. After a quick meal, he opened the refrigerator in search of water and saw the leftover beer from the time when he had his clubmates over. Needless to say, a thought crossed his mind: 'Maybe I'll think of something after a drink or two.' Then, the sound of the refrigerator slamming shut reverberated through the house shortly after. After meeting with a certain reader, Juho had decided on the direction the story would take. The reader's remark about the young author taking his time deciding to publish his short stories had been lingering in his mind, and in response, Juho wanted to write something that would be worth the wait to his readers. Frankly, on the day he had met with the reader, he had wanted to run out of the restaurant in the middle of the meal in order to come home and write. The itch on his hand had nearly gotten out of control. Upon arriving home, Juho wrote away frantically and discovered that the story still wasn't quite good enough. The stacks of manuscript paper on his desk were proof of that realization. One story was about dropping out of school. Another was about beautiful, daily life at school. And finally, one was about the chaos of a student's confusion upon finding out that the had been in the wrong classroom the entire day. Every single one of them was subpar. Juho paced back and forth around the house, cleaning and ventilating the house while he was at it. He also hung the laundry and finished doing the dishes. As the house became more organized, so did his thoughts. His patience started to grow thin. In the end, he sat in front of his computer and logged on the internet for some news. From the hottest topics to the biggest controversies, politicians targeted by critics, and weather, a slew of information appeared on the monitor. At that moment, the name Yun Woo jumped out at the young author. Yun Woo's decision to publish the short stories had already become widespread news, and the reader's post on the fan cafe, of which she was part, was spreading across the internet like wildfire, including the news about the short stories. As the fans grew incredibly excited, the media outlets started putting out articles that would hype up the news even more. Despite the obvious and shallow intentions of the media, people still fell for their strategy. However, Juho still couldn't find what he was looking for, even in the midst of the chaos. At that moment, a movie review caught the young author's attention. It seemed like Myung Joo Mu, with whom Juho was acquainted, was in the movie. Although the movie seemed well received by the general public, there were a handful of people who criticized the movie, as well as those who defended it. How people were able to take something as simple as a movie and to turn it into a complex debate was beyond the young author. 'It's been a while since I've watched a movie. Maybe I should go watch one sometime,' Juho thought to himself. However, he knew full well that he would most likely not be able to carry it out. "The Sun's already setting," he let out. By the time he finished the movie, Juho realized just how much time had passed. It was starting to get dark out. Then, after standing in a daze for a little while, he picked up a pen and started to write, still not entirely sure of what he was writing. Brushing his teeth. Alcohol. Politicians. Sunset. An actor. Nothing interesting came out. By the time he finished writing, it was completely dark out. Just like that, after even more time had passed, a noise started echoing through the house all of a sudden. It sounded like something was shaking. It was his phone, which was vibrating, letting its owner know that Dae Soo was calling. "Hi." "We need to have an outing again," she said, getting right to the point. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough context for the young author to understand. "What outing?" "OUR outing!" "Oh, right." "I think it's about that time. We need to hang out. We've all been very busy." "I guess that's true." There were a handful of authors who Juho hadn't seen in a while, and as the leader of the club, it made sense that Dae Soo was trying to organize another outing. "So, when is this gonna be?" "We're still figuring it out. When are you free?" "Anytime. My schedule's been pretty flexible lately," Juho said. "Perfect," Dae Soo said as if glad to hear that. "Anybody who can't make it?" "San Jung probably can't. She's in Taiwan." San Jung had flown to Taiwan in order to gather more data for her next book. Once she finished collecting all the information she needed, she would probably start writing immediately. Slowly and unhurriedly, one word at a time. Her absence meant that her studio in the mountains had been left unoccupied, which made Juho wonder if the mountains were at all affected by the absence of the author. "Eh, it's not a big deal. It's not easy to have everyone come out," Dae Soo said. "That's a bummer." "Oh, well. Makes planning easier on my end," she said, adding, "Choi's been acting like he's busy too. He's writing, apparently." She still refused to call the romance author by his full name. Having been at the scene while Choi asked San Jung for information when they were at her studio, Juho thought it made sense that he would be busy by now. "From what I heard, the two pupils have been spending most of their time in their studios as well. Eh, I don't know," she said as if they were bothersome to her. "I guess it's turning out to be a bit of a challenge, huh?" "There are still people who come out more consistently though. Well, anyway, I'll just assume that you're coming out then," she said. "Sounds good." With that, he hung up and, later, received a text from Dae Soo about the date, time, and place of the outing. It was going to be on a weekend, and as usual, they were meeting at Madame Song's restaurant. "Been a while since I've gone," he said, looking forward to the outing. --- "Get in," the driver in the car told Juho, who was staring at the wall, still mapping out his story. As the window slid down halfway, Dae Soo's face appeared on the other side. "It's Yun Woo!" Mideum said from the back seat, and he greeted them as he got into the passenger's seat of the car, "Long time no see." "What's with the hat and sunglasses?" Mideum asked, pointing at the young author's face and chuckling. Then, taking his hat off, Juho said, "It was kind of bright out today. Besides, there are still a lot of people who don't recognize me." "Yeah, right," Mideum said. Seeing that she wasn't buying his answer, Juho explained further in order to build up trust with her, "I don't wear them when I go out to exercise." "Really? Do you put makeup on instead?" she asked, putting a different twist to the answer, just like a detective writer. However, the trick was much simpler than that. "No. I just keep running," the young author answered, As long as he kept running, others around him wouldn't recognize him, just like how he wouldn't recognize them. He had never been stopped while in his everyday run. "So, you just keep running, huh? What about traffic lights?" "I usually stop where there are no people around. I've never been caught while waiting for the light… so far." "Huh!" While the two conversed, the car took off. Then, looking at the young author's house fading into the distance, Mideum said, "How's it having your own place?" "Nothing all that special." "Do you keep your house clean and tidy? You're not living in a pigsty, are you?" "I can confidently say that I live in a civilized home after all the cleaning I did a few days back," Juho said, remembering all the cleaning he had done while mapping out the new story. Of course, not knowing what the young author was really talking about, Mideum exclaimed quietly, impressed. Then, Dae Soo asked, "You don't have a pool table sitting in your house, do you?" "I'd never do anything like that. You can rest assured." "I'm telling you, he really needs to work on that spending habit of his," she said. "But we get to play pool for free because of that," Juho said. "Sure, but that's the only good thing about having a pool table, though," she said. Although Dae Soo had some harsh things to say about Seo Joong and his spending habit, nobody dared object. "Well, what did you do when you became an adult? Did you drink?" Mideum said in order to change the subject. "I did, with my friends," Juho said and told the two authors a brief summary of that day he drank with his clubmates at his home. "Man, I remember when I was twenty years old." "That sounds like youth, all right." "Speaking of which, I can go for a drink or two. Dae Soo, what do you say?" Mideum asked. She was quite the drinker. "You make it sound like you can keep yourself under control," Dae Soo said, snorting. "Juho, you're drinking with us, all right?" she said in an excited tone. Meanwhile, the young author was looking out the window, looking at the scenery rushing past, thinking of how uncannily similar it was to how things looked to someone drunk. "Sorry, I'm not really feelin' it today." "Eh?" "I didn't really like the taste of alcohol all that much." "What!?" Mideum let out with her jaw dropped. On the other hand, Dae Soo remained unfazed and said, "That's natural. You wonder why people even drink in the first place, you know." "Yeah. You need experience." At that, Dae Soo gave the detective writer a subtle warning, "Don't even think about forcing him to drink." "... of course. That goes without saying." The car zoomed through the road, as if representing Dae Soo's unforgiving point of view on alcohol. Arriving at Madame Song's restaurant in a car was quite a different experience. Similarly, depending on how one decided to go about getting to their destination, it was possible for them to have different experiences getting there. "We're here." "It seems like people got here early." After getting out of the car, the three were greeted by the mirrors on the wall, with which they were all familiar. Then, led by the waitress, they arrived at a room that was slightly smaller than the one they had been in during their previous visit. However, it was still bigger than the one Juho had been in with Hyun Do. "Hey!" Seo Joong greeted them, waving his hand and wearing his trademark sweatshirt and pants. Next to him, was Dong Gil, who gave them a nod with a cold expression on his face. "Hey," Dae Soo greeted back, seating in front of the round table. The seat facing her was yet to be taken. "Weren't you busy?" Seo Joong asked while Juho was preoccupied looking at the patterns of the wallpaper. His scrubby chin told the young author that he hadn't shaved on his way out. "Not really, no." "It seemed like you were when I read about you on the internet." "There's a bit of a time difference between here and the US. I was pretty busy at one point." "Pff! You sound like an old man already. I think that what you're trying to say is that you're ABOUT TO get even busier," Seo Joong said, laughing flippantly. Just as he had said, Juho was about to get a lot busier with writing. "What have you been up to these days?" "I watched a movie." "With friends?" "No, on my own," Juho said and gave Seo Joong a brief summary of the movie. Although he seemed to recognize the name of the movie, he didn't seem all that interested. "Oh, man! We're not late, are we?" At that, Juho turned around to look to where the voice was coming from and saw two more people walking into the room, the two pupils. After Joon Soo came into the room, Geun Woo followed him shortly after, and when they took their seats, the table became fully occupied at once. "Is this everyone?" Dae Soo murmured. At that, Juho looked around. From Seo Joong, who looked like a local bum, to Dong Gil, who looked like an officer of some conglomerate. Joon Soo, who looked happy by default, and Geun Woo, who looked naturally sad. Dae Soo, the leader of the club, and finally, Mideum, the drunk. "This is a lot more people than I thought," Geun Woo said from the seat right across from Juho. There were deep, dark circles underneath his eyes, which only made him look even sadder. Then, as the food arrived, the outing officially began. "Good to see you all," Joon Soo said in a friendly tone. Unlike Geun Woo, he was always smiling. Juho saw him tap his glass with his finger three times. He tended to obsess over the number three. "Whew! That's the stuff!" "Go easy on the alcohol, now." As Mideum started drinking without hesitation, Dong Gil talked to her in order to prevent her from drinking too fast. As usual of him, he was cautious even while he was eating, making sure not to let the food stain his clothes. "Eh, let her be. She'll take care of herself." Meanwhile, Seo Joong was picking up the pieces of meat that had fallen out of his plate with his chopsticks. "I'm just reminding you to slow down a little, that's all." "So what if I'm drinking a little faster?" "Excessive drinking ruins your health." "So what if it ruins my health?" At that, Dong Gil's face quickly twisted into a scowl. Because they were both equally stubborn, they tended to clash over the smallest things. It was very much a possibility that about half of their conversations took place in the form of an argument. "All right, guys. Break it up," Joon Soo said, raising his hand. By contrast, Dae Soo, who was the oldest in the group, didn't even bother to break up the two. Remaining unfazed, as if he was used to Joon Soo's mediation attempts, Geun Woo struck up a conversation with Juho, "I read your interview."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Did you?" Juho asked. "I did. You're a good speaker," Geun Woo said, complimenting Juho. "They must've edited the article so that it looked like I knew what I was talking about," Juho said, waving his hand in denial. "But you did just as well on TV, and I'm sure they edited the video too," Geun Woo said, taking a sip of his beer. "That is true." Whenever Juho looked at Geun Woo's eyes, his dark circles became visible, and that was proving to be quite distracting. Geun Woo had made a successful debut, and he had been working incredibly hard in order to keep that success from marking the end of his writing career. 'I wonder what he thinks of me?' Juho thought to himself. "Maybe I should try this whole anonymous-author thing." "What?" Juho let out by reflex, but realized that Geun Woo wasn't serious shortly after. If he had actually meant it, then he wouldn't have brought it up in an occasion like that. "I just thought that some unknown writing style hidden deep within my conscience might come to life if I mimic everything you do." Although Juho was about to say flat out that that would never happen, he remembered that there existed someone who had come back from the dead. Then, after some thought, the young author answered, "I suppose it's not entirely absurd." "Right?" Geun Woo said light-heartedly. "It might not be some hidden writing style that comes to life, but you just might discover your hidden potential." "... You know, I brought it up as a joke, but I'm not gonna lie, this is actually starting to sound pretty tempting." At that moment, a loud burst of laughter cut their conversation short, and Dae Soo asked Geun Woo, "Do you wanna be like Yun Woo?" "I wanna be popular," Geun Woo told her exactly what he wanted. "Me too," Dae Soo said, agreeing with him shortly after. Then, as both corners of his mouth turned down, he said, "But you already are." "Sure," she said. "But in that case, you're a lot more popular than you think. Compared to some aspiring writers who haven't even debuted yet, you're practically a star." "You got me there," Geun Woo said, looking down and admitting it with a sigh. "Pff! Somebody got in trouble," Seo Joong said, taking the opportunity to let his mouth run. At which, Geun Woo objected impatiently, "Nobody's in trouble! We were just talking!" However, there wasn't much confidence in his voice. Patting him on the shoulder, Mideum chimed in to comfort him, "I get where you're coming from though. I mean, Yun Woo's doing really well." Then, Joon Soo asked in his distinctively gentle tone of voice, "The interview's been a major boost, huh?" "Thankfully." "You know, I'd pay to see Yun Woo getting taken down the bestsellers' list," Seo Joong interjected, resting his face on his hand with his elbow on the table. "I mean, how many of your books are in the list? I swear, prolific writers." "It's commendable if you ask me," Dong Gil said, cutting Seo Joong off and looking at the young author. Then, giving his friend a judgemental look for his flippant attitude, Dong Gil added, "It means that his books are superb in both quantity and quality. It's definitely not an easy achievement. Yun Woo's a talented author." Contrary to what Dong Gil thought of Seo Joong, Seo Joong thought that Dong Gil was way too serious for his own good. "Well, I wouldn't say that I'm the only one doing well. Joon Soo here released a poetry compilation, and it's become a bestseller." "All thanks to the media." After Joon Soo's poems were quoted in a drama, his poetry compilation was growing increasingly popular. Similarly, other authors were on the rise. Mideum recently had a signing event in Japan, while Dae Soo had organized a guerilla event at a neighborhood bookstore. She was either one of the backbones of Korean literature or she was on her way to becoming one in the near future. Most people in the room had authored books that sold steadily. "And then, Yun Woo reveals himself to the public," Dae Soo said playfully. "And of course, that means we're all in trouble," Seo Joong said. Then, being the mischievous person that he was, Seo Joong looked around the room as he became the center of attention. Seeing how Dong Gil was quietly eating his food, he gave Geun Woo a subtle look. At which point, he smiled and told Juho, "Everyone around me has been bothering me to get them a copy of the magazine." At his genuine congratulations, Juho felt something bitter in his mouth. "C'mon, don't be so modest now. You know you're the best, huh?" Mideum asked. His fellow authors wanted to know what the young author was thinking. Maybe it was more accurate to say that they wanted to see him drunk with fame. Although he swayed left and right due to the influence of the authors around him, the genius tended to shine brightest when it came to novels. "I wouldn't dare call myself that," Juho said, clasping his hands politely as a subtle gesture that told them that he wasn't going to give in to their pressure. "I swear, he sounds like an old man. No. Fun." "You mean mature? Unlike somebody I know?" Dong Gil said. Of course, Seo Joong paid no attention to it. "Why didn't you talk about me in the interview?" Mideum asked, wiping the beer from her mouth. To which, the young author answered with a shrug, "There just wasn't a right time." "You mentioned 'River,' and the book concert, didn't you?" "Well, what would you have liked for me to say?" "Oh, I don't know. Something along the lines of: 'There's this fellow author of mine by the name of Mideum Choo, and she's an incredible detective novel writer,'" Mideum said in a low voice, as if mimicking the young author. "Just think about how massive of an advertisement it would've been! Yet, you only brought up Choi." "I had to be mindful of the flow of the interview," Juho said. "A flow is created, my young friend." "I'm sorry. I'm just not all that used to being part of an interview." "Yeah, right. I saw you on TV!" Then, Joon Soo said as he handed some tissue over to Mideum, "It is true that Sang's been drawing more attention, though." Juho, too, had been aware of people's heightened interest in the romance writer who had drawn his first love out of him. If he'd been present, he wouldn't have been afraid to show himself off. Meanwhile, shredding the tissue she had taken from Joon Soo into tiny pieces, Mideum seemed like she wasn't ready to let the young author off the hook any time soon. "Why did you move on so quickly, though? You should've talked about the book concert some more." "I can't really remember." "Yeah, right," she said, chugging the remaining beer in her glass. "I'll take another glass!" Despite the amount of beer she had been drinking, there was not a tinge of red on her face. It was truly impressive. Then, seeing as though Juho hadn't touched his first glass of beer, she said, "You're an adult now. Try it." His fellow authors had ordered the young author a glass of beer in order to celebrate him becoming an adult. However, Juho hadn't even touched it. Perplexed, Seo Joong asked, "I noticed that you haven't even looked at it. Why aren't you drinking it?" At that, Mideum answered on Juho's behalf, "He says he doesn't like the taste." "A-ha," Seo Joon let out, nodding and looking at Juho as if looking at a child. "Well, give it try. Atmosphere is a big part of the drinking experience. It just might taste better than you remember," Seo Joong said, subtly tempting the young author. Mideum weighed in with him, "Yeah! You said you drank with your friends, didn't you?" Drink with us!" "Sorry. Not today." "Why!?" Unfortunately, Juho wasn't planning on drinking that day or the day after that. In fact, he intended on not drinking for a while. Looking at his cup filled with beer, he explained, "I have a story to write." "Eh?" Mideum let out, taken aback by Juho's answer. When Juho looked up, she was looking at him with a perplexed expression on her face. "What story?" Joon Soo asked. The fellow authors had to be aware of the short stories being published in the near future. "The one that will come out with the short stories. You see, the short stories are not long enough on their own." "I see. So, that's how things worked out." "So, Yun Woo's at it again, huh?" The fellow authors grasped the situation with the little information they had been given. Then, the air sank into silence as the authors each retreated into their respective minds. The first one to break the silence was Geun Woo. "Haven't you put us through enough trouble already?" he asked. Contrary how harsh the words had sounded, he had an unusually cheerful smile on his face. "You tryin' to take over the world or somethin'?" he said. Despite the dark circles underneath his eyes, Geun Woo looked genuinely happy to hear that the young author was writing again. "When is it coming out?" "... Once I write it probably." "Do you ever take a break?" he asked, which was ironic when compared to the exhausted look on his face. After a brief pause, Juho answered, "Honestly, I've been struggling to think of the details for the story. Maybe I really should take some time off." "Hey, man! I never said that you should take a break now. You gotta keep the promise you made with your readers. That's what a professional does," Geun Woo said. "I didn't know you wanted to read my short stories that badly." "I wanna read every single piece you've ever written." "..." "Was that a little too far?" "No, I appreciate your enthusiasm," Juho said in order to keep Geun Woo from regretting his statement, and the rest of the authors exploded into laughter. "We have a mega fan over here," Dae Soo said, still smiling. Then, embarrassed by his fellow author's reactions, Geun Woo said, "I mean, I can't be the only person who feels that way, right? Yun Woo writes some good stuff." "Yep. No doubt." "What's with that tone…? You're being sarcastic, aren't you?" "Puahaha!" Having become a punching bag of his fellow authors, Geun Woo had to withstand them poking fun at him. Meanwhile, Juho looked intently at him, wondering if he had been sincere about what he had said. He didn't seem to be lying. In fact, Juho wanted to hear more from him. At that moment, Joon Soo struck up a conversation with the young author, saying, "Your readers must be ecstatic." "I sure hope so," Juho said, looking toward him. "So, what are those short stories like?" "They're entirely different from the books I've written up to this point." The short stories had nothing in common with Yun Woo's writing, to which his fellow authors were used. They were not at all like what they were thinking, and it was very much possible that they would be disappointed by them. "What about the new one you've been working on?" Joon Soo asked, flicking his cup with his finger. "Also different from what I've written up to this point." "You know, I understand where Geun Woo is coming from. I really do," Joon Soo said, leaning back against the backrest of his chair. "Seems like this piece will show just how versatile you are as a writer." Juho agreed silently, reminding himself that he was writing something within his capabilities and that he was capable of writing something entirely different from what his readers and fellow authors were used to. Then, Dong Gil said, "But you're stuck." Smiling at his straightforward remark, Juho said, "I'm still working on it, but I seem to have some trouble figuring out the main plot." "Sounds to me like you already have a direction in mind," Dong Gil said, pointing out the young author's progress precisely, and Juho decided to give his fellow authors a small hint about the story, "I wanted to write a story that takes place at school." From that small piece of information, Joon Soo and Dong GIl understood where Juho was coming from almost instantly. "Authors tend to want to write about places they have left behind." "I don't know if it's because it's gonna be released with the short stories, but there's something really special about the setting," Joon Soo said. Just like he had said, the timing was working out to the young author's favor. "I felt like writing something a little more cheerful this time." "You mean like 'Trace of a Bird?'" "Even more than that." Although a seemingly brighter piece in comparison to Yun Woo's other novels, 'Trace of a Bird' still had some serious elements that were integral to the story. However, what Juho was after this time was happiness and humor. "Although, things could always change as I write." "Is it gonna be about some funny events that happen at school?" Mideum asked, summarizing all the information up to that point. "Or it could be about the Literature Club?" Dong Gil said. He tended to infuse his own experience into his novel. "I did think about that." "But it's not what you had it mind." "Right." Then, Dae Soo narrowed her eyes and stared into the air, saying, "High school, huh? Feels like it was ages ago." "Really? I still feel like I graduated yesterday," Seo Joong said, tilting his head. "That's because you're always hanging out with your high school buddy." Seo Joong and Dong Gil's friendship went back to their childhood, and it included their teenage years. "Yeah, well, neither of us changed all that much from the time when we were in school. I guess you can say that most of my memories from when I was a student are intact," Seo Joong said calmly, and Dong Gil clicked his tongue irritably. Then, Joon Soo chimed in, "A school is a place for growth and learning. It's also a scaled-down version of our society, and there's a definite hierarchy that exists within the system. Although, it's sad that our educational system is often viewed negatively." "There's no freedom, that's for sure," Geun Woo added quietly. It became apparent to Juho just how much everyone was looking forward to Yun Woo's new story and how it would unfold.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "It is true that our education system is flawed to say the least, which also means it's that easy to take a cynical point of view. Not to mention, being cynical can be fun at times." "That would be humorous, I suppose," Dong Gil said, immersing himself in deep thought despite the light-hearted nature of Dae Soo's remark. The rest of the group joined in. "If it were up to me, I'd focus on the aspect of growth. I mean, it's at a school of all places, right?" Seo Joong said. As an author, he excelled in writing stories about personal growth. "Wouldn't that be too predictable, though?" Mideum asked. "You can always make it less predictable." "How?" "Man, are you really making me do this right now?" Seo Joong said, looking like he was bothered by the unexpected challenge. Nevertheless, he put his brain to work, "Let's see… I'm thinking something along the lines of a student movement, or the youth growing and maturing as they fight against the adult authority." At that, Mideum chuckled quietly and said, "What about a homicide?" "In a school? Isn't that a little too extreme for a place full of kids?" "You know what? I was reading about some shooting incidents yesterday. Those were pretty scary." Mideum shrugged it off, and Geun Woo timidly weighed in on the detective writer's opinion, "School is a depressing place. Kids there are old enough to think for themselves, yet they're not given the right to speak their minds when they're already dealing with their studies, the competitions with their classmates and the social framework within the school. The adults are taking extreme measures of precaution because there is potential for extreme problems, from victims of a rescue attempt gone wrong, to youths struggling to adapt. Although I wouldn't go as far as a homicide, I'd definitely go in that direction." "I think romance is also a good option. I was in high school when I fell in love with someone for the first time," Joon Soo said, reminiscing to the young romance that took place at schools everywhere. Dae Soo raised her hand to speak, "In that case, I'd rather write about the teachers. A story about the adults in a school dominated by kids." Although Juho was the one who had to write the story, his fellow authors seemed to be having more fun discussing topics among themselves. As Juho watched them, Joon Soo asked, "Well? Anything that catches your interest?" "No," Juho said briefly, and Joon Soo smiled all the more innocently. At that moment, Mideum asked, "Since the story's taking place at a school, that would mean the characters are gonna be students too, right?" "I haven't decided yet," Juho answered. Since he had yet to figure out the main plot, the story kept changing its shape depending on the thoughts that occurred in the young author's mind. Nothing was set in stone. In fact, the only thing he knew for certain was that his desire to write a bright, cheerful story that took place at a school. A delayed event yielding a positive result. The young author had no idea of what the story would look like in the end. Then, as Juho fell deep in thought about how to go about portraying the picture he had in mind, Dae Soo said, "Tell you what, why don't you try looking outside of the ideas that came up here? You already know that you can only write a different story when you're able to look at the same object from different angles. If you're Yun Woo, then you need to have a perspective that's unique to Yun Woo. Am I right?" "Isn't that obvious, Dae Soo?" Seo Joong said, only to be ignored by her. The rest of the authors agreed quietly. Raising her glass, Mideum said, "I think it'd help to visit that fantasy land of yours, don't you think?" and guzzled down on her beer. "What kind of fantasy land are you tryin' to get to?" Dae Soo asked. "What can I say? I just like the taste of alcohol," Mideum said. Being the impatient person that she was, she turned to Juho and said, "C'mon, just try a sip. It won't affect your writing process by any means." "This must be what it's like to be tempted by the devil." "Hey, who are you callin' the devil!? I'm just tryin' to teach you some basic drinking etiquette, that's all!" At that, Juho chuckled quietly and slipped his fingers through the opening of the mug's handle. Then, taking the hefty mug, he slowly brought it up to his face as his fellow authors pretended not to look. Juho thought back to all of the ideas that had come up that day. At the hands of their respective authors, each and every one of them would have become an excellent book. However, none of them were even remotely close to what Juho was looking for. In fact, he preferred something of his own, which none of his fellow authors had thought of, something only he could write. As the beer touched his lips, he felt a stinging sensation in his head. Then, seeing the young author had stopped drinking, Mideum asked, "What's the matter? Do you not like it?" "He didn't drink any," Dong Gil said quietly. Feeling the whiff of alcohol from the beer filling up his nose, the young author put the mug down slowly. "An older student." Juho had been wanting to write a story that took place at a school. However, he didn't want it to have anything to do with the Literature Club, homicide, depression, adult life, or pure, innocent romance. Taking the words that were about to jump out of his mouth, he kept them in his heart. Looking at the chalkboard from his desk, there was a student who seemed old enough to be the teacher standing behind the podium sitting among their younger peers. Despite their age, the older student remained in their seat, unfazed. It was a representation of the young author, himself: an old man hiding in the shell of a much younger man, which wouldn't be necessary within the novel. A story about a student who was significantly older than their peers. Then, the voice of an unknown source came toward the student, who was not young by any means. The student had experienced the cruel nature of the world they were living in. Not only had they lost much, but they had also given up on much. They had been betrayed and been victim to various incidents. They had hurt others and caused trouble in people's lives. However, the student had never gone to jail for their deeds. Although they put in the efforts to lead a righteous life, the student had no intention of being a pushover or an innocent lamb. 'What would it look like for someone like that to be in school? It'd be interesting if it creates an opportunity for the student and their peers to question each others' identities,' Juho thought. "Ah! See? Look at his face lighting up!" Dae Soo said, smiling. As the long-sought clue finally came into his hands, Juho couldn't keep himself from smiling. Although he had tried to hide it from his fellow authors, it was too late. "That's the best part of being a writer," somebody said, and everyone else agreed. As authors, they all knew exactly what Juho had experienced. Every author was bound to go through it some point. Then, a voice yelled at the young author, "Well? What the heck are you waiting for? Jot it down somewhere! Don't be kicking yourself for not remembering it later!" "Yeah! Get that notepad out!" "Don't mind if I do," Juho said, reaching into his pocket without hesitation. As he made the breakthrough, an array of ideas started coming to him. The setting didn't necessarily have to be a high school. In fact, middle school, university, and even elementary school were all viable options. At that point, the question that naturally rose to his mind was: 'Why was the student going to school at such a late age?' "Man, look at you!" Geun Woo said. With his eyes fixed on the notepad, Juho answered, "I just couldn't bear to disappoint you." He noticed Geun Woo wincing at his unexpected answer. Seeing as though he wasn't saying anything, he had to be regretting having said what he had said. After writing to his heart's content, Juho exhaled quietly. And when he looked up, the beer mug came into view. "Have yourself a drink if you're done," Seo Joon said, smiling cheerfully. As Juho closed the notepad and put it back into his pocket, it occurred to him just how thirsty he was. When he touched the surface of the mug, he felt the pleasant coldness on his fingertips, cooling them after having written with intense concentration. The liquid bubbling within the clear mug couldn't look more refreshing. However, Juho knew better than to drink it. Once alcohol entered the body, it tended to heat up one's stomach, causing them to be more emotional, tipping the balance between emotion and logic. Then, picking up the mug, Juho got a whiff of the beer and said, "I think I'll pass," and put the mug down on the table. "I'll probably end up writing tonight, so I gotta stay sober." At that, some authors at the table clicked their tongues in disappointment, while others cheered the young author on for his wise decision. Although the reactions seemed to be contradictory, they were both sincere and playful. --- Wrapping up their meal, the authors greeted Madame Song briefly on their way out and lingered in front of the restaurant, talking. Then, Mideum, who was in high spirits, suggested in a loud voice, "Round two, anybody?" "You're on!" "No, thanks." The reactions were polarizing. While Seo Joong and Dae Soo were enthusiastic about the idea, neither Dong Gil nor Geun Woo seemed to find it appealing. Meanwhile, Joon Soo and Juho smiled quietly, without saying a word. "Let's go somewhere close by. Besides, Juho can legally drink now," Mideum said. "But he doesn't drink." "Well, let's take him anyway." Although Mideum appeared to be drunk, she was behaving just like her usual self. Her actual tolerance might be a mystery, but what was clear was that she would have to drink twice the amount she had drunk up to that point. "I do feel like staying out longer and hanging out though," Dae Soo murmured, thinking back to all the effort that had gone into bringing everyone together. Meanwhile, Seo Joong behaved as if enjoying the occasion was the wiser choice. "It's not good to get drunk," Dong Gil said in a strict tone, as if bothered by the fact that his fellow authors were going to yet another place, to drink even more. It wouldn't be a surprise to see drinking as the second entry on his list of things he clearly disliked. "I'm kind of tired, actually," Geun woo said, agreeing with Dong Gil and sounding unmistakably tired. At that, Juho quietly walked over to Geun Woo and stood behind him. "Why don't we vote on it?" Joon Soo said, stepping in to mediate. The group seemed to be split quite evenly into opposing opinions. "Shouldn't you start thinking about your health at your age, Dae Soo? You too, Seo Joong. We're not young anymore." "What are you talking about? I'll always live as a boy." "Don't be stupid now. We have to learn to age gracefully. And to be frank, I think you're too lax in that regard." "He has a point," Dae Soo said in agreement with Dong Gil, and Seo Joong looked at her as if he had been betrayed. Then, Mideum took the opportunity to make a suggestion, "Well, why don't we discuss it at a nearby bar?" However, her fellow authors knew better. As Geun Woo yawned, looking obviously tired, Juho asked, "You've been working on something, haven't you?" "Ah! You scared me!" Geun Woo said, turning toward the young author. Paying no attention to how startled he was, Juho repeated the question, and the dark circles underneath Geun Woo's eyes shone blue under the streetlight. "So, what have you been working on?" "... Something. I've been working on it for a while now. It's gone through a number of revisions too." "And the one about me?" "... You know. Not everyone's capable of writing as fast as you." At that, Juho chuckled as he was reminded that they had been in a similar situation when Geun Woo first told the young author that he had been writing about Juho. "I figure you're making good progress lately? You see me a lot on the internet these days." "Yeah. No matter where I turn. Internet, TV, you name it. I've been making a lot of changes too." Seeing that Geun Woo wasn't getting into details, Juho also asked no further. Besides, who would be able to read a piece that its author refused to talk about? "Well, break a leg. Get it done ASAP." "That's not entirely up to me, I'm afraid." Geun Woo chuckled as an ambiguous look appeared on his face, as if he knew that the young author was fully capable of completing his task. With that, the air sank into an awkward silence between them. It was a scenario likely occur between an author who had made a successful debut, yet had a ways to go, and a young author who had already reached the top. "Did I ever tell you?" "What?" "I really enjoyed 'An Insect Leaves No Trace,'" Geun Woo said with his distinctively sad expression on his face. Not only was it out of nowhere, but Juho didn't recall ever hearing that from him. Nevertheless, he looked at Geun Woo and thanked him, saying, "I appreciate that." Then, smiling a smile that looked more like he was weeping, Geun Woo said, "I haven't forgotten." "About?" "You gathering my manuscript for me." Because Juho couldn't think of an answer, he had to resort to something unstylish like, "Me neither." Nevertheless, it was the truth. The young author remembered their first encounter to that day. The scene of the white sheets of manuscript paper falling from the sky had been quite beautiful. "Must be nice being so popular," Geun Woo said, still looking sad. However, he didn't necessarily sound angry. Neither was he moaning, nor blaming himself or others.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "We all gotta take good care of our health," Joon Soo said amid the group of authors discussing the subject. Meanwhile, the debate on whether or not they should go somewhere else for a second round was still ongoing. They were all quite tenacious. And, as her patience grew thin, Mideum dragged Juho into the discussion, asking, "Hey, are YOU coming?" Although he wanted to spend time with his fellow authors, whom he was seeing for the first time in a long time, Juho was also anxious to start working on the idea that had just come to him. In the end, after some thought, Juho reached a conclusion, "I think I'm calling it a night." "Ugh!" Mideum let out, grasping her chest with similar expression to the one she wore when she wrote. "Wise choice. You have work to do," Dong Gil said, looking at the young author with a look of satisfaction. Juho responded with a shrug. At that moment, what felt like an endless debate had taken an unexpected turn. A scream came from somewhere nearby. When the young author looked toward the source of the sound, he locked eyes with the person who had screamed. "Yun Woo?" a voice unfamiliar to Juho said, sounding more astonished than doubtful. "It is Yun Woo!" At that moment, Juho realized that he wasn't wearing anything to hide his face. However, none of his fellow authors had pointed that out because they were all preoccupied and for different reasons. "Uh-oh," Seo Joong let out quietly, but nobody objected since all the other authors had the same thought. "I see Joon Soo Bong, too!" "That's Seo Joong Ahn!" It wasn't long until the scream attracted more people. When there were a handful of them in the same place, fans were bound to recognize them eventually, whether the authors wanted them to or not. "Oh, wow! It's really Yun Woo!" "I'd never seen him in person!" "Me neither!" Of course, Yun Woo was the most popular name among all of the authors. Then, the young author looked at Geun Woo, who was standing next to him. "Must be nice being popular," Geun Woo said and walked away. Soon, he, too, would be in a similar position and find himself going through similar troubles to those of Yun Woo. There was no doubt that he was going to succeed as an author, and his writing and his career, which had been on a steady rise, made that prediction all the more convincing. That was also the reason why his fellow authors often poked fun at him. If he really had lacked the potential as an author, then nobody would have actually thought of making fun of him. "Could you take a picture with me?" the person who had screamed a moment ago said. "Sure, no problem." Another round of joyful screams came from the same person at the young author's affirmative answer. At the unrelenting reaction of the fan, Juho couldn't help but chuckle. "Me, too!" "Pardon me, you're Dae Soo Na, right?" Meanwhile, other people started talking to Juho's fellow authors. The contrast in their reactions was quite apparent. Although they started screaming right off the bat upon seeing the young author, the fans politely confirmed the other authors' identities with them. After taking the picture, the fan asked, "You guys are from the Death Club, right? Were you guys having an outing?" The Death Club. Due to the topic the writers had shared for their literary magazine, 'The Beginning and the End,' there were a handful of fans who addressed the club by that frightening name. However, none of the authors there had heard it in person prior to that day. Nevertheless, hearing it from a reader made it quite a memorable experience. Juho looked toward Joon Soo, who appeared to be smiling but not exactly welcoming the situation. "We were. We just ate together." Although he had already made that assumption when he had asked the question, the fan exclaimed, taken aback by the author's confirmation. Perhaps, he was just astounded by the fact that he was even talking to Yun Woo. The young author simply couldn't wrap his mind around why it was such a big deal for his readers to interact with him. "I love your books. I hope you keep writing!" the fan said, moving aside to let another person have the chance to interact with the young author. From then on, the pattern repeated itself a few more times. That wasn't to say that people were all saying the same thing, however. "Are you a regular at Madame Song's?" There were questions that were more personal and friendlier by nature. After some thought, Juho gave an affirmative answer. "You see, I'm also a regular." "I like the food here." "I know! I love the food here! What's your go-to dish?" "I usually get their chicken." "Oh, my gosh! Me, too!" the fan said, sounding ecstatic that they shared something in common with the young author. Then, Juho noticed that the crowd taking pictures of them had grown noticeably larger, along with the crowd surrounding him and his fellow authors. "Well, we better get going now," one of the authors said in an attempt to get out of the situation with the rest of them. Then, having spent some time signing autographs for her fans, Dae Soo walked over to Juho and said, "Man, I feel like a star! All thanks to Yun Woo!" "You already were one, though." "That's true," she said humbly. In the end, the long debate came to an inconclusive end, and the authors each went on their ways. Juho was dropped off by Dae Soo in the same way he had arrived at the restaurant. "Break a leg." "All right. Drive safely." With that, the young author went inside, imagining Dae Soo's car fading into the distance. The elevator moved up unhurriedly. Upon arrival, Juho knew exactly what to do as he was greeted by the familiar view of his writing space. The bookshelf on the left side of the room, which was originally intended for storage space for his manuscripts, was filled with some of his favorite reads, his novels, reference data, history books, philosophy books, and science books. Juho had given up on trying to organize and distinguish the manuscripts long ago. There was simply too much to read through one page at a time. In the end, he had to resort to using another room as storage space for the countless sheets of manuscript paper. Sitting at the desk, Juho took the notepad out of his pocket and revisited the list of clues in his head, the first one being the young author's old classmates, who were preparing to embark on a new journey after graduating from school. Neither Juho nor the classmates had to dress in their uniforms for school anymore, and when that realization occurred to him, he had found himself wanting to write a story that took place at a school. Then, the second was the meeting with a certain reader, who had been quite nervous and uncomfortable, unlike the attitude Juho remembered she had had when they met at the concert hall. However, the young author didn't find her change in behavior strange. It was only natural that people tended to respond differently to different situations. Similarly, Juho had also been much more tense than usual. The young author remembered the reader's intense gaze that had started from his face, gone down to his legs under the table and gone back up to his hands. Although it hadn't been a cheap meal by any means, Juho had no recollection of what the food had tasted like. She had been looking at the young author as if having come across the hero of her time. On top of that, her entire body was showing her interest and affection toward him and his books, rooting for his decision to publish his short stories despite it being a delayed one. She had reaffirmed the young author, reminding him that he had made the right choice, and Juho had every reason to be grateful for her. That gratitude toward her challenged him to want to write even better every time he held a pen. The young author also recalled her having said, "I'm genuinely happy that you took your time with your decision…" Her answer had also implied that she had been glad that her favorite author had realized that it was better late than never. Then, after flipping through a number of pages, he came across the most recent clue, which had come to him that very day. A character who was yet to have taken shape was breathing within that notepad. With that, the young author unhurriedly tied up all the clues into one, continuous line, taking everything he had learned and experienced up to that point into a stream of consciousness. Closing his eyes, Juho pictured the character, who turned out to be a lady well into her later years, staring into thin air. The old lady had no name, and despite her age, her past didn't exist. She had come into existence as an old lady by necessity in order to reflect her creator's hope. Whenever she smiled, her pink gums became visible. With her teeth missing in places, her mouth looked as pure and innocent as that of a child. Soon, she would be enrolled in a school. Adapting to the new environment was bound to come with its challenged, like it always happened. The need to adapt arose throughout life. Being old meant being alive, and to be alive was to be able to think. To think and to want, striving to win against the challenges of life. Then, when she smiled again, all of her teeth were back in place. "I'm illiterate," she said in a calm tone of voice. "But I'm eager to learn." She wanted that opportunity earnestly. The world had changed significantly since she had been born. Not only had she found herself living in a different era, but also a different society. "And now, I have that opportunity," she said. "That's right. You do have that opportunity," Juho answered. "I wanna be better. I wanna know more," she said. There were dark spots across her already-tan face. "I've always wanted to be better. And now, the era has finally caught up to meet my wish." "Have you ever been to a school?" Juho asked. "Once, when I was very young." "If you had the choice, would you go back?" "If I could, I would." As her eyes quickly became filled with fear, she asked, "What does one do there?" It was the fear of the unknown. Juho gave her a brief explanation of what school was. It was a place where children received a foundational education. "You've heard of elementary schools, right? That's the very first school most people attend." "And I'm sure I'm gonna be the oldest person there." "Probably," the young author said. To some, it would seem like the old lady was much too old to be in school to learn alongside other humans who had been born within the past decade. On the other hand, it might even seem humiliating to others. However, to those who didn't or couldn't move on from where they were in life, the old lady would seem like she was moving forward. "Do you think it'll be embarrassing?" "Not at all," Juho said, shaking his head confidently. "And how would you know that, young man?" "Because I went back to high school at a very late age." At that, the old lady looked up and down at the young author, from top to bottom. She was still skeptical of him. "I can't tell from your appearance. You're not some con artist, are you? Trying to take advantage of old, helpless people?" "Nope. I ask nothing of you," Juho said, raising both of his hand in order to claim his innocence. Then, he briefly told her about his life as a high school student, focusing primarily on the positive. After that, she seemed to be more at ease. "It wasn't long until I adapted to my new school life. It was significantly easier than I had imagined, too. Although, the classes were a tad boring." Then, Juho saw the old lady brush down her chest with her coarse, blunt hand. "I think I feel a little better, but we'll see how I feel before bed." Although she was doing noticeably better, she claimed that it wouldn't stay that way. "What if I get a head start?" she suggested. She was the type who put her thoughts into action quickly. "What do you mean?" Juho asked. "Reading and writing. If I start preparing now, I won't be as far behind as everyone else." Behind her firm, stout appearance was a childlike heart. She feared change and struggled to adapt. "If that's what you want, nobody's stopping you. A lot of people start studying ahead of time, in preparation for school, actually." "Is that so?" "Yep. Everyone's afraid of falling behind." "Do you think it'll actually help to start early?" "I doubt it. But, what I can tell you is that your preparation for school is about to get interesting." "I see… Well, I'm doing it anyway," she said. Despite her stubbornness, Juho didn't try to stop her. She would study and learn in preparation for school, only to find out how different school actually was. She was about to go through a series of events. "Do you think it'll be fun?" she asked in an awkward tone. "No doubt," Juho said confidently. "Do you think the younger folks will like me?" "If that's what you want." The protagonist acted and competed in pursuit of her goal. "So, it's really up to me, huh?" "Yep," Juho said, and she nodded with satisfaction, smiling and revealing her gold teeth. After seeing her smile, Juho opened his eyes and saw a white light in front of him, warming his face. The Sun was shining on his face through the window. It was morning, and the Sun had already come up. Then, staring at the light before his eyes in a daze, the young author thought about the short stories that were about to be published. Although unintended, there were mentions of school in both of them as memories of the past, passing by in the background. However, the role of the school was significantly different in each of the stories. Moving his pen, Juho organized the story that had just come to him. An old lady studying ahead in preparation for school. An elementary school. Adaptation and her struggle. Of course, Juho wasn't planning on writing a one-sided story. He thought of the scenes that would include peers who were, to say the least, out of the ordinary. With that, the overall plot had finally taken shape: the tumultuous journey of an old lady who earnestly wanted to learn to read and write. It was just what the young author had been looking for.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl From senior centers to elderly welfare, from the Korean Senior Citizens Association to private and public schools, Juho had been visiting an array of places with Nam Kyung in order to listen to the stories of the elderly. Finding a difference between those stories wasn't all that difficult. As long as one decided that they wanted to distinguish them from each other, that was all it took. However, none of them were of the young author's interest. Upon returning home, Juho took the pictures he had taken from the places he had visited throughout the day and scattered them across his desk. What was particularly interesting was that the dynamic between Juho and the elderly hadn't exactly been similar to that of a grandparent and their grandchild. Both the young author and the elderly each had a role in their respective groups. Amid the atmosphere created among the elderly, Juho found them in a peculiar position. It seemed to be the result of trying to strike a balance between having their own volition and respecting others' opinions. In other words, both the young author and the elderly were members of the society in their own rights. In the end, Juho had been led to decide that the protagonist's relationship with her peers would be that of friends rather than family. Suffice to say, they would be friends with a significant number of years in between them, and soon, it wouldn't be long until they started cursing each other out for fun. Juho wrote in solitude. Living in his own home granted him the benefit of silence, which allowed him to focus on writing even more. On the flip side, it also came with its own side effects, such as forgetting to eat, not going out, or simply staying up into the next day. Bathing, eating a quick breakfast, and writing had become a daily routine for the young author, and once he had finished writing, he would go to sleep, only to repeat the pattern the next day. After some time had passed, Juho looked at his manuscript, which contained two months worth of writing. He was writing at a pace that felt satisfactory to him. Of course, there were parts that gave Juho the urge to change them, but he couldn't afford to let his urges hold him back. After collecting himself, he imagined the next scene, the scene of the protagonist walking into her school's campus. After getting involved in incidents, she found herself in a world of trouble, progressing the story in her own way. At that moment, the doorbell echoed through the house. Taking some time to recognize the sound, since he had been interrupted during his creative process, Juho thought about who the unwelcome guest could be. Then, unable to think of anyone, he walked over to the door to look through the peephole and saw a familiar face on the other side. "Seo Kwang?" Juho wasn't all that glad to see his friend who had been busy adapting to college life. In the end, smacking his lips for a brief moment, he closed the door to his room and opened the front door to let Seo Kwang in. Waiting unhurriedly in the hallway, Seo Kwang looked very natural standing there. "What do you want?" "Dude, you look like crap," Seo Kwang said nonchalantly despite Juho's seemingly aggressive question. "What's that supposed to mean?" "You look like a zombie, a zombie with bad circulation from sitting down for too long," Seo Kwang said. It was quite the roundabout way of saying that his friend looked pale. At that, Juho chuckled and rephrased the question, "But really, what brings you here?" "I was in the area, so I thought I should drop by and eat with ya." "I kinda wanna focus on writing." "My mom packed you some food." "..." Since finding out that her son's friend had started living on his own, Seo Kwang's mother had been sending Juho some food from time to time. In the end, Juho moved aside to let his friend in. When he checked the time after coming inside, it was precisely the time he usually had lunch. If Seo Kwang hadn't come, Juho would have certainly forgotten to eat. "You didn't even touch the food I brought you last time," Seo Kwang said, looking into the refrigerator, and ignoring him, Juho grabbed some chunks of rice, which he had frozen prior to his friend's visit. "So, what's for lunch?" Juho asked. "Fresh kimchi with pork." "I'm famished." Adding that his mother had made enough kimchi for the winter, Seo Kwang unpacked the food that was in the plastic bag haphazardly, not even bothering to put the bag away. And just like that, the table was set in no time. "This is good," Juho said. Both the kimchi and the pork were quite tasty. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang was splitting the leaves of the pickled cabbage with his fingers. Then, he stuffed his mouth with kimchi, pork, and rice until his cheeks bulged out like a squirrel. (TL's Note: Koreans believe that kimchi's in particular tastes better when the uncut leaves are split by hand.) "How's college?" Juho asked while Seo Kwang was still busy chewing. Judging from the look on his face, college life hadn't been kind to him. "You know, I'm realizing that this world is filled with all kinds of people. It's pretty damn mind-boggling," Seo Kwang said. The aggression in his tone, especially toward the end of the sentence, was telling Juho that his friend wasn't coming from a good place. "I don't know what these people are thinking or why they do what they do! Do they not know that they're being nuisances? Or maybe they do know, but they just don't care. In that case, those are some class A jerks. Is this world supposed to be filled to the brim with douchebags?" "You don't sound like you're havin' a good time in college," Juho said as he got the gist of his friend's life, giving him a pitiful look. Then, sighing deeply, Seo Kwang picked up a couple of slices of pork and shoved them into his mouth. "Well, how about you? How's writing?" "Not too bad. Although, it's too early to relax." "Don't take too long now. Your friend could use some healing." Juho thought back to the story he had been working on. Although he wasn't exactly sure if it would comfort his friend in any way, Juho was confident that it will make him laugh. In hindsight, the young author was glad that he had decided to write a story that was cheerful and uplifting. Although, the decision hadn't necessarily been made with Seo Kwang in mind, writing an uplifting story tended to bring small, unexpected joy like that. Then, Seo Kwang said, "Speaking of which…" "Yeah?" "Can I see your writing space?" "No." Seo Kwang squirmed in his seat at the young author's emphatic rejection. Although he had been desperate to take even a glance at Juho's new work-in-progress, the young author didn't allow him to. Soon, Seo Kwang gave up, stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of rice. By the time they had finished the pork as they talked about college, Seo Kwang brought something up, which had to be about one of two things: either a book or language. "Oh! Did you hear?" he asked. There was a certainty in his voice. "Hear what?" Juho asked. Then, giving his author friend who was slow to catch up a judgmental look, Seo Kwang said, "Hyun Do Lim?" At that, Juho responded by reflex, "Ah! His new book?" The release date of Hyun Do's new book was just around the corner. 'When was it?' Juho thought to himself. "It comes out tomorrow." "Right. Tomorrow." "You can't be serious," Seo Kwang said with his brow furrowed. "I've been losing track of time lately." It had been a daily occurrence for the young author to look up from the monitor or a sheet manuscript paper and suddenly realize that it was morning or night. Then, shaking his head, Seo Kwang said, "So, this is what happens when you're left alone. Going berserk." "I still exercise, though." At that, Seo Kwang narrowed his eyes. He seemed concerned for his author friend on one hand, while happy for him on the other. But, the subject of the conversation reverted back to what they had talked about previously: Hyun Do's new book was coming out tomorrow. "I'm gonna get a copy right away. I have a feeling that it's gonna be mind-blowing." "Probably." Most of Hyun Do's books were mind-bogglingly good. Looking displeased by Juho's indifferent response, Seo Kwang asked, "Well, what about you?" "What about me?" "Are you gonna check it out?" Chuckling quietly, the young author said, "Not everyone in this world decides whether they wanna read a book or not as soon as it's released, you know." "Then, consider it. Oh, wait. You're not gonna read since you're in the middle of writing, huh? But you used to read Hyun Do Lim's books from time to time." Juho thought for a brief moment. Hyun Do's book had been about the only novel that he had actually gotten his hands on during his time in the Literature Club, especially when he had been in the middle of writing a book himself. Although Juho tried not to read other novels during his writing phase, he had made an exception for Hyun Do's books and read them whenever he felt like it. Reminded of that, Juho found himself in a dilemma. 'What do I do this time? What would be the better choice?' "What do you think I should do?" he asked. "You're asking me? I'd read it without thinking twice since I'm not a writer." "Right." With a look of impatience and curiosity on his face, Seo Kwang silently rushed Juho for an answer. However, Juho was struggling to reach a decision. There were conflicting desires in his heart. Then, Seo Kwang started talking about everything he knew about Hyun Do's books and his thoughts on them, releasing his affection for literature like a flood. "You do realize that it's Hyun Do Lim we're talking about here, right? As in THE Hyun Do Lim? His take on this world is just magnificent, to say the least." Used to hearing Seo Kwang rave about the literary great, Juho let his friend talk, pretending to listen. Then, after finishing his food, Juho rose from his seat and grabbed a cup from the drying rack, and as Seo Kwang said, "Oh! Me too!" the young author grabbed another cup, filling them both with water. "I really hope he keeps writing for a long time." "I hope so too." Fortunately, their hopes would eventually become a reality. Hyun Do would go on to write well into his old age and become the the nation's most recognized author. His readers would see the world through his eyes, sharing his perspective, and that, in and of itself, was a tremendous achievement. "He's already one of the top authors in Korea, but he's still growing and improving, moving forward one step at a time. He keeps on training himself relentlessly. Isn't that incredible?" "It sure is." "You can just feel it in his writing. Just how much effort he put into embodying as much or little as possible." "I agree." "I don't know how he's able to come up with ideas like that. It makes me wonder how he sees everything. All I'm capable of doing is imagine as I read. If he were to write about a math class, I'd actually want to read about the solving processes." "Right." "Are you listening?" Seo Kwang asked. "Yep." Juho had been very much listening. In fact, the more he heard about Hyun Do, the bigger his desire to read his book grew. However, as if entirely oblivious to Juho's state of mind, Seo Kwang kept on about the literary great until they had cleaned up the table after having finished their meal. "I read Yun Seo Baek's testimonial in one of his books. I'd never heard of her complimenting somebody like that, let alone Hyun Do Lim." "... what did she say?" "You haven't read it yet, have you? No wonder you're so nonchalant," Seo Kwang said, making sense of things. Then, he quoted Yun Seo's sentences word for word, "'This is my most favorite piece by far.' She called it her 'most favorite' and she thinks that Hyun Do feels similarly. I mean, this is from Yun Seo Baek, so it's gotta be accurate. The author himself is satisfied with his work, and it even has Yun Seo Baek's approval. What more do you need?" Seo Kwang said, looking even hungrier than when he had been eating. "That makes me wanna read it," Juho said quietly. "Right!?" "But would I be able to write as I read such an amazing book?" "... Ah," Seo Kwang let out, as if just realizing what he had been doing. Raving about a good book had already become somewhat instinctual to him. "Well, I was just wondering if you're interested in checking out the book or not, so I thought I should ask, but I ended up sounding like I'm selling the book somehow." "You know, I've noticed that you talk even more than you used to now that you've started your translation studies." "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" "It's an insult." At that, Seo Kwang chuckled quietly and said, "I don't think it's impossible. You're Yun Woo." "I don't know. I've never actually read Mr. Lim's books while writing," Juho said. Since he had no idea what Hyun Do's new book was like, there was no way to know whether he would be able to keep his composure after reading it. From then on, after eating dessert, Seo Kwang got ready to head out. He hadn't stayed all that long, as if trying to be considerate of his author friend's time. "All right. I'm off now," Seo Kwang said. "Take care." After exchanging brief goodbyes, Seo Kwang disappeared out the door. The house sank back into silence. Although there wasn't anything to talk about because there wasn't anyone to talk to, Juho did feel pleasantly full. Instead of going back to his room and writing, Juho sat in the living room. "Mr. Lim," he murmured. For a while, the literary great had drawn quite the attention when the news had gotten out that he had inspired the young author to write 'Language of God,' However, he had remained at his place, unaffected and without response. He simply wrote as he always did. No matter what he wrote and how it was received by the masses, the literary great remained still and tranquil, humbly going about his way. "What would it be like for me?" Would it be possible for the young author to do the same? Juho reminisced to his past life, when he had let the noise created by his work get the best of him. Like the amateur writer that he had been, he had let himself get carried away by the tumultuous tornado of his life, thinking that he had been moving forward when he had been merely losing his footing in reality. He remembered having read Hyun Do's books back then. One of them was the only book that he had taken to heart back when he hadn't even been able to afford a book from the bookstore. It had given the young author courage, and thinking of his calm and tranquil demeanor, Juho recalled finding himself in tranquil silence. "I really wanna read it," Juho said as if sighing, feeling an insatiable desire for the book. Then, he rose from his seat and opened the door to his room, where the manuscript of his work-in-progress was. Although he tried to write, he couldn't get past forty words before he put the pen down.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Do you have any award points that you'd like to redeem today?" "No," Juho said, pulling his hat down. At that brief answer, the cashier took the money from the young author's hand with a mechanical movement and put the book into the plastic bag along with the receipt. Even as she placed the bag on the counter, the cashier was looking down. "Thank you." "Thank you for shopping with us. I can help the next person," the cashier said, her response remaining just as mechanical. Being the biggest bookstore in the area, that store had an impressive inventory of all recent releases. Walking past a handful of people sitting in the corner of the store, reading, Juho exited the store and waited for the light to turn green. He looked down at the book peeking through the opening of the bag. It was Hyun Do's new book. Titled 'The Full Moon,' its ocean blue cover, which portrayed the moonlit night sky, was quite eye-catching. When Juho put pressure into the hand he was holding the bag with, thinking to himself, 'I'm just gonna keep it for now. I'm not opening it,' the bag's handle crumpled helplessly. Then, a group of shadows started moving around the young author as a pedestrian stepped forward to jaywalk across the street. Suffice to say, a look of displeasure appeared on the faces of those who had been waiting for the light, most likely thinking, 'That's exactly how you get yourself killed.' Then, about thirty seconds later, the light finally turned green. "Let's cross now!" a child wearing a kindergarten uniform shouted, holding their mother's hand and confidently raising their hand in order to signal their location to the drivers. The mother had the child's bag over one shoulder. A child, who was still learning, was far more aware of safety rules than adults who had significantly more knowledge, and they abided by them. Once the child graduated kindergarten, it would move up to elementary school. Juho imagined what their future would look like. As the child grew older, the idea of raising their hand and signaling the drivers would eventually fade away. Perhaps the child would even jaywalk for the first time in their life. Although there was no way to confirm that in real life, it was already a reality in the young author's new story. Children tended to change as they grew up, and the changing sceneries in the background were proof of how much those children had grown up. Upon arriving home, even before he changed out of his clothes, Juho put the bag down, took the new book and placed it on the bookshelf. Although he was adding only one more book to the collection, it felt like the book was taking up a significant amount of space. Then, after staring intently at the title, 'The Full Moon,' the young author looked away, feeling like he'd give in to the temptation to start reading. Only a few paces away, was the manuscript that he had been working on up to moments before he had stepped out of the house. There had been cases when children, who acted their ages in front of their parents at home, became leading figures. A conversation between the children, who had just started learning about the world, and an old lady, who was still learning about the world, would be, simply put, unpredictable. As children criticized adults for their stupidity, adults questioned the environment their children were growing up in. Then, those children eventually grew up to become adults. Despite looking nothing like they once did, adult and child became the same person. After washing up, Juho walked back to his room and sat at the desk to resume writing, reexamining the overall story and the events that took place within it. Reading through the entire story rekindled the feeling with which the young author had been writing, and writing in an emotional state as close to that as possible was the only way to make the story flow. If he were to write while depressed one day, but write again in high spirits the next day, there were bound to be inconsistencies. "Not too serious." Juho had been telling himself that throughout the entire writing process of that particular story. Although both the adult and the child were wrong, Juho wanted neither their portrayal nor the process to carry a serious tone. He wanted to write a story that could be read quickly but with a sense of anticipation. When he looked up from the manuscript, he realized that it had already gotten dark out. "I better take a break," Juho said, stretching both of his hands toward the ceiling, stretching his body that had become stiff after sitting for too long. Suffice to say, the stretch was turning out to be quite painful. Then, as he felt somewhat hungry and started thinking about what to eat, the full moon lighting the sky came into view. "I really wanna read it." After some contemplation, Juho picked up his phone, which he left on his bed, and called Seo Kwang. Although it was well into the night, it wasn't long before he answered the phone. "Did you read it?" he asked out of nowhere, catching the young author off guard. "Sure. I've spend most of my life reading," Juho said in a higher-than-usual voice, confused. "... I'm talking about 'The Full Moon,' doofus." "Ah," the young author let out, his voice sinking low. "I have," Seo Kwang said confidently, yet calmly. Then, he asked the young author, "Have you?" It was a question that Juho didn't really feel like answering. Then, with a swallowed sigh, the young author said, "I haven't." "Oh, no," Seo Kwang said as if pitying his author friend. "... How was it?" "It. Was. Insane," Seo Kwang said, as if he had been waiting for Juho to ask. "It's my favorite Hyun Do Lim book by far." It was a similar response to Yun Seo's. Perhaps, it was just the default response of those who'd read the book. "For your sake, I won't spoil it." "Thanks." "OK. Let me share my thoughts on the book. It caught two birds with one stone," Seo Kwang said genuinely. From then on, he raved on about the book, from how reading the book came with a painful reminder that the more he read, the less there was left to be read, to the fast pace, the author's philosophy and criticism, the characters and their personalities, and the author's unique ability to write about such a twisted subject in a clean, polished manner. Then, as if remembering the content of the book all over again, he started talking even faster. Seo Kwang tended to be predictable like that. "Not only is it appealing to the masses, but it's also very artistic. There's no way this book won't make it." It was the voice of a reader who had been deeply moved by a book. At that, Juho thought of the synopsis in the back of the book. "The protagonist predicts death on a full moon," Juho said. This time, it seemed like Hyun Do had written about death, which he had never done before. "Right. Death," Seo Kwang said, his voice growing softer. Then, as it returned to its normal volume, he added, "It seemed like Hyun Do Lim really emphasized the aspect of death in this book. If I were to compare it to 'River…' Hm, how should I put it?" he said, groaning as if in pain. "So, if you were to compare it to 'River?'" Juho asked quietly, rushing his friend for an answer. It had caught his interest. Juho had become curious about the end portrayed by the literary great. "I can't say anything in terms of black and white, but I'd say they are different, yet similar somehow. From a reader's standpoint, I think they both carry about a similar shock value." "Similar shock value?!" Death had always been somewhat of a specialty of the young author because of his firsthand experience of having died once. Yet, Hyun Do's piece carried a similar shock value. Juho was well aware of Hyun Do's skills. That made his heart beat faster. "I really wanna read it now." The urge was starting to get out of hand. Although he had read Hyun Do's books as a homeless man who couldn't even afford to eat, he couldn't read the book at present, when he had more than enough money to buy hundreds of books. It was ironic, yet funny. "I read it," Seo Kwang said provokingly, finding the situation all too amusing. He was ecstatic. The emotional experience the book gave him was still fresh in his heart, and looking at the full moon in the night sky only accentuated the experience. Hyun Do Lim was an incredible author, and Seo Kwang found himself getting intoxicated by the emotions that the novel carried. The moon was noticeably brighter than usual that night. Then, after listening to his friend for a little while, Juho said in a serious tone, "Maybe I should just read it." At that, Seo Kwang attitude changed at once. "What?" There was nothing more unfortunate than being in a situation that kept one from reading books. Which, in Juho's case, the unfortunate situation was that he was in the middle of writing, and needless to say, it was not a welcoming situation by any means. Although he thought reading wouldn't be a bad solution to his predicament, the young author had to come to terms with his conscience and recognized that it was merely his desire speaking. "Do you think you'll be OK? This book is seriously a game changer," Seo Kwang warned him, and added, "I joined the Astronomy Club after reading that book." The book had had a significant impact on the reader. "You know what, I know that you're gonna do whatever you want at the end of the day, and I'm not gonna tell you not to read it. Besides, a book like this needs to be read by more people." After hanging up, Juho looked up at the moon for a little while and immersed himself in deep thought. 'Should I read it? Or should I not?' Then, walking toward the bookshelf, he picked up the book, which was solid and smooth to the touch. After brushing his hand down the book once, the young author placed it back on the shelf. "After I finish writing." Sitting at the desk, Juho picked up a pen. However, it wasn't long before he found himself standing in front of the bookshelf again. "I'm gonna do it." With the book in his hand, the young author went out to the living room, sat on the sofa, took a deep breath and opened the cover. A photo of Hyun Do and his distinctive hair, which only half of had turned white, came into view. At that, the young author was reminded of a certain fan who had complimented him on his looks. However, the word handsome suited the gentleman in the photo a lot better. As he turned the front wing, the front cover, and the front page, the table of contents appeared. And soon, the very first sentence of the first chapter marked the beginning of the story. Feeling more excited than ever, Juho clasped the book tightly by the back cover. As the young author flipped through the pages, the house grew darker. "Anybody home?" somebody asked, banging on the door and ringing the doorbell repeatedly. As Juho remained in his seat, the door rattled, and the person walked away. The house sank into silence yet again. Juho turned yet another page, which was the last page of the book. The protagonist predicted death on a full moon, and in the end, he fails to escape the grasp of that dreaded moon. The full moon signified greed, envy, an absolute being, and power. The author's portrayal of vertical power was quite powerful, enough to crush and overwhelm the world. Finally, the young author closed the book, feeling an intense burning sensation on his eyes, as if he had looked directly at the Sun. He couldn't move his head. It felt like all of the events that had taken place within the book were coming alive, filling every corner of the house. Juho had connected with the book almost instantly. No matter how far the protagonist ran, the moon kept following him. It was almost as if he was making a fool of himself by trying to outrun the moon. Then, covering his face with his hand, Juho knew that he wasn't going to get any writing done that day. At that moment, a vibration came from the room. It was a phone call. However, Juho stayed put, and soon, the vibration stopped. It almost sounded as if it was asking the young author for his thoughts on the book. 'How was it? How was Hyun Do's portrayal of death?' As Juho took his hand off his face, his hair covered his eyes in place of his hand. A shadow was cast in the living room, and Juho reminisced to the conversation he had had with Hyun Do, who had told him that he asked questions when he didn't have the answer. For example, to a homeless man, 'Is this offensive to you?' At that moment, finding himself answering the question without even realizing it, it dawned on Juho just how amazing of an author Hyun Do was. "I'm glad I read it," he murmured in a cracked voice in order to keep regret from creeping into his mind. If he had sat down and forced himself to write, wearing a naive look on his face, suppressing his urge to read, Juho would have been clueless. He was glad that he had given into his urge. "I guess I lost." In reality, he was excited. He had met with the certain reader he had been looking forward to meeting. Then, he had caught up with his fellow authors. Prior to either of those events, he had even met the celebrity interviewer for an interview, which had aired on TV. Through the interviewer, the young author had learned how he was coming across to his fans. A humbling realization had occurred to him that he had been content and satisfied when, in truth, he still had a ways to go as an author. Then, came the rain. Although invisible to naked eyes, it soaked every inch of the young author's clothes. What felt like a heavy sigh came out of his mouth. Despite feeling his clothes getting wet, the young author closed his eyes without moving a muscle. --- "Juho Woo!" Juho opened his eyes at the voice calling to him from the distance. His living room appeared before his eyes. As he struggled to keep his eyes open, he realized that he had fallen asleep sitting on his couch. At that moment, a series of banging noise came from the door, followed by a series of doorbell rings. Only then, did it occur to him who might be outside of the door. "Coming!" Juho said, walking toward the door as he tried to wake himself up. When he opened the door, he saw his editor-in-charge, who looked at him with surprise. "Are you OK?" Nam Kyung asked. "What do you mean?" "Do you realize that you have some serious dark circles underneath your eyes?" Then, as Juho stepped aside yawning, the editor came into the house. Taken aback by the jarring state of the living room, he asked, "What in the world is all this!?" Being careful not to step on the sheets of manuscript paper scattered throughout the floor, Nam Kyung walked across the living room. "For a second, I thought you'd just moved in." The table was also filled with stacks of manuscript paper, which had toppled over and made a mess. It was an intimidating amount. Then, as Nam Kyung closed the window, which Juho had kept open for ventilation, Juho looked around the living room. It was the result of not picking up the pages immediately after they had fallen. Nevertheless, the mess was proof that the young author had been busy at work. After reading 'The Full Moon,' Juho had remained in a dazed state for a while. A wave of emotions flooded into his heart. He felt mortified and humiliated all at the same time, boiling with the ambition to be able to write like Hyun Do. Then, looking up to confirm that the sky and the ground were both in their rightful places, the young author reminded himself that he would never stumble again, rising from his seat and going straight to his room, writing frantically until he felt numb and out of it. Fortunately, he was able to pick up where he had left off for the most part. However, there was one critical issue. "Still strugglin'?" Nam Kyung asked in a slightly low voice. "Struggling? Do you see how much I've written?" Juho said, playing coy. At that, a smile appeared on the editor's face. "Except it's not the manuscript I've been waiting for." Then, the young author looked toward the editor. The story about the old lady wasn't making nearly as much progress as it should. "Maybe I should join an astronomy club, too." "What the heck are you talking about?" Nam Kyung said, glaring fiercely at the young author.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Avoiding the piercing glare from his editor-in-charge, Juho went to the kitchen. As the host, he had to treat his guest to something. As he took the special cups out of the cupboard, Juho asked, "I only have instant coffee. Would you prefer green tea?" "Coffee's fine." Although Juho normally drank green tea, he chose to drink coffee that day instead in order to wake himself up. While Nam Kyung moved through the sheets of manuscript paper cautiously, like he would with precious jewelry, Juho came out of the kitchen with the two cups of coffee and kicked the sheets of manuscript paper aside on his way to the couch. Then, pushing the stacks of manuscript paper on the table to the side, the young author placed the two cups on the table and handed the editor a cushion. "Thanks," Nam Kyung said, taking a sip of the instant coffee while reading a page of the manuscript that he had chosen at random. Juho drank his coffee quietly and focused on waking up. "What do you think?" he asked the editor, looking at him with dry, disinterested eyes. "It pains me to think that all of these pages are going to waste. These are incredible. They're like unrefined precious gems that would sparkle like no other after some slight refinement," Nam Kyung said, clearly sounding like he was suppressing his emotions. "Really? You're laughing?" "Yeah, I can't help myself. I wish new ideas for my story were coming out instead of the laughter," Juho said. Although he was perfectly capable of laughing, he hadn't made any progress with the new story for nearly a month. When the editor had first found out, he had said, "That's very unusual for Yun Woo." The image of the editor's serious look on his face rushed past the young author's mind. However, Nam Kyung was sure that Juho was still capable of writing. While Juho thought of that, Nam Kyung had about twenty pages of manuscript paper in his hands. Although he wasn't clear about what he was reading, one thing was certain: the pages were much darker than the new story. "'Full Moon,' huh," Nam Kyung murmured. By that point, he had heard about the plot of the book from the young author. "Mr. Lim's new book's been getting recognized by both readers and critics alike," he said. Nam Kyung had also read the book, and there was no doubt that it was worthy of being considered the literary great's best work yet. "I mean, he did say that he wrote it with Mr. Kang in mind," the editor murmured. Wol Kang. He was Yun Seo Baek's late husband and their longtime friend. "He left us way too soon," Nam Kyung said, like anybody who knew the author would have. Wol had passed away much too soon, and the short life he had dedicated to writing still remained in the hearts of his readers and fellow authors. "He was one of the greatest authors this country had to offer," the editor murmured, brushing his hand down the stack of manuscript paper he was holding. At that, Juho leaned his head back against the backrest of the couch. There were times when Juho wished that the author were still alive, writing new books. "Anyway," Nam Kyung said with a clap, changing the subject. As sentimental it might have been, Wol wasn't the most pressing matter at the moment. Rather, it was the young author's progress and thinking of ways to improve it. "Well, how are things looking?" Nam Kyung asked, and... "How does it look?" Juho asked back, eying the pages in the editor's hands. Then, thinking back to what he had been reading up to that point, the editor said, "It feels like the ideas are getting darker." "I think so too." At that, Nam Kyung's hand went up to his forehead. Since reading 'Full Moon,' Juho had been in a gloomy state of mind, making him more inclined to write darker things. The novel still lingered in his mind, popping up when he least expected. "Mr. Woo. Have you ever considered taking a slightly different approach with this project?" "No," Juho said. He insisted on the protagonist living in a bright and cheerful world. Besides, Nam Kyung's suggestion wasn't coming from a serious place, either. "Then, how much longer do you think it'll be until you can start writing something more uplifting?" "It's hard to say." At the young author's ambiguous answer, the expression on Nam Kyung's face grew even darker, which reminded Juho of Mr. Moon. When he had first joined the Literature Club, Juho hadn't been used to writing alongside other people. Not only had it been noisy, but it had also been incredibly distracting, which had caused him to lose his train of thought and finish his stories prematurely with absurd endings. Back then, Mr. Moon had given the young author the exact same look that Nam Kyung had currently. "Haha." "Hey! This isn't funny! I mean it!" Nam Kyung said desperately, concerned about whether the young author was starting to fall apart from within. As if trying to comfort his editor-in-charge, Juho said, "It won't last forever." … Which seemed to be of little help. Sighing deeply, the editor picked up another sheet of manuscript paper next to him and read it, only to sigh even deeper. They were simply too good. The sentences were superb, and although they were short, the editor was able to feel the power they carried. From his point of view, Yun Woo was in his best condition yet, and the fact that he was able to write as much as he had was proof of that. At the same time, it pained him all the more that all of those pages were going to waste. It drove him nearly insane. With the much anticipated short stories by Yun Woo and the half-length novel that would be introduced alongside them, Yun Woo's distinct, pure writing style, which was missed desperately by readers, including Nam Kyung, was finally going to make a comeback. Yet, why the young author wasn't making any progress was still a mystery to the editor, especially considering the state in which the author was. On top of that, the plot was also outstanding. The fierceness of the children. The foolishness of the adults. The young maturely carrying out their innocent thoughts. Characters with distinct personalities. A bright and cheerful world. The story's message to future society. It had to be Yun Woo's most diverse and elaborate work yet. "Look how far you've come," Nam Kyung said. When he read Juho's work-in-progress, the editor had found it quite convincing. Alexandria was the protagonist's name. After hearing about a city, which had first been built by Alexander the Great, called by the same name in Egypt in some documentary on TV, the protagonist realized that it had a pleasant ring to it. From then on, she wished to be called Alexandria by others, and her wish had come true. "Are you just gonna leave Alexandria hanging like that?" Nam Kyung said desperately. At that, scratching his cheek, Juho answered, "She's a tough cookie. She'll do just fine on her own, even if I were to leave her alone for a little while." Nam Kyung wasn't buying the young author's answer. Meanwhile, Juho rested his chin on his hand. "I just can't seem to find the right mood." Furrowing his brow at Juho's ambiguous answer, Nam Kyung asked, "As in… the right mood to write?" "Yes. The right mood to write about Alexandria. Otherwise, my house wouldn't look like this." There had been a significant amount of time between when he picked up the pen, put it down, and picked it up again. Time tended to create a gap. His old self that had written and his current self that was writing. It all felt different. "That does happen," Nam Kyung said, nodding in agreement. Every author had their own way of filling that gap created by time, and it usually involved reading everything they had written up to the point they had stopped, or recreating the emotional state they had been in when they first started writing through meditation or music. "Thing is, I just can't seem to figure it out," Juho said. "Figure out what?" "How I was feeling before I started reading 'The Full Moon.'" Juho did recall having bought the book from the biggest bookstore in the area. However, he couldn't remember the excitement he had felt when he bought the book or why he had thought to himself that the book was only a keepsakes when he would eventually give in and read through the entire book in one sitting. He couldn't figure out a way to revert back to his emotional state before reading 'The Full Moon.' He couldn't go back to his old self, before he learned about astronomy, when he had no interest in the subject whatsoever. "I even tried writing some really dark stories just so that I could remember." However, the more the young author tried, the further he got from Alexandria. It was quite ironic. A troubled look appeared on Nam Kyung's face. There was only so much he could do to help as an editor. After some thought, he looked up, struck by an idea. "What if you go on a trip? You know, for a change of pace?" "When I'm still in the middle of writing, though?" "I just thought I should bring it up. I was told that Mr. Uhm's leaving for a trip too. Did you know about this?" "No. Where's he going?" Juho asked. It was news to him. As he was busy thinking about whether Dong Gil was going somewhere local or to another country, the editor gave him the answer as he pulled his glasses up, "Russia." "... Russia?" "He's going for research purposes. You know his style." When discussing Dong Gil's writing, Hemingway was a name that was bound to come up at some point. Dong Gil preferred to infuse his own experience into his novel in the most realistic way possible. He believed that that was the most honest way of going about writing a piece that was as close to the truth as it could be. Being an introspective person, he liked to write things down, and his pursuit of the objective truth had put him on the crossroad between pursuing a career as a journalist or a writer. Yet, to the young author's surprise, Dong Gil was making a trip to Russia in order to gather more data for his book. "What kind of book is he writing?" "I don't know the details, but it seems like there is something he wants to experience in Russia." "How long do you think he'll stay there?" "Considering his personality, I'm guessing a month, at least." Then, as Juho was about to ask more about Dong Gil, Nam Kyung raised his hand and stopped the young author from doing so, saying, "Like I said, I don't have all the details, so I would suggest asking him directly." "Right." Frankly, Juho wasn't in the most sociable mood because of his lack of progress with Alexandria's story. However, the young author was still curious if Dong Gil had read 'The Full Moon,' which had been written by one of the authors he looked up to the most. Then, when Juho picked up his cup in order to drink from it, he realized that it was empty. There was sweetness from the instant coffee still lingering in his mouth, which was making him thirsty. "I could use a drink. "What?" The urge to drink had started to tempt the young author, making him think that alcohol would put an end to his predicament once and for all. Then, the memories of his past came up in his mind, reminding him of how he had started drinking the first place. It had been an impulsive decision, and he had been in a similar place emotionally. 'I guess I'm just naturally impulsive," Juho thought to himself. As Nam Kyung contemplated whether he should talk the young author out of drinking or not, Juho said, "I'm not going to. Don't worry." "Well, it might not be a terrible idea. You might feel a little better after a drink," the editor said. There were times when alcohol provided momentum for authors. Humans were fragile beings that often got hurt easily by the smallest things in life, and there were times when alcohol was a means of healing those wounds. However, Juho thought otherwise. "That won't be necessary. I threw all the alcohol in the house out," he said. Just as he had said, the young author had thrown out every bit of alcohol in his house just in case he gave in to his urges. Water, tea, and coffee were just about the only things to drink in his house. At that, Nam Kyung looked intently at Juho with narrowed eyes and asked, "You know what? I noticed that you keep yourself away from alcohol in particular. I got that impression during the interview too." "It just doesn't taste good," Juho said. With that, having no intention of commenting on the young author's taste preferences, Nam Kyung didn't make any more comments, still looking somewhat leery. "Oh, well. Authors tend to have that one thing they obsess over," Nam Kyung said, shrugging it off. Then, he started picking up the pages of manuscript paper scattered about the house. "Keep them somewhere. We might be able to use one of these for the short story compilation," Nam Kyung said. "I doubt that." "Well, you never know. There are fans who are particularly fond of your short stories. They still remember what 'River' was like," the editor said. After staring at him for a brief moment, Juho bent down at the waist and picked up a page of a manuscript under his foot. Upon reading it, the young author realized that it wasn't actually half bad, and with slight refinement, it would be more than good enough to be published. Unfortunately, the content was much too dark. The story was about catastrophe and destruction, which was far from what the young author had been looking for. As he organized the pages with his editor's help, a book that had been buried under the layers of manuscript paper appeared. It was none other than 'The Full Moon.' At that, a subtle smile appeared on the young author's face. Deep inside, what he really wanted was to be able to write a story like that of Hyun Do's new book. In simple terms, he had been influenced by the book, intoxicated by it, and wanted more of it. "Seems like I got my butt handed to me." "What?" "By Mr. Lim." At that, the editor smiled bitterly and said, "Well, it seems like his new book has that effect. I practically forgot about my work while I was reading it." "That almost sounds excessive," Juho said. To which, Nam Kyung replied with the bitter expression on his face, "... After reading 'The Full Moon,' I just couldn't bear to read sentences written by some rookie author." "So, what did you do?" "I went back and read the manuscript again a week later." "And what happened?" Instead of giving an answer, Nam Kyung showed him his hands, which were empty. The contract had fallen through, and the manuscript never got made into a book. "I see," Juho said, looking down at the empty cup in his hand, without anything in particular to say.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl In the end, Nam Kyung went on his way without figuring out a solution for the young author's lack of progress. "Take some time to think about this, but really, the sooner the better." Although what he had implied hadn't been clear, Juho had nodded. Then, after encouraging the young author to ask for help when needed, he had left. After the editor left, the first thing Juho did was call Dong Gil, who was apparently making a trip to Russia. "What is it?" Dong Gil's low and cold sounding voice came from the receiver of Juho's phone. And, knowing his personality, Juho got right to the point without hesitation. "I heard you're going to Russia?" "How did you know?" he asked, sounding like he was somewhat taken aback that the young author knew about the news. "I heard it from my editor," Juho said, clarifying the source of his information. "Ah," Dong Gil let out, as if making sense of the young author's answer. "When are you leaving?" "In four days." He was leaving much sooner than Juho had anticipated. Dong Gil was truly a man of action. "Which part of Russia are you going to?" Juho asked. "Let's see… First, Moscow." With that, Dong Gil gave Juho a brief summary of the itinerary of his trip, sounding noticeably more excited, which was unlike him. Nonetheless, he sounded like he was in high spirits, almost enough to be willing to talk about something more cheerful and light-hearted. If only that excitement were contagious. "Should we meet?" "What was that?" "Let's catch up before I leave," Dong Gil said, and since Juho had no reason to say no, he accepted Dong Gil's suggestion gladly. --- "Was that Juho?" After putting his phone into his pocket, Dong Gil looked up at somebody who looked like the most easy-going person in the world. It was Joon Soo. Having already visited Russia in the past, he had been a tremendous help to Dong Gil in planning the trip, which had included getting the best possible price for lodging. "Yeah. He found out about my trip somehow." "Ah! See? You're a bigger celebrity than you think." "C'mon, now," Dong Gil said, looking around his house, which was in disarray since he was in the middle of packing for his trip. The screen of his laptop showed the spreadsheet with the list of things he needed to take for his trip and his budget. "Did Juho say he read it?" Joon Soo asked out of nowhere. But despite the lack of details in the question, Dong Gil was able to catch on to what Joon Soo was referring to immediately. "I didn't ask," Dong Gil said. "He probably did," Joon Soo said, and Dong Gil agreed by remaining silent. Juho had to have read 'The Full Moon.' Yun Seo had to be about the only author capable of resisting the urge to read such a charming book. Turning his eyes, Dong Gil looked intently at her pupil, who had met with Hyun Do immediately after the release of the book. "I'm telling you. You can't help but fall in love with it." Those had been Joon Soo's exact words after coming back from meeting with the literary great. An author loved by authors. It was a phrase that often came up when describing Hyun Do, which had also crossed Dong Gil's mind. Hyun Do Lim was the prime example of an author, and Dong Gil wanted to be just like him. "I wanna go too," Joon Soo said, causing Dong Gil to snap out of his thoughts. "You mean to Russia?" Dong Gil asked. "No, Yun Woo's house." There was curiosity in Joon Soo's eyes, and Dong Gil was well aware of where he was coming from. "I'm curious about what a genius author looks like at home too." How would 'The Full Moon' have affected the young genius? How would Yun Woo have digested that book? "I'm telling you. You are the epitome of a go-getter," Joon Soo said. However, seeing Dong Gil furrowing his brow at his compliment, he quickly changed the subject. "Is Seo Joong still hiding himself at home?" "Who knows?" Although Dong Gil was looking even more irritable, the irritation wasn't directed at Joon Soo. Dong Gil thought of his friend's face, whom he had last seen a month ago. Back then, he had come over to Dong Gil's house in his usual attire of sweatshirt and pants. "He looked like such an idiot, blown away by the book he'd brought himself." Seo Joong's reaction to 'The Full Moon' had been similar to the time when he had read 'Trace of a Bird' for the first time. He had read both books at the same place. However, he hadn't been as tearful and emotional as he had been when he had read 'Trace of a Bird.' Rather, he had been in a daze, almost to the point of looking strange. On top of that, Dong Gil hadn't been able to get a hold of him as of late. Seeing as though Joon Soo seemed concerned for his fellow author, Dong Gil shared a piece of information that he had barely managed to get before leaving for Russia, "He's at his parents' house right now." "Ah. Good thing I asked you," Joon Soo said, clicking his tongue and sitting up. "Honestly, of all the authors I know, I'm most envious of Seo Joong." "Really? That idiot of all people?" "How deeply immersed do you have to be in a book for it to influence you like that?" As Dong Gil remained silent, Joon Soo looked up at the empty air and added, "What do you have to see in a book to be affected that much by it?" There was no doubt that 'The Full Moon' was a masterpiece that renewed one's mind after reading it. However, Seo Joong's response to the book felt almost excessive in Joon Soo's eyes. It was as if the author was challenging the moon. It was incomprehensible. Looking at Joon Soo in such a perplexed state, Dong Gil reminisced to his younger days, when he had been a student. No matter how hard Dong Gil had tried, Seo Joong had always been a step ahead of him, drawing inspiration from the most unimaginable places and writing stories that he couldn't even think of with ease. In the end, despairing and frustrated, Dong Gil had sought out his own path, and eventually, he had found himself alongside Seo Joong. "Don't know, don't care," Dong Gil said and looked away. There was no way to know how far his gifted friend would go this time. However, regardless of where or how far, Dong Gil knew one thing for certain: that he'd also move when Seo Joong moved. As if seeing the determination within Dong Gil, Joon Soo chuckled quietly. --- "Seems like you've lost some weight," Dong Gil said as soon as he stepped into the young author's house. After making a cup of green tea for the guest, Juho went into his room rather than the living room. Dong Gil was looking at the books on the bookshelf in his room, and fortunately, the pages of manuscript that used to be scattered about the house had already been cleaned up before Dong Gil had arrived. Then, Juho handed the green tea to his guest, whose eyes were still fixed on the young author's bookshelf, pulled a chair out and sat on it. As usual, Dong Gil was wearing a dress shirt that had been ironed impeccably. Although Juho was well acquainted of the author, he wasn't as used to having Dong Gil in his room. "What's Seo Joong been up to these days?" Juho asked light-heartedly. "No idea," Dong Gil answered without hesitation, sounding slightly annoyed even. "How come? Did he go somewhere?" "I don't feel like talking about him," Dong Gil said emphatically, which Juho shrugged off while Dong Gil remained occupied with the bookshelf. Asking any more questions didn't seem like a good idea. "What are you looking so hard at?" Juho asked, noticing that Dong Gil had been staring at the same place for some time. Then, just as the young author had expected, Dong Gil said, "'The Full Moon.'" Juho had placed the book in the most visible spot on the bookshelf. "Have you read it?" Juho asked, bringing up the question he had been meaning to ask. To which, Dong Gil answered after a brief pause, "I have." "How was it?" Then, instead of giving an answer, Dong Gil turned toward Juho and walked unhurriedly toward a comfortable looking chair opposite of him. "How was it for you?" he asked. "I asked first," the young author responded. "I'm older." Chuckling quietly at Dong Gil for playing the age card, Juho gave him an honest answer, "I've been having trouble writing what I wanna write these days." "It influenced you, didn't it?" "I'm in a pretty serious condition," Juho grumbled jokingly. However, there was no change in Dong Gil's expression. Rather, he accepted Juho's playful comment at face value in a cold and brusque manner. "Yeah… So, I've been looking for a change of pace," Juho said. "And am I the lucky winner?" "Something like that." After hearing the young author's answer, Dong Gil gave his answer to Juho's question as promised, "I was deeply moved." "Why?" "Because it was a deeply moving piece," Dong Gil said, fixing his eyes on the 'The Full Moon' on the bookshelf yet again. There was an unusual affection in the way he was looking at the book, as if he was looking at one from Hemingway. 'I wonder if that's how I look at that book,' Juho wondered. But, it wasn't long until he reached the conclusion that he didn't look at the book with the same affection as Dong Gil, whose eyes were entirely devoid of greed or the willingness to resist it. On the contrary, the young author was determined to outdo the book. "Mr. Lim is incredible. Authors in their prime tends to leave a strong, lingering impression in their readers. I just can't stop thinking about him. I wanna be like him." Thoughts like those tended to occur even to authors with the most earnest yearning for their own colors and flavors. After all, Hyun Do's writing was simply much too tasteful and stylish. "His only flaw has always been that he's too pure and clean," Dong Gil said. Despite what it sounded like, he wasn't referring to the actual state of the literary great. Rather, he was referring to his writing and how it had been received by the masses up to that point. "It's much too calculated and it leaves no room for the readers to enjoy the book in peace. It's almost too detailed, to the point of being persistent. There were one too many things in his stories that I couldn't reconcile with." "At least, his earlier works were like that." They were referring to Hyun Do's earlier days as a writer, when Wol Kang had still been around. Although there was no way to confirm it, Hyun Do's state of mind probably matched Dong Gil's description of him even after Wol had passed away, at least for a little while longer. In fact, Dong Gil was somewhat accurate in the way he was describing the writings of the literary great until fairly recently. "But I still liked Mr. Lim despite all that." "I agree." Although critics might have had some opinions about Hyun Do's writing, what had seemed like flaws to some had come across as a charm to others. It wasn't clear when he had started changing, but he was certainly changing slowly. The number of those who were opposed to his writing started to decrease over time, and gradual, unhurried growth accompanied that with little to no pain. "I got a sense of peace and composure from 'The Full Moon.' It almost felt like I was looking at the actual author. If I were to describe the change in his writing, I'd compare it to a rigid block of ice in the pleasantly warm, springtime Sun melting and rounding out its sharp edges." "And that isn't to say that the flow of the story is weak, either. He left that pure writing style that's distinct to him intact." "I think it's more accurate to say that it's been sculpted." Hyun Do was in his prime, all the while without losing a single thing. Or perhaps, he had already lost it all before, left with no choice but to start over. Nevertheless, there was only one description for the result of his work: beautiful. It was reminiscent of snow falling silently from the sky, which was also reminiscent of his white hair. "Well, it sure made a lot of people think, including you and me," Dong Gil said calmly, implying that something troublesome had occurred in his life. "Is there any sort of connection between your upcoming trip and 'The Full Moon?'" Juho asked. "That's both right and wrong," Dong Gil said as he brought the tea up to his mouth. The steam rising from the mug covered his eyes. "I'm planning on writing a spy novel." Juho was genuinely surprised by that news. No matter how he looked at it, there was no reason not to welcome the idea of Dong Gil writing a spy novel, especially considering his hard-boiled writing style. "That suits you really well, actually!" "I think so too. Besides, I've always wanted to write one." "Since when?" "Since I was in high school." Considering how long he had been thinking about it, he had to have some sort of storyline in mind as well. "I decided on the characters, their names, and personalities a long time ago, but I had the ambition to wait until I became a better writer. Like an ace up my sleeve, if you will." "I think I get it." "After reading 'Full Moon,' I came to realize that I wasn't being ambitious, but cowardly," Dong Gil said, his eyes sparkling, giving him an unusually aggressive look. "It was fear that I wouldn't be able to tell the story I had in mind to its full extent." "Seems to me like you've underestimated yourself," Juho said. That had to be the answer he disliked to hear the most. Dong Gil wanted to know himself better than anyone, and suffice to say, his brow was already furrowed slightly. "When I realized that, I just couldn't sit there and not do anything about it. So, I made a plan." He was referring to his upcoming trip to Russia, which he was taking place in order to put the long, aspired to story in his head to paper. Seeing how 'The Full Moon' had moved the once fearful author, Juho started making sense of why Dong Gil was in such a good mood. He was finally getting closure from his age-old struggle, which he was dusting off, taking a step forward toward its solution, never to let the past haunt him again.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I think that's a wise choice." At the young author's affirmation, a subtle smile appeared on Dong Gil's face, and the aggressive look that had been on his face was no longer. "I'm used to it." "What do you mean?" "I'm used to seeing myself getting swayed by the works of authors around me," Dong Gil said and added, "But I bet you're not." Then, blinking awkwardly, Juho said, "You sound like Seo Joong." "That's some strong language, don't you think?" Despite Dong Gil's response, Juho kept the same look on his face, as if taunting him. Then, taking a sip of his green tea, the young author asked, "How was my book?" "Yours was more like Seo Joong's writing. It had a flippant side to it." When the young author remained silent, as if having taken offense to his harsh criticism, Dong Gil added, "Might I add, Seo Joong's is on a-whole-nother level. Your style is charming, but that friend of mine? Not even close." It was hard to tell if he meant it as a way of comforting Juho or insulting Seo Joong. "Do you know why I was influenced by Seo Joong?" At that, Juho turned his eyes to look at Dong Gil. The young author was well aware of the answer. "Because you wanna outdo him." "That's right." Seo Joon's talent had stirred up a competitive spirit within Dong Gil's heart. "Joon Soo seemed to think that you've come across something incredible and exciting. But I have a slightly different view." "Really?" "It's not the book that caused it. It's you. Both you and Seo Joong tend to reflect on yourselves almost excessively." Dong Gil wasn't exactly wrong in the way he described Seo Joong and Juho. 'The Full Moon' was a great book, enough to pull the young author to the depths. "'The Full Moon' is an amazing novel. I'm sure he was moved after reading it. At the same time, you were arrogant enough to think that you could catch up to Mr. Lim. It's always the top percentile students that compete for the number one spot. There's nothing more upsetting than losing that award you were so certain you'd win." "I wasn't really thinking in terms of rank," Juho said. "Neither was I. It was just a simple metaphor. There's a big difference between first and second places," Dong Gil said as he rose from his seat. Observing his movements, Juho asked, "Well, what about you? Have you ever felt that competitive?" "I have. In fact, I'm sure most writers would have had similar thoughts, wanting to write better than that one person. But in most cases, that's about the furthest most writers are willing to go. They all eventually go back to their old ways." No matter how competitive authors felt, they never let themselves get carried away by a book to the point of losing track of what they had been doing up to that point. Juho was able to figure out that Dong Gil was talking about Seo Joong from the expression on his face, which tended to show itself whenever he was talking about Seo Joong. Juho felt pricked in the heart for some reason. Meanwhile, Dong Gil walked past the young author and toward his desk. "It looks neat." "I cleaned the room just yesterday." "A page of some manuscript couldn't hurt." "Trust me. My editor-in-charge would NOT like that. He prefers me to keep my manuscripts organized and in one place." A metal pen holder with pens and pencils, a multipurpose bookshelf filled with notebooks and research data, a desk lamp, a mini-humidifier, multivitamins that he'd received as a gift, and red ginseng pills. Strange decorations he had bought on his way back from the States, a computer, a fax machine, and a plant, the name of which he didn't even know. Juho followed Dong Gil's eyes. "You know, it's hard to imagine that this is Yun Woo's room." "What makes you say that?" "It's not decorated at all, not a single poster or anything. It's as if all you do is write." The room was far from what most people imagined the young author's room would look like. Then, shrugging while Dong Gil wasn't looking, Juho said playfully, "Didn't you know? I'm somewhat of a goody two-shoes." However, Dong Gil didn't laugh at the young author's playful remark. Instead, looking around the room one more time, he asked, "You're facing challenges that are completely different from before, aren't you?" "I sure am. It's my first time on my own." "I'm talking about your readers." Instead of giving him an answer, Juho remained silent and listened, a nonverbal gesture for Dong Gil to keep talking. "You've reached a place where you have to come face to face with your readers' opinions of you. But that isn't to say that that's entirely good or bad. After all, if there are good opinions, there are bound to be bad ones too." "I'm slowly getting used to it." "I also think you have. In fact, you've adapted without even breaking a sweat. But I'm sure 'The Full Moon' made you think after you finished reading it, something like: 'Who would be happier? My readers or Mr. Lim's?'" It was proof that the young author had started being conscious of his readers, which was both a benefit and a loss. As an author, Dong Gil was significantly more experienced than Juho. "Is this coming from experience?" Juho asked. After which, the young author saw the corner of Dong Gil's mouth turning up slightly. "Of course. That's where my hopelessness comes from. Your books made me think it too. 'Trace of a Bird,' 'Sound of Wailing,' 'Language of God…' And it wasn't just your books, either. For example, the way you answered the interview questions, those answers all caused excruciating pain to your fellow authors." "And how did you overcome that pain?" "There was nothing to overcome. Seeing your colleague making it is definitely good news. In which case, my emotions are just a burden that I have to carry on my own." Even if the two authors were to burn the bridges between them, as long as both of them remained authors, they were bound to face each other again at some point. In the end, there was no way to sever the relationship. "So, it seems like a wound only time can heal." "That's right," Dong Gil said as Juho brought up what he had been meaning to say all along. "Seo Joong is back in his hometown right now. By the time I'm back from Russia, he'll probably be shooting pool on his own, looking like a bum." At that moment, the name Alexandria came up in Juho's mind. Although it was brief, his mind was filled with thoughts of the protagonist of his new story. It was a good sign. From then on, the two authors talked about Dong Gil's trip to Russia, from the cities and bookstores and the wild nature he was planning to visit, to the country's history and the people he was planning to learn about. Dong Gil was very much looking forward to his trip. As he rose from his seat, Juho also rose in order to see him out. Since it was well into the night, there wasn't anybody around. Juho looked at Dong Gil's dress shoes, which were well polished, unlike the sandals he was wearing. "Get home safe, and have a safe trip." At Juho's goodbye, Dong Gil placed his hand on his car's door and said, "You too." Although it wasn't clear what he was telling Juho to be safe from, Juho replied affirmatively. Maybe it was from his competitive spirit stirred up by 'The Full Moon.' Juho stared at Dong Gil's car as it faded into the dark street. Being out in the dark on his own, the night sky felt even darker than usual. Then, making his way back home, Juho breathed out, "Sigh…" The faint light from the nearby store lit the dark street. On his way home, he thought about Alexandria some more, wondering what kind of thoughts she would have walking through a dark street. At that moment, he felt a sudden craving for something cold. "Ice cream, it is." Juho walked toward the dim light, which was lighting the surroundings. As he came out of the dark, a person who had arrived ahead Juho stopped in their tracks as they were going through the freezer outside of the store. "It's Yun Woo!" the shadow said. "Hello," Juho said, greeting his fan naturally. It wasn't his first time coming across a reader that way. Meanwhile, the young author was barely holding on to the thoughts of Alexandria in his mind. "What are you up at this hour?" "I came out for a walk," Juho said. "Ah, late night walk." Then, the person glanced into the store and gestured for somebody to come out. After which, a child walked out and said, "Yeah?" It wasn't long before their question turned into an exclamation. After exchanging a brief greeting with the child, Juho remembered why he was there in the first place and walked toward the freezer. Then, taken aback by the presence of their favorite author, the readers said in turn, "I'm a fan!" "I've read all of your books!" As their voice registered in Juho's mind, the thoughts about Alexandria drifted away even further. Feeling an iciness on his fingertips, the young author said, "Please, pick anything you'd like. It's on me," and passed the basket next to him to the readers. "Really!?" "I'll just take this one then." "I'll have this, too." "Don't be shy! You said you've read all of my books!" Juho said, grabbing ice cream and popsicles by the handful, filling the basket. Considering how late it was, there were only so many he could choose from. While the young author went inside to pay for them, the readers waited for him outside, holding a black plastic bag filled with ice cream and popsicles. Meanwhile, the young author remembered what he had talked about with Dong Gil: 'Who would be happier? My readers or Mr. Lim's?' "Can I ask you guys something?" Juho asked the readers. It was a question Juho received a lot. "Oh, right! Of course," the readers said with a puzzled look on their faces, as if wondering what kind of question Yun Woo would have for them. "Have you two read 'The Full Moon?'" Juho asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "'The Full Moon?'" "Yes!" the child answered, unlike the adult who appeared to be confused. "What did you think?" Juho asked, and the child paused briefly, as if thinking about the young author's relationship with the literary great. Then, they answered shortly after, "It was super awesome!" The child's thought on the 'The Full moon' was short, yet direct. Hyun Do's new book was worthy of being considered the best, which meant no other would be above it. "Can I ask something too?" one of the readers asked, standing a few paces away. At that moment, Juho knew by instinct that he had been influenced by a similar remark before he had started writing about Alexandria. It felt as though something awoke within him under the full moon. However, as if oblivious to the young author's thoughts, the reader asked more or less the same question, "When are the short stories coming out?" They were obviously looking forward to the short story. Since it had been over a month since he had stopped making progress with the story, Juho couldn't answer their question immediately. "Sorry, I don't know the exact date." "Aw…" the readers let out in a groan. The dark street sank into silence, only to be broken by the rustling sound of the plastic bags reminding Juho that the ice cream and popsicles were melting. It almost felt as if they were rushing the young author. Then, looking up, Juho locked eyes with the two readers. The top half of their faces were covered in shadow. For some reason, Juho remembered having a similar feeling when he met with the certain reader. Alexandria was the young author's response to his readers' desperation for the release of the short stories. The scholastic setting had been quite appealing to Juho, and he was happy that there were readers who waited for him. "Well, we'll be waiting." With that, the readers went on their way, and Juho also turned around. 'Who would be happier? My readers or Mr. Lim's?' It was a rather shallow concern. The state of the readers was far from the image the young author had had in mind. They were more concerned about their ice cream. If Juho hadn't come across them, it wouldn't have occurred to him that his readers' concerns were nothing like his. His throat felt itchy for some reason. After all, there really was nothing to overcome. Upon returning home, Juho slammed the door shut, rushing to get inside and into his room. Then, taking the box under the desk, he flipped it upside down, pouring everything within it out on the floor. They were the pages of manuscript that were once scattered around the living room. There was something he was looking for: a story so heavy that readers would find themselves sinking into the ground before they even realized it. After scavenging through pages and pages of manuscript, Juho saw a particular word from the corner of his eye. A book thief. It was a story about a disgraceful thief whose future didn't look so promising. Then, picking up the remaining pages of that particular manuscript, Juho sat in front of his desk. It was a story about himself. Considering how much he had been writing, it made sense that he would end up writing about himself at some point. If he had never read 'The Full Moon,' it would've never occurred to Juho to even write a story about some thief. It was the moment when his month-long writing frenzy turned out to be very rewarding. Without it, Juho would have written something lukewarm and less than interesting, leaving nothing for the readers to look forward to. Thoughts drifted away against his will. His competitive spirit and desire to write better than ever, of wanting to impress and deeply move his readers. All those thoughts started fading away, making room for thoughts of Alexandria. "Welcome back, Alexandria," Juho said as he picked up the pen. --- "Thank goodness you started writing!" Nam Kyung said, sighing a sigh of relief as he sank into a chair and carelessly put his phone on the young author's desk. The story about Alexandria had started moving forward again. The editor had no doubt that Yun Woo's cheerful story would be completed this time. Nam Kyung thought back on the pages of a manuscript he had read in the young author's living room. Despite some inconsistencies within it, they were still incredibly well written, especially the segment about the book thief. A man, who seemed like he had been evil since birth, grows up to be a book thief. It was obvious that he wasn't going to be well off. Despised by those around him, the thief gets himself into debt. When reading about him, Nam Kyung couldn't help but miss Alexandria, who was just the opposite of the thief. Then, with the intention to strike up a conversation with Mr. Maeng, whose desk was next to his, the editor said, "I'm telling you, Mr. Woo really knows how to bring the most out of any characters." "Is that so?" Hyun Do had replied, and recognizing his voice, Nam Kyung jumped from his seat.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Hyun Do Lim was paying a quiet visit to Zelkova. Upon realizing his presence, all the editors jumped from their seats and greeted the literary great. Not only was Hyun Do the author behind the book that drove Yun Woo to his wits' end, but he was also the prime example of how authors should conduct themselves. Along with Yun Seo Baek, there was no reason not to respect him. Mr. Maeng was wearing a peculiar look on his face, looking as though caught off guard by the literary great's sudden visit and overwhelmed by the fact that he was seeing Hyun Do face to face. Thankfully, Nam Kyung was able to collect himself quicker when he saw the look on his coworker's face. "What brings you here, Mr. Lim?" he asked. To which, the author replied, "I just met with the president." Because the president of Zelkova had a background as an editor, it was common for him and Hyun Do to meet. "May I talk to your director?" the literary great asked. "Oh, of course! One moment, sir," Nam Kyung answered, eying Mr. Maeng. At which point, the coworker rushed out of the office to bring the director of the editing department over. While waiting for Mr. Maeng's return, Nam Kyung offered Hyun Do a seat and asked about the author's meeting with the president, "So, how'd it go?" "He seemed busy, so I just left him be. Besides, it gets stuffy in his office real quick," Hyun Do answered nonchalantly. He seemed to have gone looking for the president's office himself instead of waiting to be greeted. There had to be a reason, and suspecting that it most likely had something to do with Yun Woo, Nam Kyung closed the blinds in order to create a more private setting. After that, the editors who were glancing over in their direction all turned their heads to their respective desks. As Nam Kyung sat down, the door opened gently, and Ms. Song, wearing a big smile on her face, came into the office with two cups of green tea. "Oh! You didn't have to. Thank you very much." "Oh, no! It's my pleasure, sir," Ms. Song said, shaking her head emphatically. After she left the room, Nam Kyung and Hyun Do picked up their cups at the same time and started drinking. The room sank into silence, and the editor started the conversation off with small talk, which was quite obvious. "I really loved 'The Full Moon.'" Although there was no change in Hyun Do's expression, things didn't come across as brusque, either. "I hadn't realized how frightening a full moon could be until I read that book." Then, in a slight delay, the author answered unhurriedly, "I'm glad to hear that. There's nothing like getting complimented by editors." Nam Kyung chuckled on his own from the considerate response, and the sound echoed through the office. At that moment, the name Juho popped up in the editor's mind. What did the young author think of the literary great? Although Juho had been quite reserved about his opinions of Hyun Do, Nam Kyung suspected that it was something close to admiration. "So, you mentioned Yun Woo earlier," Hyun Do said. "Pardon?" Nam Kyung said, caught off guard and feeling slightly exposed. "Do you think he excels at bringing the most out of his characters?" the author asked, bringing up what Nam Kyung had meant to say to his coworker while clueless that Hyun Do had been in the office." "Haha. So you heard? I've been quite satisfied with his work as of late." "I heard he had to take a breather." Although it wasn't clear how Hyun Do had access to that information, it was clear that he already knew what had happened. Besides, it wasn't anything problematic, as it was a thing of the past. Currently, Yun Woo was wrestling with his new story and making significant progress. "He got back up on his feet. He's back writing." "Is that so?" Hyun Do answered, unfazed. His new book had stirred up Yun Woo's competitive spirit within him, and considering the scale of the impact 'The Full Moon' had had in the literary world, it wasn't a surprise that it had had an effect on other authors, including the young author. Since Yun Woo's book was still in its early stages, there were rumors circulating within Zelkova that something big and worthy of looking forward to was coming. Although 'The Full Moon' didn't quite have the same effect on Nam Kyung, it had left a deep impression on him nonetheless. He was able to look at the full moon in a different light, and the editor was certain that his new-found perspective would have a profound impact on his future. It was a thought that was both scary and exciting. "Did you meet with Mr. Woo?" Nam Kyung asked. "No. I'm sure he's busy writing." "If he sees your name on the screen of his phone, he'll answer without thinking twice. Even if it was in the middle of the night," Nam Kyung said, observing Hyun Do's expression, and whose eyes seemed cast down. "I wouldn't count on that." "Pardon?" "I called him just yesterday, actually. He didn't answer." "..." Nam Kyung remained silent, caught off guard by the young author's unexpected behavior. "He must've had his phone on silent," the editor said, barely managing to think of an answer. However, Hyun Do denied it, remaining calm and unfazed, "He called back much later, just as I was about to go to bed. He was probably taking a break." "... He must've been preoccupied with writing. Oh, Mr. Woo." "He told me that he waited until his phone stopped vibrating, which means he kept writing through the distraction of people calling him. He knew where his priorities lay," Hyun Do said. "Is that what Mr. Woo said?" "That's right." When Nam Kyung glanced at Hyun Do's face, there was no trace of anger in his expression. Rather, he looked delighted. As concern faded away, Nam Kyung became curious about the kind of conversation that took place between the two authors. "So, what did Mr. Woo have to say about 'The Full Moon?'" "He was very open about it. He said that there'd been an aftershock he had had to deal with after reading my book, but he did get something out of the experience, for what it's worth." For the young author, reading 'The Full Moon' had been both a loss and a gain. "Did you two talk about his work-in-progress at all?" "Not really. It seemed to be going OK," Hyun Do said, picking up his cup. When he took a sip, his white hair covered his forehead. That time, the author took the initiative to ask, "Well, what do you think? You've read his manuscript, right?" The story about Alexandria had gone through an interim evaluation, and the editor recalled just how bright and cheerful the protagonist's life was when he read the manuscript. It had the power to put a smile on readers' faces. Although it was likely that some would find the story shallow and lacking in substance, it was more than enough to get the readers to be able to connect with it emotionally. On top of that, the two short stories that were going to be included with the new story were more than enough to prove Yun Woo's skill as an author. "I think this just might be Yun Woo's most lovable novel to this day," Nam Kyung said, marketing the young author's work-in-progress to Hyun Do. To which, the author nodded affirmatively. "I look forward to it." Nam Kyung had never heard of a remark like that from Hyun Do, since it was extremely uncommon for him to express his expectations to others. He felt a heavy responsibility on his shoulders. However, the editor was fully aware that he wasn't the only one bearing that burden. The burden on the young author had to be significantly heavier. "You should encourage him sometime," Nam Kyung said with a subtle smile. At which, Hyun Do also responded with a subtle smile, giving off a serene, unhurried impression, "I don't have that kind of time." Nam Kyung looked at the author's flawless posture. It was impressive how straight the line from his shoulders to his lower back was. However, the editor wasn't convinced that somebody who sat with such a straight posture on a regular basis couldn't afford the time to check in with the young author. "But, Mr. Lim, 'Language of God' essentially came about because of you," Nam Kyung said. "At the end of the day, it's the author who does the writing, and I'm sure Juho knows this very well." Because the young author was aware of that, he had expressed his gratitude toward Hyun Do for giving him the inspiration. "There, you guys are!" the director came in after knocking, and Nam Kyung rose from his seat to greet her. The director seemed to be glad to see the editor and Hyun Do in one place. After greeting the author briefly, the director struck up a conversation with him, "I would've gone to you if you'd stayed in the president's office." "I had business to attend to," Hyun Do said, and the director smiled as if used to his demeanor. Meanwhile, as Nam Kyung stood in his place and observed the situation, the director looked at him and asked, "How's Mr. Woo been?" "Very good," Nam Kyung answered without hesitation. Just like he had said, Yun Woo was doing incredibly well. Then, with a look of relief on her face, the director replied, patting the editor on the shoulder, "I'm telling you, he makes everything so much easier for us! He knows how to build trust with people. Well, you better start getting ready." 'To do what? Resign? Publish? Outside duty? Business trip?' Nam Kyung thought to himself, confused by the director's remark. At which point, she explained in a friendly manner, "Mr. Woo's signing event?" "Ah!" Nam Kyung let out as he was reminded of what he had been forgetting. Since revealing himself, not only had Yun Woo made an appearance on TV, but also participated in interviews. He was able to present himself on official occasions, and it was normal for an author of his scale to have a signing event. Nam Kyung looked at Hyun Do by reflex, but he learned little about what the author was thinking. Then, as the editor thought of Juho, his busy mind came to a sudden halt. "So…" "Yeah?" "I'm pretty sure he said he wasn't going to do it," Nam Kyung said quietly, dragging his answer out. At which point, the director's hand on the editor's shoulder grew tighter, implying that she wasn't going to go into details about the matter in front of Hyun Do. "He's already revealed himself. I know he's gonna come around. Riiight?" "Right," Nam Kyung said, smiling along with the director. Now, he had to convince the young author to have the signing event at all cost, no matter what. "Shall we?" the director asked Hyun Do, walking out of the office with him. The voice fading into the distance made Nam Kyung feel disconnected almost instantly. "A signing event, huh," Nam Kyung said, sinking into a chair. The time came for the young author to go through a bigger event. Although there was still time since the event would take place after the release of the book, even if the young author were to change his mind, that day was bound to come eventually, which meant Nam Kyung had to plan for it ahead of time and think about how to convince the young author. "Who knows? Maybe he'll just do a complete one-eighty all of a sudden," the editor murmured. However, he knew full well that that was merely wishful thinking, as other thoughts were already running amok in his mind. --- "Be safe." "Make sure to place those orders by the end of the day, yeah?" "Gotcha." With that, Nam Kyung rose from his seat. When he walked out of the building, he narrowed his eyes from the bright sunshine on his face. The weather was quite pleasant that day. Then, trying to remain composed, Nam Kyung got in his car and went on his way. The GPS was leading him to one destination, the house of the author with whom he had been working. Although it wasn't his first time visiting the young author at his home, he felt noticeably more nervous than usual. Nam Kyung thought back to the text he had received that morning then, and after which, he immediately called the young author. The message read: 'I've finished my first draft.' "You mean, you're done with your first draft?" "Yes, I am," Juho replied. The manuscript had finally been completed, and considering how troublesome the process had been, the editor welcomed the news much more eagerly. Meanwhile, the young author told his editor-in-charge that he had successfully overcome the predicament he had found himself in, which made the editor even gladder. "I'll send it your way." "Hold on," Nam Kyung said while checking the scheduling app on his phone. There was some business that needed to be addressed, and doing so in person seemed to be the best way of going about it. "I'll go to your house and pick it up in person, if you're OK with that." "Sure. Whatever floats your boat," Juho replied affirmatively and in his usual demeanor. "Turn right," As the voice sounded from the GPS, Nam Kyung snapped out of his thought. At the end of the road, was the manuscript, and he was anxious to read it. The trip to meet with the young author to read the manuscript came with excitement. The fact that he, as Yun Woo's editor, would get to read it before anyone else was also incredibly rewarding, and it validated his decision to choose a career that could easily suck the life out of him. "Sigh," Nam Kyung let out, as if exclaiming. Unfortunately, being an editor meant that there were times when he had to disagree with the author's choice in sentences. It all came from his efforts in trying to make better books. The revision process could be described as the saying: in with the new, out with the old. It involved undoing what had been completed and rebuilding it, and that process tended to come with guilt. It didn't help that he had to tear down a building that was already well built. Nam Kyung turned the steering wheel unhurriedly. As he drove, he rolled the window down in order to let the fresh air into the car. As always, his job required him to think, read, and edit carefully, and the editor kept reminding himself of that in order to keep himself calm. However, maintaining a peaceful mind was proving to be a lot harder, as other concerns tended to pop up despite his efforts to silence them. "Better talk to him about the signing event." At that moment, he was forced to slow down at the sight of the traffic jam. The honking of horns and what sounded like the noise of construction followed, and before long, the road was in a state of chaos. At the sight of the unexpected traffic conditions, Nam Kyung clicked his tongue irritably.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl That day, the elevator felt like it was moving faster than usual. As Nam Kyung walked toward the young author's apartment, his footsteps echoed through the hallway. Then, after he rang the doorbell upon arrival, the sound of a lock disengaging came from the door, revealing the young author, who appeared to be in a noticeably better shape than before, behind it. However, Juho still seemed to have lost some weight. "Hello, there," Juho greeted the editor, letting him in. "The living room's a lot cleaner than I remember," Nam Kyung said, and Juho chuckled quietly. Then, watching him walk into the kitchen to prepare tea, Nam Kyung sat on the couch in the living room. Although he wanted to demand that the young author show him the finished first draft, the editor sat and waited quietly, reminding himself that there were steps that needed to be taken to get there. Soon, Juho returned to the living room with cold beverages in his hands, which appeared to be some kind of iced tea. "I got it from Dong Gil as a gift," Juho said, clarifying the source of the teabags. Nam Kyung took the cup from Juho, which had what looked like look an owl drawn on the outer wall of the cup. Seeing as though the cup looked significantly different from the one in Juho's hand, Nam Kyung's cup appeared to be a special one for the guests. "Are you coming from work?" "Yep," Nam Kyung said, feeling the breeze blowing into the house through the window, probably the reason for the house to have been in disarray, with pages of manuscript paper scattered about the entirety of it. Nam Kyung still had vivid memories of that day, of struggling to keep the pages from flying away. Now, the clean, organized state of the living room proved to the editor that Juho had really overcome his predicament. Frankly, it was common for authors to be influenced by external factors and to struggle to maintain the consistency in their writing. Because they were human, authors also had a life to lead, and it was impossible for them to approach writing with the same, consistent mindset and emotional state every time. Of course, every author had their own way of dealing with that, which obviously varied in effect. Whatever Yun Woo's method for dealing with the inconsistencies of being human, which often rose from his daily life, was, it was clearly ineffective when it came to protecting him from the impact of 'The Full Moon.' Since reading Hyun Do's new book, Juho had experienced a change, being unable to write in the way that he had in mind. Thankfully, what had helped the young author return to stability was a certain encounter with his readers. Nam Kyung observed the look on Juho's face. He was staring straight ahead and drinking his tea absentmindedly. It had an uncanny resemblance to the look on Hyun Do's face, including its ambiguity, making it impossible to read. "So, did Alexandria finish school after all?" Nam Kyung asked. Then, he saw Juho's eyes move as he caught on to what the editor was implying. Chuckling quietly, Juho said, "You'll find out." As an experienced editor, Nam Kyung was well acquainted with the looks on authors faces when they were about to show their first drafts to their editors. Knowing the challenges they were about to face, most authors couldn't celebrate in peace, which meant editors had to be even more cautious in the way they approached the revision process. Authors tended to have incredibly sharp eyes, and they were capable of catching even the most subtle changes of expression on their editors' faces. Knowing that, Nam Kyung was well aware that he was becoming the target of observation in that moment. He tended to refrain, as much as possible, from showing any emotion on his face when reading through a manuscript. However, he often found himself having to be twice as cautious in front of Yun Woo, as the young author was incredibly sensitive. "Here you go," Juho said as he brought the manuscript out. Hiding his anxiety, Nam Kyung took the bundle of paper from the young author's hand. While the editor read through it, Juho drank his tea. There was no interaction between the two for a little while, letting only the various random sounds occupy the silence, such as the whir of the motor within the refrigerator, the sound of cars passing by outside, and the chirping of a bird. At that moment, the sound of laughter broke the silence. Nam Kyung had laughed while covering his mouth with his hand, which he had clenched into a fist for some reason. Then, looking away from the page, Nam Kyung looked at the person who had made him burst into laughter, who also had a subtle smile on his face, as if relieved to see the editor's response. "She's a cheerful person," Nam Kyung said. "She has a unique way of problem-solving, doesn't she?" "Indeed. She's very likable." Just like her name, Alexandria tended to conquer all the challenges that came her way in the bravest manner. As Yun Woo's editor, Nam Kyung acknowledged that she was the most humorous character ever created by the young author. 'How could anybody possibly not like her?' Nam Kyung thought to himself. She had a presence fit for a king. "Seems like the setting really brings out more of the story," he added. Unlike the magnificent characters and their extraordinary life stories, the entire story took place in a small, humble setting. It was that seemingly jarring contrast that had provoked the laughter. In simple terms, it was a comedy. After collecting himself, Nam Kyung resumed reading. The fast pace gave life to the sentences, making it difficult to figure out where he had left off. At the same time, it felt somewhat excessive, making the editor concerned about the story becoming shallow down each line. Nevertheless, holding back any judgment, Nam Kyung read on. At that moment, something unexpected happened. What had felt like a seamless reading experience quickly became anything but. Something was out of place, and Nam Kyung felt his brow tensing up as the young author's gaze bore down on him. In that moment, thinking that the best course of action was to cover his face somehow, Nam Kyung sat up and lowered his head, reading the pages up close. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he had read about the thief at some point. "This is the book thief, isn't it?" Nam Kyung asked. The thief was making an appearance in the most unexpected place in the book. When the editor looked up at Juho, he was wearing a peaceful look, unfazed. "I know what you're thinking. Keep reading," Juho said, and according to his advice, Nam Kyung read on. What had been a cheerful, uplifting story had taken a dark turn. Although the thief seemed to be slightly younger than when Nam Kyung had first read about him, the thief still seemed like he had been evil since birth, and that had remained true of him even as an elementary student. Shrewd, evil, and entirely devoid of conscience, the thief continued to steal books at school. Inclined to betray those around him, the thief didn't interact with anybody and only provided help when there was a benefit to him. Up to that point, Nam Kyung had met countless people like that in his life, and he would most likely meet more of them in the future. Children were growing up sooner and sooner. Similarly, the book thief, who had the appearance of a child, was already an adult on the inside, bearing an uncanny resemblance to his coworkers and those Nam Kyung had to bow to. Like day turning into night, what was once a naive and lovely story had started changing out of nowhere. As the Sun set and took the light with it, darkness engulfed the world. In other words, it was reality and thankfully, the Sun rose again in that dark reality. It was incredibly well done and distinctively Yun Woo. The presence of the book thief enhanced the quality of the book even more, which was still in its first draft. After revisions, it was bound to come to life even more. Then, looking up, Nam Kyung said, "Thanks for your submission, Mr. Woo." With that out of the way, there was one more thing that needed to be brought up to the young author. When reminded of that, Nam Kyung was immediately struck by anxiety. --- When Juho saw his editor laughing, the emotion that came to him was a sense of relief. It had seemed like at least some of the young author's intentions had gotten across. Thankfully, Nam Kyung saw the book thief coexisting with a character like Alexandria positively. However, the editor had expressed some concerns toward the end, when the protagonist came to face the thief. When Juho looked at Nam Kyung again, the editor seemed to have reconciled with his initial concern. Frankly, from the time the editor first stepped into the house, Juho had been nervous about Nam Kyung's visit. Whenever he was about to show a manuscript to his editor for the first time, Juho would always find himself getting nervous. Unfortunately, there was little he could do about it. At the end of the day, Nam Kyung was an editor, and Juho was an author. Contrary to the uplifting atmosphere of the novel, writing that story had come with its fair share of struggle. If Juho were to be honest, he would appear quite nervous about what Nam Kyung would have to say about the manuscript. Knowing that Nam Kyung tended to hide his emotions when reading a manuscript, Juho felt the need to observe him even closer. It wasn't long before his tea had run out while he was watching the editor reading. Then, Juho noticed something strange after Nam Kyung put the manuscript down, looking noticeably more comfortable. There was something about the editor that made him look anxious, as if he had something to say. "Would you like more tea?" Juho asked, and the editor accepted his offer gladly. Juho went to the kitchen with Nam Kyung's cup and filled it with water, reverting it back to its composition of before Nam Kyung had started drinking from it. Meanwhile, Juho thought about what the editor was about to bring up. If it was about the manuscript, then it didn't make sense that he would be so anxious. Juho recalled having already declined an interview offer. Perhaps, he had a different manuscript in mind that he wanted to request. With that, as the young author returned to the living room, and Nam Kyung said, "I think we can breathe now. You've come a long way." "I'm not gonna lie, it wasn't easy," Juho said, agreeing with Nam Kyung. "Although, the real fun part hasn't happened yet." Unfortunately, the writing process was still ongoing. The story was still in its early stages, and it still needed to go through a number of revisions until it became a book-worthy. "Right. The real fun is just about to begin," Nam Kyung said, nodding weakly. Something wasn't right. The editor was keeping the same behavior about him, even as they talked. "I can just picture how things will look on the release day, you know?" "I mean, it's not my first time writing a book. But if I were to be honest, I am still kind of nervous." "Right? I mean, seeing your book getting released is definitely something to celebrate." As an author, the fact that his book was getting released was good news. Instead of the pages of manuscript paper in Nam Kyung's hands, the machine would print a revised version of the manuscript, which would be reformatted in order to make the printing process more efficient. After going through the revisions that would be made, the workers at the print shop would look at the spacings, the filming process, and the plate making. Then, the printed pages would be bound into a book. Nam Kyung imagined a freshly printed book coming out of the printer. As usual, the book would come out in B6 paper. There would be countless promises that would be made in the process of estimating how many materials would be needed and the cost of production. "It's kind of like a festival of sorts. You know, an event," Nam Kyung said. It was quite different from what Juho had in mind. "Right. Although, I'm not sure how to feel about events." "You're not sure?" "No." Then, pausing briefly, Nam Kyung put on a determined look, appearing as though he was about to get to the point. "Let's do a signing event," the editor said in a slight delay. Again, it wasn't exactly what Juho had had in mind, and the word signing event sounded quite foreign to the young author. "You mean, me?" "Yes." "Me? Have a signing event?" "What's the matter, Mr. Woo? You seem shocked," Nam Kyung said, looking much more at peace than before. "Call it a special event in celebration of the release of your new book. Think about it. Spending the entire day with your readers at a bookstore on the day of release," Nam Kyung said, emphasizing the participation of the readers. Then, after staring into the air in a daze, Juho said, "I've never done it." Nam Kyung looked at him as if Juho was stating the obvious. However, Juho had never held a signing event in the past because his second book had turned out to be a disaster. "What I'm suggesting here is Yun Woo's first official signing event. My company and I will take care of all the details. Think about it, Mr. Woo. This is your opportunity to show just how grateful you are to your readers." "..." Nam Kyung kept on, as if determined to convince the young author. "It's just so sudden." "I'm not suggesting that you make a decision today," Nam Kyung said, implying that Juho shouldn't be so quick to decline, either. It was a well-known fact that Yun Woo disliked appearing before the public. Then, replacing the phrase said by his editor in his head, Juho asked, "If I said yes…" "Yes?" Nam Kyung asked without even breathing. "How would it happen?" At that, Nam Kyung gave the young author a brief summary of what the event would look like. "First, we'll give everyone a numbered ticket and make sure people who are coming from far away get the advantage of staying in the front of the line. Considering that it's your signing event, I'm guessing there will be quite a few people who won't hesitate to travel a long distance. We'll discuss that in more detail as we go." "And if I said no." "Think about it," Nam Kyung said, glaring piercingly at the young author's face. Although Juho wasn't sure of what Nam Kyung was thinking, seeing as though he was busy trying to prevent the young author from declining right off the bat, Juho remained open to the idea. Not only was the fact that it was something he had never done before appealing to him, but he also recalled having received help from certain readers. He had come to realize that meeting with his readers was not entirely a bad thing. As he was deep in thought, Nam Kyung kept on, "We'll have a team of talented individuals helping you out. Besides, I'll be right there, next to you. It might feel foreign and awkward since it's your first time, but eventually, you'll even start recognizing some of the readers who show up regularly as we hold more signings. A lot of fan cafe members tend to come to events like that actually. They're professionals when it comes to signing events." "Please, tell me more," Juho said, noticing the subtle smile spreading across Nam Kyung's face. The editor had to have noticed that Juho was taking an interest, glad that the young author was open to the idea of holding a signing event. "I think the biggest perk of having an event like this is that you get to see your readers' responses immediately after they've read the book. After all, the event is going to be on the book's release day," Nam Kyung said, and Juho became curious about what the readers' responses would be like immediately after they've read the book. "What if they hurl insults?" "You didn't get that from me, so you should be fine." "There are all sorts of readers out there, though." When a manuscript became the subject of an editor's insults, it never got made into a book. However, that didn't necessarily mean that the opposite was true. The approval of the editor didn't necessarily guarantee the success of the book either. It was the gap between ideal and reality. Thankfully, Nam Kyung had always been a trustworthy editor. Alexandria. The book thief. Short stories. Readers. "Should I give it a try?" Juho asked, only to rephrase what he had said shortly after, "No, I'll do it. As long as you arrange it." That day, Nam Kyung smiled brighter than ever.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Myung Joo Mu was an actor whose success had come after many years of obscurity. He had become increasingly popular after his role as the brother in the movie 'Trace of a Bird.' "You did great, Mr. Mu!" "Thank you." After a guerilla interview, the actor exchanged thank yous with the interviewer at a restaurant in Hongdae. On his way to the restaurant, Myung Joo had a number of impromptu fan events. Although he still felt awkward on one hand, he recognized that having fans was something to be grateful for. There were still a crowd outside the restaurant waiting for him to come out. His daily life was now filled with unthinkable occurrences, and strangely, he was starting to have a hard time remembering how life as a no-name actor used to be. He was in a place where he was able to reminisce about his difficult past with a smile on his face. It couldn't possibly be a bad change. As he stepped out of the restaurant, the crowd of fans screamed at the sight of him, and the actor waved before getting into his car. While the manager started driving, Myung Joo closed his eyes after looking out the window at his fans rushing past it. "Tired?" "A little bit." "That was a lot of fun! I think you'll look great behind the screen." Myung Joo felt relieved almost instantly upon hearing the encouraging remarks from his manager. No matter how many times he went through it, the actor still had a hard time getting used to the the hectic schedule. Massaging this shoulders, he realized just how tense he was through the interview. After rotating his neck a few times, he reached for a book next to him, titled 'An Insect Leaves No Trace.' Written by Yun Woo, it was the book that the actor had been reading repeatedly. However, no matter how many times he read it, it was just as good as the first time. To him, Yun Woo was a great author, and the memory of their first encounter still remained fully intact in his mind. Despite being significantly younger than him, Yun Woo had had a mature vibe about him. 'I wonder if that's what happens to writers...' Myung Joo thought to himself despite knowing full well that that was merely an unfounded assumption. "That book again?" His manager asked, as if tired of seeing the actor reading the same book. "What? It's a good book." "I'm tellin' you, Myung Joo. You're obsessed." Then, as the car turned to the left, their bodies leaned toward the same direction. "Well, I guess it's understandable," the manager said. Myung Joo's life had turned around because of Yun Woo's book. That was what a lot of people thought anyway. Nevertheless, the actor had no intention of denying it. Yun Woo's writing had a profound and deep impact in his life, even outside of his acting career. "Considering how big of a fan you are," the manager added. "I do like him a lot, but that has nothing to do with why I read his books." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means I read them because they're good books," Myung Joo told his manager. In the actor's mind, Yun Woo and 'Trace of a Bird' weren't on equal footing. Strictly speaking, what had really impacted his life had been the book rather than the author. In other words, he had always had the choice to stop after reading 'Trace of a Bird.' However, every single book by the young author was a gem, each and every one of them impressive in its own way, which really made the actor look forward to the young author's new book. "Really? Does that mean you don't like the author himself all that much?" "Of course not, I'm a fan!" "So, if I were to summarize, you just like everything about him." "All I'm saying is that I'm not reading his books just because I like him." "All right. OK," the manager said as he stopped the car at a red light. "What's Yun Woo like in person?" the manager asked. Although Myung Joo had heard that question more times than he could count, the fact that the question was coming from his manager, who didn't have even a remote interest in literature, made it feel like he was hearing it for the first time. It was highly likely that the manager didn't know who Seo Joong Ahn and Dong Gil Uhm were, although he might have heard of Joon Soo Bong since he had been growing increasingly famous in the media. Rather than literature, the manager's interests were something completely unrelated. He was incredibly knowledgeable about tools and civil engineering. On top of that, he was an excellent manager. "Why do you ask?" Myung Joo asked. To which, the manager answered nonchalantly, "Well, it's just that I hear about him everywhere these days. Yun Woo this, Yun Woo that. Now, people are raving about his short stories coming out. People tend to ask me a lot of questions about celebrities as soon as they find out what I do, and do you know about whom the second most commonly asked question is? Yun Woo. So, I started getting curious myself. Honestly, though, I don't understand how people can get into books like that." As the release date approached, the fans grew even more anxious. Their wish was finally coming true: a piece that contained traces of Yun Woo's life. Myung Joo was also one of those fans. Part of him anticipated a promotional interview, and although he pretended not to be excited, Myung Joo couldn't deny that just the thought of the new short stories put him in a better mood almost instantly. However, none of that would answer his manager's question in any meaningful way. With that, he gave the same answer to the question he had heard one too many times, long tired of both. Besides, the fact that he was talking to his manager didn't really make a difference. "If you wanna know about Yun Woo, it would be a lot quicker to read his books than to ask me." At that, the manager gave the actor a look as though he had heard some cliché moral lesson. No matter how stereotypical his manager found Myung Joo's answer, however, the actor believed that reading Yun Woo's books was the best way to know the young author. Similarly, Myung Joo believed that his manager would be able to understand why people were so enthusiastic about books once he experienced a book himself. In either case, the quickest and most efficient way to know about an author was to read their books. "I don't think I've ever read a book from cover to cover," the manager said, confessing the reason why he couldn't get into a book. "But you watch movies for hours on end," Myung Joo said. "Movies are entertaining though. The fancy sound effects to all the fancy action sequences and the enormous movie set." "I can tell that you're into fancy things." Speaking of fancy, Yun Woo was one of the figures that shone the brightest in the literary world. Thankfully, he seemed like an author who would fall within the manager's preferences. Considering the manager's personality, it was very likely that he would buy every single Yun Woo book in print as soon as he discovered what it was like to read a book written by Yun Woo. "If you have trouble getting through long books, then start with short stories. There are different kinds of books out there. 'River' is probably Yun Woo's most representative short story. It leaves you with a lasting impression. I think you'll like it." "You think so? 'River,' huh? But I'm into things that are really intense though. Short stories aren't typically known for their depth, are they? At least that's my understanding of how they're viewed anyway," the manager said, tilting his head as if still having trouble grasping everything. "You'll find out after you read it," Myung Joo said. Seeing his manager repeating the title of the short story to himself, the actor recognized that as a welcoming change and added, "If you're into more intense things, then 'Sound of Wailing' is also a good choice." "'Sound of Wailing?'" "Although, in terms of immersiveness, you gotta go with 'Language of God.'" "That one's way too long though," the manager said. He also knew about the series. After all, it was quite famous by that point. "In a sense, 'River' is more intense than 'Language of God.'" "Great. They sell all of 'em in bookstores, right?" "I'll just lend 'em to you. You can come in for a minute, and I'll fetch them for you." "That'd be great!" While he was at it, Myung Joo took his phone out in order to make sure that he was conveying accurate information to his manager. "When was it that you met Yun Woo again?" "..." "Myung Joo?" Although the manager's voice lingered in the car, the actor was entirely occupied with the new information he had obtained. "They're holding a signing event," Myung Joo said. "With whom? You?" "Yun Woo." "Whoa! Seriously? I didn't know authors held signing events!" Unlike the manager, who spoke calmly, Myung Joo was struggling to suppress his excitement. It was a signing event in celebration of the new book's release. In other words, it was an opportunity for fans to get Yun Woo's autograph on the day of the short stories' release. Yun Woo had authored some of the most immersive books Myung Joo had ever come across. Although there had been times when he had wondered what the world would have looked like if Yun Woo hadn't been an author, he was fully aware of how meaningless it was to think about such a thing. Yun Woo was one of the actor's absolute favorite authors. Checking his schedule, Myung Joo made sure that he was going to be available on the day of the signing. 'I have to be there,' the actor thought to himself. Upon arrival, Myung Joo brought the books out to his manager as promised. Although the bundle turned out to be quite hefty, the actor was certain that his manager would be able to read every single one of the books. Then, as he was getting in the car, as usual, the manager said to the actor, "You make sure to get some good rest, all right? Don't even think about going anywhere." "Will do." Myung Joo wasn't the type to lie or go out of his way to go somewhere he shouldn't. After seeing him out with a smile, the actor rushed into his house and started looking into the signing event on the internet. --- "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Woo." On the day of the signing, the branch manager of the store greeted the young author, reaching for a handshake, and Juho responded with a smile and a handshake. It was 8:00 a.m., and the store wasn't opening for another hour and a half. Although the signing was planned to start after lunchtime, Juho had let his curiosity get the best of him and ended up arriving early. Due to the employees and store officials, the store wasn't entirely empty. Still, compared to his usual experience in bookstores, it was significantly quieter. The store was rather large, and because of that, the surroundings grew quieter as the young author went further into the store. His new books were already on the display racks next to the cashier counter, where it could be easily seen by the customers. "So! How do you feel holding your first signing event?" the manager asked. Although Juho didn't really have any thoughts about it, he gave a sincere answer, "A little nervous, a little excited." "You know, I've seen countless signing events for authors up to this point, but I've never been more excited about any of them than for today. I hope you warmed up your wrists, Mr. Woo," the manager said, warning the young author playfully. The signing was planned to last for several hours. Although it was bound to be physically demanding, it was also an opportunity for Juho to meet his readers. With that, the manager gave a tour of the store, particularly the sections that carried Juho's books. Unlike most books, which were organized by genre and the year they had been published, his books were all combined into one section. As the young author looked intently at the books, the manager started raving about the current trends of the publishing industry, as if feeling awkward or itching to talk some more. From the most printed to the most popular genres, he seemed to be quite knowledgeable. "Sir?" An employee called to the manager. After which, he asked to be excused and walked away with them. Although listening to the manager had been quite entertaining, Juho wanted to explore every corner of the store while he was there. Then, after coming across a book with a certain title, he picked it up from the shelf. It was a new book, and it had just been included in the store's inventory. Although Juho had received his copy from his publisher, coming across a fresh copy at a bookstore before it was even open made it a different experience. The title, 'Alexandria,' jumped out at the young author, especially with its gold-colored cover. Designed by Jung Eun Kong, the focus was on the aspect of abundance and prosperity. Juho thought back to the stacks of books next to the cashier counter. Seeing a stack of gold books was quite a sight to behold, even befitting the title of the book somehow. With that, Juho walked toward the middle of the store, where the promotional banner with his face on it hung. It was the space designated for the signing event. Feeling uncomfortable staring at his own face, Juho walked toward another spot, where domestic literature was being displayed. Following his instincts, Juho looked for 'The Full Moon' and found three copies in the shelf, back to back. 'I wonder if this is what Seo Kwang's bookshelf looks like,' Juho wondered. Then, in order to see if there were other names he recognized, the young author started exploring other section in the store. Yun Seo Baek, Wol Kang, Kelley Coin, Seo Joong Ahn, Dong Gil Uhm, Dae Soo Na, Joon Soo Bong, Mideum Choo, and Geun Woo Yoo, whose books took a little longer to find than the others. It had been a while since Juho had been to a bookstore, and he was enjoying the peace and quiet to its full extent while it lasted. As he walked around the store, he ran into Nam Kyung, who was just coming out of a certain section. Then, looking as if he had been looking for Juho, the editor said, "Did you get to look around? We better get going. You haven't eaten yet, right?" "Nope," Juho said, realizing how hungry he was. "Would've been nice to do a quick interview before the signing," Nam Kyung murmured as they were exiting the store, but Juho chose not to respond to it. When they were about to walk out of the glass door, they saw a group of twenty or so people on the other side, each with a book in hand. It was 'Language of God.' There was only one reason for why there would be a crowd waiting in front of a bookstore at that hour. "People are starting to line up already!" Nam Kyung said, impressed.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "They're here so early," Juho said, noticing one of the employees from the store peeking out. That people waiting in line that early was puzzling to Juho. There was still quite a long time until the store opened. "Why are these people here so early? The store isn't even open yet." "They're competing to be the first in line. Seeing the number one printed on the ticket comes with a certain sense of achievement," Nam Kyung replied immediately, as if he already knew the answer to the young author's question. "So, they're the ones I'm about to meet, huh?" Juho said, intently observing the faces of the people waiting in line. There were a handful of people who were talking among themselves. However, none of them looked bored. At that moment, as the young author locked eyes with the person squatting in the front of the line, the person sprung up in their place. "I'd be ruining the experience for them if I ran into these people, right?" Juho asked. "Probably. Let's go around the back." With that, Juho and Nam Kyung turned around and headed for another door on the opposite side of the building, which took them to the editor's car safely and without running into anybody. "I say we eat while we can. You won't even have the time to drink water once the signing starts," Nam Kyung said, and Juho nodded. Everyone in the store, including the manager, had a determined look about them, which told the young author that it was going to be quite a daunting event. "You can always take a break when you need it, so let the manager or one of the employees know." "OK," Juho said as he got into the editor's car. "Do you think there's gonna be a lot of people?" "Of course! It's Yun Woo!" "I saw Myung Joo on TV yesterday in a guerilla-style interview." The interview had taken place in Hongdae, and the camera had shown the crowd surrounding the restaurant in which the interview took place. That showed just how popular Myung Joo was becoming. "Oh! I read an article about that too," Nam Kyung said, nodding. "You don't think there'll be THAT many people, do you?" At Juho's question, an ambivalent look appeared on Nam Kyung's face while he looked straight ahead. "I'd guess about that many." "No way," Juho said. Then, as if nothing had happened, he thought about what to eat for breakfast. --- Despite feeling like their lungs were about to explode, the fan ran relentlessly, with an urgent need to get somewhere. Because it was still early in the morning, there were barely any people around, allowing the fan to run unhindered. Thanks to their favorite author, the fan was experiencing something they had never experienced before, and the realization made their heart beat even faster. 'First place!' The fan thought to themselves, looking around the bookstore that was yet to open. It was 6:00 a.m. The fan had arrived somewhere they had never been. Looking into the bookstore through the glass windows, the fan revisited the route they had mapped out in their mind. Starting from the place where the numbered tickets were going to be given out, to where 'Alexandria' was going to be displayed, the fan had planned out a route in order to navigate through the busy store more efficiently. Taking out their phone, the fan checked the directory of the store in order to double check that everything had been planned accurately. Since they had visited ahead of time just the day before in order to scout out the place, as long as everything went according to the plan, the fan would be standing in the front of the line with the number one sticker on their book, being the first person to get Yun Woo's autograph. Plunking down on the stairs, the fan took their breakfast, which they prepared ahead of time, out of their bag. "I can't screw this up," the fan said in order to motivate themselves. Failure wasn't an option. While chewing on a piece of pickled radish, the fan took their phone out of their pocket and checked the group chat between those members of their fancafe who had agreed to come to the signing event. There were quite a few people who were just starting to get out of bed, which gave the fan a sense of pride and accomplishment. Then, moving their fingers, the fan updated their fellow members of their status quo: "I'm in front of the bookstore now." At that moment, a groan came out of nowhere, "Aw!" As the fan turned in the direction from where it had come, knowing immediately that the person who had groaned had arrived at the bookstore with the exact same purpose in mind. Then, after taking turns looking at the store and the fan, the person who had groaned walked over to the entrance for no apparent reason, only to stand behind the fan. "You're here for the signing event, right?" "That's right." There was regret in the person's voice. "Hey, look at the bright side! Second place is still impressive," the fan said in order to comfort the person second in line. "You already know where the tickets are gonna be given out, right?" "Yes. I did my research." It wasn't long before the first and second in line discovered that they spoke the same language and shared food with each other. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't we take pictures of each other while we're getting the autographs?" "That sounds brilliant! I'll take several in different angles." "Thanks. Since reading AILNT, I kind of choke up whenever I pose for a picture," the second-in-line said, referring to 'An Insect Leaves No Trace' by an acronym like an avid fan. "Yeah, I know what you mean." With that, the two started talking about Yun Woo, and the second-in-line kept on about the book, saying, "I'm so proud that AILNT went into its second printing within two months in the US." "I was losing it when I found out that the first edition started at one million copies. It says a lot about where the book stands in the overseas market." "What do you think Yun Woo will be like in person? I can only imagine from what I've read in the interviews." They each had a certain image of what the young author would look like. Similar to the second-in-line, the fan had also been thinking about what Yun Woo would be like in person. Although the young author appeared to be serious and earnest on TV, that couldn't immediately be considered his natural self because the occasion had him surrounded by cameras. "He does seem mature… but I have a feeling that he'll be childlike too. I mean, you saw just how cheerful the synopsis of the new story was, right?" "Speaking of which, I'm having trouble picturing what that would be like. Yun Woo and humor just don't really click in my mind. If anything, I picture him as this fancy, heavy, serious, and somewhat precarious person," the fan said, and the second-in-line agreed, saying, "Right? I felt similarly when 'Sound of Wailing' was coming out. I wasn't sure what to expect." "Oh, yeah! That's true. That pure writing style in 'Trace of a Bird' kind of fit his age back then." "Just like 'Sublimation.'" "Man, that book! I think there's a reason why that one's so controversial though." "Yet, here I was, thinking he would stick with pure literature, and what does he do? He releases another book under a different alias. I'm telling you, this guy's a genius!" "I agree." Then, the second-in-line opened their backpack and showed off their entire set of the 'Language of God' series. "In my opinion, I think the original was a lot better-looking than the hardcover version," the second-in-line said, expressing their personal preference. "Zelkova really knows what they're doing. Their book covers look great. Besides, who would've thought Yun Woo's signing event would happen so soon? This is a dream come true," the fan said, and the second-in-line agreed emphatically. It wasn't common for Yun Woo to make public appearances, and the way he had answered the questions in the interviews had only proved that further. Suffice to say, those who knew the young author well had given up wishing for a signing event. "Which is what made me even more excited!" It felt as though they were receiving a gift. As the two conversed, the line became noticeably longer, and the longer the line got, the more it dawned on the fan that the fan was the first person in line. Everyone else was lining up behind them and the store was about to open in about an hour. Squatting and in a daze, the fan fiddled about with a tree branch, which broke shortly after. At that moment, as the fan looked up, they saw somebody through the window of the store. It was Yun Woo. "Whoa!" By the time the fan sprung up from their place, the young author had already turned away. As the shadow of the author quickly faded away into the distance, the fan stood in a daze for a brief moment. "Did you see him? It was Yun Woo!" the fan said. "What? Who!?" the second-in-line said, turning toward the fan while conversing with the third-in-line. Although it was brief, the fan was certain that the person he had seen had been Yun Woo. 'What's he doing at the store so early? Well… I guess it kind of makes sense,' the fan thought to themselves. No matter what they thought, it didn't change the fact that their thoughts were merely unfounded assumptions. Then, as anxiety started creeping into their mind again, the fan reviewed their plan in their head in order to stay focused. 'I'll get two copies and keep one of them as a signed copy,' the fan thought to themselves. Yun Woo's new book looked particularly stunning. He had thought so even when the fan had seen its gold cover for the first time on the internet. Not only was it fitting to Yun Woo's image, but the fact that the covers for the short stories within it had been designed by one the young author's peculiar acquaintances made the compilation even more appealing. Zelkova was definitely living up to its name. Although the short stories themselves would have provided more than enough leverage, the publisher had thought of a brilliant way to go about advertising for the book. They had known what information to let out to the readers in order to build up anticipation. According to Zelkova, Yun Woo's new story was going to be new and different from his usual style, which meant that the fans would get to see yet another side of Yun Woo. 'Alexandria, wait just a little longer,' the fan thought to themselves. "It's almost time," somebody said from behind. It was 9:25 a.m when the fan checked the time, which meant the store was opening in five minutes. Then, making sure their shoes were tied, the fan braced themselves as the only thing left to do was to run toward their objective. "Nine thirty." The fan bolted into the store, running right past the employee greeting them. There was no time for pleasantries. Technical literature, children's literature, international literature, and domestic literature. Looking around frantically, the fan looked for the golden cover. Then, shortly after, the fan saw the stack of golden books next to the cashier counter, which they embraced gladly. While the fan was paying for the book, the rest of the crowd rushed into the store toward the stacks of the golden books. The stacks were shrinking at an awe-inspiring rate. "Thanks," the fan said to the cashier. With the receipt in their hand, the fan rushed to the center of the store, where the signing was set to take place. As they arrived, one of the employees asked, looking slightly taken aback by the fan's presence. "Are you here for the signing?" "Yes. This is where I get the ticket, right?" "Yes, it is. But, uh… we're not giving them out until eleven." "That's fine. I'll wait in line. That number one spot belongs to me." At that, as if impressed, the employee smiled, adding that they'd remember the fan's face. 'What a great employee!' the fan thought, deeply moved by the employee's pleasant attitude. Then, shortly after, a line started forming behind the fan. The second-in-line became the third, and the third-in-line became the fourth. However, the fifth-in-line had moved up to second. Meanwhile, the fan felt proud of securing their number one spot. After some time passed, the employee took the sticker and handed it to the fan. "Here's your number one ticket!" In a sense, it was a trophy for the fan's dedication. After taking the sticker from the employee, the fan opened their book and put the sticking on it without hesitation, being cautious to make sure that the sticker didn't end up crooked. Now, all the book needed was an autograph from Yun Woo, and then, it would be made perfect. "Sigh," the fan let out, relieved. Now that the fan had secured their number one spot, the next thing in the agenda was to go out for lunch at a restaurant not too far from the store. At that moment, just as the fan was about to head to the restaurant, the new second-in-line, who turned out to be a member of the same fancafe, struck up a conversation with them. "Are you goin' out for lunch?" "Yes, I am." "Would you like to join us? I was supposed to eat with other members." "No, thanks. I already have a place in mind." "That's perfect! We were still deciding where to eat. You wouldn't mind if we joined you then, would ya?" the new second-in-line asked, and since the fan didn't have a reason to say no, the fan nodded affirmatively. Besides, after getting their hands on Yun Woo's new book, the fan was in a great mood, feeling like nothing could wipe the smile off their face. "Let's eat quickly so we can start reading," the new second-in-line said in a shaky voice, probably just as excited as their fellow fancafe members. Addressing each other by their respective usernames, the fancafe members weren't afraid to show their excitement. For them, having a copy of Alexandria in their embrace brought them more than enough happiness. They were anxious to read it, growing increasingly curious of whether they would end up viewing Yun Woo in a different light after reading it.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Since the five members of the fancafe were focused on finishing their meal rather than the taste of their food, they ate in silence. There was important business they needed to attend to afterward. "All right. I'm gonna go on ahead," the fan said after finishing their meal before anybody else. It wasn't until then that the other four members looked up from their bowls and dishes. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you finishing first." "That was quick." "Enjoy your lunch, everyone," the fan said as he paid for the food and exited the restaurant. Like the true fan that the fan was, the fan had already figured out a place to read. There was a seating area near the store, which was close to the street, meaning that the fan would have to deal with the exhaust fumes of the cars passing by. However, the fan didn't mind it one bit as long they had the golden book with them. The fan rushed to their reading spot, which, thankfully, was still empty. Without hesitation, the fan grabbed a seat and opened the book, ignoring the car horns in the distance, murmuring the title of the book written in a stylish looking font. "'Alexandria'" As the fan turned to the next page, the About the Author section of the book became visible, which usually contained an author's name, level of education, nickname or nicknames, and biography. Although none of them were new to the fan, there was something special about coming across those pieces of information through the author's book. The fan had been in an elevated emotional state since the night before, even as they woke up at four in the morning to pack their breakfast. Just the fact that Yun Woo had come out with a new book made life so much better. 'How will he surprise me this time?' the fan thought, feeling their heart beating faster. It wasn't long before the surrounding noises faded away. 'How did the title come about? What does it mean? What kind of story did he write this time?' Although the fan was full of questions, the answers became clearer as they flipped through the pages of the book. As cars and pedestrians passed by, a burst of laughter came out of nowhere. Humans were capable of laughing, and everyone had their own reasons for it. In the case of the fan, they were laughing because of the golden book, their shoulders, which had become tense as the fan competed and fought for their desire, moved up and down. Alexandria's cheerful demeanor automatically put the reader in a better mood, making them hold their sides from laughing. "So, Yun Woo's has a way with comedy too, huh?" Reading a book from Yun Woo had never been funnier. The book was quite fast-paced, and before they knew it, the fan was burning through its pages. On top of that, not only was it easy to read, but it was also a great read. Alexandria was quite a loveable character. Originally, Alexandria was a port city located in northern Egypt, by the Mediterranean Sea, which was also known as a vacation spot. Thinking of the city, the fan often thought of the ancient library in Alexandria, which was the largest and most influential library in existence during its time. As a character, Alexandria was unreserved, successful, and in her prime. As a protagonist, she wanted to learn to read, write and expand her world. Of course, she didn't let her desires stay as mere wishes. She acted on them, fought for them, and finally, obtained them. After having learned to read and write, she felt unstoppable. As the fan flipped through the pages of the golden book, impressed by the young author's sense of humor and wit, their hand stopped as the fan reached a certain point in the book when a character jarringly out of place appeared all of a sudden. The unexpected turn only added to the anticipation. Somebody had stolen a book. "'Scuse me?" "..." "Hello? Sir?" At the voice calling to them, the fan looked up in a delayed response and saw a cheerful-looking person. They had to be the one to interrupt the fan's reading experience. "Do you know how to get to the bookstore from here by any chance?" At that, the fan felt their irritation welling up from deep within. 'Why me of all these people? It's gotta be the book,' the fan thought, pointing toward the store with a swallowed sigh, "Go straight that way, and you'll see it." "Ah! I see, thank you very much!" Upon hearing the thank you from the pedestrian looking for the bookstore, the fan felt their irritation subside. Those who weren't used to the area were bound to ask for directions at some point. Besides, there had to be quite a few people traveling a long distance to get to the signing event. Then, just as the fan was about to resume reading, a man walking past them caught their eyes. Not only was the man tall, but well built. Although he was wearing a hat and sunglasses, there was something about him that made him look out of place. In other words, the man looked like a celebrity. As the man walked in the same direction as the pedestrian who had just asked for direction, the fan stared at him until he disappeared into the distance. He returned to reading shortly after. There was not a minute to waste. The fan was anxious to read more about Alexandria, the book thief, and their fight. As cars and pedestrians passed by. Birds chirped, and leaves blew in the wind. After some time had passed, the fan, who had finished the entire book in one seating, said, "So good!" If only the fan could, they would grab a random pedestrian and urge them to read the book. A sense of satisfaction filled their heart to the point of making it feel like it was about to explode. What was even more irresistible was that there were two long-awaited short stories after the story about Alexandria. There was still more left to be read and enjoyed. Checking the time, the fan deciding to go to the bookstore, saying, 'I better go get in line. I'm savoring those short stories.' "Hey! You're back!" the second-in-line, who was guiding people who were confused after having arrived late, said to the fan. "Hi." The store was filled with people who were hopelessly lost, not knowing where to find the book or where to get the numbered ticket. Even if they managed to get their tickets now, they would most like be in the three hundreds, which meant they would have to wait for at least three hours until they could get an autograph from the young author. "Did you finish reading the book?" "Of course!" It made sense for the second-in-line to be in such a good mood, even going as far as helping others out with the friendliest looking expression in the world. Similarly, the fan was also wearing a similar smile. Then, in order to discuss the reading experience with a fellow fancafe member, the fan asked, "Did you read Alexandria?" "No. I started with the short stories, so I only got to the middle," the second-in-line said, bringing their index finger to their lips, gesturing that the fan not spoil the book, as if saving the best for last. "You must be on cloud nine." "I sure am!" The thought of what was left of the book alone made their heart beat faster, and the fan was fully aware of what that experience was like. Then, catching on to what the fan had been implying, the second-in-line asked, "You saved the short stories for last, didn't you?" "Yep." That time, a subtle look of superiority appeared on the second-in-line's face. "Let me tell you, you won't be disappointed." "Really?" At that moment, an announcement came out of the speakers in the store, saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you're here for the signing event, please form a line in an orderly manner." When the fan got to the spot where the signing was set to take place, they saw their fellow fancafe members also waiting in line, whom they walked right past in order to stand in the front of the line, feeling as though they had become Alexandria. After investing time and effort into planning for the event ahead of time, the fan had been rewarded with a sense of accomplishment. Now, the fan would enjoy the privilege of being the first person to get Yun Woo's autograph. The fan looked behind at their fellow club members, who were having a heated discussion about the young author. Nevertheless, they were all excited. The wait for the actual signing event had begun, and the members of the fancafe remained in a heated discussion about Yun Woo. "I think what sets Yun Woo apart is his unique writing style. 'Sublimation' has to be, easily, the most shocking book I've ever come across. How should I put it… It was like when I first heard a singer who sang like a dolphin. It was jarring at first, but before I knew it, I'd fallen in love with it." "I, personally, would describe him like Lionel Messi's dribbling. When you watch how he handles that ball, you can't help but think that he's a genius." "For me, it kind of reminded me of my first time at the movie theater." "For me, I think it was similar to the cultural difference I felt when I traveled to another country for the first time. It felt awkward and foreign, but charming all at the same time." While the fancafe members were busy talking to each other, the line started getting even longer. While some waited anxiously for the young author's appearance, a handful of others were reading the remaining portions of their books that they hadn't had the chance to get to. Meanwhile, those who had read the entire book were still enjoying the lingering emotional experience. As the time of the event approached, a store employee started passing out pens and sticky notes to those waiting in line, with which they wrote down their names as a reference for the young author during signing. Although the fan entertained the thought of writing down their user ID for the fancafe, or even Alexandria, they decided to take the occasion more seriously and write down their real name. As the anxiety started catching up to the fan, they briefly reviewed the things they were going to say upon meeting Yun Woo as the first person in line, things the fan had already thought of the night prior to the event. First, would come the hello, while telling the young author that they had been reading his books since 'Trace of a Bird.' Then, after taking a picture and shaking the young author's hand, the fan would ask him the question that had been burning in their mind: 'What's your emotional state like when you're writing?' At that moment… "Isn't that Yun Woo!?" The fan saw somebody in the distance walking toward the crowd, the table and a couple of chairs that had been set up ahead of time. Those who had gathered around the store to observe without getting the young author's autograph all took their phones out at the same time. Being the first-in-line meant that they were granted the privilege to see Yun Woo up close. Then, the crowd started growing louder, eventually exploding into screams. "Hello." It was Yun Woo. At the sight of the young author, the fan let themselves go, screaming from the top of their lungs, taking the store employees by surprise. Looking toward the crowd standing in an endless line, the young author smiled subtly at his fans, causing the fan to gasp for breath. Yun Woo was smiling. Being surrounded by people screaming from all directions, everything felt surreal to the fan. The staff from Zelkova were surrounding the young author, protecting him. Simultaneously, there was a group of reporters on one side of the store frantically taking photos of the young author's first signing event with professional equipment incomparable to the mere smartphones of the fans and spectators. "I'm so nervous." "Me too!" A couple of the fancafe members said from behind, and frankly, the fan was practically in the same state. While the fan stood in a daze, Yun Woo's face came into their view, along with the people around him, each wearing a lanyard that read: staff. "Ladies and gentlemen, we will start the signing now," one of the staff members shouted. Then, catching on to an employee signaling them subtly, the fan started walking toward the young author, feeling like their legs were about to give out. As the fan placed their book on the table, which was covered in a velvet table cloth, the editor opened the book and handed it over to the young author, who proceeded to check the sticky note for the name and sign an autograph on a separate sheet of paper. Meanwhile, the fan's mind was blank. "What time did you get here?" Yun Woo asked the fan. "At six in the morning," the fan replied by reflex. Then, realizing how cocky they must have sounded, a sense of humiliation washed over the fan. "Wow! That's dedication," the young author said, impressed. At which, the fan felt immediately validated. Despite the flashes going off and the cheers that came from the crowd from time to time, the fan saw and heard nothing but Yun Woo's face and voice. "Didn't we lock eyes with each other this morning?" Yun Woo asked, and the fan nodded emphatically, realizing that it really was Yun Woo that they had seen that morning. "I saw you standing first in line. Getting here early really paid off, huh?" "Yeah! Uh… I wanted to make sure I got here before anybody else. Although, I am the first-in-line… I mean, not that I'm talking down to people standing behind me in line or anything like that. Um…" the fan started fumbling over their words. And, remembering what they had read in the book earlier, the fan tried to justify their statements. The fan was feeling pricked in the heart, being fully aware of all the name calling that had taken place in their heart. With that, wearing a subtle smile on his face, Yun Woo returned the book to the fan along with his autograph. "You know, you remind me of Alexandria," the young author said to the fan. At which, an indescribable feeling washed over the fan. With that, the turn went to the next person in line, and being mindful of others, the fan stepped away to the side, clenching their empty hand into a fist. Despite having been the first person in line, the fan hadn't been able to shake Yun Woo's hand nor take pictures with him, which the second-in-line was in the midst of doing. At that moment, the fan was struck by a realization about themselves and Alexandria. Because everything had taken place much later than for most people, Alexandria was inevitably far from being number one. Nor was she in second or dead last for that matter. She was simply Alexandria. In an elementary school, she had a characteristic that was unique to her. Getting a late start in life had ultimately made her unique, no matter where she went. However, that wasn't to say that she had a reason to look down on or get intimidated by others. In the end, that was why the fan had been so fond of Alexandria. Emotionally overwhelmed, the fan placed their hand on their chest, realizing that that experience wouldn't have come through a handshake or through taking pictures with the young author. "Thank you for writing," the fan said amid the clamoring cloud. Although there was no way to verify if Yun Woo had heard that or not, the fan was genuine in what they said and wished that the young author would recognize that there were readers out there who felt like that. There was no promise that Yun Woo would hold another signing in the future. Nevertheless, the fan was ready and determined to be there to tell Yun Woo what they couldn't that day. With that, the fan turned around and walked away from the crowd. Even those who were visiting the store to buy books were looking in the young author's direction. When the fan exited the store with a sense of pride and accomplishment, they were met with surprise yet again. "How long is this line!?" The line was stretching out the door and around the store, even up to the stairway. It seemed like there was no end to it. "What's this line for??" "Yun Woo's signing event." "Huh! Should we get in line too?" Even the officers regulating traffic and the construction workers on the other side of the street took interest in the jaw-dropping sight. The drivers in their cars waiting on the street with their windows rolled down were also looking in the direction of the bookstore. Meanwhile, the fan walked against the direction in which the line was moving. Then, after locking eyes with the people waiting in line in the Sun, the people asked, "Did you get his autograph?" "Yes. I was first-in-line," the fan said light-heartedly, and the people in line also accepted it light-heartedly. "So it begins." There was a person squatting, lining up the rocks on the ground. Then, seeing that the rocks seemed like they were lined up according to their rank, the fan laughed out loud like when they had first read the golden book. 'I'm gonna get started on those short stories, the first when I get home,' the fan thought to themselves, excited and deeply satisfied.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl It was chaos. Everything was happening all at once. The flashes were going off at the front, while the crowd was shouting from both sides. On top of that, right behind Juho, was a banner with his face on it. It was in a foreign setting like that that the young author was meeting his readers and signing autographs. "I baked these cookies myself." "Thank you very much," Juho said, thanking the reader who handed him a well-decorated bundle. Wrapped in clear plastic wrapping, the cookies were quite delicious. Unfortunately, there was no time for distractions. There was a massive group of people standing before his eyes, claiming that they had read his book. "Could we shake hands?" "Of course! Why not?" Juho said, looking at the reader who was clearly nervous. Hoping that his hand would get warmer before he shook the reader's hand, Juho balled his hand into a fist. Then, when they shook hands, the young author was reminded of just how cold his hand was when compared to the reader's. Realizing that his attempt to warm his hand up had been useless, a subtle smile appeared on the young author's face. Then, looking thrilled to meet him, the reader started raving about Alexandria. "It was such a good book!" "You think so?" "Absolutely! I couldn't stop laughing!" With that, Juho handed the book back to the reader with his autograph, and Nam Kyung, who was sitting next to him, opened and handed him yet another book. As soon as Juho signed an autograph, another request came in immediately after. It felt endless. The different names on the sticky notes were all written in different handwriting, reminding the young author that there were all sorts of people reading his books. "I've been reading your books since 'Trace of a Bird,' since you were in high school!" a reader, who appeared to be a university student, said. "Have you now? Were there any books that you didn't like?" Juho asked, and the reader waved their hand in denial, saying, "Oh, no! I loved every single one of them, seriously!" The reader's emphatic tone made them sound like they were trying to prove their innocence. Nevertheless, Juho believed them and smiled. Besides, there wasn't much of a choice in the matter. "It's a pleasure." "Oh, no. The pleasure's mine! Please, do this more regularly! I'll bring all of my friends along, even it means having to skip class." "Speaking of which, there's this friend of mine who always skips his first morning class. He's not even here at the signing either." "Oh, is this one of your friends from the Literature Club?" "Yes, it's one of them." The reader seemed to have watched the interview. Then, after a brief photo session, Juho moved on to the next book. After a reader went about their way, another reader came and stood in front of the table. "Hello," a young voice greeted the young author. Judging from the voice alone, the reader seemed like they were yet to have reached puberty. When Juho looked up, he saw a child whose height only reached up to his waist. Appearing to be an elementary student, the child had to be the youngest reader up to that point. "Where are you from?" Juho asked. "From Incheon." With their buck teeth and big, wide eyes behind their green, horn-rimmed glasses, the young reader had quite a distinct appearance. "Was it hard waiting in line?" "It was OK," the child responded maturely. With that, one of the staff members led the child to a chair next to the young author. As they sat next to Juho, the child appeared to be quite nervous, looking back and forth between the group of reporters and the crowd of fans. "You're here with your parents, right?" "Yes. I pestered them to bring me here." The child waited patiently for the book. However, just like all the other readers up to that point, they had a hard time asking for something from the young author. "Can we shake hands?" "Sure." The child seemed to be shaking hands with another person for the first time, and their tense hand was proof of that. As Juho took the initiative to shake it up and down, the child's hand also moved along with his. Then, a man who seemed to be the child's father appeared and took a picture with them. "Do you like Yun Woo?" Nam Kyung asked the child. "Hm. Yes, I do," the child said. Their hesitation made their answer sound more honest. Then, as if entertained by the child's response, the editor asked another question, "Which book did you read?" "All of them. I read this one while I was waiting in line." "Wow! How was it? Did you like it?" "Yes. I liked that there were kids my age in the book." There was a sense of pride in the young reader's tone. Then, in high spirits and still somewhat nervous, the child flung their arms in the air in an exaggerated manner, saying, "It felt like Alexandria was swearing and smiling at the same time." "Wow! How's that for an interpretation? You really read the book in depth, huh?" Nam Kyung said, smiling like the employees, the manager, and the spectators around them. Meanwhile, upon hearing the young reader's description of the book, Juho immersed himself in thought, asking himself, 'I wonder if everything got across the way I intended?' "You know, I was hoping that her smile became the insult." At the end of the day, to insult somebody with a smile on one's face didn't make the insult any less offensive. In fact, if a smile was a means of insulting another person, all one had to do in order to insult somebody was to simply smile at them. Juho hoped that the readers would interpret Alexandria's smile in that way. Unfortunately, it seemed like it could have been executed better. "But I still like One more than Alexandria." "You mean from 'Language of God?' You must have really liked that book, huh?" "Yes. I loved it." "You mean you've read the whole thing? That's impressive." "I told you. I read all of his books," the child said, slightly irritated by Nam Kyung's look of surprise. The child had strength and time left to use elsewhere, and the child had chosen to spend it reading Juho's books. On top of that, the young reader didn't seem to regret their decision either. Then, as the young author handed the book over to them, the child said just as politely as when they first stood in front of Juho, "Bye-bye." Juho saw the child reuniting with their mother, who had stayed back, waiting the child's return. Again, there was no time to do or look at anything else as Nam Kyung handed him another book. "Hello," a clear sounding voice said. That time, the reader was significantly more muscular, particularly his arms. "Oh, and this too," the reader said, handing something to Nam Kyung. Along with Alexandria, the reader had brought more books: 'The Beginning and the End,' and 'River.' However, before the books even reached Nam Kyung, an employee intervened, saying, "I'm sorry, sir. One book per person." Caught off guard by that, a confused look appeared on the muscular reader's face. Then, just as he was about to take the books back, Juho stopped him and said, "It's fine. I'll sign them. It's not a problem." Despite the reader, who was hopelessly confused, the young author signed them without complaint, as a way to express his gratitude for the reader coming out to the event. Knowing that his fans had gone through the trouble of coming to the signing, Juho simply couldn't turn down a fan's request. "'River' changed my life," the reader said, that time in a heavy voice. "A book is a book. You're the one who has to make the change at the end of the day, and I find it admirable that you did." Although Juho had no idea of what kind of change the reader had made in his life or how he went about changing it, the young author was impressed nonetheless. There existed in this world those who believed that people could never change, and needless to say, there were also authors who wrote about that. At that moment, the reader reached into his pockets and took something out, which looked like a letter. "I'm not the most eloquent person, but that book really has a special place in my heart." With that, the reader walked away before Juho even had time to say anything in response, leaving only the letter behind. He must have thought that the letter would speak on its own. After Juho put the letter in his pocket, he signed about fifty more autographs. Yet, there was still a ways to go. "Mr. Woo, I'm a fan!" another reader said, reaching out for a handshake. Although Juho had heard the same remarks dozens of times, he wasn't getting sick of them. They all sounded completely different. That time, the reader's hand was blunt and squishy. Looking up following the arm, Juho saw an older man wearing a beret, who declined Juho's offer to sit. "You write great books, Mr. Woo." "Thank you. I'm so glad to hear that you like them," Juho said, checking the man's name on the book, which was written in Chinese. The reader seemed to want his name to be written in Chinese characters. Then, looking at the young author as if saying, 'I trust you,' Nam Kyung handed the book over to Juho, and just as the editor had expected, Juho had no trouble with reading and writing those characters. "This is Mandarin, isn't it?" "Do you recognize it? I lived in China when I was young." The reader didn't get into any details, and neither did Juho try to pry it out of him. Instead, the young author wrote the characters that had defined the old man's life up to that point with intention. Meanwhile, the reader stood quietly, and the noise from the surroundings occupied the silence. "Here you go, sir. Did I write everything correctly?" "Yes. I knew you'd sign it without asking questions." With that, the old reader lifted his beret slightly and walked away unhurriedly. The book in his hand would listen to the old man's life story on the young author's behalf, even at night when the old man was sound asleep. Thinking about his books on his readers' bookshelves, Juho felt a sudden spurt of energy. "Should we take a quick break?" Nam Kyung asked. "What did I tell you? There's not even time to drink water, huh?" "Yeah. You were definitely right about that," Juho said, rotating his wrist. Then, another reader stepped forward. "He looks a lot more…" the reader murmured. Juho saw them covering their mouth the entire time they had been waiting in line, looking antsy. Now, standing in front of the young author, the reader seemed even worse, putting their hand on their chest, neck, and face, which looked even more nervous, as if they couldn't say a word. In order to sign the autograph, Juho looked down at the reader's book, which contained not only the name but a question. The reader had to have predicted that they wouldn't be able to speak in front of the young author. Then, Juho read the question on the sticky note: 'What is your goal?' At that moment, just as he was about to write his answer on it, he was struck by a sudden thought about 'The Full Moon,' which prevented him from doing so. Looking up, Juho looked at the stack of golden books in the distance, which shrunk and got restocked at the blink of an eye. Although 'The Full Moon' had quickly become a bestseller, it hadn't been selling anywhere near the rate at which 'Alexandria' was. While 'The Full Moon' had influenced the young author in a profound way, 'Alexandria' was a product that had been born out of all the things that had been building up within the young author. Although Juho couldn't determine which one of the two was closer to a great book, one thing became certain in his mind: a great book wasn't necessarily a book that sold well, and the fact that his goal still remained unchanged, even after having become a world-class author, was proof of that. Then, after writing an answer to the question written on the sticky post, the young author closed the golden cover of the book. "Make sure to look at it on your own." "Pardon? Oh! Right" Then, covering their cheerful smile with their hand, the reader walked away. "Mr. Woo! Look this way!" A shout came from the crowd, a request which Juho granted with an awkward smile on his face. "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain quiet." At that moment, Juho sensed a subtle disturbance coming from Nam Kyung, who was interacting with another reader. "What is it?" "There's no name," Nam Kyung said, as if it wasn't a big deal. All he needed was a pen, which then, Nam Kyung would hand to the reader, and the reader would write their name on the sticky note. However, the reader refused to take the pen from the editor. "You don't have to write my name." "Sorry, ma'am. We can't do that," an employee said. There was a chance that the signature would be abused, and there was no way to predict how. Then, after some contemplation, the reader took the pen and the sticky note from Nam Kyung and started writing. An ambiguous look appeared on the editor's face when he saw the reader's name. As he handed the book over to Juho, the young author immediately made sense of the look on Nam Kyung's face. The sticky note read: 'I'm an aspiring writer.' After staring at it for a brief moment, Juho asked the aspiring writer, "What do you like?" "I'm sorry?" "I love grilled mackerel." "Oh, right. Uh… Mine's mango." With that, the young author wrote 'Mango' on the sticky note, giving the aspiring writer a new and unique title: mango. With a title like that, one would be able to easily distinguish her from all the other aspiring writers out there. "What have you been working on?" Juho asked. "A novel. I submitted it to a contest hosted by Zelkova and won the Rookie of the Year Award. I believe it's the same contest you competed in." At that, Nam Kyung showed some sort of response. The contest had been a gateway for many aspiring writers. Nam Kyung knew many who had successfully debuted as authors through the same competition. At the same time, he had known many others who had fallen away from writing. At that moment, the editor thought of a certain acquaintance of his, who had also been an aspiring writer at one point. Now, that acquaintance was active as an author. "Are you sure you can do this?" Juho asked as he closed the book after signing it. However, the aspiring writer's eyes were still lingering on the book. "Yes." She didn't want to shake hands or take pictures with the young author. Rather, she chose to spend that time talking to him. "I'll be rooting for you," Juho said, reminiscing about the same competition. With that, Mango left with a smile on her face.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Next person." After the friendly signal from an employee, another reader came toward the young author. It was three hours into the signing, and yet, the line felt just as long as when the event had first started. 'Is there even going to be an end to this line?' Juho asked himself. Then, Nam Kyung turned toward a Zelkova staffer, who had been taping the event for a future promotional video, and asked, "Are there a lot of people outside still?" Having gone outside not too long before in order to capture the line stretching endlessly, the staffer nodded affirmatively. "A LOT more. At least a hundred, probably." The bookstore was booming with people. Although it was a sight to behold, the young author had started to grow weary. "Book, please," Juho said to Nam Kyung with a smile, astonishing the editor with his tireless enthusiasm. While the young author signed his autograph and conversed with a reader, Nam Kyung took the book from the next person in line and stood by, handing it over to the young author once he had finished talking, repeating the process over. Then, as a reader walked away, the next reader stood in front of him and asked, "Can I ask you a question?" "Of course," Juho said, nodding with a smile. In the meantime, Nam Kyung was busy flipping through their book. "You didn't actually write any of those books, did you?" At that remark, Nam Kyung stopped what he was doing and looked up at the reader, who had an evil-looking smile on their face. A crisis usually tended to come without a warning. At that moment, the reader started shouting even louder, "I read every single one of your books, Mr. Woo and I loved every bit of them. But you didn't really write of them, did you? You haven't even been around for that long. How could you possibly write all that?" At the reader's provocative remark, Nam Kyung sprung up from his seat. Similarly, a commotion started breaking out among the crowd and the reporters. 'Did this guy seriously wait all this time just to say all that!?' Nam Kyung thought, dumbfounded. Yun Woo's signing event would be the perfect place to draw people's attention, and perhaps, that was precisely what the reader had been aiming for. As the staff on site led him out of the store, Juho watched everything unfold, and Nam Kyung busied himself trying to reassure the young author. Then, Juho said toward the man being dragged out of the store, "Here you go," and one of the staff took the book on the man's behalf, unsure of whether the young author wanted them to throw the book out or to give it to the man. "Would you give this to him?" Juho said in a friendly manner. There was no trace of emotion on his face. Meanwhile, the cameras around them pointed straight at the young author, taping everything that was taking place. At that moment, Nam Kyung felt the tension subside almost instantly. As long as Juho kept handling tense situations the way he had, future potential signings wouldn't be a problem for him. Compared to his state not too long before that, not knowing what to do with the book in his hand, it was a significant improvement. "Book, please," Juho said as a round of encouraging applause came from the crowd. Thankfully, at the end of the day, no harm had been done. "Next person, please." With that, the next person in line tactfully handed the editor their book, as if nothing had happened. Then, taking the book, Nam Kyung quickly handed it over to the young author, desperate to move on from what had just happened. At that moment, the editor read the sticky note, right as Juho took the book from his hands. "Eh?" It took a little while to process what he had read. Then, taking his eyes off of the note, Nam Kyung looked toward the tall man walking toward the young author, looking even more shocked than earlier. "What's the matter?" Juho asked, seeing the look on Nam Kyung's face. And, when he followed Nam Kyung's eyes, the young author also let out, "What the…" Although the reader was wearing sunglasses and a hat, it wasn't hard to recognize who it was. It was the actor who had played the brother in the movie version of 'Trace of a Bird,' Myung Joo Mu. There was a celebrity on the loose. "Uh…" Juho let out, looking around shortly after. They were surrounded by both a crowd and reporters, who were watching their every move from up close, not to mention the readers waiting in line. Nobody would have thought that the actor would show up to the signing in such a fearless manner. Then, realizing that his cover had been blown by the author and the editor, the actor chuckled quietly and said, "I see that you're hard at work Mr. Woo. There are all sorts of people out there, don't you think?" As he subtly brought up what had taken place earlier, a bitter smile appeared on Myung Joo's face. However, that was hardly a concern at the moment. "What brings you here!?" "Well, I want your autograph, of course." "... I guess that was kind of obvious." "I've been standing in line for four hours, but there was not a dull moment. You see, I was reading 'Alexandria.'" His voice was still just as pleasant as Juho remembered it. His vocalization was spot on, which made him clearly audible, even in low volume. On the side, Nam Kyung appeared to be hopelessly confused by the actor's appearance. With that, just as he had been doing up to that point, Juho wrote the actor's name and signed his autograph. "Can I shake your hand?" Myung Joo said, making the same request he had to have gotten from his fans more times than he could remember. At which, the young author responded by reaching his hand out and grabbing it. Then, the actor came next to the young author for a picture, and Juho rose from his seat in order to pose with the actor. As the employee counted down, the two posed, during which time, the actor said to the young author quietly, "So, this must have been what it was like for you when you kept yourself hidden. You have no idea how much fun I'm having." "It's probably similar, more or less." At the end of the day, Myung Joo wasn't somewhere he shouldn't be. After all, he was enjoying himself to the fullest extent. At that moment, Juho noticed that he was starting to feel slightly better. "I got you some vitamins. You gotta take care of your health," the actor said, handing the young author a shopping bag. "Oh! You didn't have to!" Juho said as he took the gift from Myung Joo, which was an entire box of vitamins. Now, the pressing matter for Myung Joo was finding a way out of the store. As one of the employees nearby handed his phone back to him, the actor took it from her hands. At that moment, she gasped out loud and covered her mouth immediately after. However, the look on her face was more than enough to get the attention of the reporters, the crowd, and the readers waiting in line. As expected, the readers who were standing closest to the employee started shouting, "It's Myung Joo Mu!" "The actor!?" "There's a celebrity here?" "Where!?" The obnoxious reader who had picked a fight with the young author was no longer in people's minds. Instead, people started looking for Myung Joo Mu, who was one of the most popular actors at the time. Of course, the reporters were even more eager to capture the actor on camera. The flashes started going off and a handful of people started approaching him past the line that was meant to keep them back. Taken aback by the situation, Myung Joo said his goodbye to the young author, "Hope you keep writing some more books, Mr. Woo." With that, the actor weaved his way through the crowd in haste, evading people reaching to grab him. However, his presence still lingered around the store. "I came to see Yun Woo, but who would've thought I'd come across a celebrity?" "Seriously. This is unreal! I'm gonna show off to my friends." "Did anybody take a picture of him?" "Was Myung Joo Mu really here? Like, the celebrity?" "I didn't see him." "You're not lying, are you?" The remaining people in line were excited by the unexpected celebrity appearance, cheering just as loudly as they had for Yun Woo at first. However, that time, Yun Woo also joined in on the fun, laughing and getting excited. "Seems like you've really made a name for yourself, Mr. Woo," Nam Kyung murmured. Meanwhile, the reader who had been standing behind Myung Joo in line was beating their chest, claiming that they had recognized the actor from the get-go. "Should we take a break?" Nam Kyung suggested, and everyone welcomed it. "You know what? That doesn't sound like a bad idea. I could use a breather after all that." --- Led by an employee, Juho and Nam Kyung went into a room with a sign that read: Staff Only. As the sound coming from outside faded away, the two sank into their chairs and sighed deeply, both of their ears ringing. Even with just a small distance between them and the crowd, their surroundings became much quieter, almost as if they were in a different world, a world similar to the one Juho used to live in before revealing his face. It dawned on the young author just how different his life had been at one point. Nevertheless, it was a welcoming change, and one day, that emotion would suffuse through his writing. "Long day, huh?" Nam Kyung said, handing the young author a bottle of water. It was Juho's first sip of water since the start of the event. In one corner of the room, were the drinks that the store had given out to the readers waiting in line. "You handled that really well," the editor said, which took Juho a little while to understand. "Let's see how things are looking on the internet," Nam Kyung said, as if anticipating something. Considering how close the reporters had been to the young author and the editor, news of the confrontation had to be out already. After tapping on the screen of his phone a few times, Nam Kyung started reading something. Meanwhile, Juho did his best to make himself comfortable on the rigid chair. The event definitely had been as physically demanding as Juho had anticipated. However, there was still a ways to go until the end, and the young author reminded himself that he shouldn't let his guard down just yet. With that in mind, he focused on getting as much rest as possible. "Of course," the editor murmured. "Any mentions of the book?" "Plenty." Although normally it should have taken least a couple of days after the book's release for reviews to start turning up, reviews of the golden book were already starting to appear, on the same day it was released. Looking at the screen, a big smile grew across the editor's face, satisfied with the general response from the readers. "Everyone seems to be digging 'Alexandria.' The short stories are doing pretty well too. 'Yun Woo, the One of a Kind Author. A Peek at His Past.'" When Juho had first come across the reade skeptical of whether Juho was really Yun Woo or not, the young author had been tempted to be direct and prove him wrong. It was for that reason that the young author had handed the reader his book back. Juho hoped that he would have a similar reaction to that of the title of the article. "Maybe I am asking too much," Juho murmured "What?" "Nothing." As the young author leaned back on his chair, the fluorescent light on the ceiling came into view. It had a yellow tinge to it, and the light lingered before his eyes even when he closed them. At that moment, Juho heard somebody approaching the room. Then, the door cracked open shortly after, letting the surrounding noise from the crowd into the room. "Are you guys ready?" an employee asked, peeking into the room. At that, Juho and Nam Kyung rose from their seats and exited the room, feeling as if they were on their way to the signing event for the first time all over again. There were no words to describe how taken aback they were by the sight of the massive crowd. As the two turned the corner, the crowd exploded into shouts. "Gosh! A warning would've been nice," Nam Kyung murmured, which was also representative of what Juho was feeling at the moment. He felt like now was the perfect time to warm up his hands, which had cooled down significantly. Just like they had before, the books started coming in along with their owners. Thankfully, it was nowhere near as nerve-racking the second time around. "I'm a fan!" Although it was a remark the young author had heard hundreds of times by that point, he was still able to maintain a smile and say from the bottom of his heart: "Thank you very much." --- 'Alexandria Celebrates its Release with a Signing Event! The Reaction of the Fans on the Day of the Release?' 'Yun Woo Holds His First Signing! A Closer Look at the Event and Photos Capturing the Heat of the Event!' 'The Yun Woo Fever Strikes Gwanghwamun Again! What Was the Line Surrounding the Bookstore About? Reported to be Fans Waiting for Yun Woo's Autograph.' ''The Crowd Goes Wild!' Yun Woo Reported Having Been in the Center of the Crowd." 'Who's Stirring the Pot? A Fan Who Claims to Have Read All of Yun Woo's Books Reported to Have Called the Author Out. Attempt to Knock Yun Woo Off His Pedestal?' 'Yun Woo's a Fake? How Did Yun Woo Respond to the Skeptical Fan?' 'Yun Woo's Impressive Wit. The Author Reported Having Responded with Composure. 'I'm Yun Woo.'' 'No Change in His Expression? "He Was Completely Unfazed." A Closer Look at His Journey Leading up to His Successful Career.' 'Fans Testify After Witnessing Yun Woo. How Did the Author Treat His Readers?' 'An Unexpected Guest Shows Up at the Signing!? Who Was He?' 'Myung Jo Mu Appears at a Bookstore in Gwanghwamun and Reunites with Yun Woo. The Author Said to Have Been Unsurprised. Did He Know?' '''I Almost Missed It!' Myung Joo Mu's Surprise Visit. An Unexpected Collaboration between Yun Woo and Myung Joo Mu. The Crowd Goes Wild.' ''I Went Because I'm a Reader and a Fan.' Myung Joo Moo and Yun Woo Reported Having Had No Interaction Prior to the Signing. 'Both Alexandria and the Short Stories Were Great Reads.'' 'Yun Woo Said to Have Remained Unfazed and Collected. Signing Ends in Peace, Much to Zelkova and the Hosting Store's Satisfaction.' 'Alexandria, the Lovable, Embarking on a Journey to Expand Her World! A Peek at the World Born out of Yun Woo's Mind and His Unique Sense of Humor.' 'Yun Woo's Unexpected Change? The Twenty-Year-Old Author's Unbelievable Talent. Where's the Limit to His Versatility? His Endless Challenges = Endless Joy for the Readers.' 'The Signing and the New Book. Yun Woo Catches Two Birds with One Stone.' 'The Controversial Signing Comes to an End. What Makes Yun Woo's Life Special?' '"The Competition Will Be Fierce This Year," Zelkova Publishing Speaks Up About Their Annual Contest.' …

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Waking up, Juho rubbed his tired eyes. Then, while still laying on his bed, he reached with both of his arms toward the ceiling in order to stretch, noticing a knot on his right shoulder. The cause of the pain was quite obvious. "I'm beat." Feeling like he'd never get out of bed in that state, Juho sat up and looked at the book that was resting above his pillow: 'The Full Moon.' Since he finished writing 'Alexandria,' he had been reading 'The Full Moon' on a daily basis, and needless to say, that day was no exception. Reaching for the book, the young author opened it. Since he had already read the entire book, there was not a single place in the book that wasn't familiar to him, no matter where he opened it. "I better eat something," he said, putting the book down, hungry. While eating, Juho took his phone out and started looking through the list of articles about him on the internet. There were also countless reviews of the signing event. Choosing one at random, Juho logged into a blog, which had a post titled 'I saw Yun Woo today!' that contained a series of pictures of the young author from various angles, from him signing, to looking down and shaking hands with readers. The banner in the background was quite captivating. "Huh. I guess the first person in line wrote a review of his own." The fan's review had a detailed description of the event. It was through that review that Juho learned that the fan had actually woken up at four on the morning of the signing to pack breakfast. The post also contained pictures of the fan on their way to Gwanghwamun. Because it had been early in the morning, a lot of the pictures had been taken in the dark. Each of the photos had a brief description below it. Then, after a series of photos, came a long, in-depth review of 'Alexandria,' which was Yun Woo's first attempt at a cheerful, humorous story. 'Alexandria' had an uncanny resemblance to his debut title, 'Trace of a Bird.' Those who missed the young author's writing style of his earlier days found his new book to be a welcoming addition. On top of that, the two short stories included with 'Alexandria' were doing incredibly well among those who preferred the young author's more recent style of writing. 'Alexandria' and 'Trace of a Bird' were completely different in terms of feel and style, and readers seemed to have noticed the difference. The secret behind Yun Woo's writing style had always been a mystery to his fans. Suffice to say, they were anxious to know what it was. "To my disappointment, I got the news that Myung Joo Mu showed up at the bookstore right after I left." The review was heading in the direction of the fan's compromise for having been the first person in line and getting to interact with Yun Woo at the signing at the cost of missing out on seeing the actor in person. The story about Myung Joo wasn't difficult to find by any means. Those who hadn't been at the signing at the time of the actor's appearance were envious of those who had been at the scene and seen him. Myung Joo was one of the most highly-valued actors at the moment, and it made sense that people were taking so much interest in his appearance at the signing. With that, Juho scrolled down through his screen until coming across a certain word. In fact, the entire title of the article was quite eye-catching, which read, ''The Competition Will Be Fierce This Year,' Zelkova Publishing Speaks Up About Their Annual Contest.' Upon reading the title, Juho immediately thought of a certain competitor from that same contest: Mango. At the same time, he thought of another acquaintance of his. "Been a while since I saw him." After some thought, Juho sent him a text: 'Wanna get some morning exercise for ol' times sake?' --- "Been a while," a voice told Juho, reminding the young author of just how long it had been since he had heard that voice. Similarly, Juho hadn't been to the park for about just as long. Upon turning back, Juho saw his friend sporting his distinctive eyebrows, which were now darker than ever. "How's college?" Juho asked. "It's all right." Sung Pil had been accepted to a university as a creative writing major, which was the same major as Bom. Judging from his tone, Sung Pil didn't seem like he was enjoying the college life all that much. "You don't sound all that excited. What's keeping it from being good?" "I'm just not used to being part of a group," Sung Pil replied. It was no surprise that he would find it uncomfortable being surrounded by peers his age and upperclassmen all at the same time. "Well, how's that been?" Juho asked, and as he was stretching, Sung Pil told his friend all about his life as a college student, from getting invited to join a club by the student council, to the class president and their often-inaccurate announcements, and a certain T.A. who was slow to communicate with students, bringing disadvantage to them. "Do you have to go to a lot of outings?" Juho asked. "Yep." "Have you made any new friends?" "There's this person I go to class and eat with, but I don't feel all that close to him." "There are relationships like that too. How's writing been going for ya?" "Writing?" Sung Pil asked, moving his thick eyebrows, which looked like streaks of ink. "The story you submitted to the contest?" After finishing the story he had been working on for the last two years, Sung Pil registered for the contest that year, which was hosted by Zelkova. Aside from a general idea of the plot, Juho knew nothing about the story. "I'd say it's the best one of all the stories I've written so far," Sung Pil said. His story had gone through countless revisions. Walking slowly, the two kept the conversation going. "It's about a bank, right?" Juho asked. "Yep." In order to write a story about a bank, at one point, Sung Pil had visited the neighborhood bank on a daily basis. "Did making all those trips to the bank help?" "The bank did all the work for me," Sung Pil said with a blank expression on his face. Looking at him, Juho was reminded of a certain author who had recently left on a trip to Russia. Talking to Sung Pil gave Juho an idea of how Dong Gil must have felt. Then, Sung Pil started walking faster, and before Juho knew it, he found himself jogging as he tried to match Sung Pil's pace. Since it was early in the morning, there wasn't anybody around. "Do you still visit the bank?" Juho asked. "Sometimes. School's kind of far, so I can't visit as often." As Juho started running faster, Sung Pil matched his speed without a problem. Juho felt comfortable, and he wasn't about to run out of breath. He saw the scenery rushing past from the corner of his eyes. "What about you?" "What?" Juho asked, caught off guard by Sung Pil's unexpected question. "How was the signing?" Sung Pil asked. "Oh, right," Juho replied, slowing down his pace slightly. "I was so beat the next day that I could hardly get out of bed. My ears were ringing, and I was hurting all over, from my head to my shoulders to even my cheeks," he said. Meanwhile, Sung Pil looked intently at the young author, as if expecting Juho wasn't quite done. "If I was that exhausted from sitting down and moving my wrists, I can't even imagine what it must have been like for those readers waiting in line for hours on end. At the end of the day, though, I had fun and I learned a lot. I got a glimpse of just how far my books reached too." "It seemed like there were a lot of people there," Sung Pil said, looking as if thinking back to a picture of Gwanghwamun in an article he had come across on the internet. "There were," Juho said briefly, adding shortly after, "And one of your rivals was there too." Despite feeling Sung Pil stare in his direction at the word 'rival,' Juho looked straight ahead. "She was an aspiring writer, who made a submission to the same contest as you. She really likes mangoes apparently," Juho said, struck by the thought that he should have asked about her story. "She seemed like she was in college. You don't think she goes to the same school as you, do you? Maybe she's an upperclassman in the same major." "There's only one person I consider my rival," Sung Pil said in his low, resonant voice. Remembering their unforgettable first encounter, Juho asked knowingly, "Who?" "You," Sung Pil said honestly. To which, Juho replied after a brief pause, "... Interesting." From then on, the two ran without saying anything to each other for a while. After the trail followed up the hill in an upward and downward incline, it curved sideways before it straightened up again. Leading up to that point, Juho had heard snapping sounds coming from below him as he stepped on branches on the ground. "Don't worry. I understood you loud and clear," he said. Then, by the time they started running up the hill, Juho heard Sung Pil's voice, which sounded neither angry nor pretentious, say, "You're keeping me in check." "Haha," Juho let out. He simply couldn't help himself, and eventually, his sides started hurting. "You've always been quick to catch on," he said. Sung Pil was about to become an author who wrote quality books. In the past, while Juho had fallen away from the literary world, Sung Pil had been in his prime, which Juho still remembered vividly to that day. That memory was still very much intact deep within the young author's heart. At that moment, a vending machine appeared in the distance. "Race?" "Let's do it." Sung Pil never turned down a race. If anything, he seemed to welcome it. Then, Sung Pil posed a condition for the race, "Loser grants the winner a wish. How's that sound?" "All right. Hope you know what you're getting yourself into," Juho said. With that, as soon as Juho finished his sentence, the two bolted forward at their full speeds. Flexing their legs, the two ran as fast as they could, hoping that they would arrive before the other person. While they were running, Sung Pil's appearance from the past flashed in Juho's mind out of nowhere. When Juho had seen him from afar, Sung Pil had been much more mature, sturdier, and steadfast than his present self. At that moment, Juho felt something snatching at his ankle and sharp pain in his side. Clenching his teeth, the young author ran with everything he had. "Agh!" Juho let out as he passed the vending machine, slowing down a few paces later. His lungs felt like they were about to explode. "I win," the young author said, pushing the words out through his throat, which felt like it was on fire. When he looked back, Sung Pil was bending at the waist, looking somewhat defeated. Then, he, too, looked up, still fighting for breath. "All right, captain. What's it gonna be?" Sung Pil asked. "Oh, no. I'm not wasting this opportunity just to hear you call me that." Even if Sung Pil were to call him that, Juho knew that it wouldn't make him feel good in any way. Instead, sinking on to a bench, the young author brought up his most pressing desire, "I wanna read your story." "That…" Sung Pil said, moving his lips up and down as if it was hardly a challenge. "At a bookstore," Juho interjected. The young author wanted to read Sung Pil's book at a bookstore once again. Then, as Sung Pil remained silent, Juho gave him an alternative choice, saying, "Or you can just get me a drink from the vending machine." "Go easy on me now. You're a professional writer, remember?" Sung Pil said, brushing his short hair with his hand. "What? I'm spending my wish on my friend's success. You can't get any mushier than that." Sung Pil sat next to Juho. Although their mouth felt quite dry by the time they caught their breaths, neither of them went for the vending machine. Instead, they leaned back on the backrest of the wooden bench. "Should we go to a bank?" Juho asked. "A bank?" Juho was still curious about Sung Pil's story, and his desire to read it bothered him just as much as when he had had 'The Full Moon' before his eyes, but had told himself not to read it. What would Sung Pil's story look like after having put two years into it? Thankfully, there was a way to get an indirect answer: visiting the place in which the book was centered ahead of time. "I have to go to one anyway," Juho said, and after blinking awkwardly for a brief moment, Sung Pil asked, "I can drink the water there, right?" With that, the two rose from the bench and went to a nearby restaurant to have breakfast. Then, with Sung Pil's guidance, the two walked unhurriedly through a street, which Juho had never been to, and arrived at a bank. There was a four-way intersection in front of the bank, which was full of street vendors selling metal sponges, various tools and green vegetables. Seeing as though there were also children who appeared to be in elementary school, there seemed to be a school nearby as well. "Here we are," Sung Pil said as he stepped into the bank with Juho. Although it was an ordinary-looking bank, there was a security guard who opened the door for them as they walked in. In his middle age and with his belly bulging out, the man gave off a welcoming vibe. "Hello," the man greeted pleasantly, and the two bowed subtly at him. Then, recognizing Sung Pil, the man said, "Hey! Haven't seen you in a while!" "Yes, it's been a while." "How's college?" "It's all right." The two talked candidly, as if a grandchild was visiting their grandparents. The conversation continued until an older lady came into the bank. "How can I help you, ma'am?" the man asked in a friendly manner. Then, taking a numbered ticket for her, he guided her through the process of how to go about doing what she needed to do. "You can get your tickets here. Are you here to get cash? You can get up to six thousand dollars with a debit card," Sung Pil said. "You almost sound like you work here," Juho replied. Naturally, Sung Pil led Juho to a seat close to the teller's window. While they sat and waited patiently, a teller in a suit on the other side of the teller's window greeted Sung Pil with his eyes. Sung Pil bowed back. Wearing a nametag on his chest that read, 'Head Clerk,' the teller walked upstairs. Then, another teller recognized Sung Pil as she came out to the waiting area and greeted him. "Hey! Been a while!" "Yes. My friend here had some business to attend to." "Would you like some snacks while you wait?" "That's OK." With that, the teller exited the bank, waving at Sung Pil and Juho. "We got us a celebrity here." "That's actually pretty funny coming from you," Sung Pil said in a calm tone of voice.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Wanna read this?" Sung Pil said, grabbing a magazine and offering it to Juho to read while they waited. Although Juho took it from him, he didn't read it. Then, with a cheerful jingle, the number changed on the LED display. As different people came to the bank and waited with a goal in mind, the tellers called each and every one of them without fail. Despite the bank smelling like disinfectant, Sung Pil didn't seem to mind it one bit. Juho found it quite intriguing that Sung Pil was able to blend in in a place like that bank. Sung Pil seemed like he was so used to the place that he couldn't even notice the smell. Juho inhaled deeply, hoping to get used to it. However, it seemed like it wasn't going to be that simple. 'I wonder if the bills smell like this,' Juho thought to himself. The money counting machine worked busily and loudly. Everyone on the opposite side of the teller windows was waiting with a numbered ticket in their hands. "How intriguing." "What is?" Sung Pil asked, looking at Juho like somebody who had never been to a bank. To which, Juho said, ignoring the look he got from Sung Pil, "I wonder if this is what your room is like." "Not even close." Juho felt like he'd discovered a new way of looking at the bank. 'What did he see here? What did he write?' Considering the nature of the place, it had to be about money. In that case, what could Sung Pil have seen in money? What had been his perspective when he had observed the place? After immersing himself in thought for some time, Juho felt an urge to use the bank as the setting of a story. Looking down, Juho checked his ticket. There were about twenty people ahead of him still. However, there were people who didn't respond to the teller calling out their number. After a customer had finished their business, the teller would proceed to call the next number, and the person after them would rise from their seat and prepare themselves to walk up to the teller calling their number. Meanwhile, Juho heard the employees guiding those people confused about where to go. Despite the endless stream of people that kept pouring into the bank, Sung Pil sat quietly on his seat, making it obvious that he was there with a purpose different from those of most people around him. "Your turn," he said, and with the numbered ticket in his hand, Juho pulled down his hat and walked toward a teller, who struck up a conversation with him. "So, you're friends with Sung Pil?" "Yes. He comes here often, right?" Juho asked, leveraging his relationship with Sung Pil. "He used to come every day at one point. He seemed kind of suspicious at first, but now, we even have lunch together. He helps us clean up from time to time before we close too," the teller said with a smile, and added, "Your PIN, please." Then, after entering his PIN on the device to his left, Juho pressed the green button and asked, "Do you know what he comes here for?" "I was told that he's working on a novel? We do occasionally interview students who are looking into different career paths around here, but there's never been anybody like Sung Pil." Juho wasn't surprised by the teller's answer. Imagining what the situation would have looked like, Juho couldn't help chuckle. Sung Pil had to have been in an awkward situation at some point, and being the dry person that he was, he most likely would have responded to a situation like that in a brusque manner. Then, as the teller held out a sheet of paper for Juho to sign, Juho winced, thinking that they were asking for an autograph. "Did you guys go to the same school?" "No, but we do have similar hobbies," Juho said, signing the paper and handing it to the teller, who took it from him and nodded, gesturing that everything was in order. At that moment, as Juho looked up inadvertently, the teller checked the young author's face, looking as if something had been bothering them since they had first started talking. "So you two write together…" the teller let out. At that moment, as Juho locked eyes with them, he sensed immediately that his cover had been blown. "Yun Woo!?" At that, Juho sprung up from his seat with widened eyes. The teller traced him with their eyes with a look of shock on their face, forgetting to call the next number. Then, Juho walked toward Sung Pil and raised him up from his seat as the teller fixed their eyes on the young author. "All right, I'm done." "You got caught, didn't you?" Sung Pil said, getting ready to leave in a rush. Unfortunately, it was too late. "Aren't you a writer?" somebody asked. At which point, everyone who had been looking at the magazines, their phones, or the advertisements for the bank's installment savings accounts turned toward where the voice had come from. Waiting was a tedious process, and the young author's appearance at the bank was more than enough to draw attention. "It's Yun Woo!" another teller shouted from the other side of the teller's window. Meanwhile, the teller who Juho had talked to was telling something to their superior. And in no time, a crowd surrounded the young author and his friend. "'Scuse us, comin' through." It being a public place, Juho didn't want to cause any trouble. Despite the commotion, Sung Pil looked completely unaffected by what was happening around him. "Could I get your autograph?" "Could you take a picture with me?" "Could we shake hands?" Thankfully, the friendly security guard came to the rescue, trying to keep the crowd under control, giving Sung Pil and Juho enough time to escape. However, people started pouring out of the bank shortly after. "Let's go this way," Sung Pil said, leading Juho to a narrow alleyway nearby. Soon, they were quite far away from the intersection in front of the bank. Now, they were surrounded by restaurants with metal tables set up outside. They seemed like places that would be booming with people at night rather than during the day. Sung Pil seemed to know his way around the area. With that, as the two stopped quite a while later, Juho took his hat off, brushed his hair back with his hand, and put it back on. He was starting to get sweaty. "You really are popular, aren't you?" Sung Pil said, looking at him as though deep in thought. "I don't think I've ever seen the bank get that crazy," he said. "Really?" "Maybe I should've taken you there earlier. I would've been able to approach my writing from a slightly different angle." "But you've already submitted it," Juho said. "Bummer," Sung Pil said. However, he didn't look all that disappointed. The manuscript was no longer in his hands, and the only thing Sung Pil could do was wait for the judges to read it. "Who knows? You might have time to make changes if you get nominated." "I'm confident with my writing as is," Sung Pil said. At that moment, children's laughter came out of nowhere. It sounded all too out of place. Looking around, Juho asked, "Is this one of the places you were inspired by?" "Yeah. How'd you know?" Sung Pil asked. Instead of giving him an answer, Juho looked around their surroundings. One of Sung Pil's greatest strengths as an author was his ability to describe places in reality in meticulous details, giving readers the impression that they were actually in that city, that street, or in front of that store. The realism made the overall writing more convincing, and it made little sense that such a talented author would limit himself to using only the bank as the setting in his novel. Juho felt as though he had become a character in a novel of which he didn't even know the title, and something about that made his heart beat faster. It would be fun if he could face the characters created by Sung Pil. "Interesting," Sung Pil murmured, turning toward Juho. "What is?" "That you're here," he replied, staring into the air as if thinking about a particular scene in his novel. Then, a cat peeked its head out from underneath the car, jumping up to the wall near it shortly after. Juho followed as Sung Pil started walking, noticing the rusted metal parts and concrete debris. "Back at the bank, I realized just how far apart we are as writers with every fiber of my being," Sung Pil said. 'Is he getting discouraged?' Juho wondered and looked at his friend. "But I'll catch up to you one of these days. I'll be a much better writer in the near future. I promise you that." "... Right." Of course, Sung Pil wasn't the type to get discouraged easily. If he had been, he wouldn't have called Yun Woo a rival right off the bat. Despite experiencing the gap between them as writers with every fiber of his being, Sung Pil wasn't about to let up any time soon. Although some would consider his tenacity recklessness, Juho applauded it, rooting for him. Besides, Juho recalled having had the same emotional experience in his past life. "Should be doable, right?" Sung Pil asked. Juho sincerely hoped that his friend would catch up to him one day. At the same time, part of him wished that Sung Pil never would. It was an emotion difficult to describe, and the young author didn't bother trying to bring it up. "I'll be rooting for ya," he said, remembering Mango's face. Then, a smile similar to Mango's appeared on Sung Pil's face. --- From the noise coming from the neighboring room, it was clear that they were vacuuming their place. "Ugh!" In a micro-apartment, which had been built for people preparing for state exams, there was hardly any space in the room. Getting out of bed, one was immediately greeted by a wall, and the exit was one step away. When looking to either side, the desk and the laptop became visible. That was the place in which the man had been writing. "Gettin' hungry," the man said as he sent the final draft to Zelkova. It was a contest widely considered as a gateway for aspiring authors, the same competition in which Yun Woo had competed and earned the title of youngest winner. 'That's who I wanna be,' the man thought to himself. He wanted to be just as successful as Yun Woo. Instead of the the micro-apartment, of which he had long grown tired, he wanted to move into a mansion, something he thought Yun Woo would live in. Then, the man loosened up and fell backward onto his thin mattress, which provided little cushioning, barely absorbing the impact of the fall. "It doesn't even have to be fancy," he said quietly. All he wanted was to debut as an author and see his writing get made into a book. He wanted to see it with his own eyes and he was willing to do just about anything to achieve that goal. At that moment, the man remembered the conversation he had had with his mother over barbecue. "I think you've worked hard enough," his mother had said. However, the man hadn't been able to contradict his mother because he had been telling himself the same thing. "Do you think I should stop now?" There had been pieces of meat burning on the grill. Although it had been a while since he had had a decent meal, the man simply hadn't had the appetite, feeling as if his stomach had already been full from resentment, sense of defeat, and the harsh reality. Since graduating from university and serving three years in the military, he had spent three years fighting to achieve his goal. He was living in an age where people lived up to a century, and he had reached his limit at the three-year mark. What was even more baffling was that he never seemed to have enough money for anything, whether he worked or not. He had been well aware of the challenges that came with pursuing a career as a writer. Nevertheless, that hadn't stopped him. He wanted to make a living as an author, writing books that made people laugh and cry, leaving traces deep within the hearts of his readers. However, the reality had been far from his wish. His writing had never seen the light of day, never to be read by anyone, let alone leave a trace. Upon looking away from the pieces of meat burning on the grill, the man had locked eyes with his mother, who had looked at him with eyes filled with guilt and sorrow. Although he had wanted to give up, the desperate desire in his heart to become a writer had kept the words from leaving his mouth. "Let me try just one more time." The man had been living off of the money sent to him by his mother. Because of that, the man had had to plead with his mother to go on and had to get her permission. He had been fully aware of how shameful it had been to do so. However, the truth was that he knew nothing about what it felt like to get mooched on by his own family, which had allowed him to beg and to take the opportunity at hand to convince his mother one last time. "OK, just this once," she had said reluctantly, sounding exhausted. From then on, the man moved into the micro-apartment in order to focus on writing, day in and day out. Eventually, his efforts bore fruit. He was delighted that it had turned out far better than any story he had written up to that point. The moment he completed his last sentence, he realized that the journey leading up to that day hadn't been entirely depressing, even if it turned out to be a failure in the end. While he was relieved by the realization on one hand, he also felt mortified by it on the other. Nevertheless, the man considered himself lucky that he was able to pursue his dream. With that, he submitted the finished draft to the contest. At that moment, his stomach started growling. He was getting hungry. Thinking back to the meat that had burned on the grill, the man regretted not having stuffed himself when he had had the chance. However, there were times when regret served as an indicator that life was better than what it used to be. In order to feed himself with instant noodles and Kimchi, which were both provided by the building's management, the man exited his room, realizing just how warm the Sun was that day. While eating his noodles, the thought of paying Zelkova a visit occurred to him, wanting to see the publisher that would determine his fate with his own eyes. Besides, it had been a while since he had gone out. "Might as well get some fresh air while I'm at it." The man was down to his last option. He had to prepare himself, whether things worked out in his favor or not. He couldn't afford to sit still. Rather, he had to work just as hard as he had been up to that point. In order to cover his greasy hair, the man looked around for a hat. Although there was a public shower within the complex, it was far too inconvenient. "Now, where did I put that hat?" Then, spotting his gray hat in the corner, he grabbed it and put it on. --- Curious of who the winner of the contest would be, Juho paid Zelkova a visit. Although the results would come out soon, Juho secretly hoped that he could find out beforehand. "Sorry. I got nothing." Unfortunately, the young author's hopes went in vain. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung sipped on the iced Americano that Juho had brought him.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I'm sure you must know something? Anything?" Juho asked, looking at the iced Americano in the editor's hand. However, Nam Kyung shook his head, responding to Juho's question with another set of questions, "What's with you, though? Why are you so interested?" Shortly after, Nam Kyung lowered his head, looking like he had had an idea, and whispered, "Is this about Mango?" "I can't say that you're entirely wrong." Mango was an aspiring writer they had met at the signing, and she was also one of the contestants of the contest hosted by Zelkova. Juho couldn't deny that her existence influenced his decision to come to Zelkova. Then, with narrowed eyes, Nam Kyung asked, "There's something else, isn't there?" "Another acquaintance of mine made a submission for the Rookie of the Year Award." "... What?!" Nam Kyung said, taking his mouth off of the straw. "Who?" "A really talented writer." "No, no. That's not what I'm asking. He's a talented writer?" "Yes. I can definitely see him becoming an author someday." At that, a look of interest appeared on the editor's face. "Is that so? What are you guys? Friends?" "It's a secret." Then, letting out a long groan, the editor replied, "C'mon! We're keeping secrets now? If what you said is true, it means that friend of yours will end up working with us someday, doesn't it!?" "In that case, I suppose I don't have to explain any further." "You tend to wanna know things like that soone! Don't you know!?" "Of course, I do. Why do you think I'm here?" The results, obviously, were still a mystery to Nam Kyung, who was chewing on his straw, tantalized. As if anxious, the editor repeated the process of taking his phone out and putting it back into his pocket, rubbing his temple with his fingers and resting his chin on his hand. Then, looking around cautiously, he said, "I do know this one thing." "Yes?" Juho said as he drew closer to his editor. "It seems like there's one contestant who's received a unanimous nomination," Nam Kyung whispered, covering his mouth. "Unanimous, huh?" 'That's a word I haven't heard in a while,' the young author thought to himself. "That's right. I don't know who it is or what kind of story it is, but the judges all picked that one particular submission, which means..." Nam Kyung paused, squinting his eyes, and added, "They'll probably receive the first Rookie of the Year Award since Yun Woo." "There hasn't been a winner since you won that award, all the way up to last year. All the rookies so far have barely cut it, and the standards have definitely gone up since you won," he said, opening the lid of his cup and pouring the ice into his mouth. "We've been getting a lot of submissions from students too. At this point, it's pretty much proven that it's impossible to have your skill at that age. Sure, being younger definitely gives one an advantage, but that only applies when the quality is there. Since you won the award, there hasn't been a single winner who's a minor," Nam Kyung said, the ice crunching in his mouth. "Then, out of nowhere, this one contestant gets nominated by unanimous decision. Wait a minute… You don't think we're talking about the same person, do you?" It wasn't hard to picture Sung Pil making his debut as an author after getting nominated by unanimous decision. From then on, the room sank into silence as the two immersed themselves in thought. Then, Nam Kyung broke the silence, pounding on the desk, "Hope Mango doesn't get her feelings hurt." If what Juho was thinking was actually true, it meant that Mango would have to remain an aspiring writer a little longer. "But we don't know what her piece is like. At which point, there's only so much we can do." "There are over fifteen hundred submissions for the Rookie of the Year Award alone." Nam Kyung didn't know any of the names of the contestants or anything about the stories they had written for that matter. Each contestant had had their own life story when they had made their submission. Unfortunately, only one was chosen to be the winner. "If you're that curious, why don't you try Mrs. Baek? She's one of the judges this year," Nam Kyung said. "I'm planning to go see her today, actually." "Huh. That was quick." Then, checking the time, the editor rose from his seat. The two went outside to the quiet street for a walk. Aside from the people who were going and out of the building occasionally, there was hardly anybody around. The contrast was quite stark with a certain time in the past. Only then, did it occur to the young author that the street could be that quiet and uneventful. "Pretty quiet today," Juho said. "It's a weekday." The streets tended to be much quieter during the week. Then, as the the publisher's building appeared in the distance again, the two stopped in their tracks to catch a cab. "Would you like some books while you're here? You're free to take whichever books you want." "It's fine. I better get going. I wouldn't want us to get surrounded by the crowd. Besides, what if somebody sees me and decides that they want to shout my name out loud?" "That's when you get in that taxi and make a run for it," Nam Kyung said playfully. At that moment, Juho's concern became a reality as somebody shouted his name out loud. "It's Yun Woo!" Until Juho heard Nam Kyung flustered voice, the young author was under the impression that he had been hearing things. Fortunately, there was nobody else around when he looked around. As the voice scattered into the air, the person to whom the voice belonged approached Juho and the editor in haste, wearing a look of disbelief. "You really are Yun Woo, right!?" the man asked. His gray cap, which looked a tad too small for the wearer's head, caught the young author's eyes. "Yes, I am. Pleasure to meet you," Juho said, well acquainted with encounters like that by that point. Meanwhile, the man still looked like he couldn't believe things, as though having come face to face with his destiny. "Au… Could I ..." "Would you like an autograph?" "Yes! Please!" With that, the man went through his bag without a delay and pulled out a stack of manuscript paper, a lot of which seemed to have been used. Flipping through the pages in a hurry, the man finally found a clean page. Of course, at the sight of all that, Juho couldn't resist asking, "Do you write?" "Yes. I'm an aspiring writer. I've recently made a submission to the contest too," the man said with an hesitant smile. From Mango to Sung Pil, and now, the man in a gray hat. There was only one explanation for why Juho was running into aspiring writers so often: to have other writers as colleagues. Taking the stack of manuscript from the man, Juho signed his autograph on it. "What brings you here?" "I wanted to visit Zelkova," the man in the gray hat said awkwardly. The dark patch on his chin was telling Juho that he had not shaved. "Were you on your way there?" Juho asked. "Oh, no." "Oh, so you've already been there then." At that, the man smacked his lips for a brief moment, as if having a lot to say. However, what came out of his mouth was a rather short sentence, "No. I think looking from afar is quite enough for me." It was an excuse similar to one Juho had previously used. After signing, Juho closed the stack of paper out of habit. Of course, reading what it was also part of that same habit. As the man in a gray hat reached out, expecting to get it back from Juho, he was caught off guard by the young author's question. "Would you mind if I read it?" "I'm sorry?" After some contemplation, the man nodded affirmatively, and Juho saw his editor, who was standing behind him, taking interest in the matter. Not minding whether the editor was reading over his shoulders or not, Juho read through the words on the pages of the manuscript. It was the beginning of the story, just enough to get a feel for the direction in which the story was headed. Seeing as though it was keeping the young author guessing, the story seemed quite promising, making Juho want to read more of it. "You know what? I'm genuinely curious about what happens afterward," Juho said. At that, a strong emotion welled up on the man's face. "That's the one," he said, clearly sounding excited. "That was my submission." Hearing that, Juho thought of his friend and Mango. "This is my last hurrah. If this falls through, I'm gonna have to look elsewhere," the man said, sounding like he was pleading for something. "Do you think I have a chance of winning?" The question came to Juho as a heavy burden, and the autograph on the manuscript felt irrelevant all of a sudden. The man had specifically described his writing as being his last. Although Juho had no clue why that had to be, he did know that he wanted to read the rest of the story and understand it. Then, the man repeated himself, asking, "Do you think I have a chance?" It was a question Juho couldn't give an answer to. Not only was he not a judge, but he hadn't read the entire story, either. It wouldn't be fair to take sides. Them, Juho locked eyes with the man in a gray hat. Although his eyes looked nothing like Sung Pil's or Mango's, he was certainly looking in the same direction as the two. "Uh-oh. That's our cue. We better get going, Mr. Woo," Nam Kyung interjected, looking over the man's shoulders. There was a crowd of people, who seemed to be getting a tour of the publishing district, approaching them. As Nam Kyung grabbed Juho by the arm, the young author said to the man in a hurry, "Good luck. I'll be rooting for you." At which, the man looked down briefly and replied with a satisfied smile, "Thank you." By the time Juho looked back, the man had long blended into the crowd. Nevertheless, his gray hat made him relatively easy to distinguish from afar as he was the only person wearing it. Juho stood in his place, watching him until he had completely disappeared into the distance. --- "I'm here, Mrs. Baek." Juho arrived at Yun Seo's house, his mind still lingering in the encounter with the man in the gray hat. On his way there, Juho asked himself if there was any way he would have been able to offer a better answer to the aspiring writer's question. In the end, Juho never reached an answer. Knowing that they would most likely never cross paths again, Juho couldn't help but feel a little sad, almost to the point of wishing that the man in the gray hat would win. At which point, the image of Sung Pil's and Mango's faces lingered before the young author's eyes. The clutter was proving to be quite bothersome, making Juho anxious to know who the winner was even more, just so he could get out of that state of mind. At that moment, a dog barked in the distance, and hearing that well known sound, Juho felt a little calmer. Then, the door opened, and Joon Soo, who Juho hadn't seen since the outing at Madame Song's, came out to greet him with a glad smile. However, Juho stared intently at him and asked out of nowhere, "It was you, wasn't it?" "What are you talking about?" Joon Soo asked, caught off guard, clueless. "Mr. Lim?" Juho said, giving him a subtle hint. "Ah, right." Joon Soo had been the one to inform Hyun Do about Juho, which had caused Juho to receive an unexpected call from the literary great. "Do you have any idea how taken aback I was? I couldn't even answer the phone, either." "Sorry, it just kind of came out while we were eating… Wait, you couldn't answer it?" "I was in the middle of writing." "That's unfortunate. But in my defense, I only said as much as I heard from Dong Gil. Besides, Dong Gil's not the type to rave on about something like that, you know? What I'm trying to say is that I know practically nothing. Anyway, let's go inside!" Joon Soo said. It being the space where she taught her students, Yun Seo's house was spacious, comfortable, and always well-maintained. Sitting at the table, which he hadn't seen in a long time, Juho asked, "Is Mrs. Baek not home?" "She'll be here in a minute." "What about Geun Woo?" "He's out." Going into the kitchen, Joon Soo brought out a couple of cups. Then, going back into the kitchen, Joon Soo asked as he checked the refrigerator, "We have some mangos. Would you like some?" "Mangos, huh," Juho answered, his voice gradually sinking. "Oh, do you not like mangos?" "I do. I'm just not in the mood today, I guess." "... Still a little confused, but if you say so. Oh! I really enjoyed 'Alexandria!'" "How was it? It didn't turn out too bad for the amount of time I spent meandering, right?" "It turned out incredible! Very, very interesting read. It felt like I discovered Yun Woo's unique sense of wit," Joon Soo said, tapping a mug three times. There was clattering noise mixed in between his words. Bringing out what he described as Schisandra tea, Joon Soo brought a tray out to him. The house felt quite cool since the hallway was well ventilated. "You must've been busy. You're a celebrity." "You're asking me? What about you?" "I've been busy with a manuscript gig. I was taking a short break." "I've been the same, more or less." Then, Juho brought up a thought that had occurred to him, "Oh! I heard your book's getting released in the US! Congratulations!" "Hehe, thanks." "I'm sure it'll do well." "You know what? That sounds really good coming from you. You sold the entire first edition within two months." Joon Soo was referring to 'An Insect Leaves No Trace,' which had drawn massive attention for the printing of its first edition starting at a whopping one million copies. Now, only two months later, the second edition was already in print. Meanwhile, seeing as though Juho wasn't showing any response, Joon Soo said, "But it seems like you haven't changed a bit." "There isn't really a reason to." "Honestly, if you're doing that well, it couldn't hurt to enjoy yourself a little bit, don't you think? "Joon Soo, you know we don't get luxuries like that." As soon as an author let their success get to their head, they quickly found their success threatened by other writers who wrote pieces that were just as, if not more, competent. The moment they stopped moving forward, everything became the past, and authors, of all people, had to be well aware of that. Then, a thought occurred to the young, 'Maybe rooting for those aspiring writers is all I can do because I, myself, am an author. Maybe I'm keeping them in check.' Then, seeing Joon Soo looking into the distance as if lost in thought, Juho asked, "Why? Did Geun Woo write something mind-blowing?" Juho was aware that Geun Woo was in the middle of writing a story, and the young author was also aware that the story was about him. "Yeah, he did," Joon Soo said without hesitation, catching Juho off guard. "... Did he?" Juho said, studying Joon Soo's expression. Because of his mouth, which naturally curved upward, Joon Soo appeared as if he was always smiling, making it hard to distinguish if he was joking or if he was serious at times. Yet, there was a part of Juho that was accepting the statement as truth. He knew that Geun Woo had what it took to be able to pull off a story like that. "Sigh," Joon Soo let out. The red liquid in the mug had somewhat of an alarming look to it. "Seems like our club is going international." "That would be great," Joon Soo said, sipping his tea. From then on, the two authors drank their tea in silence, each retreated into his own mind. Meanwhile, Joon Soo stared at a leaf, which was blowing gently in the breeze. "This takes me back to when you first debuted."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl While watching the ants crawling by on the ground, Juho looked up at Joon Soo's voice. "It does?" Juho asked. "Back then, people had predicted that you'd fall away from the literary world in no time." "That's harsh." "But you've been proving them wrong, haven't you? You're showing them up." Rolling the mug around in his hands, Joon Soo added, "Besides, there's this contest going on. From what I heard, there's a promising nominee for the Rookie of the Year Award." "And who would this be?" Juho asked, playing coy. "A nomination by unanimous decision. The first since you." "Do you know whose story it was?" "No," Joon Soo said confidently. Not only did he seem genuine, but he didn't seem like he was all that interested in knowing, either. "You seem interested though." "Maybe a little." "Well, in any case, Mrs. Baek should know." At that moment, the same bark Juho had heard when he had arrived rang from the distance, which made him look toward the door by reflex. It was Yun Seo. "Look who's here!" she said "Hello," Juho said, rising from his seat at once. As he bowed, a warm chuckle sounded from above. "Did you try the Schisandra tea? It's good, isn't it?" "Yes, it was very refreshing." Instead of going into the house, Yun Seo sat on the flat bench. At the same time, Juho was busy suppressing his urge to bombard her with questions such as: 'How did the evaluations go? Who's the winner? Mango? Sung Pil? Gray hat? None of the three?' "What were you guys talking about?" "We were talking about the Rookie of the Year Award." "Ah, right. Unanimous decision," Yun Seo said, catching on to Juho's explanation immediately. "How good of a piece was it for it to get nominated by unanimous decision?" Joon Soo asked. "I'm not gonna lie. The evaluation was a lot easier this time around," she said as if the results were already out, which was indicative of how big of a difference there was between the nominated piece and the other competing pieces. "It was similar to when you first debuted," Joon Soo told the young author, and a smile appeared on Yun Seo's face. "Did you like the piece that was nominated the best too, Mrs. Baek?" Juho asked. "Of course! That's what makes it a unanimous decision, right?" "True, but what about everything else?" After some contemplation, Yun Seo said, "There were submissions that were more memorable here and there." "Sounds like there were some hidden talents," Joon Soo said quietly. To which, Yun Seo nodded and added, "The contestants were all conveying their messages very clearly. Of course, some could've been better in terms of plot development, while others lacked substance, but overall, I could tell that they had done their best." At that, a childish thought occurred in Juho's mind, 'If everyone worked equally hard, then what's the point in choosing only one person as the winner?' "People need to stop giving out those so-called literary awards." "Aren't you one of the judges, Mrs. Baek?" Joon Soo said, chuckling. However, she kept on, "The more I evaluate, the less I see the point of it. A literary award is definitely a charming trophy to those who prefer a more tangible proof of their achievement, but the standards are much too stingy. It couldn't hurt to be a little more generous, rather than picking only one person, don't you think?" Then, looking at Juho, she added, "Maybe I'm being too harsh with my words in front of a winner of literary awards recognized worldwide." "Not at all," Juho said, wondering if she had read his thoughts. Then, coming down from the flat bench, Yun Seo said nonchalantly, "There was one particular piece that really seemed like the writer had invested a lot of time into. It was quite polished." Then, as a smile grew on her face, and she said, "That was one of the better ones." At that, the first person who came to Juho's mind was his friend. Although he thought of two more after that, both of their faces faded away in no time. Juho was fully aware that he was being rash, but brushing off a thought that had already entered his mind was not very easy. Yun Seo had to be referring to Sung Pil's story. He had to have been the one nominated by the judges' unanimous decision. "While you're here, sit back and relax." The moment Juho was made certain of that in his mind, the young author realized that he had been rooting for only one person all along. Not knowing the results had had little to do with it. Rather, it was their friendship, which enabled the young author to watch his friend's growth from close proximity. When he looked up, the sunset was dyeing the sky red. "Joon Soo's not working today, so I'll let you two have fun. I'll make us some dinner later. I got some really high-quality beef as a gift while I was visiting Hoengseong." "That sounds amazing. I'll make sure to stick around," Juho said nonchalantly. Then, as Yun Seo was walking toward the door, she stopped in her tracks all of a sudden, looked back, and asked, "Did you come here to ask about the award?" "I'm sorry?" "I was just getting the impression that you're interested in who won the Rookie of the Year Award. What did you want to know? Or did you already find out?" Juho found the red in the sky to be quite bothersome as it dyed everything red, including Yun Seo. He was probably no different. Whenever he felt her gaze, Juho felt a burning sensation on his face. "The only piece of information that excited me was that you brought beef." "Well, good thing you found that exciting," she said, smiling. That evening, Juho returned home early. Since Yun Seo had already figured out the purpose of his visit, Juho felt that there was no point in staying longer than necessary. On his way home, Juho immersed himself in thought, wondering about the stories written by Mango and the man in the gray hat. A few days later, the day of the announcement came along with the results of the judges' evaluations. That day, Juho made sure not to look at any articles on the internet or visit the publisher's website. On top of that, neither did he call his editor nor visit Yun Seo at her house. He had already made up his mind to hear the results from one particular source. While he was reading 'The Full Moon,' his phone started ringing. "I did it," the voice said briefly through the receiver of Juho's phone. However, Juho remained unsurprised. "I kept our promise," the voice said proudly and added, "Yun Woo," recognizing Juho as an author for the first time. "Congratulations," Juho said genuinely. Then, a loud noise blasted from the receiver. It was a cheer. Juho was hearing Sung Pil scream for the first time. Then, looking down, Juho saw the manuscripts of stories about Mango, the gray hat, and Sung Pil. "Haha." Sung Pil's scream lingered in the young author's ears. --- "Sung Pil?" Sung Pil looked up at the voice calling to him. A schoolmate, of whom he didn't even know the name, was striking up a conversation with him. "Must be nice getting that award!" Despite the large campus, the word seemed to have gotten around quickly. Most of the students in the same major knew about Sung Pil's recent victory of the Rookie of the Year Award. Having one of his core classes that day, the rookie author felt like he was the center of attention, even more than usual. "How'd it feel?" "Did you meet any other authors?" "What was it like? Did you have to go to meetings or anything like that?" "The professor was lookin' for ya. Man, if only I could be in your position." "Hey, there are some upperclassmen that I hang out with, and they've been wanting to meet you." "Debuting as a freshman… That's impressive." "Yo, can I have your number?" "Hey, we're going out later. Wanna come?" Being the center of attention was all too foreign for Sung Pil, and it left him helpless. People were eager to hear about his journey leading up to his debut. There had to be something that they wanted from him. Otherwise, they wouldn't have taken interest in the rookie author all of a sudden. "It feels like I'm in a different world," Sung Pil murmured, resting his chin on his hand. Then, the professor came into the classroom. While checking attendance, he paused abruptly as he reached Sung Pil's name. "Pil Sung Choi?" "Present," Sung Pil responded as usual. However, the professor's seemed to act a little different from usual. "Would you stand up for a minute?" the professor said to him. At which, Sung Pil did as he had been told, becoming the center of attention yet again. Just like his classmates, who seemed to know why the professor had made him stand up, Sung Pil was also aware of the professor's intention. "You're the student who debuted as an author recently, right?" Then, the professor proceeded to explain the structure within the Korean literary world, the significance of a literary award, and that Sung Pil had been the sole contestant nominated out of fifteen hundred people. Then, adding that his friend was the president of a publishing company, the professor said, "Sung Pil, here, has achieved something impressive." Although Sung Pil was anxious to sit back down, he didn't necessarily feel ashamed that his professor was talking about him in front of the entire class. If anything, it felt more like an award for the time and effort he had put into his work. Not knowing if it was OK to feel that way, Sung Pil struggled to stay focused through the entire class. "Hey," a voice called to him as he was coming out of the building after class. When he looked toward where the voice had come from, Sung Pil quick realized that it had come from another student in the same major. "So, my name is Bom Yoon, and we're in the same major." "I know," Sung Pil said, remembering having met her before. "We met with Juho once, didn't we?" "Yes, we did." From time to time, Juho would make it seem like they were running into his friends by coincidence, and Sung Pil was fully aware that that was Juho's way of being considerate of him. "I was supposed to meet with Juho later today, and I was thinking it wouldn't be a bad idea to bring you along. What do you think?" "Sure." "... That was quick." Having just debuted as an author, Sung Pil had all the time in the world. "When is this gonna be?" he asked, checking the time. Then, smiling, Bom said, "How about now?" "All right." With that, Sung Pil followed her quietly, not having anything to talk about in particular. Instead, he thought back to her writing, which he recalled having come across once. It had been quite sensual, and her skillful use of figure of speech had stood out to him quite a bit. As they were walking quietly toward the front gate, Sung Pil asked, "Are we going to his house?" "Nope." "Then, where are we meeting him?" The view opened up as they turned the corner, and coming down the hill, the two went through the gate. "Right. Here," Bom said. When Sung Pil followed her gaze, he saw somebody wearing a hat, covering his face with it. "And that's how you get caught," Bom murmured, and Sung Pil agreed. At the same time, he liked Juho's free-spirited nature of walking about freely despite the looks he got from pedestrians. As they started approaching Juho, the young author looked toward them, waving. "I wasn't expecting you two to come together," Juho said unhurriedly. "So, this is what your school looks like." As the two showed Juho around campus, he came to learn just how distant his two friends were from each other despite being in the same major. Considering both of their personalities, neither of them inclined to initiate a conversation with a stranger, and it wasn't too big of a surprise. "We've read each other's writings though," Bom said, looking at Sung Pil. He agreed with a blank expression on his face. "You're a good writer." "You too. I was impressed by how you handle sentences that are really long." With that, the air sank into an awkward silence, which showed Juho just how distant they were. "Is there a place to go around here? I think I've seen enough," Juho said to Sung Pil. Then, after some contemplation, Sung Pil said, "I wouldn't know. I don't usually hang out in this area." "There are few restaurants and karaokes, but aside from that, there isn't a whole lot to do around here. I probably go to the bookstore the most…' Bom added. Then, looking at Juho and Sung Pil in turn, she asked cheerfully, "You guys wanna go to the bookstore?" "Sure." Unlike Juho, who was lukewarm, Sung Pil agreed without delay, almost welcoming it too much. He seemed to be genuinely welcoming the idea. Considering that his book had come out after his recent debut, it was understandable. With that, the three took the bus away from campus and to a large bookstore. Although Juho was familiar with the company, it was his first time visiting that specific location. Nevertheless, the overall atmosphere was more or less the same as that of other locations. "There it is. Right there," Bom said, pointing at the golden book, which appeared as soon as they stepped into the store. Sung Pil stared intently in the direction she was pointing toward. "A comedy with a kick by Yun Woo of 'River' and 'Language of God.' Discover the author's surprising sense of humor," Bom read the promotional banner out loud, as if to Juho and Sung Pil.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "That was a good book! Sun Hwa loved it!" Bom said cheerfully, as if to prove that there was no exaggeration in what was written on the promotional banner. Juho also remembered getting a text from Sun Hwa after the book's release, which had been significantly longer than the other texts. "How about you? Did you think the book was funny at all?" she asked, looking at Sung Pil. At which, he gave a delayed answer, "I think the book thief stood out to me the most," turning a comedy into a tragedy. Walking past Bom, who looked like she had a lot to say, Juho, who had a certain book in mind, walked further into the bookstore. There was no telling what would happen if he were to stand in front of the golden books any longer. "Here it is: 'The Winner of the Rookie of the Year Award.'" Author: Sung Pil. Instead of his real name, Pil Sung Choi, he had come out to the world with an alias, Sung Pil. Upon seeing his books on display, Bom walked toward them as if glad to see them. Because the publisher was quite prominent, the books were being displayed in a fairly visible spot in the store. The names of the judges were also visible, particularly Yun Seo Baek's. "'Gingko Tree.' The first unanimous nomination since Yun Woo! Critically acclaimed by the judges of the contest," Bom said, reading the promotional banner for the book out loud, just like she had done with Juho's. Looking at Sung Pil, Juho was greeted with a surprising sight. For the first time, Sung Pil seemed to be bashful. As Juho stared intently at him, Sung Pil's distinctively thick eyebrows squirmed, and he said, "... I'm just not used to seeing this," which appeared to be true. "I don't think I've ever seen you like that, either," Juho said. That time, Sung Pil asked Juho, "What did you think?" "It was good. Well-written." The lack of hesitation in Juho's answer felt somewhat insincere, which caused Sung Pil to narrow his eyes at him. However, Juho was sincere in his answer. The book was actually good and well-written. Knowing how much time Sung Pil had spent polishing the story, Juho wasn't surprised to see how successful it was becoming. On top of that, his age made it an even more impressive achievement. Only then, did Juho start making sense of how Yun Seo had reacted to his interest in the book. At that moment, somebody came up next to Sung Pil and said, "'Scuse me." Then, reading the promotional banner as Bom had done, he picked up a book. At which point, Sung Pil took a step back, pretending not to mind the man's response to the book. Bom acted similarly. Then, flipping the book, the man started reading the testimonials in the back, and just like that, he walked away. "Is he buying it?" Sung Pil asked, sounding confused and looking toward the cashier counter. "I think so…! Congratulations!" Bom said, clapping quietly. Then, Juho called to his new author friend as if trying to stir him up, "Sung Pil." "..." That time, Sung Pil's face started twitching from the corners of his mouth. He had to be experiencing a certain degree of joy, with which Juho, too, was well acquainted. For an author, seeing somebody buy their book brought them enormous joy. Seeing his friend's innocent response, Juho couldn't help but wonder if he had been the same way in the past. "Our professor was saying a lot of good things about you today." "Really?" "Yeah. He was saying, 'This gentleman, here, has recently made a successful debut as an author by unanimous nomination in a literary contest," she said, mimicking the professor. Unfortunately, Juho had no point of reference to determine how good or bad her impersonation of her professor was. "Is that person looking in our direction?" Bom asked. At which point, Juho looked around cautiously. Although they weren't exactly loud, lingering in a spot in a bookstore, let alone in front of a certain book, tended to draw attention. Fortunately, since it was a weekday, the bookstore wasn't all that crowded. "You guys are buying books, right? Let's all go and grab one." With that, the three scattered in different directions. Initially, they all lingered around the domestic literature section. Then, Bom moved to technical literature and, after that, to the humanities section. From that point on, after learning and experiencing various things, she would eventually come to create a style that was unique to her, just like all other authors. Being aware of that, Bom didn't rush the process either. Then, as Juho entered the international literature section from the guidebooks section, he reunited with his two friends. "That was fast." "I already had a book in mind." "Me too." Seeing that Bom had picked two books and Sung Pil one, Juho thought for a brief moment and picked up a book from the international literature section, which happened to be a novel that Kelley Coin had criticized harshly. "Let's go over to Juho's," Bom suggested as they came out of the store after paying for their books. "I don't have a problem with that," Juho said, and Sung Pil agreed. Then, she added, "With alcohol." "Alcohol?" Juho asked. Meanwhile, Sung Pil nodded and welcomed the idea, saying, "Sure." Before long, Bom and Sung Pil seemed to get closer. In the end, they made a stop at a neighborhood grocery store to buy bottles of soju and beer. Upon arrival, as soon as the table was set up, the two started guzzling down their drinks. Although Juho tried to keep them from drinking too fast, his efforts went in vain. Soon, Juho gave up and let them be. With alcohol in their systems, Bom and Sung Pil started talking to each other more and more. "You know what's the worst? Group projects. I just can't trust people anymore." "I understand," Sung Pil agreed with Bom. While Juho was sipping his can of beer, the two emptied three bottles of Soju in the blink of an eye. Seeing his friends' impressive drinking ability, Juho couldn't help but be astonished. "Guys. Slow down," Juho said in a concerned voice. At which, Bom waved her hand in denial and said, "What are you talking about!? This is the perfect pace!" and proceeded to mix the soju and the beer to a very specific ratio. 'You really learn all sorts of things in college,' Juho thought to himself. "Eh, whatever," Juho said, reaching for the piece of whelk in the appetizer plate. At that moment, Sung Pil said out of nowhere, "I'm finally in the same world as you." There was a potent smell of alcohol in his breath. "Is this your first time at my place?" Juho asked. At which, Sung Pil replied, "I'm talking about the literary world." Although his eyebrows looked like they were much closer to each other than usual, Sung Pil was staring intently into the chunks of seasoned whelks. "I wanna write better than you and I want you to look up to me one day. But we're friends, and friends need to treat each other equally. You know what? Maybe there isn't such a thing as better or worse. But what's even funnier is that I still wanna beat you. In that case, what would it mean to beat you? What would that look like?" Sung Pil said, looking and sounding completely sober. However, there was one part of his body that indicated to Juho that he was drunk. Sung Pil's ears, which peeked through his short hair, were burning red. Then, the rookie author started rambling on some more, "You're just too good of a writer. You comforted me when I most needed, and nobody's ever approached me the way you did. I wanna be able to do that too, but that isn't to say that I wanna be like you. I just want my writing to have an impact on your life somehow. Oh, am I getting ahead of myself here?" "I think you're drunk. You should stop," Juho said, snatching the cup from Sung Pil's hand as he was bringing it up to his mouth. The distinct whiff of alcohol rushed into Juho's nose, making him cringe against his will. "Wow! I didn't know you could drink like that! Here, have some more," Bom said, filling Juho's cup. Although she had had less to drink than Sung Pil, she seemed to be in a great mood still. "I'm just so happy." "About what?" Then, covering her face with both of her hands, she said, "That all of my friends are making it. I just want everyone to be happy, you know? Together." "You're drunk too, huh?" "No, I'm not," she said, guzzling down on her alcoholic concoction. Then, picking up her chopsticks, Bom brought them to the plate to snatch a piece of whelk, but they seemed to be dancing around her chopsticks. "You know what? From now on, I'm going my way too," she said, glaring at the piece of whelk she had finally managed to pick up with her chopsticks. However, it seemed like she was about to drop it at any given minute. At that moment, a shadow cast over Juho. "Jeez! You scared me!" It was Sung Pil leaping across the table. Although all the food and drinks on the table were intact, the piece of whelk that had been hanging precariously by the ends of Bom's chopsticks fell to the floor. "I'm not runnin'. I'm not goin' anywhere," Sung Pil said, sitting next to Juho. "You're not running?" "That's right. When the day comes that we have to face each other, I'm not going down without a fight," the rookie author said, as if imagining a sword fight. "Promise me that you won't back out. That you won't go easy on me," Sung Pil said, demanding the young author make a promise. "What are you talking about? What? You want me to thumb wrestle you or something?" It seemed like Sung Pil became even more uncomfortable to talk to when drunk. In the end, Juho gave in to the pressure and nodded. "All right! Would you stop drinking now? Look at you getting all drunk in the middle of the day." From then on, Bom fell asleep, and Sung Pil started mumbling gibberish. And after some time, in the evening, the two started to sober up. Meanwhile, Juho read the book he had bought at the bookstore, realizing just how accurate Coin's criticism of the book had been. "Ugh." For his friends who were struggling with the effects of the alcohol, Juho made each a cup of honey water. (TL's Note: Honey water is a common folk remedy in Korea for preventing or curing a hangovers.) "Feel better now? Do you think you can get home?" "I'm good," Sung Pil said with his usual blank expression. The distance between his eyebrows had returned to normal, and neither were his ears burning red. "Do you even remember what you said?" Juho asked. At which, Sung Pil looked straight into his eyes and replied, "I do." Yet, there was not a trace of shame or any kind of emotion on his face for that matter. In the end, Juho decided not to get into details. Soon, after walking his two friends out and seeing them leaving in a cab, Juho got back home. While cleaning the table and the leftover alcohol, Juho poured the remaining Soju in one of the cups into his mouth. "So bitter." 'I wanna beat you.' Sung Pil's words echoed in Juho's ears. Juho had only one response to them: "And I, you." Then, Juho poured himself another drink. --- "That's the stuff!" Nam Kyung exclaimed, feeling the alcohol going down his throat. He was having a drink at a street bar on his way home from work. "OK. As Yun Woo's editor-in-charge, what did you think of today's meeting?" Mr. Maeng asked as Nam Kyung poured another round of alcohol into his mouth. While waiting for Nam Kyung's answer, Mr. Maeng slurped on the noodle soup. "You're talking about the idea of involving the previous award winners in the event, right?" Although that had been somewhat of an ongoing tradition, it had come to an abrupt halt with the appearance of Yun Woo. However, during the meeting, an idea had come up to leverage the literary award exhibition to bring back the old tradition. The fact that the book of the recently debuted author was drawing significantly more attention than expected had also played a role in it. However, the conflict lay in the nature of the event and Yun Woo's position. "We are essentially revealing the authors' writing space to the public." Nam Kyung nodded at Mr. Maeng's summary of the idea for the new event. The point of the event was to show people how an author went about writing a book. "But the thing is, the idea was to bring the winners of the Rookie of the Year together," Nam Kyung said. "And Yun Woo's one of them." "Which means, if it were to happen, Yun Woo's writing process would get revealed to the public." "It's definitely not something that happens every day," Mr. Maeng said. "I think that's an understatement." "Which is why we're approaching this with as much precaution as possible." Nam Kyung let out a sigh. Yun Woo had always been a tricky figure. Despite being one of the most prominent figures in the world, he was far too young. On the other hand, despite being far too young, he was one of the biggest names in the world. The young author stuck out like a sore thumb no matter where he was. "I'm not gonna lie. Even the thought of it stirs up my interest," Mr. Maeng said, pouring Nam Kyung another drink, which Nam Kyung poured right into his mouth. If Yun Woo were to participate, fans would be able to see his writing process with their own eyes. There was no doubt that it would be successful, and the company was also confident in its success. "I mean, it's more like a reenactment of the authors' writing process. It's not like they're actually writing, so I think it'd be OK to have Mr. Woo there. Besides, it should be a safe setting, so we won't have to worry about any trouble." It was a safe event that couldn't possibly damage the young author's reputation in any way. "Of course, that isn't to say that I doubt his skill. I'm just saying that there's no risk for any potential danger." "I know." If anybody, the editing department was confident in the young author's skill. However, people tended to talk him down at every opportunity that came their way. After all, the downfall of a genius carried quite the shock factor. "But this is Yun Woo we're talking about. Even the story he'd showcase at the event would draw quite a bit of attention," Nam Kyung said. "OK. How about this? What if we work with materials that have already been published?" "We can't back out now. The bullet's already left the gun," Nam Kyung said. Then, smacking his lips, Mr. Maeng added, "Well, I suppose we can only get so far discussing this between us without knowing where Mr. Woo stands. Personally, I really hope Mr. Woo participates because, frankly, I wanna see him write. I wanna see what it looks like when Yun Woo writes."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "What if he says no?" Yun Woo had every right to say no. The author had turned down an invitation to a recent book festival with a resounding no, similarly with many interviews and events related to Zelkova, which had included a special event with another publisher in the UK. Reminded of the author's history with avoiding public appearances, Mr. Maeng sighed heavily. "It wouldn't be this hard if it were some other author," he said, resting his chin on his hand. Then, looking like something had occurred to him, he said, "Wait… What if we can't find any other authors after we get Mr. Woo on board? That wouldn't be a good thing either." While Mr. Maeng had said that jokingly, Nam Kyung shrugged and said, "That's definitely possible. At the same time, there could be authors eager to participate after knowing that Mr. Woo was gonna be there." Then, he emptied his glass. Nothing was set in stone yet. However, the higher-ups were definitely eager to push the event forward, which meant Nam Kyung would become incredibly busy. "As for an author who debuted this year, it's pretty obvious, isn't it? Sung Pil seemed like a promising candidate." "Ah! Him!" Nam Kyung exclaimed, and Mr. Maeng nodded in agreement. He was the first contestant to be nominated by unanimous decision since Yun Woo. Not only was that an advertisement in and of itself, but the quality of his writing was definitely worth the overwhelming praise from the critics. "I really hope he makes it." "I hope so too," Nam Kyung said in agreement. Not only was Sung Pil one of the only people Yun Woo had his eye on, but they were also the same age. The editor thought back to the time when he met Sung Pil for the first time, not as an author, but as Yun Woo's acquaintance. It wasn't until Sung Pil debuted as an author that Nam Kyung started making sense of why Yun Woo had avoided getting into details about their friendship back then. "Do you think it's too soon to leverage him being friends with Mr. Woo?" How would the public react to their friendship? "Their friendship? Oh! They're the same age, aren't they? Wait… Do they know each other??" "Oh, no. They just happen to be the same age." Being a new author entailed having to start from the bottom, including building their fame. Although their books might be pouring out to the stores, there wouldn't be enough readers in comparison to the number of books available. Rumors usually contributed little to the success of a new book, and making it into the bestsellers' list was practically impossible. It meant having to utilize every means necessary to get their names out early on in their careers. "So, as long as Mr. Woo gives us an OK, we wouldn't have to worry about advertising, right? This is gonna be massive. I just know it." "And that's exactly why advertising is so important," Nam Kyung said. The name Yun Woo was practically an endorsement in and of itself. At that moment, the editor emptied his glass once again. "What could possibly go wrong?" The next day, suffering from hangovers, neither of them was able to remember what had happened that night. --- Juho came out for a walk at a park on the riverbank of the Han River. There were quite a few riders pedaling along the side of the river. Walking past the observation tower, the one which Juho had entered at one point, the author kept walking forward, enjoying the weather. "Go away!" a child shouted. When Juho looked toward where the voice had come from, he saw a group of children, playing together. After checking the time, he sat on a bench nearby and watched them play. "Let's race!" another child shouted. The children seemed to be in high spirits. "Whoever gets to the finish line wins!" "Where's the finish line?" "That white line over there." "OK." As they stood side by side, the youngest looking child said, "This isn't fair." Being a head shorter than the rest of the group, the boy had to be a younger sibling of one of the children. After some contemplation, the children agreed to let the younger child start slightly ahead of them. "Five paces? So… right here?" "Hey! That was six!" "No! It was five!" In either case, five or six paces, for a boy his age, that didn't seem like much of an advantage. The children were incredibly unforgiving. Although the boy took a step back in order to appease his older brother, who seemed to be driven by fairness, the boy moved right back to where he'd been as soon as the children looked away. "Don't even think about crossing the start line." "That's cheating." "You cheat, you die." What seemed like an innocent race between children suddenly turned into a matter of life and death. As the child who brought up death leaned forward as if about to bolt forward at any given minute, the child next to them positioned themselves as if mimicking a posture they had seen elsewhere. Each and every child got into a position of their own. 'Who'll win?' Juho thought to himself, taking interest in the race. At a glance, the tallest child, who also seemed to be the most athletic and competitive, seemed like they had the most advantage. The child to their left was slightly shorter, but they seemed to make up for their lack of height with their brand-name soccer shoes, which made a distinct noise whenever they took a step. Meanwhile, the child to the right of the tallest child seemed quite uncomfortable in their position, with their knees bent. In any case, it was already becoming apparent that it wouldn't be long until the youngest child got outrun by the older children. Then, as Juho decided to bet on the child wearing soccer shoes, the children took off. Just as Juho had expected, the tallest child had the fastest start. However, that child seemed to have trouble passing their friends. The slowest was the child who had waited for the signal in an uncomfortable-looking position. Although the track wasn't very long, the children ran with everything they had. "No!" the youngest child exclaimed, watching his older friends outrunning him. Despite his desperate shout, the older children kept up their speed. Eventually, the race narrowed down to two runners: the tallest child and the child wearing soccer shoes, both of whom competed fiercely, not letting up until the end. Then, as they both crossed the finished line, the results became clear. "I win!" "And I, too," Juho murmured as the child wearing soccer shoes shouted victoriously. The tallest child had a look of displeasure on their face, demanding a rematch. Of course, the child wearing soccer shoes paid no attention to them. While the youngest child clung to his older brother, complaining about the race, the child who had had the peculiar posture appeared embarrassed about the result. Looking at the children, Juho thought of a short story that took place in the near future, after they had grown slightly older. Nobody knew what the future held, which meant it was always possible for the youngest child to surpass his older friends, at least in the scenario in Juho's head. The race that day would do hardly anything to determine the children's fate. Juho thought back to his friend, who had openly predicted his future victory. However, the biggest difference between them had been that he had reeked of alcohol, unlike the innocent children. 'Let's see who turns up at the top,' Juho thought to himself. "It's a draw so far." Previously, there had been no contest since Sung Pil had been overwhelmingly successful, unlike him. Now, Juho was ahead in the race, making them even. As that occurred to Juho, he tried coming up with another condition for winning: who wrote better books. "We're gonna need some judges," Juho said, realizing that that wasn't all that different from his initial idea. So far, both Juho and Sung Pil had been nominated for their awards by unanimous decision. "Wait for me!" the youngest child cried out, struggling to keep up with his older brother. "Hurry up!" the older brother said, rushing his younger brother, seemingly having trouble getting away from his younger brother. Seeing as though the older brother was keeping his younger brother in check, there had to have been at least one time when he had been outrun by his younger brother. "Take care of your little brother!" his parents said. At which point, a crabby look appeared on the older brother's face. Expecting someone, Juho checked the time. Then, just as he rose from the bench, thinking about getting coffee for himself and the other person, his phone started ringing. "Hello?" "Where did you say you were again?" the voice coming from the receiver asked. "There's a body of water around," Juho said, looking at the river. "... I didn't realize you were directionally challenged." Then, as Juho gave a bit more detail about his surroundings, the voice on the other end of the line said, "OK, I think I'm getting closer," and soon… "I'm here." The same voice came out of nowhere, as if proving what they were saying. Putting his phone down, Juho looked back and saw Nam Kyung, standing with two cups of coffee. "Is it OK for us to meet in public like this?" the editor asked, looking around the busy park. "I haven't had any issues so far," Juho said, shrugging and tapping his hat. To which, the editor gave the young author a distrustful look and suggested, "Why don't we go to my car?" "That works too." The editor didn't mind going all the way back to his car at all. Upon arrival, Juho got in the passenger's seat and drank his coffee. The Han River was noticeably further away from where it had been. "It feels like we are supposed to be in a drive-in theater." "Before we do that, have you given some thought to what I asked you?" Nam Kyung said somewhat impatiently. He was referring to their discussion about the event, which had taken place prior to their current meeting. Meanwhile, Juho was staring at a miniature figure on the dashboard of the car, which turned out to be an air freshener. "So, is this a presentation of sorts?" Juho asked. Clearing his throat, the editor replied, "So to speak. It's nothing fancy. It's more geared toward showing readers what the writing process looks like for authors rather than presenting the book itself." "Even for Yun Woo?" "Well, that's the gist of it anyway. You'll have to prepare quite a bit." Then, Nam Kyung added, giving the young author a choice, "Should you be so inclined, you can always cite parts of your books that have already been published. For example, you can write parts of 'Trace of a Bird' and explain your creative process to your readers." "That doesn't sound all that fun." "In that case, all you gotta do is prepare a new manuscript. Oh! You could bring one of those manuscripts that used to be scattered about your living room." "Do I get a say in this at all?" "Give it some thought. Frankly, the idea of this whole event came about because of you. Yun Woo's writing process." "Hm." As Juho hesitated, the editor started explaining the event in detail: the literary award exhibition, the hands-on event, and the riveting title of the event. Set to take place over the course of five days, the event would showcase one author per day. They, every one of which would be a winner of a literary award, would present their writing processes. There were no limitations to what the authors could write, and the fact that they would be given time to prepare in advance reduced the burden on the authors' end. "So, what you're saying is that people won't be flat out comparing the authors since we have a choice between bringing a manuscript that's been revised repeatedly or one that we wrote the night before." Fans wouldn't have a way to compare the authors. "Yes. Now that you have a better idea of the event, how does it sound?" "It's definitely more interesting," Juho said, thinking of the racing children who seemed to place a high value on rank. "Then, when would I be presenting?" he asked. Noticing the editor's intent gaze ooking as though trying to understand the intent behind the author's question, Juho kept his eyes fixed on the figurine on the dashboard. "I'm not going first, am I?" "Oh, no. We haven't decided on the order yet. Just so you know, Mr. Woo, we're planning on making this as convenient as possible for the authors, including working around their schedules. But, the way I see it, I think it would be best to save the best for last." At that, Juho immediately caught on to what his editor had in mind: to have him present last. "So, I'd be going last, then?" "... That could be one way of putting it, but I think it'd be more accurate to describe it as the grand finale, if you will." As Juho chuckled quietly, Nam Kyung said cautiously, "We managed to get the winner of this year's Rookie of the Year Award on board." "Really?" Juho asked knowingly, but nodding as if he had had no idea. Having heard directly from Sung Pil, Juho was already aware of his friend's participation in the event. However, the young author didn't want that to be seen as his reason for participating. "He's a lucky guy. A major public event like this will be a major boost to his career. It's practically advertising itself," Nam Kyung said. "Who are some of the authors on board?" "Aside from Pyung Jin Lee, we're still working on it. You're the first author we're reaching out to after Sung Pil." "What do you think? Should I give it a go?" As the editor waited for Juho's next question, the author asked again, rephrasing his question, "Should I give this whole writing-in-front-of-people thing a try?" Juho thought back to his days in the Literature Club. If he decided to participate in the event, it would be his first time writing in front of other people as Yun Woo. Unlike the contest he had competed in with Sung Pil, there wasn't a need to give up on an award because there wouldn't be an award ceremony, let alone a stage for it. If there weren't going to be limitations to what the authors could choose to write about, Juho had just the manuscript for the occasion in mind.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Can I watch other authors write?" "Of course," Nam Kyung said, writing a text message to someone on his phone in a hurry. Then, he suddenly looked up at Juho and asked, "Would you like a separate event for yourself? If you're open to participating in events like that, we can always go bigger." "No, thanks," Juho said, shaking his head emphatically. Although smacking his lips, Nam Kyung seemed stoked that the young author was on board. "Should we go to a drive-in theater or something?" he asked, looking like he was in a great mood. Instead of giving an answer, Juho drank his coffee quietly. Shortly after putting his phone back in his pocket, Nam Kyung explained the event in even greater details to Juho, from the schedules to the format, along with Juho's responsibility as a participating author. While listening to his editor talk, Juho wondered, 'Who will I see at the event?' "Hello!" Before the event officially started, Zelkova held a celebration after they had found enough authors to participate. Having arrived ten minutes earlier than he had planned, Juho ran into Nam Kyung as soon as he walked into the building. "Hi, where are the others?" "They're inside." Juho rushed to the conference room when he found out that he had arrived last. "This way," Nam Kyung said, leading him toward the room, the same room in which Juho had had to decide which overseas interview to take part in. As the door opened, the same, familiar interior appeared. The only difference was that there were four other authors in the room aside from Juho, Sung Pil being one of them. "Mr. Woo! Welcome!" a familiar person greeted the young author. It was the director of the editing department. After shaking hands, the director started out with small talk. "It's hot out, isn't it?" "Yes. The Sun is quite hot today." As Juho talked to the director, he felt piercing gazes fixed on him like arrows. After that, he took a seat next to Sung Pil. "Hello," Juho greeted him. After staring intently at Juho for a little while, Sung Pil greeted the author back, "Hello." Seeing his thick eyebrows at the conference room of a publishing company made for a different experience. "Why don't you all spend some time getting to know each other a little bit?" Nam Kyung suggested quietly, and the oldest looking author in the group replied, brushing his thin hair back with his hand across his balding head, "Should we?" "I won the Rookie of the Year Award the year before you, Mr. Woo. I run a small indoor fishing pond now." Appearing to be in his mid-thirties at the oldest, the man seemed as generous as the size of his forehead. With that, the turn to speak naturally went to the person next to him. "I debuted a couple of years ago. Since there wasn't a winner last year, I suppose that would make me the second from the last person to win the award," she said, making a 'V' sign with her fingers. There were silver rings on four of her fingers, making it look like she was spreading them all. "I won the award the year before the gentleman sitting next to me, but I ended up moving to the US to study abroad," the man next to her said, crossing his arms. Wearing a hairdo that split at a ratio of two-to-eight, the man had a very tactful fashion sense. Then, looking in Juho's direction, he added, "I really enjoyed your books, Mr. Woo. Thanks to you, I didn't have to worry about forgetting my Korean during my time at the States." Despite the complimentary words, his piercing gaze made him look quite unwelcoming. While Juho was busy thinking of an answer, Sung Pil rose from his seat in order to introduce himself, "I won the Rookie of the Year Award this year. Pleasure to meet you all." "It's a pleasure to meet you too," the fishing pond owner said. Similarly, Silver Rings also let out a hearty laugh. Unlike the two, the student abroad was pouting as if disgruntled by Juho's lack of response. Sung Pill sat back down after sharing a few more things about himself, and naturally, the turn went to Juho, who introduced himself in his usual manner. "Hello. Yun Woo. As for when I won the award, I believe it's already come up once, so I'll go ahead and leave that part out. My real name is Juho Woo, but please feel free to call me as you wish. It's a pleasure to meet you all." There was a brief and awkward pause as Juho finished speaking. As if everyone was comparing themselves to each other, the room sank into an uncomfortable silence. "You know, I was skeptical when I first heard that you were gonna be part of this," the student abroad said, adding, "I didn't think you'd actually agree to participate." That time, he didn't sound aggressive by any means. Rather, he explained himself calmly and honestly. "Why was that?" Juho asked. "It's just that the Rookie of the Year Award sounds so shabby in comparison to what your name entails. You're the winner of not one, but TWO of the most widely recognized literary awards in the world. Our awards might have some significance in this tiny little country we're living in, but at the end of the day, they've got nothing on you." As Silver Rings whistled quietly, the fishing pond owner looked toward the Zelkova staff, particularly in the direction of the director of the editing department, who was listening to their conversation unfazed. The other staff members around seemed to be on their toes. However, the student abroad didn't stop there, "It's almost as if a world-class athlete is forced to practice without getting any proper support." "Does it seem like I deserve to be in a better environment?" "The way I see it, there's not a single event that takes place in this country that suits you." "Is that so? That's never really occurred to me before. I am thankful that people are still willing to talk to me though." At that, the student abroad narrowed his eyes and said, "I thought Yun Woo was invincible? Why so modest? You've earned your bragging rights, haven't you?" "I mean, I could do that, if that's what you want," Juho said, chuckling. "That won't be necessary. Honestly, part of me wishes that you weren't so successful, but I'm not asking you to prove that you can be arrogant at will." As the surrounding staff members listened to the conversation anxiously, Juho changed the subject subtly, "If you really wanna know why I decided to be part of this, then I'd be more than happy to tell you. It's simple. I happened to have a manuscript that I wanted to show my readers." "... Sounds like you came prepared." "You'll just have to find out yourself. Besides, I had a promise to keep with a friend who was drunk at the time," Juho said, shrugging nonchalantly as Sung Pil moved around on his chair timidly. "What about you? What's your story?" At that, a not-so-pleasant smile appeared on the student abroad's face. "Why, I'm honored that you want to know about me. I guess there is hope in this country after all. I decided to participate because I wanted to seize the opportunity. It's just not easy for the younger authors to survive in this industry. My belief is that if you're an author in Korea, you have to grasp opportunities like this." Juho noticed the strange pattern in the student abroad's attitude, which often appeared inconsistent with his speech. His compliments were fierce and vicious, while his attacks were indifferent and careless. At the same time, he wasn't afraid to talk openly about things that made him look cowardly. At that moment, Silver Rings raised her hand in a cheerful manner. "I came to take part in this because it sounded like a lot of fun. Besides, when I was told Yun Woo was gonna be there, I was sold. Also, part of me wishes that I start getting some gigs if I pull this off," she said, making a rock on gesture with her hand. Then, the fishing pond owner chimed in, scratching his head, "I'm here for similar reasons. Sure, I'm not a full-time author, but I've always wanted to be successful as a writer. It's always been a dream of mine. As soon as I become a bestselling author, I'm selling my business." After that, Sung Pil opened his mouth to share his reason for participating in the event, "I'm here to win." "Win?" the student abroad asked. "Yes," Sung Pil replied brusquely. Although subtle, it was clear that he was determined not to lose to his friend, and the other authors in the room had to hold a similar feeling. As Sung Pil brought up the subject that everyone had been quietly avoiding, a strange sense of tension surrounded the room. Then, the director spoke up, clapping, "All right, then. I guess that means it's our turn to explain." After handing out some printouts, she started explaining details of the event, including those the authors had already heard. Taking place as part of the Literary History Exhibition, the main point of the event was to show readers the writing processes of the writers who had won the Rookie of the Year Award at some point. "As for the dates, I believe we've already let you know." "Yes, you have," the fishing pond owner said. "And conveniently, I see that everyone's sitting in the order in which they'll be presenting," the director said, looking around the room at the authors: the fishing pond owner, Silver Rings, the student abroad, Sung Pil, and Yun Woo. "All you gotta do is write freely within the allotted time. Each of you will be given a laptop that is connected to a projector, which will show your writing process on a bigger screen in real time. Your readers will be able to experience writing in a way they've never done before," she said, smiling. Although the handful of authors smiled along, none of them were in a position to be able to smile genuinely. "If what we write during the event is decent, does that mean you'll consider publishing it?" the student abroad asked. To which, the director said peacefully, "Of course. Making a good piece of writing into a book is our utmost priority." Every participant was taking part in the event with their own agenda, and Juho was no different. The desire to write a perfect piece of writing kept popping up in his mind. Although he was fully aware that it was not a good attitude with which to approach writing, he couldn't help himself. Feeling his shoulders tensing up, Juho massaged them on his own. Then, Sung Pil raised his hand and asked, "Are we allowed to watch each others' presentations?" "I think we can make that happen. Should you be interested in doing that, please feel free to let me know." Next, the fishing pond owner raised his hand, "I have a notebook that I like to write on. Am I allowed to bring it with me?" "Yes. You may bring anything as long as it helps you feel more at ease." After that, Silver Rings interjected, "What about music?" "Of course. We will do our absolute best not to limit you all in any way. The more you are yourself, the better." "Huh!" Juho let out, catching the director's attention. "Will there be reporters?" he asked. "Most likely. Your presence at the event will probably attract the media's attention." "Will you be announcing who'll presenting on which day?" At that, a smile appeared on the director's face, as if she had been waiting for the question. "We want to keep it a secret. So, I'd like to ask you all to do your best not to disclose that information to anyone." "It sounds like the crowd could chant for Yun Woo while we're going up to the stage." Although Juho kept a smile on his face, he saw the determination in others' faces. After all, every author in the room had agreed to participate knowing that Yun Woo would be there with them. "I trust that everyone here will do their best. I'm sure this is nerve-wracking, but try to think of it as a walk in the park," the editor said, sending mixed messages. From then on, Nam Kyung took over and explained the event further. What made a great author wasn't how many books they were currently selling, and it was always possible that one of the authors in that room would write a masterpiece. Nobody knew what the future held. "Well, let's do this," the fishing pond owner said, and the rest of the authors agreed. Wishing success for themselves didn't necessarily mean that they wanted the worst for others, although it naturally tended to appear that way. Every participant looked at each other, burning with the desire to win. --- 'History of Korean Literature Exhibition Said to be Held at the National Central Exhibition Hall! Winners of Literary Awards Showcase Their Writing Process! This is How They Write. An Opportunity to Meet Yun Woo.' 'An Unreleased Interview of Authors and Critics. A Space to See the Past of Celebrity Authors. Special Events Said to Take Place.' 'Winners of Literary Award Comes Together. The Future of Korean Literature. Yun Woo Reported to Participate." 'Five Authors Stand Before Their Readers. See Their Talent For Yourselves!" 'Yun Woo's Writing Process Revealed. What Makes This Exhibition Special? The Website Reported to be Down.' 'Where to Get Ticket for the Exhibition. Ways to See Yun Woo? Names of Other Participating Authors Remain Unannounced.' '"We Want to See Yun Woo Write!" Inquiries Flood Zelkova.' 'The Only Way to Meet Yun Woo? By Coincidence! Order of Presentation Said to be Determined at Random. The Publisher Asks Fans to Receive Their Tickets in Order.' 'The Long Kept Secret of Yun Woo's Skill! The Author Comes Face to Face with Doubts and Conspiracies.' 'How Are the Other Authors Feeling? Would Any of Them Be Able to Attract the Attention of the Fans Away from Yun Woo?' 'This is How Yun Woo's Writing Comes About! Yun Woo Showcases How His Novels Are Born.' 'The Birth of a Special Event. Yun Woo Reported to Participate. The Exhibition Gets a Major Upgrade?'

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Myung Sil?" Upon looking back, toward where the voice had come from, Myung Sil sighed internally. It was her former coworker, with whom she had worked at her previous workplace. She had never been close with him, nor did she ever want to be. "Huh. You're here too?" "I just couldn't miss out on Yun Woo's writing process," the coworker answered as if Myung Sil were stating the obvious. "My team and I are on rotation since none of us know when Yun Woo's presenting." "You seem to like your current job?" "Sure, except that it's just as hard." That day was the first official day of the event where the authors would showcase their writing processes to the public. Smacking his lips, the coworker asked, "You don't think Zelkova would start off with Yun Woo right off the bat, do you?" "Who knows? That's why we're here, right?" "I suppose. Well, in either case, I am looking forward to this. It's not every day you get to see authors write." Myung Sil looked toward the Literary History Exhibition, which, frankly, wasn't all that impressive. The monitors installed throughout the hall were showing the younger authors in a Q&A session. "I'm realizing just how many authors have disappeared from the face of the Earth. These were some of the most popular authors at one point," the coworker said. "Most of them were." Of course, among the authors on the screen were authors who were still active in the literary world, such as Seo Joong Ahn or Dae Soo Na. However, there were only an extreme few who were still relevant to the fans. As Myung Sil moved aside, the coworker followed her and said, "So, anything interesting you'd be willing to share?" "What are you talking about?" "Oh, I don't know. It's just that you have credibility, so I thought you might know a thing or two that I don't, like the order in which the authors are presenting." "I got nothin'," Myung Sil said emphatically. "Bummer," the coworker said and asked, "What do you think it will be like for the winner of this year's Rookie of the Year Award? Do you think he'll survive?" Myung Sil looked at her former coworker, studying his expression, and asked, "You haven't read his book, have you?" "... Was it that obvious?" "Very." With an excuse that he had no time to spare, the coworker defended himself desperately against Myung Sil's accusation. Since she didn't have a reason to listen to his excuses, Myung Sil cut him off, "His debut title was quite a piece of work." "You don't say? How good was it?" "You read out of obligation at first, but you'll find yourself loving every bit of it in the end." "Sounds like one heck of a book." "That book was entertainment in and of itself," Myung Sil said. "Wait, entertainment? I thought it took place in a bank?" "Which is what makes it such a great book. The originality of it." "I guess I better check it out then," the coworker said, nodding as if having made up his mind to get his hands on a copy himself. However, Myung Sil had no interest whatsoever in whether he actually followed through with his statement or not. Then, she said quietly, "Personally, I hope he survives." What made Sung Pil's writing so intriguing was that it had a certain friendliness to it. It was hard to put it into words. However, it did keep readers, including Myung Sil, curious about the author's personality. Judging by the writing alone, the authors seemed quite sociable. "I see Yun Woo over there," the coworker said, walking ahead of Myung Sil that time. Complete with various records of the young author, it was the biggest segment of the exhibition by far. From the first to the youngest, world-class, and genius, the young author's name had been decorated with all sorts of dazzling titles. "There will never be another like him, huh?" "Probably not, at least for another century." Thinking that meeting an author like Yun Woo was a tremendous blessing, Myung Sil looked at her coworker, who had a smile on his face that also looked as if he were biting down on his lower lip at a glance. On the surface level, the event was primarily about showing the writing process of an author from beginning to end. However, Myung Sil knew that the young author would be stealing the show, which also brought about concerns for the other authors on whether they would be able to stand against Yun Woo. "Well, in any case, I'm looking forward to this event," she said, wondering how the young author would go about writing. "Honestly, I was skeptical when I first found out that Yun Woo was participating," the coworker said. Quite a few people held a similar thought. "And why were you?" she asked. "Because Yun Woo's someone who has a lot on his plate, and to me, it seems like he'd have a lot more to lose than gain by being part of this event." Myung Sil agreed to her coworker internally. When she had first come across the news about the event, Yun Woo's participation had made sense to Myung Sil considering how formidable the rookies were that year. Her thought process was reinforced when she thought about Yun Woo's past as a winner from the start. However, before long, she found herself shaking her head, doubtful that he would actually turn up at the event. "At first, I thought he was just trying to prove himself," the coworker said, which was also one of the most logical possibilities. Being a prolific author behind some of the greatest books of the history, his mature writing, choice of subjects relevant to the youth, and bizarre mixture of various writing styles had brought him up to the top. However, his age had often worked against him. Having just turned twenty years old, there were countless critics and readers alike who doubted his legitimacy, some even going as far as claiming that he was a fake. As special as Yun Woo was, there was something puzzling about the young author, which made Myung Sil wonder if he was finally starting to stand up to the skeptics. "But I don't think that's it, either." "I agree," Myung Sil said, putting her hand in her pocket. "I mean, he could've had an entirely separate event for himself, and not to mention that'd be a lot more effective. On top of that, the authors had to prepare a manuscript in advance, right? In that case, it would make more sense to compete in some essay contest. If he slips and ruffles his fans' feathers just once, there's no recovering from that." Then, glaring into the air, the coworker shrugged and added, "All that to say we still have no idea of why he's here." Yun Woo was still shrouded in mystery. What could he possibly want out of a public event like that? Despite being known for avoiding public appearances, the author had decided to reveal his writing process to his fans out of nowhere. As Myung Sil was left baffled by the author's unpredictable nature, the coworker said out of nowhere, "Personally, I hope other authors do a better job than Yun Woo." Reminded of why she couldn't get along with him, Myung Sil sneered at her former coworker's remark. He wasn't rooting for anybody. Rather, he was hoping somebody would fall victim to misfortune. "I can see that you still don't like him," she said. Her former coworker used to dream of becoming an author at one point. "I'm sure Yun Woo doesn't even have that many friends. Think about it. Who would possibly want to hang out with a genius? Sure, some might strike up a conversation with him out of curiosity, but that's because they're looking to get something out of him." Then, scratching his nose, he kept on, "It seems to me that he's trying to make something happen now that he's revealed himself. But, I'm gonna be real with you here. I hope he screws up somehow. For example, he could bring out some half ass manuscript that can't even stand up to some nameless authors, or the fans could find out that he's had a ghostwriter all along through this event. Just think about how provocative that would be. 'Yun Woo, the Biggest Scam of Our Time.'" "Yun Woo's dedicated writer. It wouldn't make sense for him to bring out anything crude," Myung Sil said. "That's just no fun. He's always moving up, so all the articles about him always look the same." "I think I like that." "Apparently, the other authors agreed to participate knowing that Yun Woo would be there, which means they're thinking of ways to show him up somehow." "Huh. So, you read minds now?" Myung Sil asked sarcastically. Despite being a reporter and a journalist, the coworker had no sense of neutrality, which made the kinds of articles he would be writing obvious. Noticing the scolding look he was getting from Myung Sil, the coworker changed the subject. "Anyway, if Yun Woo really turns up, then that's something for us to be thankful for. Seeing him write was something that had only existed in people's imagination. On top of that, you get to see it in real time." Then, he added, chuckling, "But then, he's human too, so there could be a slip up that really upsets the readers, right?" "You might wanna think about whether Yun Woo's even presenting today or not," Myung Sil said, turning around and going inside. --- "Here it is." Juho was looking around the exhibition hall, which was reminiscent of a lecture hall at a university. There was a desk with a laptop set up onstage for the authors, and next to it, was a large projector screen. Whatever the authors wrote on the laptop would be shown to the audience in real time. "Nervous?" Sung Pil asked. After a brief thought, Juho replied, "Not yet." Everything still felt surreal. Although it was the first official day of the event, it wasn't Juho's turn to present. On top of that, it would be weird to walk through an empty hall nervous. When he explained himself, Sung Pil shook his head and said, "That's not entirely true," and brought up an article he had come across that morning. "Everyone seems set on comparing you to all the other authors. I can't say that I wasn't expecting that, but there were quite a few articles implying that you were gonna get knocked off the pedestal." Making sense of the intentions behind such articles, Juho chuckled at Sung Pil's description them. The media seemed to be thinking of the event as an opportunity to uncover the mystery under which the young author was shrouded. "It felt kind of weird when I read that your skills would be 'exposed to the public.' I thought that what determined an author's skill was their book? In that case, your skills are already public," Sung Pil said, his heavy voice reverberating from the stage. Sitting in the frontmost row, Juho watched Sung Pil walk around the stage, looking at every corner of it. At that moment, a silhouette appeared by the door connected to the stage. "Who's that person wandering around the stage? None of us have even presented yet." "Hello." It was the fishing pond owner, who appeared noticeably more pale than usual. "You guys are here early. There's still quite some time." "We just wanted to see the empty seats. Besides, we wouldn't be able to look around the place in peace on the day we're presenting. Well, how are you doin'?" "I'm glad you guys are here today. I'm so nervous that I can't even drink my water," the fishing pond owner said, almost making a fuss, but his hands were definitely shaky as he wiped his forehead with them. "Nervous?" The fishing pond owner let out a deep sigh after looking around the stage and said, "Quite so. I'm struck by the realization that it's not the author who completes their manuscript. If it was already completed, I wouldn't be this nervous." "That is true. People are bound to find some sort of meaning the moment they read an author's writing." "I'm petrified." Then, coming down from the stage, Sung Pil asked, "What are you most afraid of?" "Getting right to brass tacks, I see?" the fishing pond owner said, walking in the opposite direction of Sung Pil. Their footsteps intertwined on the stage. "Getting criticized." It was a natural response. Then, he turned toward the seats as though looking at Juho. "I'm thin-skinned, so my wounds tend to last quite a while, which doesn't help in this situation. It does make me more cautious though." "You must've come well-prepared, then," Juho said. To which, the fishing pond owner admitted willingly, "I have, which is why I'm still willing to be part of this knowing that Yun Woo will be there. I had this manuscript that I've been holding on to for quite some time. I felt confident that it was the one story that I was better at writing than Yun Woo, but now that I'm here, that confidence is really starting to dwindle." There was a faint smell of dust and newly-built house in the air. Their voices were amplified in the empty hall. "Yun Woo came along the year after I debuted." Although it was something Juho already knew, there was something about it that felt new. Perhaps it was the acoustics of the hall. "I thought you were incredible, but at the same time, I was worried for you because you became very successful at such an early age. The world is an unfair place, so life can't just be full of good events." Juho looked up at the stage, at the fishing pond owner standing on the edge of it, looking down at him. "Well, it turns out that I was worried over nothing," he said, scratching his cheek with shaky hand. "I'm gonna do this and I'm gonna do this well. I want to hear people say that I did something better than Yun Woo," he added, his voice also shaking nervously. As he waited for the young author's answer, Juho rose from his seat, and the chair folded itself automatically. While thinking about what to say, another person's voice reverberated through the hall, "Yun Woo!?" There were two people standing by the entrance. "You can't go in there!" the employees said, stopping the two from going any further. One of them revealed themselves on both of their behalves, "We're reporters." "I see. We have a separate space arranged for you all." Although one of them complied and walked away, the other ran into the hall. The person on their way out gave their colleague an absurd look. However, the reckless reporter had his eyes fixed in one place. "Mr. Woo," he said to Juho.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I didn't think I'd run into you here. What a coincidence!" Juho gave no answer as he didn't find the occasion surprising, especially somewhere a public event was set to be held. By the time the smile on the reporter's face started fading, the employee came rushing into the hall, unsure of whether to drag the reporter out or not. "Hello, Mr. Woo. Hello, Sung Pil," the other reporter, who had come into the hall with the employee, greeted the two authors, handing them her business card. "Myung Sil Oh. Reporter/Journalist." "Oh! Right!" the reporter who had rushed into the hall let out while also pulling out his business card, which seemed to be from a different agency. "Do you have time to chat?" Myung Sil asked. When Juho looked at the other two authors, they seemed to be caught off guard by reporters' presence, something neither of them was used to. Although Juho wouldn't have hesitated to decline if he'd been the only one there, the other two authors were in desperate need of exposure. "Are you presenting today, Mr. Woo?" the male reporter asked. Studying his business card, Juho said, "I can't disclose that." "C'mon, now. Work with me here! What brought you here today?" "As you can see, this is an exhibition hall. I came to look around." As the reporter chuckled, Juho decided to speak sparingly. "But you already have the manuscript you'll be presenting ready, right? How do you think your readers will respond?" "Hard to say." "My understanding is that there was a slight problem during the signing, which makes me think there is such a thing as being too successful. Do you think your participation in this event will exacerbate the issue that came up during the signing in any way?" "No." "Are you worried that you'll make a mistake at all?" Juho noticed that the reporter was starting to show his true intentions with his questions and his stance on the young author's participation in the event. Despite being a reporter, whose job was to get to know the other person better, that reporter was exposing himself instead, making Myung Sil's silence look significantly wiser. To the reporter asking about his fear of making a mistake, Juho answered, "My understanding is that the whole point of this event is to show the process of writing." Judging from the expression on his face, the reporter also seemed aware of that. However, paying no attention to his expression, Juho added, "Besides, it's not uncommon to make mistakes during the writing process, don't you think? If there's a sentence that the author feels like it's not quite right, then all they gotta do is get rid of it. Right?" "... Right. But if there's a process, then there has to be a result. Don't you think there's a possibility that your manuscript will fall short to those of your fellow authors?" It was getting clear that the reporter didn't like Juho very much. "That's definitely a possibility." "Which means, presenting that to readers would be a very risky move on your end, right?" "You can say that." "Then, did you decide to participate aware of that?" "Yes." "Why?" At that, Juho looked up at the stage, and said, "If I were a sham, then I'd be a lot more troubled by now." Knowing his identity, his editor-in-charge had brought the event up to the author without trouble. Similarly, those who didn't doubt Yun Woo's identity didn't wrestle with doubt. Rather, knowing that there was always some danger involved in every matter, they did their best to prepare for the unexpected without panicking. At that, the reporter's expression hardened ever so slightly, and his bombardment of questions came to an abrupt end. Looking away from him, Juho looked toward Myung Sil, who pointed toward the two authors who stood behind Juho. "And I'm sure you'll be having a candid conversation with those two gentlemen?" Without giving an answer and without offering any encouragement or comfort, Juho started walking away. Meanwhile, the fishing pond owner stared at the young author. "I'm gonna get going." With that, Juho turned around and walked out of the hall despite the male reporter trying to stop him. Then, he arrived on the second floor, which had been designated for the authors only. The location allowed for a bird's-eye view of the entire hall. When he glanced down, the hall was empty. There were no reporters or employees. Then, as he made himself a cup of green tea by the water dispenser, Sung Pil appeared out of nowhere. "How'd it go?" Juho asked. To which, Sung Pil stared intently at him and said, "I couldn't speak well, unlike you." Juho shrugged at Sung Pil's unexpected compliment. Shaking the cup in his hand, Juho asked his friend if he'd like something to drink. "No, thanks." Sung Pil said. At that moment, the door opened, making Juho think that the reporters had caught up with them. "Huh! You two are early!" Silver Rings said, waving at the two. Then, without hesitation, she asked them, "When did you guys get here? Did you get to look around?" "We got here pretty early. We got a good look around the place, including the stage." At that, she let out a long sigh. "If only I had had the time. My part-time shift had to be today… Wow! That's a good lookin' stage!" she said, raising two thumbs toward the stage. Of course, there was no response of any sort. Then, she plunked down onto the second from the last seat. "Aren't you guys nervous? I'm so anxious." "Not yet," Sung Pil said honestly. "You're a tough one, aren't you? I don't know why, but I've been so nervous all day. Even as we're speaking! Maybe it's because I'm next." She would be the second author to present on the stage. Then, wrapping her neck with both of her hands, she said, "I'm SO excited! Just look at that gorgeous stage! I'm gonna jam to some good music while I write." As she had implied with her question during the meeting in Zelkova's conference room, she seemed like she was bringing music to the presentation, which was quite unusual for a writer. "Is that how you normally write?" Juho asked. "Yes. There's always been music in my life." "What are you gonna listen to?" "Why, some good ol' rock, of course! Punk, psychedelic, alternative, you name it. Sex Pistols is my favorite!" Juho imagined her writing, lost in the aggressive sound of her favorite music. It was hard to imagine what kind of story she would write. Instead, he brought up a sentence that occurred to him just then. "Too Fast to Live, Too Young to Die." The phrase referred to the reality of one's life, when they were too young to die, but the world around them was simply too corrupted for them to live in. Widely-known, the phrase had also been quoted in a movie starring one of the members of Sex Pistols. As her eyes widened, Silver Rings took off her jacket, revealing the very phrase tattooed on her arm. "Now I get why Yun Woo's been so successful." "I don't think it has anything to do with rock, though," Sung Pil said, only to be ignored by Silver Rings. Walking toward Juho, she started raving about rock music. Although Juho did his best to play along, he simply didn't know enough to be able to keep up with her. Then, when she moved on to Sung Pil, she was disappointed by the extent of his knowledge as the only relevant thing he knew about genre were the words Heavy Metal. At that moment, Sung Pil said, "The audience is coming in," and Silver Rings turned her attention to the stage as the seats filled up, as if pouring water into a cup. Every member of the audience had a page of manuscript paper in their hands from the hands-on experience segment of the exhibition. Before long, the hall became filled with the sound of the buzzing crowd. After checking the stage, the staff turned the projector screen on, which displayed a blank page. Now, all there was left was for the author to make an appearance. Staring at the empty stage, the audience members waited anxiously for the author. "They're all looking for Yun Woo," a voice that belonged neither to Silver Rings nor to Sung Pil said. It was the student abroad, who was taking his seat at the end of the row while pointing toward a certain spot in the audience. Even without seeing where that was, Juho was immediately able to know what he was trying to say. "Oh, how devastated these souls will be when they discover that they won't be seeing Yun Woo on the stage today," he murmured. "You're late," Juho said, ignoring the student abroad's murmur. "Our hero isn't even here yet, so I'm still on time, technically." "There he is." At that, the four of them looked toward the stage. The fishing pond owner was coming up to the stage, looking deathly pale. "Oh, no." At the sight of an author who looked nothing like Yun Woo, a wave of disappointment started rising within the audience. The student abroad clicked his tongue at the fans' blatant attitude. "He looks so nervous. I hope he doesn't pass out or something," Silver Rings said. Just as she had said, the fishing pond owner seemed like he was about to collapse onstage at any given minute. Then, taking the microphone that was handed to him by a staff member, the fishing pond owner mustered up the courage to greet the audience, "Hello." Weak-sounding applause came from the audience. "Thank you all for coming," the author said, reciting the lines he had memorized ahead of time. Meanwhile, the members of the audience listened to him quietly, completely devoid of any excitement. Rather, there were clear signs among them that they were experiencing a sense of loss. "Let's begin." With that, the author sat in front of the laptop, took a deep breath, stretched his fingers and placed them on the keyboard. As he started typing his first sentence, the same words appeared on the screen simultaneously: The hunt turned out to be a failure today. Without saying a word to each other, the authors on the second floor concentrated on the words that were appearing on the screen. The author onstage had chosen a story about hunting, and indicative of his current occupation, he was portraying the act of hunting in great detail. "This is not bad at all!" Silver Rings said, impressed. The story appearing on the screen was definitely enough to convince the audience that the author was presenting alongside Yun Woo for a reason. It was an interesting subject and quite riveting. Then, looking away from the stage briefly, Juho looked in Sung Pil's direction. "So, this is what it's gonna be like," Sung Pil said, fixing his eyes on the author on the stage writing in front of the readers. "I think I'm getting the gist of this." Aside from experiencing it personally, there was no other way to understand the current atmosphere in which the fishing pond owner was writing. Now, Sung Pil was starting to finally understand, and the three others looking down at the stage had to be having similar realizations. "I'm kind of afraid now that I know what this is like," a voice came from the seat at the end of the row. It was the student abroad. To which, Silver Rings agreed, "They say people are most daring when they're ignorant. I feel like being that ignorant person all of a sudden." "You mean, you wanna be more daring?" Sung Pil said, correcting her, and Silver Rings shrugged in a light-hearted manner. The lighting on the stage, the focus of the audience, and the sentences getting exposed on the screen in real time, it was a riveting sight. "I better step up my game," Sung Pil said, making Juho wince. When seeing the presentation taking place in person, they couldn't help but feel that they had to give it their best. Resting his chin on his hand, Juho said nonchalantly, "I wonder what it would look like if I screw this up…" "But you were so confident in front of the reporters." "That doesn't mean I'm not worried," Juho said, identifying with what the student abroad had said: "I'm afraid now that I know." "What's with you, though?" Sung Pil asked, looking intently at Juho. "What?" "You look like Silver Rings." "What does that mean?" Juho asked. "It means you look like you're anxious to write." As Sung Pil clarified, Juho looked toward the stage. Although clearly shaking, the author onstage was tackling the challenge before him one word at a time. In the end, the fishing pond owner hadn't given in to fear. "Because nobody's looking for Yun Woo anymore." Later, the fishing pond owner successfully finished his presentation. --- "Hello!" The next day, at the same time and place, Juho, Sung Pil, the student abroad and the fishing pond owner watched Silver Rings' presentation from the second floor. As if a musician would with their audience, she pointed the microphone toward the members of the audience. Although they responded with similar disappointment to the day before, they were caught off guard by the author onstage pointing her mic toward them. Despite the weak response, she didn't let up. "Let's try this again. Hello!" "Hello." As the audience started responding more enthusiastically, a satisfied smile appeared on Silver Rings' face. "Today, we're gonna have some background music," she declared. Then, pointing at the desk on the stage, she said, "I have my entire playlist on that laptop over there. Whenever I'm thinking about what to write, I always have music playing in the background. It's kind of like a strange study habit, something I'm sure we all have at least one of." Walking around the stage freely, she interacted with the audience, not minding at all whether they were responding to her or not. Then, sitting at the desk, she started going through her playlist. She seemed to let her mood make the decision for her. "You know what? Let's go with something heavier today. ROCK AND ROLL!" she shouted, throwing her fist in the air. As the members of the audience started breaking out into laughter, they were immediately caught off guard by the jarring death metal tune and its distinct growling vocals. "I hope that flies," the student abroad said, furrowing his brow. Silver Ring was the only person lost in the music. "She's got quite the stage presence," the fishing pond owner said quietly, sounding like he admired the author on the stage. "You did great yesterday," Juho said, and the fishing pond owner looked at the young author with a look of satisfaction on his face. "I'm sure it was nowhere near Yun Woo's level, but I sure did my best. All I can do is wait for the results and enjoy the event," the fishing pond owner said, whispering, "I look forward to your presentation, Mr. Woo."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Silver Rings had won her Rookie of the Year Award two years after Yun Woo had debuted as an author. However, Yun Woo's appearance had also minimized the significance of the award, shaking her future as an author to its foundation. While readers had started demanding a finished product from someone who had had never written a single book in her entire life, the media had also focused on her weak points as an author, as if baffled by them. To add insult to injury, the judges of the contest had become conscious of the media and had raised the bar to an unrealistic level. Although the publisher responded by bringing Yun Seo Baek into the judging committee in order to break the cycle, Silver Rings had made her debut before Yun Seo became a judge. Looking at the screen, it was clear that Silver Rings had come with a sense of purpose. Amid the music, which others would argue it being noise, her first sentence appeared on the screen: "My brother is deaf." "She's definitely going somewhere with this," the student abroad said quietly and Juho agreed. It was clear that she had polished the sentence repeatedly in her mind. It was stable. Waiting for the next sentence on the screen, every member of the audience had a serious expression on their face. Watching a story take shape was also a new experience for readers, and some might even think that were feeling closer to the story than they were able to with a completed book. The ingredients and the process through which the story came about was becoming more and more visible, as if in a donut shop that fully exposed its cooking process to its customers. The customers would be able to enjoy its quality product at ease. A unique reading experience tended to heighten the readers' concentration. "I think so too, but I can't predict the direction the story will go." "I don't think I've ever been so desperate to skip to the end to see what happens. I'm so curious." Her story was quite interesting, even to the authors. "I think she's looking at us," Sung Pil said. When Juho looked at Silver Rings, she was looking up at the second floor, from where they were watching her. Although she couldn't see them due to the structure of the building, Juho sensed the determination in her eyes as if he had locked eyes with her. "I love the story and all, but is this heinous music really necessary?" the student abroad grumbled, shaking his head as if the music wasn't to his liking. Her writing was reminiscent of rock music. That day in particular, things were especially heavy, unlike on the one of the fishing pond owner, whose style had more in common with folk music. Even if they were to write on a shared subject, such as sadness, it was inevitable that they would come up with two completely different products. "What do you like listening to?" "Why, there's nothing like classical music!" the student abroad said, bringing up names like Mozart and his home country, raving about the genre's history. Needless to say, nobody paid attention to his exposition. "As long as the writer likes it, that's all that matters, right?" "Hold on! You're not telling me I have to listen to this until the end, are you!?" "I don't know. Who knows what she's feeling today?" Juho said, and the student abroad looked down at the stage, disgruntled. Once the song ended, the next song started playing, which also was another heavy metal tune. Then, massaging his temples as if his patience was wearing thin, the student abroad said, "I have to go. I can't stand this." "But she's still in the midst of it," Sung Pil said. At which point, the student abroad sneered and said, "I'm presenting tomorrow and I can't afford to waste my time listening to this atrocious noise. Conditioning is essential the day before a presentation. If I stick around any longer, listening to this, I have a feeling that I'll end up vomiting everything out, including my writing." "You better get going, then. As you said, it's important to take care of yourself," the fishing pond owner said, nodding and looking like he understood. With that, the student abroad rose from his seat without hesitation, glancing at Juho for a brief moment. However, Juho paid no attention to him. "What did she say her name was?" somebody in the audience asked. By the time the attention span of the members of the audience started deteriorating rapidly, a disturbance rose from them. It had been about an hour and a half since the presentation had started, and the author was writing a story about a disabled narrator and their deaf sibling, who lived in a secluded society. The narrator's friend knew nothing about their sibling. Similarly, the friends of the sibling knew nothing about the narrator. The two were never together, nevermind walking or eating together. They distanced themselves, despising each other, misunderstanding each other. At that moment, somebody started crying out in the audience amid the music. Everyone in the hall had grasped the message the author was trying to convey to them. "Seems like the narrator needs to be more isolated." "It is pretty extreme and radical, but I actually like it." Although it was far from perfect, Silver Rings' story was quite riveting. Judging from the expressions on the faces in the audience alone, it was clear that they were completely mesmerized by it. Then, as her music came to a sudden end, her story also came to an end. "Well, how was it? Did you all enjoy it?" she asked, without a trace of weariness on her face. At that moment, the members of the audience shouted with an enthusiasm never seen before, "Yeah!" "That was great!" A satisfied look appeared on Silver Rings' face, similar to that of the fishing pond owner. "Whoever's presenting tomorrow, I can only imagine how nerve-racking it must be for him," the fishing pond owner said. Of course, since the student abroad, who was set to present next, wasn't there, there was no response. When Juho looked at the faces of the members of the audience as they made their way out, he noticed that they were all cheerful. "I wonder if people will look that cheerful after reading my story," Sung Pil murmured. The next day, when the authors reunited in the waiting room, the student abroad didn't appear to be all that nervous. Keeping his eyes closed with his arms crossed, he was probably still preparing himself. "Should we let him be?" Silver Rings suggested to Juho. However, as Juho quietly backed away, Silver Rings strode into the room and said, "Hi!" "Hello," the student abroad said briefly. Aside from him, Juho and Silver Rings were the only two authors who had arrived. Then, making a V sign with her fingers, she said, "Are you nervous that you're going after me?" "Not at all," the student abroad replied with a smile. "Don't be coy, now. Didn't you hear the audience? They loved me!" "Seems like you're not aware that I left early." "You did?" she asked. Without letting up, she started raving about her performance. Silver Rings seemed to be noticeably more talkative than before. There was a clear difference between a person's attitude after finishing their task, and one who had yet to do so. As the last person to present, Juho didn't exactly find the situation welcoming. "Aren't you curious about the manuscript I'm about to present?" the student abroad asked. "Not really. I get to see it in a little bit, so I'm not in a hurry," Juho said honestly, and a look of displeasure appeared on the student abroad's face, as if he didn't like what he had heard. "I am!" Silver Rings said, and the student abroad took the opportunity to talk about his manuscript. "It's a novel based on a journal I wrote while I was studying abroad." "So, it's gonna be more of an autobiography, then?" "There aren't that many ways you can stand up against Yun Woo," the student abroad said, looking down at his toes. Then, with a smile, he added, "I'm just relieved that I'm not presenting just before Yun Woo. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to say anything, even if he were to leave in the middle of my presentation." The student abroad was sincerely hoping that Yun Woo would read his story. "I'm sticking around til the end," Juho said, reassuring him. "Is conditioning a luxury for Yun Woo?" "Not necessarily, but I am curious. It's the same thing as you watching my presentation. You're gonna be around, right?" "Of course." "Hold on! Does that mean you left while I was presenting because you weren't all that interested in my story?" Silver Rings said, reaching over and separating Juho and the student abroad. "I was just prioritizing my condition," the student abroad replied briefly. At that, she crossed her arms, with the confident look of a heavy metal vocalist on her face. "Eh, whatever. Zelkova did promise that they'd publish the good ones. I'm sure you'll see my novel in bookstores in the near future." When Juho came up to the second floor after talking with the student abroad, he learned that the other authors had already arrived, and before long, the hall was filled to the brim with readers. Seeing it for the third time, Juho was quite used to the sight. Just like always, the members of the audience had no idea of which author was presenting that day. "Wonder what he's bringing to light?" Sung Pil asked. Shrugging, Juho replied, "He said it's a story based on his life while he was studying abroad." "That's exciting." "Aren't you worried?" Sung Pil was presenting the next day. and the better the forerunners did, the more pressure the authors presenting later would feel. "A little," he said, scratching his eyebrows. At the unexpected answer, Juho looked toward him, and Sung Pil said, "But you're goin' after me, though." At that moment, a commotion started breaking out in the audience. When Juho looked toward it, he saw the student abroad going up to the stage. "That's not Yun Woo," a member of the audience said, clearly disappointed. However, paying no attention to it, the author onstage took the microphone that was handed to him by a staff member and said, "Bummer it's not Yun Woo, am I right?" At that, a burst of laughter came from the audience, as if the people were feeling exposed, and he student abroad waited until the laughter died down before he started speaking again. "The story I'm about to present to you takes place in Europe, and all the characters within it are foreigners," he said, revealing the brief synopsis of the story he was about to write. Although initially disappointed that Yun Woo wasn't presenting, the members of the audience started listening intently to the author onstage. "So, I'd like to ask you all to be mindful of that as you're reading. If I was planning on getting it published, then I wouldn't have gone as far as asking my readers to read with a certain mindset, but this is a special occasion because you're reading while I'm writing in real time. A face-to-face interaction, if you will. Should you have any questions or trouble understanding something, please raise your hand. I may or may not see your hand, but if I do, I'll be more more than happy to allow you to speak." "That's a good idea," the fishing pond owner said, nodding. The author onstage was allowing the audience to take part in the presentation, and it wasn't a bad idea at all. In terms of the interaction with the audience, student abroad was even more hands-on than Silver Rings. "I'm aware that the author who presented yesterday was writing to some heavy metal tunes, but I'm gonna be honest with you, it's not something I'm really into. So, there won't be any music today, and I'll be writing in silence," the author onstage declared to his audience and sat in front of the laptop, which displayed a blank page. With that, the author started typing away without hesitation. The audience was still somewhat disorderly, however. "I couldn't speak to anybody," the fishing pond owner murmured the sentence that appeared on the top of the screen. Not only was the character far away from home, but there was a language barrier. Because they couldn't answer when the natives talked to them, it wasn't long before the character found themselves alone, unapproached. "I bet language barrier is hardly a concern for you," Silver Rings said to Yun Woo, waving her hand in an exaggerated manner. After some thought, Juho replied, "I'm not completely foreign to the idea." "But you pick up other languages in no time. That's what makes you a genius, right?" "To learn something means that you didn't know it prior," Juho said, shrugging. "A-ha! Touché," she said. However, she wasn't completely wrong, either. There was a clear difference between the life of a student abroad studying far away from home, and the process through which Juho had gone before reaching where he was currently. "That's got a good ring to it," the fishing pond owner murmured, and the other authors nodded in agreement. The author onstage seemed more inclined to write in longer sentences, which also called for more improvements. The flashier something was, the more maintenance it required. "This is a slow-burner, huh?" "The longer sentences really work well with the detailed setting though." Although he often wrote in lengthy sentences, it was the student abroad's style to make the most out of it. Judging from the sentences appearing on the screen, he seemed to be doing quite well. There was an element of rejection throughout his story. A village that ostracized outsiders. Xenophobic friends. The narrator who opposed those rejections. "It must've been pretty tough living in another country all by himself." Although the story seemed to be talking about love and benevolence on surface, it was ruthlessly exposing the discriminatory tendencies of people at the core of it. On top of that, the sophisticated beauty accentuated the gap even more. "Look at the audience. They've been completely sucked in," the fishing pond owner said, looking down at them. Only then, did it occur to Juho that he hadn't looked down once. Completely immersed in the writing appearing on the screen, the members of the audience were in a similar situation.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl 'Fans Disappointed by Yun Woo's Absence, but the Show Goes On! The Rebellion of the Nameless Authors? Gems Hiding in Plain Sight?' '"This Isn't Just About Yun Woo Anymore." The Fierce Battle of the Young Authors.' '"I Went to See Yun Woo, but I Came Back in Love with Another Author." The Web Goes Wild over the Presentation at the Exhibition. The Names That Have Been Appearing on the Most Searched Words on the Internet? Young Authors Seizing the Opportunity.' 'When's Yun Woo Presenting? Fans Devastated by His Absence.' 'Heavy Metal? Tips on Writing Straight from an Author? The Writing Process Beyond Anyone's Imagination.' '"Where Did They Come From?" The Hidden Gems Appear Out of Nowhere! A New Wave in the Literary World.' 'The Potentials of the Literary World According to the Nameless Authors. There's a Bright Future Ahead! Authors with Special Sets of Skills.' '"But wait! There's More!" Youth Portrayed by a Legion of Young Authors. The Power of Young Blood.' 'Where Is Yun Woo? When Is He Presenting? Two Authors Said to Be Left, Leaving Fans on the Edge of Their Seats. "We Want Yun Woo!"' 'Sung Pil, the Winner of This Year's Rookie of the Year Award, Said to Be the Next Presenter. The Battle of the Twenties?' --- "I have a friend who went to this! He loved it." "All the reviews have been positive so far. At first, I was disappointed that Yun Woo wasn't there, but who would've thought I'd come across new authors?" "My jaw dropped when the girl started writing to heavy metal music! I love it! She needs to consider starting a band!" "Love me some rock. Did she really write to heavy metal, though?" "Zelkova's doing a really good job letting the authors be themselves, which, in my opinion, makes the experience twice as much fun." "I loved the presentation today! The author shared some information with the audience to be mindful of when reading, and sure enough, it was definitely a different experience reading with those pieces of information in mind. It was a-whole-nother world! Today was a good day." "He was such a good writer. I guess that's what makes him an author." "Yeah! It read so well! What's even crazier is that it'll be even higher quality when it gets made into a book." "It was like being at a book release or a cooking competition between professional chefs! It definitely felt like the authors put a lot of work into their presentations. Definitely worth the money." "I thought I'd get bored out of my mind reading for two hours straight, but time literally flew by! Sure, it's not a movie theater where they're equipped with top-of-the-line sound and projector systems or flashy visual and sound effects, but this event is a-whole-nother beast of its own. If a similar event happens in the future, I'm there." "I would've loved to be there. If only I had a ticket…" "They were all sold out, thanks to Yun Woo." "I heard getting one was near impossible! How did these people do it!?" "I'm going tomorrow, and I PRAY that Yun Woo's presenting. I really, really wanna see Yun Woo write in person." "Mine's the day after. Yun Woo better not be there tomorrow! Not till I get there!" "Wonder how Yun Woo writes." … --- On the day of the presentation, Sung Pil was wandering around the hallway. After rigorous consideration, he had chosen a manuscript that he felt confident presenting to Yun Woo and the readers. 'Would they like it?' he asked himself. "I just hope this doesn't bite me in the butt later, somehow." He was under quite a lot of pressure. Then, stopping in his tracks, he thought about what would happen if he were to disappear. There was bound to be those who'd suffer losses, which would include disappointing the readers. His debut title would be the last book he'd ever write. The reporters would do everything within their power to make sure his identity got revealed to the public, placing him on the chopping block, and eventually getting him deported out of the country. His imagination kept working. Sung Pil thought back to the time when he had rambled on to Juho while drunk, nearly threatening him against running away from their imminent face-off. As he started walking forward again, he tried to comfort himself by thinking more positive thoughts. He had seen somebody buy his book for the first time before his eyes. He was recognized by another person for the first time. People actually started talking to him, including his professor, complimenting him. 'Everything will be OK.' "You're up in ten minutes. Get ready." "All right." When the other authors visited Sung Pil in the waiting room, Juho wasn't among them. The authors who had already presented seemed to be much more at ease. They didn't seem to think of Sung Pil as a threat. The student abroad, in particular, had a cocky look about him. When he had finished writing, the audience had exploded into applause, which had been a first since the start of the event. After that, there had been noticeably more articles written about him and the event in a positive light. In that situation, neither advancing nor retreating was easy. "Sigh," Sung Pil exhaled, rising from his seat. While following a member of the staff to the stage, he read through his manuscript one more time. Although he had every single sentence memorized, he brushed up on them regardless. Soon, the stairs leading up to the stage appeared before his eyes, and the voices of the readers talking among themselves could be heard. Then, with a tap on the shoulder from the staff member signaling him to go up, Sung Pil let his legs take him up to the stage. The bright light exposed him to the audience as he walked on it. Yun Woo. They were the first words Sung Pil heard onstage. The view was quite different from the second floor. He was in the limelight and, before he knew it, he had a microphone in his hand. "Hello. I'm Sung Pil," he said. As the author introduced himself, the audience grew quieter. "I debuted as an author this year." Everyone looked at him as if looking at somebody for the first time. Nobody knew who he was. At that moment, the name Yun Woo flashed in his mind. The eyes with which the audiences looked at Yun Woo looked nothing like the eyes they were using to look at Sung Pil. Turning his gaze, Sung Pil looked up to the second floor, wondering about the look on his friend's face. "But that isn't to say that I just started writing this year. I genuinely respect all the authors who have presented up to this point. So, I'll do my absolute best." The audience showed no response to his somewhat heavy-handed remark. Although it wasn't necessarily out of hostility, they weren't necessarily welcoming of the author either. However, Sung Pil paid no attention to them and said, "Let us begin." Putting the microphone down, he reminded himself that he was being watched by Yun Woo and of how much he wanted to outdo the author, wanting to stand side by side with him. More accurately, he wanted to be slightly ahead of his friend. He wanted to see what it was like to be at the top, which was precisely the reason he had a manuscript in his hand. Although the stories written by the presenting authors before him were all interesting, they weren't enough to keep Sung Pil on his toes. The author thought about his friend and of when he first came across his friend's writing. Then, he typed out the first sentence, which he had read hundreds of times prior to the presentation. --- "I had lost my memory." Sung Pil had chosen a narrator who had lost their memory, enduring life alone in a place where everything felt foreign. "It's like getting left out at school," Silver Rings said. Having lost their memory, the narrator struggled to find a place to belong. Nobody was willing to let the narrator into their group, and the narrator departed willingly from the one group they had barely managed to become part of. Sung Pil unfolded the story in a very convincing manner, and the friendliness in his writing enabled the readers to empathize with the character. "That must be his best bet," Silver Rings said, resting her chin on her hand. With which, Juho agreed internally. "I did the same thing," she said. She had also chosen a subject and materials she had felt most confident with, probably having written several stories with them. "Same here," the fishing pond owner said, raising his hand. The student abroad also agreed silently. "What do you think Yun Woo's will be like?" the fishing pond owner asked. "It's coming up. Wait just a little longer," Juho replied, fixing his eyes on the screen. "How come you came late today? I thought you were coming to the waiting room with us." After some thought, Juho replied, "I'm keeping Sung Pil in check." "Haha! Were you having a stomach problem?" "You slept in, didn't you?" Nobody seemed to take it seriously that Juho was keeping Sung Pil in check. Considering that Sung Pil was the youngest and the newest, their response to Juho's statement made sense. Although Sung Pil's debut title was outstanding, everyone else's debut titles had been just as good. "Look at that," somebody said, pointing at the screen. "Seems like he's off to a good start," the fishing pond owner said calmly. The audience didn't seem too convinced by what they were seeing on the screen. However, Sung Pil was clever in the way he built his story. The words on the screen indicated to the authors that the author onstage was establishing a foundation. The fact that he got off on the right foot was a promising indicator that things would look up soon. "Look." And as if proving that, the authors and the audience alike grew quieter. At the appearance of a dark horse, the authors, with the exception of Juho, started growing anxious. "He's good," the fishing pond owner said. And taking that as a signal, the other authors started pouring out their thoughts about Sung Pil's writing. "Seems like he really knows how to establish a good foundation. It lets the readers focus on the narrator's situation without the author having to explain why their memory isn't there." "His descriptions are impressive." "Didn't think he'd actually try that hard to outdo us." The story had a clear sense of direction and the members of the audience grew increasingly curious as to how the narrator, who was overwhelmed with a sense of loss, would go about recovering their lost memory. The curiosity of the audience provided momentum for them to keep on reading in anticipation for the next sentence, making sure they weren't missing anything. As if aware of that, Sung Pil maintained a steady pace. He, too, was quite stable. Despite the lack of music or interaction, the audience felt sufficiently connected with the author. It was a relationship established through writing. Juho also focused on the words that appeared on the screen, thinking, 'What is he trying to say?' Aside from a handful of authors moaning from time to time as if representing what Juho was feeling, the hall was completely silent. Then, as the story reached the halfway point, the fishing pond owner said, "I'm gonna get going now," and started packing his belongings. "What?!" When asked for the reason for his early departure, he looked up instead of giving an answer. From the sentences to the plot development, Sung Pil's writing was clearly better than his in every aspect. After sensing his failure, the fishing pond owner gave up on his dream of getting his writing made into a book almost immediately. "Sung Pil's the same age as Yun Woo, I believe. He has just debuted, so he doesn't have a whole lot of experience." At the mention of experience, Juho looked toward the screen inadvertently. Being ostracized and feeling isolated, those were subjects Sung Pil excelled in. He had been holding on to them for a long time. "What he has going on at the moment is special and unique to him, similar to our writing. You can just tell from those sentences," the student abroad said in a calm tone of voice. Then, wiping his forehead, the fishing pond owner replied, "I know. That was a slip of tongue. But for now, I'm gonna get going. I'll see you all tomorrow." Unlike Yun Woo, Sung Pil wasn't a genius. In the fishing pond owner's mind, the one competitor who would beat him was Yun Woo and Yun Woo alone. Sung Pil, on the other hand, was supposed to be the least formidable opponent. Yet, his writing was proving to be just as intimidating. "But if you stick around till the end…" Silver Rings said, but she closed her lips shortly after. Even without a formal evaluation or a tangible score, the unseen defeat was much more apparent that she thought. After she locked eyes with the fishing pond owner, he left in a hurry, and the air sank into silence. At that moment, Juho was struck by the thought of Gray Hat and the manuscript he had. The show had to go on, with or without the fishing pond owner. "This is getting disconcerting," the student abroad said quietly. It wasn't clear if he was referring to his situation or the situation within the novel. Then, looking away from the audience, Juho read the story on the screen. Although finding themselves in a peaceful place after losing their memory and place to belong, that peace was short-lived. However, unlike the situations prior to that scene, the narrator had let go of their peace willingly as they grew jealous of their friend. Although the story had been heading toward the climax from a crisis, it started receding back to yet another crisis. "There is an end to this story, right?" "Doesn't seem like things are about to change any time soon, huh?" "He's almost out of time, and I thought the story was almost at the end." There wasn't a rule stating that the presenting author had to finish their story within a given time. Rather, the focus of the event was in showcasing an author's writing process to the readers. The story came to an end when the segment came to an end. So far, all of the authors who had presented had written their story in their entirety. But what about Sung Pil? "Ah! That should do it." As Juho kept his eyes fixed on the screen, he made sense of the disturbance coming from the audience. A character had appeared, the character that would wrap up the story. "The red stranger." It was that stranger who saved the narrator from their life spiraling downward. At that moment, Juho reminisced to the time when he met Sung Pil for the first time. Sung Pil had been on his way to the police station after finding some money on the street. From picking up the money on the street to finding the narrator's lost memory, it was all the stranger's doing. Juho still remembered that the money had never ended up returning to the person it had once belonged, and it seemed like Sung Pil had had trouble accepting that reality ever since. "Much better," somebody said. Finally, as Sung Pil wrapped up his last sentence, the audience exploded into applause and cheers for him. Not only were they satisfied by Sung Pil's writing, but they were also impressed by the quality of the event. The cheering crowd was incomparably louder than that time when Sung Pil cheered on the phone call with Juho. Amid the readers cheering and applauding him, Sung Pil rose from his seat unhurriedly, faced the audience, bowed slowly, and came down from the stage. Sung Pil had far surpassed anybody's expectations. As the applause died down, the audience started making their way out of the hall, each looking just as excited as the other. "Uh-oh." Sung Pil was proving to be a much more formidable opponent than Juho had thought. Feeling an itch on his palm, Juho rubbed his palms together. Leaning his head back, he remembered the weak points of his manuscript one by one, barely managing to swallow the words that had come up to his throat. However, they still lingered in his thoughts. After the authors had made their way out, leaving Juho alone, he tried murmuring that thought in his head, "Maybe I need to make some adjustments to it."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl In order to meet up with Sung Pil, Juho made his way to the waiting room. However, before he reached the hallway, he was stopped midway by Nam Kyung, who seemed quite anxious for some reason. "Why didn't you answer your phone!? Thank goodness I found you." "What is it?" "You can't go there. The waiting room is swarming with reporters." After his editor's warning, Juho peeked over his shoulders toward the waiting room, where there were a number of reporters with a camera crew taping Sung Pil's interviewing. Although there weren't that many people, it was definitely out of the norm. Meanwhile, Sung Pil seemed deeply moved. Although others might not have been able to catch on, it was apparent to Juho that his friend had yet to reconnect with reality. His experience on the stage should still be raw in his mind. "Do you think that you can surpass Yun Woo?" one of the reporters, who looked quite familiar, asked the author. "Mr. Woo hasn't presented yet, so I think it's too early for that question." "Still! That was some quality novel, Sung Pil!" At that moment, Sung Pil looked in Juho's direction, locking eyes with him. Although recognizing Juho from afar, Sung Pil didn't walk toward his friend. Instead, he simply looked like he was enjoying the occasion. "Who the heck does this guy think he is?" Nam Kyung said, pulling Yun Woo back. Then, he led the young author to another room, which had a sign that read 'Off Limits.' "That Sung Pil, he's a good writer," Nam Kyung said briefly, complimenting Sung Pil. "He sure is." Although he seemed like he had a lot he wanted to talk about with Yun Woo, the editor seemed to prioritize Juho's condition for his presentation the next day. However, Juho wasn't looking for that kind of consideration. "It was impressive. People were cheering in the end, and it almost made me feel like I was at some recital. I was happy for him." Being under the bright spotlight, Juho's friend had definitely shone brightly onstage. Studying the young author's expression, Nam Kyung asked cautiously, "... Aren't you nervous?" At that, Juho looked intently at his editor. At which point, Nam Kyung added in a hurry, "It's just that he's not the only one who did really well. Yes, it's a GOOD THING, but I also thought that it might have made you feel like you had to keep up with them, and that could be burdensome." "Do you think I don't stand a chance against them?" At that, Nam Kyung hardened his expression almost immediately and said, "Don't be ridiculous now! Your writing is THE best." "I think you're the one being ridiculous here," Juho said, smiling. At which point, Nam Kyung softened his expression and said, "You know, you're right. You had such a thick skin while we were in the States. I'm sure this doesn't even come close to bothering you." "I'm making some adjustments to my manuscript," Juho said, rubbing his hands together. At that, Nam Kyung asked with a dumbfounded expression on his face, "I'm sorry, what?" "I'm making changes to my manuscript." "... OK, that's not funny. You know what? I was wrong. Yun Woo's human, too." "I think I'll be able to come up with something even better than what I have." "Wait, you're serious!?" Nam Kyung exclaimed, looking at the young author in disbelief and shouting, "No!" "Why not?" "Why not? I'll tell you why. You're presenting tomorrow." "I know." "And you wanna make changes to your manuscript NOW? The day before you present it? As much as I'd love to support your decision, I think this is a terrible idea." "I can pull it off." At a loss for words, Nam Kyung sprung up from his seat and started pacing back and forth in the room. "You have to think clearly. I don't know what happened to make you think that, but try to give your thoughts some time." Nam Kyung seemed to think that Juho was coming from a place of anxiety and insecurity, so Juho spoke up in order to correct him, "I am thinking clearly." However, Nam Kyung shook his head even more emphatically, looking as if facing an unexpected crisis. "You saw how these authors write, right? They're all very stable, and it's definitely wise to play safe in this case. You know how cumbersome it can be for authors to reveal their writing to their readers, don't you? That's exactly why we revised your manuscript rigorously ahead of time. And now, you wanna throw all that out the window? Do you really think you have enough time to finish this? We went through all that trouble just so you could have something better to present!" "I just wanted to show my readers something even better." "OK, pause there. So, where are you getting this certainty that it's gonna turn out EVEN better in the end? You might be Yun Woo, but a first draft is nothing more than a first draft at the end of the day." "I wouldn't go as far as calling it the first draft. I'd say it's closer to… a makeover?" "Again, what makes you so cert… Wait, is this going to be an autobiography?" Nam Kyung asked, his expression changing abruptly. After locking eyes with him for a little while, Juho said, "No." "Then, it's a no." "It's something I think about habitually, tens of thousands of times. I've thought about it over and over. I can do it." Juho was also aware of everything Nam Kyung was telling him. There was a significant chance that he wouldn't be able to finish in time, making it worse than it was. However, he was struck by an idea too good to pass up, tempting him to take the risk, making him think it would be cowardly not to act on it. Of course, not giving his best in the presence of his readers would be a luxury. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung had a stunned look on his face, still perplexed by the young author's sudden declaration. Then, covering his mouth with his hand, the editor immersed himself in thought. "... No, what you have now is already plenty good enough. Why gamble?" "Are you sure? Why were you so concerned for me then? Wasn't it because something made you anxious?" "I told you that's not the reason!" "If my writing really was the best, you'd have encouraged me to keep doing things the way I have been. Instead of asking if I was nervous, you'd have reassured me, telling me not to worry about a thing, because you wouldn't be questioning that it would turn out well." "..." Nam Kyung furrowed his brow, clenching his lips. There had to be something bothering him. "OK. I'll fess up. I was just worried because of Sung Pil, and Sung Pil only, because I liked his writing better than your debut title. That's really it. Overall, I don't doubt that your writing is significantly better, but we also have to take the situation into account. Sung Pil just made his debut. He's fresh, and people don't know what to expect from him. Anything he does will impress them and far surpass their expectations," Nam Kyung said. Then, swallowing, he added, "Unlike you." Looking down, Juho pinched his palm. As his hands tensed up, the young author rubbed his belly slowly, saying, "I think I'm about to have indigestion." "What?" "I'm doing it. No matter what, I have to." The air sank into a silence soon to be broken by a clattering sound, a whir of a machine, and by the editor's foot rubbing against the floor as he shook his leg. In the end, Nam Kyung surrendered, throwing both of his hands into the air and quickly offering a second solution. "OK. We'll give it a shot then. And if you don't finish in time, we'll go with the one we had originally prepared." "What if I don't finish in time, but it's still noticeably better than what we have now?" "I didn't think that far ahead, honestly," Nam Kyung said. To which, Juho replied as if answering for him, "I'll keep making changes, even onstage." At that, a look of disbelief appeared on Nam Kyung's face all over again. "Might I remind you that this isn't some spontaneous writing contest, Mr. Woo!?" "Either way, I get to present my writing process to readers." "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Nam Kyung said with a chuckle as if sighing. "You do know that the director of the editing department will be there, right? Not to mention the president of the company? Now that the news is out that Yun Woo's presenting, there will be at least twice as many reporters. After all, this is the writing process of Yun Woo, the genius author." "Yes, I am," Juho said calmly. At which point, Nam Kyung gave a lengthy speech, "Did you hear what I just said? It means there's no room for errors! You were given the luxury to prepare a manuscript in advance, and if it turns out what you're presenting doesn't measure up, then that's an issue. You far surpass most authors, and more importantly, you're famous! You have to understand that these things could work against you!" "I'm aware of that." "Are you now? 'Cause it sounds to me like you don't realize the magnitude of the matter." "I do, which is exactly why I need to make those changes." Juho had an even better story in mind, almost as if it lingered before his eyes. There were brilliant ideas floating around in his head. However, acting on them just so he could protect his dignity and position as an author wasn't what the young author wanted. He wanted to move up even higher, away from the place he was in. In which case, it made logical sense to keep moving in some way. "You sure you thought this through?" Nam Kyung asked, as if confirming with the young author. Since reading 'The Full Moon,' his friend had visited him. Sung Pil had been sending the young author an unusual signal. On top of that, there was a certain reader who actively hoped for his misfortune. Everything in conjunction had impacted Juho in some way, even as he was speaking to his editor. "For the most part," Juho replied. "And you still wanna do this?" "Yes." Nam Kyung knew Juho and his tendencies. Even if he were to disagree with Juho, the young author would still do what he believed he should. Similarly, even if Juho were to decide not to follow through with his idea, he would eventually resort to making the changes to his manuscript. The itch on his hand was getting unbearable. "Well, make it happen. ASAP. You got it?" Nam Kyung said. "Gotcha." With that, Juho sprung from his seat as if about to run home at any given minute. Then, Nam Kyung stopped him and asked, "Can you at least tell me the story you have in mind?" There was a sense of desperation in his voice. To which, Juho answered with a smile, "It's about Yun Woo's downfall." --- "Oh, man. I'm screwed!" Nam Kyung let out, looking through all of his pockets. He seemed to have left the sedatives at home. Juho was thankful for his editor for always taking care of him. Although Nam Kyung thought about asking the employees around for a sedative, the editor gave up shortly after. There were two separate manuscripts before Juho's eyes, and only one of them would see the light of day. One of them was about Gray Hat, which Juho was inspired to write upon finding out that he was going to write in front of an audience. The one next to it was a manuscript he had written frantically from yesterday until that very morning. Juho tried replacing the name Gray Hat with his alias, Yun Woo. He simply couldn't imagine Gray Hat becoming the Great Storyteller. Soon, Juho made up his mind. "It's time," Nam Kyung said, checking the time. "Yep. I've been ready for a while now." "... Right," Nam Kyung said, looking deathly pale, his lips parched. "Are you really gonna write the ending on the stage?" he asked. "That's the plan." "How about you just go with the other one?" "But you're the one who liked this one better." With the exception of the ending, Juho had completed his new manuscript in time. Although it wasn't entirely devoid of one, he had found it unsatisfying, no matter how many times he read it. At which point, Nam Kyung suggested that the young author go with the first manuscript they had originally intended to use. "But there's still time." "No, there isn't." Thinking about how to wrap up his story on one hand, the young author thought back to the competing authors and their performances. Though extremely nervous, the fishing pond owner had finished his segment successfully. While Silver Rings openly interacted with the audience, the student abroad had received some applause. The explosive applause and cheers by the audience lingered in Juho's ears. The feel he was looking for was just within reach, something tangible enough that he could almost touch it. "I don't think you're in your right mind," Nam Kyung said out of nowhere. At which point, Juho's thoughts scattered all over the place. "I can't believe you decided to make changes to your manuscript in a situation like this. Yet, somehow, you managed to surprise me AGAIN with this bizarre story of yours," the editor said, chuckling as if giving up on the young author. "You make it sound like it's all over when it hasn't even started yet." "I'm just so dumbfounded!" Nam Kyung said, fessing up his current emotional state. When he read Juho's first manuscript for the first time, with the author's permission, the editor had thought that there was nothing for him to worry about. Although most authors had been reluctant to be alongside Yun Woo, afraid of being compared to the young author, there had been a handful of authors who had stepped up to write alongside the young genius. Assuming that they would bring a presentable manuscript, the event would provide them with significant exposure. Nevertheless, Nam Kyung had no doubt that the event would turn out in a way favorable to Yun Woo. If anything, he had worried for the other competing authors. Then, the day of reckoning came, and Nam Kyung discovered the youthfulness hidden behind Yun Woo's mature demeanor. "You just abandoned something that you very clearly had the choice of protecting. Maybe it's your youth. Aren't you afraid of your career falling apart?" "There's always a way. It'll be OK," Juho replied. 'Is this really a twenty-year-old kid?' Nam Kyung thought, then said, "Well, have it your way now. I can't do anything to help once you're up on that stage." "I intend on doing just that," Juho said, getting ready to leave the room. At that moment, Nam Kyung reminded him one last time, "Remember that your readers are reading what you're writing in real time! Also, don't forget that you're being watched by both reporters and other authors!" Then, rising from his seat, Juho replied with a smile, "I'm sorry, Mr. Park, but I intend on forgetting all that is even there."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "That's one intimidating crowd," a staff member whispered to Juho while he was standing by. All of the stage crew had their eyes fixed on the audience, who was waiting anxiously for the young author's appearance. It was that very audience that the young author had to face. "If you're not entirely confident that you can pull it off, then don't change anything," Nam Kyung had said. Juho was also afraid of the cheers and applause turning into an uncomfortable silence. However, his desire to write far outweighed his fear. Then, as he was thinking about the new manuscript, another thought occurred to him, 'There's something even better, something closer to what you're looking for. Go for it. Forget who's watching. Being onstage changes nothing. You gotta focus on writing while writing. Forget about winning or losing, or that you're being exposed to the public. Focus on writing.' At that moment, somebody tapped Juho on the back. It was Nam Kyung. The staff members were also looking at the young author, signaling him to go up. "Well, here goes nothin'," Juho said. "Break a leg," his editor replied. With that, Juho went up to the stage. The bright spotlight shone on him, blinding him for a brief moment. Then, upon scrunching up his eyes, the faces in the audience came into view, each and every one of them wearing a look of anticipation. "Hello. Yun Woo. It's a pleasure to be here." At that, the audience exploded into massive applause, significantly louder than the one Sung Pil had received. Thinking about the authors who had presented before him, Juho started realizing why some of them had been so nervous, while the others had interacted with the crowd or had talked about themselves. As he waited patiently, the applause eventually died down. "The story I'm about to show you today has no correlation with any of my books that have been published up to this point." There were apparent smiles on the faces within the audience. They were delighted by the presence of the young author. However, he didn't hesitate to rain on their parade. "But I regret to inform you that it hasn't been completed." The audience was caught off guard by the young author's unexpected confession. The atmosphere took a sudden turn. While still somewhat anticipating what the author had in store, questions and doubts started rising among the crowd. "I had to go through another revision process at the last minute, as in yesterday. Which is why I couldn't finish in time. I admit, I got kind of ambitious." A mixed reaction came from the audience. While some cheered by habit, others groaned. "But there's nothing wrong with that, right? The whole point of this segment is to show the writing process after all." The audience responded in lukewarm manner, slowly catching on to what Yun Woo was telling them. The young author was about to write a whole new story onstage, right before their eyes. It was all very spontaneous. Then, moving the microphone to his other hand, Yun Woo added, "All you have to do is enjoy the process. I can't promise you what kind of story you'll end up seeing on that screen, but I will do my absolute best." Then, just as he was heading toward the desk, he turned around and added one more thing, "Should you feel the story isn't measuring up to your expectation, then simply tell yourselves that Yun Woo's let you down this time. At which point, I'll do my best to make necessary improvements." With that, he handed the microphone back to a staff member, who took it with a cheerful smile on their face. Simultaneously, there were also those who wanted to see Yun Woo's downfall. Taking a deep breath, Juho looked into the distance, which was clearly visible from where he was standing. "I have a good feeling about this," he said to himself, walking toward the desk unhurriedly. First, he read through the manuscript one last time. Meanwhile, the screen showed an empty page, but the young author didn't mind it one bit. The protagonist within the story had originally been based on Gray Hat, who Juho met near Zelkova once. Taking hold of his last opportunity, the protagonist was giving his writing career one more try. However, the protagonist within the story was just the opposite of its real-life counterpart. Yun Woo had already been an author, but soon, he lost that title. Then, placing his hands on the keyboard, Juho typed out the name of the protagonist. "Yun Woo?" the audience responded immediately and started whispering among themselves. Unhindered, the author onstage started typing away. The protagonist was a successful author, whose life had been defined by nothing but success. Having written a total of three novels for the duration of his career, which were 'Mango,' his debut title, 'Brush,' and lastly, 'Gray,' the public recognized his talent, and his books started to sell at an incredible rate. The protagonist developed a reputation for writing some of the greatest novels in history. While Juho was writing a scene that portrayed the protagonist's success, the hall was completely silent. Yun Woo's life seemed to be leading quite a cheerful life. The sentences flowed seamlessly. Following the stream of thought, which Juho had already mapped out prior to the presentation, was hardly a challenge. The chuckles from the audience from time to time indicated to Juho that they were enjoying what they were seeing on the screen. At that moment, a voice came from the distance, disrupting the writing process, "Can you slow down?" When Juho stopped typing and looked up, there was a disturbance in the audience. The shout seemed to have come from one of the audience members, which had not happened in the previous presentations. Unlike the authors who had presented up to that point, the young author onstage was a familiar face to every single member of the audience. Juho shook his hands off in the air for no apparent reason. Then, recognizing the lack of a microphone, he applied pressure to his abdomen and said loudly, "Am I moving too fast?" "Yeah," a soft voice in the audience replied. "I apologize. I've never consciously tried to write slower. I can try, but I can't make any promises. Hope that's OK." That time, a louder response came from the audience. They, too, were aware of the purpose of the event. Then, looking down, Juho took a deep breath and resumed writing. The practice beforehand made the process a lot easier. The flow of the story sped up even more, and soon, the moment came when Yun Woo's writing career finally came to its end. Thinking of those who desperately wanted to witness his downfall, Juho thought, 'Here's what you're looking for.' "Isn't that kind of extreme?" A disturbance arose from the audience in the once-peaceful exhibition hall. The story was quickly losing its shape. There was no consideration toward the audience, or to winning or losing for that matter. The young author was running the protagonist down like no other. Yun Woo's life took an unexpected turn, putting an end to his happy, cheerful life. Letting success get to his head, Yun Woo quickly becomes arrogant. Having no consideration for those around him, Yun Woo looked down on them and became lazy and content, no longer trying to improve, clueless as to what he had become. Before long, people started associating the once-successful author with monikers such as bully, dreadful, privileged, or at times, garbage. And soon, people didn't even bother giving the author those names. He was no longer taken seriously, nor did anybody bother with him or consider him in any way. Seeing his old self on the page suffering a due punishment, Juho felt a strange sense of satisfaction. As Juho moved to the next line on the page, the scene also changed with it. Unlike its creator, Yun Woo's three books remained in print, just as popular as they had been at first. It was as though there was no end to them, as if they had no concept of death. The fans praised, applauded, and welcomed those books. The three books were the most impeccable beings within the novel. At which point, strong jealousy stirred up within the foolish creator. Like a mushy, overly-ripe fruit, Yun Woo fell to the ground, helpless. "He stopped," a voice in the audience said. As the story that had been progressing unhindered came to an abrupt halt, some of the members of the audience covered their mouths. Yun Woo and his great novels had been completely separated. Yun Woo wasn't a great storyteller. Yet, he had managed to write some of the greatest novels in history. While their creator quickly spiraled down to poverty, his creations got nominated for literary awards of tradition and prestige, leaving the fans on their toes. When Juho looked up, there was no longer anticipation on the faces within the audience. Instead, there was a shared excitement among them. A hat came into Juho's view. Although it wasn't gray, his encounter with gray hat rushed past before his eyes. 'Do you think I have a chance of winning?' Gray Hat had asked Juho, forcing him into the position of having to answer. Then, taking the sentences that came to him at that moment, Juho listed them one by one. 'One day.' 'I know you have it in you.' 'You just have to work for it.' 'You're not at your limit yet.' 'You can push further.' 'You can become even better.' 'That day is coming, and I know it.' Moving his hands, Juho typed them out as they were. The audience tilted their heads at the sentences that looked seemingly out of place. Soon, a commotion broke out in the exhibition hall. As Juho focused his thoughts on Gray Hat, the sound of commotion faded away. However, a sense of disappointment lingered in Juho's mind. As if tired of hearing people trying to encourage him, Gray Hat walked away, leaving the sentences purposeless and useless. Because Yun Woo didn't know who Gray Hat was, he wouldn't be able to understand his thoughts. Gray Hat wasn't looking for compliments or people to validate his plans for his future. Juho distinctly remembered the man having said that his submission to the contest had been his last hurrah. He had already made up his mind and had accepted that it was his last. With that, Juho erased every single sentence that he had typed out. "You'll probably never get that award." Although Gray Hat had already made up his mind, there was a part of him that made him second guess his decision. "And that's fine." There was no need to wallow in guilt. Nothing had gone to waste. Everything happened for a reason. Upon realizing that those were the words that he should have offered to Gray Hat, Juho felt a sense of regret traveling up from the tips of his finger. At that moment, he started typing slightly faster. He felt that the sentences had become blunter. However, he didn't stop. The vision of a story that he had been longing for was right before his eyes, enabling the young author to think of a way to wrap up the story in the way he wanted. Juho felt better almost instantly. "Gettin' hungry," he murmured, leaning back on the backrest of his chair. As he was checking the finished manuscript, a jingle sounded off, marking the end of the presentation. At that, Juho rose unhurriedly from his seat, walked toward the center of the stage and faced the silent audience. Then, when he reached his hand over to the staff member, who stared at the author in a daze, they handed the young author a microphone. "Thank you for your time." With that, Juho stepped down from the stage, all the while the audience kept their eyes fixed on the screen. --- "He's done it," Myung Sil said, trying to get a hand off her hand, which shook uncontrollably from the excitement. Witnessing Yun Woo's writing process had gone beyond her imagination. She hadn't been able to look away from the screen for a single moment. Upon getting up onstage, Yun Woo had decided to drop a bomb on his unsuspecting readers. A manuscript that had been revised at the last minute. Incomplete. The reporter was astonished by the young author's boldness and the spontaneous nature of his declaration to write a whole new story, onstage and in front of his readers. It was an incredibly risky move on the author's end. It was a dangerous gamble that very well could have exposed his actual skill. At least, those had been Myung Sil's thoughts until the halfway point of the presentation. In the end, she was left puzzled. "How is it that he knew so much about failing?" She couldn't make sense of why such a successful author like Yun Woo had revealed such raw emotions. It simply didn't make sense that he knew so much about failure. "And that ending." The writing was clean and well trimmed. However, once he had stopped typing, the story had evolved into something completely different. The sentences were rugged and disorganized. Yet, she couldn't help but keep on reading. There were raw, unadulterated emotions in his sentences, provoking a chain reaction in the audience. She had never witnessed such rawness from the author, which reminded her that he really was writing spontaneously. Meanwhile, Juho had been quite nervous. At the same time, he hadn't been able to wait to find out what kind of story would come out. He had been aware of the risk involved. There had been that he'd fail, leaving him in ruin like Yun Woo within the story. For the first time, Juho had felt threatened that his career might be at stake. However, he had managed to pull it off in the end. "Damn it," somebody next to her said. Even without looking, it was obvious to Myung Sil who it was. It was her former coworker who had desperately hoped that Yun Woo would slip and make a fool of himself in the presence of his readers. Yun Woo's failure would carry significant shock value. Knowing that, he had frantically pressed the shutter release button on his camera when Yun Woo had come up to the stage, saying, "I wonder how nervous he is right now." Myung Sil remembered him pointing at the president and the officers of Zelkova, who had participated in order to witness the successful finale of the massive event. The audience had also been incomparably more excited. "Give me just one, decent shot," the reporter had said, hoping to capture the author in the midst of being publicly humiliated. Ironically, Yun Woo had provided a number of riveting shots for the reporters who were putting articles and photos up online in real time. Every member of the audience was busy sharing the moment among themselves. It was similar to an audience pouring out of a movie theater after a movie. Of course, Myung Sil, who couldn't help but burst into laughter at her coworker's misfortune, was one of them. "Hahaha!" After Yun Woo had stepped down from the stage after thanking the audience, the audience started getting louder, reminding Myung Sil that there hadn't been a single author who made their audience engage in discussions after the presentation. Every author had received cheers and applause from the audience, which was an expression of admiration toward the authors who had successfully written well-written pieces. It was a sign of joy toward the unique processes of writing. However, in Yun Woo's case, only his writing remained onstage, absorbing the emotions of its readers on its creator's behalf. Although Yun Woo had been the last author to present, his presentation had been far from stale or predictable. There hadn't been a boring moment throughout his presentation. "Oh, Yun Woo," Myung Sil let out, closing her eyes and enjoying the aftereffect.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Impressive," the fishing pond owner said amid the silence, and other authors responded by letting out heavy sighs. Having been intensely focused on the words that had been appearing on the screen, nobody had said a word since Yun Woo had started writing. The silence lingered even after the reporters had left. Thinking of the conversation he had had with the young author, the fishing pond owner said, "I knew I was worrying over nothing." Although he had secretly hoped that Yun Woo would be intimidated by the hidden talents of the nameless authors, that sadly didn't come true. Instead, Yun Woo had written a story that was out of that world. On top of that, the young author had presented using an incomplete manuscript. When reminded that the ending had been written on the spot, the fishing pond owner couldn't help but chuckle. "That just wasn't fair!" Silver Rings said, throwing both of her hands in the air, adding, "It was flawless! That ending made it so that he didn't even have to try all that hard. Isn't that kind of reckless? OK, I get that he didn't just go up there trusting his own skills, but that ending was something else!" Listening to her talk was reminiscent of listening to heavy metal in some ways. It was exciting and stimulating. "That was insane…" she said quietly, still sounding somewhat in the moment. "I'm really afraid now that I know just how good he is," she added, and the fishing pond owner agreed. "Seems like we were a lot braver than we thought." "I'm telling you, this country just isn't big enough for Yun Woo," the student abroad said, looking as though completely enamored by Yun Woo's writing, rubbing his face with both of his hands. "I'm outta here. I don't trust myself with the mindset I'm in at the moment. Who knows what kind of things I'd end up saying when I see him? I'm goin' home," he said, rising from his seat, rubbing his face with his hands, and leaving the room with Silver Rings. The fishing pond owner also held thoughts similar to the two. ' The failures, the rock bottom. He had to have gone through hell leading up his success,' he thought, then said, "Is that normal?" as if striking up a conversation with the only person still left in the room, who remained silent. "Do successful people know that much about failure? I was hurting so much for him toward the middle." 'What did it feel like to write so harshly about himself? Was all that carefully calculated?' the fishing pond owner thought, but gave up shortly after. There was a limit to his imagination, and he had no intention of writing such a destructive, self-deprecating story. Not to mention, he valued his mental health. "I was really moved by yours too, Sung Pil. I gotta admit. You're a much better writer than I am," the fishing pond owner said, studying his expression. However, Sung Pil still gave no answer. His writing had a sincerity to it, which gave it a friendly, familiar feel. The volume of the applause and cheers he had received at the end of his presentation had been indicative of the quality of his story. However, his story hadn't been able to silence the audience. Then, the fishing pond owner added, as if talking to himself, "I was actually at ease while reading his writing, but frankly, I'm shocked by the sheer impact of it. I couldn't even leave the room in the middle." With that, the fishing pond owner turned back, realizing Yun Woo's writing had made his retreat significantly less upsetting. Leaving Sung Pil behind, he went downstairs. Left alone on the second floor, Sung Pil murmured quietly, "Yun Woo." --- "Yun Woo," Nam Kyung called to Juho, with his head lowered. Juho sighed quietly. Since it wasn't the first time his editor called to him, Juho didn't bother to answer. Then, trembling with excitement, he sprung up from his seat and exclaimed, "Why didn't you write something like that in the first place!?" He had been quite worked up ever since Juho had come down from the stage. "It's not like I didn't want to." "That was brilliant! I can't believe you thought of sharing the moment you finished your story with your readers!" Nam Kyung said, pacing back and forth in the waiting room. "I had a good feeling from the moment I saw the protagonist's name on the screen. You do know how charming that name is to readers, right?" he asked. Then, instead of waiting for an answer, he added, "Why were you so obsessed with ruining yourself, though? What kind of stuff have you been looking at?" His face was now burning red, unlike before the presentation when it had been deathly pale. At which, Juho shrugged nonchalantly. "You have no idea how anxious I was… You saw the look on the readers' faces, right? They were out of it! That ending was perfect! All that trouble went through really paid off!" "Right." "Beautifully done! That'll show the doubters! Let's have another signing. What do you say?" "Uhh… I don't know about that." Nam Kyung laughed out loud, paying no attention to Juho's response and looking as though he would keep on laughing even if somebody were to chuck a wet sheet of paper at him. "How were the sentences? Juho asked. After some contemplation, the editor replied, "It did get a little rough toward the end, but they weren't bad at all. If anything, those unrefined sentences were proof that they were written spontaneously." Then, raising his finger, Nam Kyung pointed at the young author and said, "YOU were the best writer." At that moment, a knock came from the door. At which, Nam Kyung walked toward it light-footedly and opened it, revealing Sung Pil on the other side. Although the editor winced initially, he moved aside shortly after and let him through. "You must be here to congratulate Juho. What about the others?" "They left." "I see," Nam Kyung said. Then, looking around, he added, "I have plenty of things I'd like to talk to Juho about, but I'll let you guys be for now. I need to go talk to the director, anyway." As the sound of door closing reverberated through the waiting room, Juho gestured for Sung Pil to sit. "Grab a seat." Juho had been expecting him. However, Sung Pil stood in place like a statue. "When did you come up with that story?" Sung Pil asked. He seemed curious about how Yun Woo's story came to be. "Before you debuted," Juho replied. The young author's first encounter with Gray Hat had been before Sung Pil's debut. "Me too," Sung Pil said, then added, "I thought of my story before you debuted too." Juho thought of the manuscript he had presented. Being ostracized, feeling isolated, and in the end, being rejected. It was the story he had lived through before Yun Woo had debuted as an author. "Is this another competition? Of who keeps their story in their minds the longest?" Juho asked. He had been imagining Yun Woo's downfall since long ago. "Then, you won," Juho added. No matter how long he had been thinking about his own downfall, he couldn't tell anyone about it, and that included Sung Pil, which left him with no chance to beat Sung Pil in their competition. Juho looked at Sung Pil's reflection in the mirror. It seemed somewhat upset. Suddenly… "I lost," Sung Pil declared his defeat. "What makes you think that?" Juho asked. More accurately, he was asking the standards by which he had reached that conclusion. "What kind of thoughts were you having while writing?" Sung Pil asked instead of giving an answer. In order to answer that question, Juho revisited his experience on the stage. Shortly after, he replied, "My writing." "Right. I thought so. I could tell. I saw nothing but writing in your eyes," Sung Pil said, his reflection on the mirror exposing his emotional state. There was an apparent look of defeat about him. "Well, what about you? What kind of thoughts were you having?" Juho asked. "I wanted to win." Sung Pil had wanted to win. For once, he had wanted to pass his genius friend who had far surpassed him long ago. "When I first heard about this event, I also heard there was a chance that Yun Woo might also participate. At which point, I sincerely hoped that you would," Sung Pil said. Back then, he had still been lost in the joy of having debuted as a professional author. "I had thought I stood a chance. I wanted to win, and when I heard the applause from the audience after my presentation, I felt certain that I might be able to do just that," he added brusquely, with no trace of embarrassment. "I'm sure the other authors were coming from a similar place. They all wanted to outdo you somehow. You were essentially outnumbered. And then, you bring out that manuscript of yours. How do you think that looked to me and the other authors?" Yun Woo's manuscript had been cruel. It had received neither applause or cheers while he'd been writing it. The hall had been completely silent, leaving only the racing hearts of the authors. "You didn't look up to us once." "Didn't I?" "I was determined to beat you onstage. That was the only thing on my mind the entire time I was preparing my manuscript. But something tells me that you weren't as desperate as I was," Sung Pil said. "Maybe." "You paid no attention to any of the authors in the hall, including me." Juho didn't deny Sung Pil's observation. If anything, he had made an effort to pay no attention to anybody in the hall. "Does this mean I'm not getting an award?" Sung Pil asked. "I don't think either of us is," Juho said, trying to suppress his chuckle. There were no award ceremonies in the event. As Juho took a deep breath, it dawned on him that the event had finally come to an end. Checking the time, Juho realized how late it was. Everyone had to have left at that point. "Takes me back to my high school days," Sung Pil said, holding on to the door. "When?" "When I was reading your book in front of you, not knowing that you were Yun Woo." "Ah. Right." "It turned out that I ran into Yun Woo at the bookstore by coincidence." Back then, Sung Pil had been completely unsuspecting of Juho's identity. But now, they were both authors who participated in events together. Sung Pil was moving forward. He wasn't idle. "Let's go." With that, the two made their way out of the waiting room. --- "So, they were friends, huh?" the reporter murmured. Having overheard the two authors' conversation, he replayed the words he had heard up to that point in his head. High school and defeat. They had sounded like they were quite well acquainted with each other. Yun Woo's decision to participate in the event had been a mystery to him, but had become clear once he had read the young author's manuscript: Yun Woo had that manuscript all along. Having read it, the reporter couldn't avoid the truth. Yun Woo had participated solely for the sake of his writing. However, with the new knowledge of the young author's friendship with Sung Pil, there was a possibility for another scenario. From the sound of it, it seemed like they had made a bet of sorts. In which case, it would be plausible to leverage Yun Woo's attitude toward his fellow authors at the event. Taking his phone out, the reporter started writing away, 'Yun Woo playing with the hearts of his desperate colleagues.' However, it wasn't long before his hands came to an abrupt halt. Hindered by the lingering effect of his writing, the image of the young author in the midst of writing flashed in the reporter's mind. Yun Woo's desperation was a mystery to the reporter. Successful at an early age, the young author had managed to win monikers such as the first, and the youngest, not to mention his wealth and fame. It almost seemed as if he were running from or chasing after something. Looking at the young author onstage when he had just started writing, his former coworker had said, "How can anybody doubt him after seeing all this?" For a little while, the young author had repeated the process of writing and deleting a series of sentences. Meanwhile, the audience had watched the creative process of the stories and dialogues in the author's mind coming to be in real time. From time to time, the author would sit still, close his eyes and pause for a brief moment. None of his movements seemed forced, which indicated that he wasn't worried about his skill. He didn't bother convincing the skeptics. Instead, he focused on writing, and in the end, the reporter found himself hesitating. "Damn it." The excitement he had felt when watching the presentation of the other authors was no longer there. It didn't make sense that Yun Woo was able to pull off a stunt like that with such ease. On top of that, it didn't make sense that an author like that even had friends. "Prick. This is all your fault." With that, the reporter deleted everything he had written up to that point and started writing all over again as he made his way out of the empty hallway.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "How is it that not a single author turned up at the afterparty!?" Nam Kyung asked dumbfoundedly as they reunited at his office a few days after the event. Letting out a small yawn, Juho said to him, "That happens. It was only five people. I don't think that's a big enough number to ruin a party." "It got kind of awkward, but I suppose you're right." Although the editor still seemed to be quite busy, he didn't seem nearly as busy as he had been before the event. Then, he led the young author to the same ol' conference room. "Hey! It's Yun Woo!" Silver Rings said, stating the obvious. Thankfully, all five authors were in the conference room that time, reuniting for the first time since the event. For some reason, there were a handful who seemed to find the young author's presence unwelcoming. "How've you been?" "Not too great," the student abroad said, curling his lip. However, he didn't seem like he was being sarcastic. "I heard nobody went to the after party?" "It just kind of happened." "Did you have a prior engagement?" "Yeah, somethin' like that." Everyone seemed to be avoiding Juho's questions, and Juho didn't try to pry the answers out of them, either. Instead, he asked the student abroad, "I thought you guys would come visit me in the waiting room." "I could've, but I just didn't have anything to say in particular." "How so?" Juho asked. "Because you have no regard for us whatsoever," the student abroad replied, unfolding his arms. At which, Sung Pil moved his eyebrows at Juho as if saying, 'What did I tell you?' "People could tell us how good your books are and how curious they are about you all day long, but at the end of the day, their reading experience doesn't come even remotely close to what we feel after reading your writing." "You don't know that. What did you feel?" "See? You don't understand. You never will," the student abroad said, closing his lips. He was fully aware that Yun Woo wouldn't be moved by his writing, let alone get excited. "As for me, I'm just gonna stick to my fishing pond," the fishing pond owner said as if he'd never write again, chuckling. At that moment, a familiar voice came out of nowhere, saying, "Ah, good! Everyone's here." It was the director of the editing department, who had come into the conference room with a cheerful look about her. The same group of people who had gathered before the event had come together once more. "The exhibition was a massive success, and it's all thanks to each and every one of you in this room. You've all done a wonderful job." At her compliment, some waved their hand in denial, while others nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Juho listened to her intently and waited for what she was about to say. "Did you see the article?" "Yes, I have." "You guys are well liked by the public. I'm hearing a lot of good things." Juho had already been aware of that. Although the word had started spreading mostly due to its association with the name Yun Woo, the event had ended on a high note. "It helped that our expectations were so low," the student abroad said with a cold smile on his face. Then, his gaze fixed on Juho like an arrow and said, "The David-against-Goliath fight has a tradition for being popular." "David usually wins though," Silver Rings interjected quietly. At which, the expression on the student abroad's face started growing noticeably darker. "But it was Yun Woo we were up against. Not some giant," the fishing pond owner said, waving his hand in denial. However, the words that came out of the director's mouth put an abrupt stop to that movement. "Where did you hear that David won?" At which point, everyone fixed their eyes on her. "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?" "My understanding was that everyone here was hoping to get their books published," the director said. "And we still are." "Yes, we are," Sung Pil said in his heavy voice. "Would anybody like to take a guess as to why I brought you all here?" she asked, still wearing the same cheerful smile on her face. At that, Juho started to catch on to her slowly. "Is somebody getting their book published?" "That's right." "It's obviously Yun Woo," Sung Pil said, and other authors agreed. However, the director tilted her head and replied, "If that were true, then I wouldn't have dragged on like this, would I?" "Then, what is it? Are you saying that there's somebody here who did a better job than Yun Woo?" As the ambition started creeping into the hearts of the authors, the director said, "We decided to put everyone's manuscripts into one single compilation." 'Of course,' Juho thought, looking at his editor, who seemed to already be aware of the news. The positive reviews and responses of readers. Remarkable performances of the authors. There were readers out there who wanted to see their manuscripts get made into books, which meant that their manuscripts had met the standards that needed to be met before they got made into books. Turning a well-written piece into a book was the primary responsibility of a publishing company. In which case, when a total of five incredibly well-written manuscripts had been presented during the event, the publisher had all the more reason to publish them. Meanwhile, Juho looked at the fishing pond owner, who seemed to be having a hard time believing the director's words. At which point, the young author said to him, "Seems like you gotta keep writing." "... It appears so." Noticing that the guilt that had once resided in his eyes had completely vanished, Juho made a mental note of that change in the fishing pond owner. "So, what's the order gonna be?" the student abroad took the initiative to ask. At which, the director answered in a calm tone of voice, "The same as the order you presented." "There are some changes that I wanted to make to my manuscript. There will be a revision process, right?" the fishing pond owner asked in a rush, looking somewhat excited. "Of course! It doesn't have to look exactly like it did during the presentation." Then, in the middle of the authors getting stoked about getting their stories published, she said to Sung Pil, "Also, I've been discussing with my department about arranging an interview with you. Is that OK?" "An interview?" "Yes. It's an interview that's typically held with one of the winners of the Rookie of the Year Award. I thought you'd be the perfect fit for that since you're the winner of this year's award." Although a rookie, Sung Pil definitely had potentials as an author, and now, he was about to publish his second story. However, his growth was only at the beginning since he would become a popular author in the future. If it weren't for Yun Woo, Sung Pil would've received significantly more attention. As Sung Pil nodded in agreement in response to the director, Ms. Song, who was in charge of the interview, said to him, "We'll discuss it in more detail soon." Then, the director looked at Silver Rings and added, "As for you, miss, it'd be great if you could tell us the names of the songs you were playing in the background during your presentation." "Why? Are you into heavy metal too?" "It's not for me, actually. It's for your editor-in-charge, who you'll get to meet soon. We'll probably bring it up in the compilation along with your picture." At that, she threw her fists up into the air, delighted. She loved music just as much as writing. "A happy ending," Nam Kyung said, and Juho chuckled quietly. --- Winner of Zelkova's Rookie of the Year Award. Age: Twenty. First Unanimous Nomination Since Yun Woo. Remarkable Performance in the Presentation Segment in the Literary History Exhibition. A Rookie with a Prospect. These were some of the titles of the articles that turned up when one would search the name Sung Pil. "We'll take a quick break." "Sure," Sung Pil said, nodding at the publisher's staff member. They were in the stack room of the company, which was filled with books published by them. The view was quite different from the picture included in the transcription of Yun Woo's interview in the magazine. Also, being the interviewee was a completely new experience. The rookie author took a sip of water. He had been answering questions about how he came to start writing and the submission he had made to the company during the contest. So far, the questions mostly revolved around his debut title, 'Gingko Tree,' which Sung Pil greatly appreciated and enjoyed as he got to explain the setting and the characters in depth. Although there weren't that many questions, each and every one of them called for lengthier, more detailed answers. Then, after checking the camera, the interview resumed. "You're currently majoring in creative writing at a university, right? Did that contribute to your recent piece in any shape or form?" "It's hard to say. I was in still in high school when I first wrote 'Gingko Tree.' My guess is that it'll affect my future stories more than the current one," Sung Pil said. Nodding, Ms. Song moved on to the next question. "You're the same age as Yun Woo, correct?" At the mention of his friend, Sung Pil nodded and said, "Yes." "And he's also one of our most representative authors. Recently, you two participated in our exhibition event together. What do you think of him?" It was a question Sung Pil had been anticipating. He thought of the day of the fishing pond owner's presentation. While he had been looking around the hall with his friend, they had run into some reporters. As soon as Yun Woo had left, they had started bombarding Sung Pil with questions, all of which had been about Yun Woo. It had been at that moment that Sung Pil realized why the event had been drawing so much attention. Yun Woo. At the same time, he also realized that the name itself tended to draw attention, both desirable and undesirable alike. As a rookie author, Sung Pil was in desperate need of exposure. "Yun Woo is an author of massive presence. When I was still dreaming of becoming an author, he had already become one. All that to say, he was a competitor who was not to be looked down upon." "Did you two get to spend some time talking afterward?" "Yes, plenty, in fact." "Is there a part of you that wants to be as popular as him?" "Yes, there is." In fact, that ambition was a big part of him. Sung Pil wanted his writing to be read by as many people as possible. As Ms. Song waited patiently for the rookie author's response, he replied, "That's it." Sung Pil wanted to determine the path to success himself. He had no intention of bragging about his friendship with Yun Woo. He was very well aware that he still had a lot of catching up to do before he reached his friend's level, which was a humble realization that came to him for the first time since becoming friends with the young author. Sung Pil's goal had been to become a professional author and win the Rookie of the Year Award in the end. He had genuinely believed that winning the award would put him on equal footing with Yun Woo, allowing him to compete with his friend as rivals. Although the truth couldn't be further away, Sung Pil didn't necessarily find it upsetting. Meanwhile, as Ms. Song moved on to the next question, the rookie author saw Nam Kyung standing behind her, staring at him intently. "Since Yun Woo, you're the first nominee by unanimous decision. What did that feel like?" "I was stoked. At the same time, I was quite humbled after I read the evaluations. I was reminded that I still had a lot of growing to do." "Since your presentation, your name has become one of the most searched names on the internet. The public seems to view your potential in a positive light. What did that feel like?" "Honestly, the manuscript I had prepared for the presentation was based on my personal experience. I have firsthand experience being ostracized at school and I know what it's like to be left out and isolated, as well as the desperation of wanting to get out of it. When I turned those emotions into writing onstage, I saw people identifying with what I was writing, which was quite encouraging." "There are quite a few reviews out there saying that they were encouraged by your writing." "I'm flattered." Ms. Song chuckled quietly at the rookie author's response. Then, just as Sung Pil thought that he had gotten away from questions about Yun Woo, another question about his author friend came up. At which point, Ms. Song asked deliberately, as if to confirm the response. "Was it at the event that you saw Mr. Woo for the first time?" "... As an author, yes." Noticing Ms. Song tilting her head at his ambiguous answer, he explained quickly, "Yun Woo was remarkable on that stage. So much so that I can't wait to stand by his side. This event was invaluable to me. It taught me so much about myself." The event had been a humbling experience for Sung Pil. It had revealed precisely the areas in which he fell short. On top of that, he had also come to realize that he had more writing to do before he could improve on those areas. Then, as the interview brought up last the question, asking about his future plan, Sung Pil paused briefly and replied, "I want to be an author who can handle any burden that gets put on me." He wanted to be in a position where he wouldn't be taking advantage of his friend's fame even after revealing their friendship to the public. With that, the interview came to an end, and the group of people who had been gathering in a tight cluster scattered throughout the room. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung stepped out of the room, bring his phone up to his ear. "I think the interview will come out well!" Ms. Song said, walking toward Sung Pil to talk to him. While they were talking, Nam Kyung came toward them after the phone call, looking unsettled. "What's the matter?" Ms. Song asked. Meanwhile, Nam Kyung looked intently at the rookie author. "Sung Pil." "Yes?" "Did you and Mr. Woo know each other in high school?" the editor asked, scratching his forehead. At that, the staff members who had been organizing the equipment also looked in their direction. Ms. Song, in particular, had the most peculiar look on her face. 'How did he know?' Sung Pil thought to himself. However, realizing that the answer wasn't far away from him, he looked at the phone in the editor's hand. At which point, Nam Kyung said, "An article's turned up."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "The waiting room! I knew it," Juho murmured as he read through the article. He had received an urgent call from his editor. Based on the pieces of information in the article, the waiting room was the only possible place where the reporter could have found out about the young author's friendship with Sung Pil. Juho had let his guard down since things had happened just after a big public event. Juho looked at the phone on his desk, his friend's voice from a moment ago still lingering in his ears. "I'm sorry," Sung Pil had said, sounding sad and adding, "I didn't mean to take advantage of your name like that." "I'm sure you didn't." Frankly, it didn't matter to Juho whether his friendship with Sung Pil got out to the public or not. Neither had he been lying nor been caught in the act of something morally questionable. Unlike the comments on the internet, Sung Pil had never tried to leverage his friendship with the young author. However, only those who knew Sung Pil as a person knew the truth, and the unfortunate reality of it all was that the world was full of those who didn't know him, including those appearing on the computer screen. Most of them were criticizing Sung Pil for something he had never done, and the matter was only about to get worse if left unattended. There had to be some sort of countermeasure, and Juho thought long and hard about the possible ways to turn the situation around. Then, he realized that Sung Pil needed a place to show his true intentions to the public. On top of that, Juho needed to prove to the fans that he had taken no offense to Sung Pil's seemingly opportunistic endeavor. In order for that to be possible, Sung Pil needed a place where he could freely present his evidence to prove himself with, all the while without damaging himself in any way. At the same time, it had to be a place where people didn't think would give one side an unfair advantage over the other. Although Zelkova had offered to provide a place, Juho was reluctant to receive their help. At that moment, Juho's phone suddenly vibrated and broke the silence, startling him. "Jeez!" Turning toward it, Juho checked the name of the caller on the screen: Pyung Jin Lee. With a smile on his face, the young author answered the phone. "Mr. Woo! How would you like to be part of my show?" The critic got straight to the point, which Juho welcomed. --- "Are we really doing this?" Sung Pil asked, still sounding like he couldn't believe what he had just heard. When Juho looked toward him, Sung Pil was staring back at his friend with his mouth slightly parted. "Yep. 'The Great Book Club,'" Juho replied calmly. "You make it sound like you're not part of this." The two were in a car taking them to the broadcasting station. A strange look appeared on Sung Pil's face. "I've only seen it on TV. I would've never thought that I'd actually be in it." "What? Didn't you do that interview not too long ago as a special guest?" The show had been planned as a special episode focused on Yun Woo, and Sung Pil was supposed to make a surprise appearance during the show as a special guest. Both the media and readers had been wanting an explanation about the recent article, which both Juho and Sung Pil meant to offer. Thankfully, finding the right place for it wasn't too difficult. "The taping will go as you've been informed. We're gonna have some spectators in the studio, so there's gonna be a Q&A session at some point. The host will let you know, so you'll know when the time comes." "OK." The main writer reviewed the information the two authors had been given on the taping session with them. As they made their way to the waiting room, Sung Pil got busy looking at his surrounding, completely captivated. Then, the main producer said, "We're so glad to have you both together." He seemed genuinely excited to have the two authors. At which, Juho said with a quiet chuckle, "Mr. Lee's offer was just so riveting. I couldn't resist." "I'm telling you, he's the one who makes our show what it is!" Then, the producer looked toward Sung Pil, who was standing there absentmindedly, and asked, "First time on TV?" "Yes." "Don't worry! You don't have to be so nervous. Our writers are very very experienced, so they'll take good care of ya." "Right." "So, if there's something you'd like to say, don't hold back. Especially if it's about Mr. Woo," the producer said, subtly adding the last part. At which, Sung Pil blinked awkwardly and replied, "Will do." 'Will do what?!' Juho thought to himself. At that moment, Pyung Jin came into the waiting room with a cheerful look about him, similar to the producer's. "It is SO good to see you here, Mr. Woo!" he said, walking toward Juho. His recent review of Juho's most recent book, 'Alexandria,' had been quite generous. That day, the critic was wearing a green necktie, which seemed to catch Sung Pil's attention. "And of course, we can't forget Sung Pil. Pleasure to meet you, sir." "Yes, hello." The two exchanged a brief handshake. "I really liked 'Gingko Tree,' as well as your recent presentation." "Didn't you say that it felt rigid in places?" "Oh! Seems like you read my review." Those words had been part of Pyung Jin's review of Sung Pil's story. Although Sung Pil was definitely talented and had potential as an author, there was also room for improvement in his writing. "That's OK. I fully intend on improving myself." "I like your style," the critic said, his smile growing bigger. "OK, then. Shall we?" As the three chatted about, they made their way to the set at the producer's beckoning. On their way into it, Juho heard Sung Pil exclaim, impressed by what was around him. Soon, monitors, a series of large cameras hanging high above the ground and the seats for the audience appeared before his view. At which point, Juho said to Pyung Jin, "It feels different from usual." "Fancy, isn't it?" As a frequent viewer of the show, Juho was able to tell almost immediately that the atmosphere of the set was slightly different from usual, which was simple and quiet. Now, the set was filled with antique-looking props. "We couldn't invite you and do nothing," the critic whispered to the young author. The host, who was originally a comedian, was already sitting on the round table. As Pyung Jin headed toward the center of the set, Juho followed the guidance of a staff member and stood behind it, instructed to come out and introduce himself after the opening sequence. Sung Pil on the other hand, took a step back since he wasn't making an appearance anytime soon. "Quiet on set!" the producer shouted, and as the staff member standing in front of the audience waved in response, the audience grew quiet. As the host started off with the usual opening sequence, they shouted 'The Great Book Club!' Bringing up the noticeable change in the set, the host struck up a conversation with the critic, also adding an explanation for having only two cast members, unlike usual. "So, we're having a very, very special guest today, which is why our set looks so dazzling. Whatever we're about to get on camera, the cast members and I will get together to watch it all over again." "That's right. Today's episode is ultra-special! But you know what really makes all this special? It's our audience joining us on the set!" As soon as the critic finished his line, the audience erupted into cheers. Because the show had an element of entertainment infused into it, it was somewhat different from a formal interview. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've all been waiting SO long for this guest. I'm a huge fan," the host said with an exaggerated expression. At that moment, a camera approached Juho, who had been waiting behind the set for his turn to come out. Juho waved at it, imagining the shot would get cut out. "I lost count of how many times we mentioned his name on this show. We even brought all of his books together for a special episode at one point." "Mr. Lee has a lot of good things to say about today's guest in particular." "Without further ado, let's invite our guest in, shall we?" The audience answered in loud unison, audible from behind the stage where Juho was. "Go," the producer signaled the young author. As the gate opened to both sides, the crowd started applauding even louder. The red carpet on the floor seemed slightly over-the-top. "Hello!" The host and the critic rose from their seats in order to greet the young author on to the stage. "Everyone you see in the audience has come here to see you today," the host said, pointing toward the audience, where people of all ages were sitting, reminiscent of the recent exhibition event. The most noticeable difference was the difference in eye level between the audience and the people onstage, or in this case, the entire stage. Surrounding the set, the seats were arranged in tiers in a stair-like manner. After taking his seat, Juho took a sip of water. During which, the applause continued. "Wow! We've never had our audience applaud for this long. That's Mr. Woo for ya!" the host said, calming the audience down. Meanwhile, Pyung Jin looked at Juho like he had expected the explosive response from the crowd. "How do you like our new set, Mr. Woo?" "It's very nice. The carpet was really, really soft. This table looks different from the one that's usually around too. I don't recognize this pattern here, either." "You're very sharp. Are you a frequent viewer of our show?" "Yes, I am," Juho replied, listing a number of episodes he had enjoyed in particular. At that, the host acted as if he couldn't believe that he was seeing Yun Woo before his eyes. "I never thought the day would come when I would see you before my eyes, Mr. Woo." At which, Juho couldn't do anything but smile. "This is your second TV appearance, right? How've you been? I bet it's been hard for you to go outside. I also heard a rumor that you've hired a manager," the host said, bringing up one of the rumors about the young author floating around fan circles. "I don't have a manager, actually. I've been able to go out without too much problem." "You don't say! That can't be true." The host seemed like he wanted Juho to talk more about his popularity. "OK, how about this? You get in a cab, and the driver recognizes you." At that, Juho brought up a brief anecdote that he had brought up before. To which, the host and the critic listened intently. "So, what brought you to our show?" "Mr. Lee here gave me a call," Juho said, adding another anecdote of the things that had taken place between him and the critic. For the sake of the show, the young author gave his best to maintain a good attitude, smiling at even the most uninteresting subject, doing his best to answer all the questions directed toward him. "Now, I know this is very rude to ask, but I just have to know. You are the most successful author in this country." "You're buttering me up for something, aren't you?" "How much do you make?" At that, Juho noticed the audience trying to listen even more intently. However, he decided not to give a specific number. "I make enough." "Can't you just tell me?" "I'm afraid I can't do that." "I figure you make enough to afford dozens of imported cars. Am I right?" The conversation carried on smoothly, the host asking a series of playful and serious questions. Just like how it focused on the young author, the camera focused on the host, the critic, and then on the crowd. After communicating with the producer with their eyes, the host said, changing the subject, "You know, with Mr. Woo in the house, we can't not talk about his books." At that moment, the light changed all of a sudden, and the set grew slightly darker, leaving only the table and its vicinity lit. Listing the books he had published thus far, the host said, "On top of that, there's your translation and your short stories. Bestsellers. Every single one of them. Not only have you won a number of literary awards in Korea, but you also won two of the most prestigious literary awards for science fiction in the world as the youngest and the first Asian author. Even Kelley Coin lets you off easy." Although he had been listening quietly, Juho couldn't help but interject at the last part of the sentence. "That, I've never heard." "The star of this age who's paving a new path in the literary world. Today, we've brought together every single one of Mr. Woo's books." Initially, the conversation started off with the young author's personal favorite of his books, which he had shared previously. "I remember us saying that we'd save this discussion for later, when Mr. Woo finally came out. And that day is finally here! Did you see the subtitles written by our producer asking you to contact us?" "Yes, which is precisely why I'm here." "Did you hear that?" Juho saw a bright smile on the producer's face. From then on, they briefly touched on the books, discussing characters or interpretations by quoting paragraphs. When they got to 'Language of God,' the discussion went for significantly longer and deeper. "Your fame spans the globe!" "There are quite a few viral videos related to Mr. Woo in some way, like the one where people bet whether or not he'd give a speech at an award ceremony," Pyung Jin said. "How does it feel knowing that your writing is doing so well, reaching such a wide audience? You're still quite young," the host said, emphasizing the young author's age. After looking toward the audience for a brief moment, Juho replied, "I'm definitely thankful. It really makes me wanna push myself." "Do you ever find yourself getting afraid that all this fame will vanish overnight?" "Sometimes," Juho said, following the script. Next, was Pyung Jin's turn. "It sounds to me like that has some correlation to the manuscript you presented recently." At that, the host checked his cue cards and nodded. "There's been a hot topic regarding Mr. Woo recently. You were onstage with other authors, Mr. Woo!!" "I sure was." "And we found out that you have a very special relationship with one of them, is that correct?" the host asked, looking directly at the young author. As he gave an affirmative answer, a loud hiss came out of nowhere. When he looked toward where it had come from, which was in the direction opposite from the one he had come out, he saw an apparatus set up, which was spewing out pillars of white smoke. Then, a part of the set lifted up and Sung Pil came out of it. At which point, the host exclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome our special guest, Sung Pil!"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl As Sung Pil came out on set in a slight rush, a disturbance arose in the unsuspecting audience. Soon though, according to a staff member's instructions, they erupted into applause. Meanwhile, Juho rose from his seat and greeted his author friend gladly, noticing the camera aimed toward him. "You two seem close," the host said without hesitation, and Juho replied calmly "Of course. We're friends." Then, looking even more curious than he had, the host asked, "So, you two have been friends since high school, correct?" "That's right," Sung Pil replied in a brusque tone. Thankfully, he didn't seem too nervous. "As far as I can remember, there weren't any mention of you being friends with Mr. Woo when he debuted. Then, all of a sudden, an article pops up out of nowhere, saying that you guys have been longtime friends/schoolmates." "We're not exactly schoolmates. We happened to live close to each other. There's not much to it, really. I don't really get what the fuss is about," Juho said, shrugging. At which, Pyung Jin let out a small chuckle and said, "So, initially, you didn't plan on revealing that you were friends with Sung Pil, right?" "No. Although, I think my friend here will be able to answer that question a lot better than I can. I did what I did because that's what my friend wanted." At that, Sung Pil also followed the script in his response to Juho, "Having Yun Woo as your friend is actually quite a lot of fun." "It seems that way." "But when that friend is an aspiring writer, it becomes a different story," Juho said, and those who knew him all agreed. "You see, I didn't realize that this guy was Yun Woo at first." "Oh! Then you became friends with him without knowing that he was Yun Woo!" "That's right. When I first heard Yun Woo's voice, I thought it sounded a lot like somebody I knew." The audience listened intently and with interest, which was a good sign. "How did you feel when you found out the truth?" "I don't recall feeling particularly upset because none of it felt real. At least until I debuted anyway. Then, it felt like I was in a-whole-nother world." "Ah, because you were somewhere where you could feel the impact of who Yun Woo was! That makes sense!" Pyung Jin replied, and Sung Pil nodded. After debuting, Sung Pil had found himself in a world where everybody addressed his friend by the name Yun Woo. "The reason why the recent exhibition event had drawn so much attention was because of Yun Woo. When I got on that stage, I realized just how little the audience knew about me. Everyone was giving me that blank stare. Of course, it'd be obvious if I said that it wasn't the case for Yun Woo." "That experience alone must've made you desire to be famous even more." "Right. I wanted to be somebody whose presence alone made the crowd go wild." The camera focused on Sung Pil, whose face looked quite serious on the monitor's screen. "But I quickly realized that I'd be taking advantage of my friend and his fame just by mentioning his name. So, I told myself that I'd never bring up his name again. At the end of the day, I have respect for myself as well." "And that's when things started going south," the host said, and Sung Pil sighed heavily. "I don't know how that reporter found out, but thanks to him, I recently got my first taste of the angry fans on the web. I believe I don't have to remind anybody here of Yun Woo and his fame. Let's just say that the number of comments I got from disgruntled fans was astronomical." "How did that make you feel?" "It was upsetting, and I also felt wronged in some way. But the most upsetting thing by far was that something that I'd promised myself I would never do ended up happening by the actions of others." At that, the producer glanced at the producer and asked, "From what I heard, you said in an interview once that you didn't know Yun Woo in person." "Yes. I participated in an interview before the article turned up. I get a lot of questions about Yun Woo since I'm the same age as him. Although it's not something that I particularly wanna talk about, beggars can't be choosers. In this case, the beggar was the rookie author." "I believe we have a video clip from that interview ready. Let's take a look, shall we?" With that, the video started playing on one of the monitors on set, and the entire audience turned to it in unison, watching the video of the rookie author's interview. The screen was also showing the date and time of the interview. Judging from the looks on the faces within the audience, the video seemed to have successfully convinced them. "So, what do you think, Mr. Woo?" the host said, moving on to Juho, who had decided to put an end to the matter once and for all. "A lot of readers were delighted by Sung Pil's writing during his presentation segment in the exhibition event, including myself. That's something even the name Yun Woo had no control over." It was widely known that the rookie author's presentation had been well received by the public, with which Pyung Jin also agreed. The atmosphere was quite pleasant. All that was left was to turn Sung Pil's reputation around. As if having the same thought, the host moved on to Sung Pil, approaching the questions from a different angle. "How's Yun Woo like as a friend? My guess is that you guys know each other fairly well since you two have been friends since high school. Is there anything juicy that you'd like to share with us?" "Anything juicy?" "You know, like his secrets." At that, the audience erupted into cheers. They were clearly interested in the subject. As Sung Pil sat and stared at the audience in a daze, Juho nudged him on the leg. After which, Sung Pil immersed himself in thought for some time and replied, "Juho's a good runner." "Running, huh?" The response was lukewarm at best. Nevertheless, Sung Pil didn't let up and added, "Whenever we race, he wins six out of ten times." "You mean eight?" Juho said quietly. "No, you're not that fast." "I see. But I was hoping for something a little more… secretive and riveting," the host said, clarifying the kind of answer he was looking for. After thinking a little longer, Sung Pil replied, "There are times when he stares into my eyebrows. I don't think he knows, but I do." At that, Juho chuckled inadvertently. Sung Pil's eyebrows were exceptionally dark, and his heart was hidden deep within him. However, there were those who wanted more from him. That time, the critic stepped in to urge the rookie author. "Is there anything writing-related?" "Writing-related…" Sung Pil murmured, his head dropping lower the longer he got lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, his head sprang back up. "There is something!" "There is?!" Juho let out, waiting for Sung Pil's answer curiously and patiently, not knowing what to expect. "I had a drink with Yun Woo once. I don't know if people are aware of this, but he's particularly exceptional when it comes to describing drunk people or anything that has to do with the subject of alcohol." "Of course. He's been exceptional in that area since he was a minor, which I always found odd," Pyung Jin said, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Then, Sung Pil moved his eyebrows and replied in his low voice, "But Juho doesn't like to drink." "..." It was a widely known fact that the young author didn't enjoy drinking. Paying no attention to the response of those around him, Sung Pil had answered in a serious tone. He wasn't afraid to be himself, even on camera. "Whenever we drink together, he's always sipping on the same drink the entire time. Yet, he knows all about the hardships associated with alcohol. It really comforted my stomach, especially when I was hung over. It was very intriguing." "... Is that it?" "Yes." "Is there anything else…? Like a building or some land he's bought somewhere?" At that, Sung Pil shook his head and said, "I didn't even know that he was going to present an incomplete manuscript." "I don't think anybody did," the critic said. Then, looking toward Juho, he added, "Except Mr. Woo, maybe." Then, the host gave Pyung Jin the opportunity to talk, giving him an opportunity to remember the young author on the stage of the exhibition hall and speak about it. "What stuck out to me right off the bat was the speed with which he came up with those sentences. Yes, speed isn't everything when it comes to writing. One may be a really slow writer, but if they can produce something better that way, than that's the better way to go about writing." Then, catching his breath, the critic on, "The thing to keep in mind here is this: being able to write as fast as Mr. Woo could mean that he requires less thinking. Writing without thinking is much harder than it sounds. One has to be able to ignore everything around and within them, from how the audience is looking at them, the criticisms, the current situations, the ambitions for better sentences, everything." "So, what you're saying is that Mr. Woo writes unhinderedly whether he's onstage, before his readers or not?" the host asked. Then, looking toward Juho and asked, "Are you ever afraid of negative criticism?" Juho shook his head. He was human, which meant that he had to be afraid of it at least to some extent. "I, too, get really hurt and discouraged whenever I get criticized. I always wanna do well. But, I wasn't thinking the way Mr. Lee was describing." "Is it easy to have a mindset like that?" "By no means," Sung Pil replied emphatically on Juho's behalf. "What about you Sung Pil? What kind of mindset did you have while writing that day?" "I just wanted to do a better job than Yun Woo. I was watching his presentation from the second floor along with a few other authors. If I were to describe the atmosphere, it almost felt like I was in Siberia. Everyone felt his lack of concern toward them." Then, just as Juho was about to deny it, Pyung Jin beat him to it and said, "Everyone there felt that way. It got really quiet in the audience too." "His story has also gone viral, which we brought up just a minute ago." At that, a disturbance arose from the audience. Everyone was aware of the kind of story the young author had written during his presentation. As the host read the words on his script, Juho sat still and listened quietly, "And all of a sudden, the story takes a turn. The protagonist's life keeps spiraling downward, beyond the point of recovery." Then, the host brought up the question that had been burning in the minds of the readers, "Why, of all stories, did you decide to present the one where the protagonist named Yun Woo, of all names, goes through a seemingly endless string of failures? I've been very, very curious about that." "Originally, I was supposed to present a different manuscript. But when I saw Sung Pil's presentation, I felt as though I couldn't hold the pent up emotions within me in any longer." "And what kind of emotions are we talking about here?" "If I were to put it into words, they would be a series of emotions that often causes people to misunderstand others, such as jealousy, spite, sense of crisis, empathy, discontentment, consideration, defeat. Things of that nature. Hoping for another person's misfortune, and the kind of bitterness that comes when your attempt to comfort someone turns into hypocrisy depending on where you're standing. I didn't want to hurt anybody, but I didn't wanna get hurt, either." There had been authors who had wanted to outperform Yun Woo. Similarly, there had also been those who had desperately wanted Yun Woo to slip. While there had been those who had longed for an answer from Yun Woo, the young author hadn't given them the answer they had been looking for. It had felt as though everything had tangled together in a knot, and Juho had felt an urgent need to untangle it somehow. "And that's when I thought of a piece of writing that could encapsulate all those emotions within me. So, in the end, it appears that I wrote that manuscript just because I felt like it," Juho said, summing everything up in simple terms. "Most people can't write stories like that even if they want to," Sung Pil murmured quietly. At that moment, Pyung Jin sprung up from his seat, slamming the table in front of him, which shook from the impact. "It wasn't a piece that could be described in such simple terms!" Caught off guard by the critic's unexpected behavior, Juho asked, "I'm sorry?" "The Yun Woo within the novel is anything but admirable. If anything, he's the one being punished. He's the moron who makes foolish decisions from start to finish. His success is as brief as the life of a Petrushka doll, which becomes lifeless as soon as it stops dancing. No matter how great a love it receives, a doll is a doll at the end of the day. It's disappointing AND bleak. The way his life falls apart has a lot in common with the ranting of a straw doll. Nobody listens to it, nor can it affect anything in any way. In the end, which you wrote onstage, he only accepts questions and gives answers about his books, the very subjects of his jealousy." Unlike the critic who had made a long exposition about his spontaneous manuscript, Juho blinked awkwardly, without saying much. "How else could one react to a story like that if not with silence?" Not only was Yun Woo young and healthy, but he was also known for his pure and colorful style of writing. Yet, he had written something that completely contradicted his reputation. The Yun Woo within the novel was a character that nobody could've even thought of. Even those who hated the young author and wished the worst upon him wouldn't dare to describe their hate toward him in the way he had during his presentation. How was Yun Woo capable of writing such a realistic depiction of a failed life? "That story left your readers an emotional mess, yet you are summing up a story like that in a few simple words and in such a nonchalant manner, which leaves me feeling extremely dissatisfied."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl There was desperation in Pyung Jin's voice. Although he clearly wanted something from Juho, the young author didn't have anything to offer. "I understand… but I really wrote that story just because I felt like it." "What made you want to write a story like that?" "Again, I just felt like it." "OK, it seems like we're not on the same page here," Pyung Jin said, his eyes glaring fiercely at the young author. At which point, the host stepped in to diffuse the tension. "I don't think I've ever seen you so worked up, Mr. Lee. Haha!" the host said, looking like he was enjoying the sudden change of pace. However, they were in a taping session for a show that was going to be aired in the near future. Seeing as though Yun Woo wasn't giving any information, the host felt the need to push forward. The critic's question toward the young author was better suited for an informal occasion. "In that case, we can assume that you were under a lot of pressure when you were writing that story, am I right?" the host asked, changing the subject subtly and skillfully, which Juho welcomed. "Right. The other presenting authors had done a remarkable job with their presentations, so I was very nervous. If I hadn't been writing on that particular stage for that particular event, I think the ending to that story would've looked a lot different." The host smiled as Juho finished speaking. Meanwhile, Pyung Jin seemed quite anxious, as if there was more he wanted to talk about with Yun Woo. However, upon seeing the cameras around them, he collected himself. "Now then, let's talk about 'Alexandria.' A very different story from the one you presented onstage, might I add," the host said, and Sung Pil nodded in agreement. Then, the host said to the critic, "Personally, I thought this book was particularly different from most of Mr. Woo's other books." "Especially the overall humorous atmosphere, which is quite removed from Mr. Woo's usual tendency to write pieces that are more serious and mature. 'Trace of a Bird' is often considered to be the purest of Mr. Woo's books, but that wasn't quite like 'Alexandria,' either. The children within the book are pure and innocent when it comes to their interaction with Alexandria, but outside of that interaction, they're anything but, which is precisely why we find 'Alexandria' to be so different and original," the critic said. "What inspired you to go outside the box, Mr. Woo?" "It's just part of my work. Writing a new piece often means having to try new things. This time, I wanted to try to come up with a story that took place within a school," Juho replied to the host. After which, Pyung Jin followed up with a question, asking, "Alexandria is by far, the most prominent change of this book, who is also the readers' most beloved character. How did you come to think of a character like Alexandria? Was there some sort of motive behind it?" Remembering he couldn't say that the character was based on himself, Juho let out a small sigh and replied, "No. I thought of Alexandria as I was eating with other fellow authors. I felt that she was the character with whom I would be able to depict the subject most effectively." At that moment, Sung Pil raised his hand, and Juho stared at him caught off guard by his unexpected behavior. As the host gave him a chance to speak, the rookie author said, "I think the character is very reminiscent of Yun Woo." "What?" Juho asked, but Sung Pil didn't give him an answer. At which point, the critic took the opportunity to chime in, his tie moving about in a threatening manner. "I find that very interesting, Sung Pil. You see, I thought just the opposite. I thought Alexandria was the mirror image of its creator in many ways." "Is that so? Please, do tell us more," the host said, giving the floor to Pyung Jin. At which point, the critic, being the experienced book critic that he was, said, "When we think of the name Yun Woo, the first adjective that comes to mind is 'young.' On the contrary, Alexandria is the oldest person in her school. Although she moves forward in life one step at a time, Mr. Woo rose to the top almost in the blink of an eye, rising to stardom with his debut title and receiving international recognition for his first attempt at a fantasy novel." Nobody had an opposing argument to the critic emphasizing the rate at which the young author's life and career had progressed. "What do you think, Sung Pil? What's your take on the subject matter?" the host asked, looking at him. "Slow wasn't one of the words that came to my mind as I was reading the book. Rather..." "Rather?" "I got a sense of abundance. Her age, her memories, her experience." At that, a subtle response came from the audience. "Not only did she know a lot, but there was just as much she didn't know. There were plenty of things she struggled with and needed to adapt to. On top of that, she also had plenty of ambition and determination." That time, the audience responded more noticeably to the author, as if identifying with his statement. "I felt similarly when I saw Yun Woo. He writes an incredible amount. When we were in high school, something about Juho, in this case, Yun Woo, made me feel like we weren't the same age. He'd almost look better standing behind the podium than sitting at a desk." "Does that mean he was mature?" "No, not exactly," Sung Pil said, turning toward Juho. Then, he started sharing the thoughts he had been having about his friend leading up to that point, saying, "He's just inherently different from me. Like now. He's the same, whether or not he's surrounded by cameras. He's always calm and unfazed. Whenever there's trouble, he's often doing all the damage control." Then, looking up into the air, he added, "If I were Yun Woo, I would've gone around telling people who I was. Think about it. It's a major bragging right, but I also don't have the patience to keep it to myself. Besides, it makes it even more tempting when all of your friends are starting to express interest in writing. But, Yun Woo wasn't like that. He didn't say a word about his identity. I haven't seen him get mad to this day. On the other hand, I couldn't stand that I was getting insulted by people who hardly knew me. This friend of mine really knows how to take a beating, no matter how bad or insulting it gets, all without saying a word. At the same time, I don't think he's holding it in either, which makes him even more mysterious. He's well off, yet, he's never extravagant. He's the most impulsive in the most crucial, urgent moments. He gives up on an award after giving it his best in a contest and comes up with an alternate writing style just to avoid people finding out who he is. All that to say, he's quite the oddball." As the host repeatedly asked the rookie author questions, Juho noticed that he was dragging the subject on. He had to be milking it for as much information on Yun Woo as possible. "So, what are some things that you consider as his flaws?" the host asked in a mischievous tone. At which, Sung Pil replied in a calm tone of voice, "Everything I've said up to this point." The audience burst into laughter. "Is that true?" the host asked, looking at Juho. "I guess that's how he sees me," the young author said evasively. "Bom agrees with me." "Glad to hear that you two have gotten closer," Juho said. Bom and Sung Pil had to have talked about him at some point. "Now, it's getting personal!" Pyung Jin said with a satisfied smile, and applause came from the audience. Although Juho wasn't sure why they were applauding, the audience seemed to be welcoming something. Thankfully, Sung Pil didn't know any sensitive information about Juho. However, the young author wasn't used to another person talking about him. As he scratched his cheek, feeling somewhat awkward, the host asked, "You go over to Mr. Woo's house from time to time, don't you? Sung Pil replied, "Yes." "Do you ever come across a manuscript for a novel that hasn't been released yet?" "No, that's never happened." "Do you two talk about each other's writing often?" "Hm… I'm not sure," Sung Pil said, dragging on and looking toward Juho. At which point, the young author took over and said, "I feel like we used to talk about my writing a lot more before he knew I was Yun Woo." "Ah, that makes sense. There had to have been times when he talked openly about your books in front of you, then. "Right. We ran into each other at a bookstore once while he was buying a Yun Woo book. That was when 'Sound of Wailing' had just come out." Pyung Jin seemed quite intrigued. After a brief summary of the situation, Juho kept on, "And he started reading in front of me. I felt kind of uncomfortable, so I tried to give him subtle cues to stop reading, but he just kept going." "It was Yun Woo's new book. How could I not?" Sung Pil interjected. "So, did he have anything bad to say about the book?" "I highly doubt that. There aren't enough good things to say about 'Sound of Wailing,'" Pyung Jin said quietly. "If anything, Juho was the harshest to himself, more than anybody," Sung Pil said, reminiscing to that time. Of course, being the sharp person that he was, Pyung Jin wasn't going to let that slide. "Was he now?" he asked. "Yes. Back then, I just thought he really didn't like Yun Woo. Unlike with other authors, he became really harsh when it came to Yun Woo. Now that I think about it, maybe he had been preparing for that stage all along." "Mr. Woo has always been modest," the host said and since he couldn't deny it completely, Juho smiled awkwardly. The young author was always thinking about his failure. At that moment, he felt a piercing gaze from the critic, glaring intently at him as if observing him. Upon glancing over at him briefly, Juho looked away. Meanwhile, considering the time and the situation, the host moved on to the next segment of the show. "Now, the moment we've all been waiting for is finally here! The Q&A!" At that, the audience erupted into cheers and applause. Judging from the questionnaire in the hands of every member of the audience, it was clear that they had a lot of questions. Each member of the audience had been given a number prior to the taping, and the host was to pick a number at random, giving the respective person the chance to speak. "Could we get the microphone to the gentleman over there?" the host said, and a microphone was given to a certain member of the audience. After briefly introducing himself, the audience member went straight to the question. "So, I was at the exhibition event not too long ago and watched the presentation, and I was quite moved by Mr. Woo's writing process. I was just blown away by his speed and the precision in his writing." "Ah, I can only imagine. So, what kind of question do you have for Mr. Woo today?" "I was wondering if you've ever found yourself getting distressed or upset in any way while writing such a tragic story like that. That story was actually quite frightening, even for the audience." "That's a good question," the critic murmured. Upon finishing the question, the audience member put the microphone down, and the host repeated a short summary of his question back to him, which was, 'Does writing a self-deprecating story like that have an emotional effect on the author?' After some contemplation, the young author replied, "If I were to get straight to the point, no, I didn't mind one bit. I didn't feel upset or bothered in any way." That time, the host asked a question, "Even if it was about you?" "It wasn't about me, actually. It just so happened that the protagonist had the same name as me. It'd be slightly far-fetched to say that I was depicting myself in that story. Me being here, onset, today is the proof of that," Juho replied, shaking his head. "But don't you get anxious still? Insecure that what happened in the story might happen to you in real life?" "Sure. That's one way of putting it, but it's hardly any different from what I feel while reading a novel with a tragic ending. A dystopian novel, for example." Although the story had been born from a place of anxiety, his writing was proof that he had digested his emotions. At the same time, it was also both depiction and expression. As Juho clarified, the host asked no further about it. "OK. Let's move on. Next person," the host said, picking another number at random. That time, the audience member who rose from the seat was a middle-aged woman, who kept looking to her side as if she had come with her daughter. "So, I read 'Alexandria' fairly recently. It was the first book I've read in thirty years, but I just couldn't put it down. Before I knew it, I ended up reading all of your books, Mr. Woo." "Wow! That's dedication! So, what did you want to know about Mr. Woo, ma'am? You have the chance to ask the question that's been burning in your mind! Ask away!" At that, the audience member asked in a serious tone, "I wanted to know what the characters' lives would look like after the story."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl After reading 'Alexandria,' the certain member of the audience found herself yearning to read it all over again. Although the story was only a book cover away, her chest ached as though she had gone through a heartrending breakup. The fact that the book was no longer new to her was, in some sense, equivalent to a breakup. She wanted to get to know Alexandria better, imagining the protagonist's life and identifying with it. She wanted the story to last just a little longer. It was clear that she had grown quite attached to the character. Whenever she would bring up the name Alexandria, her face lit up, as if talking about a friend who she hadn't seen in ages. "I wanted to ask about Alexandria in particular. I think I've grown really attached to her. Does she ever graduate from school? Does she ever get a job?" Her questions also stirred up curiosity among the other members of the audience around her. The novel only contained one particular year of Alexandria's life, which she had spent at school, leaving readers guessing as to how her life turned out. After some contemplation, Juho replied, "I'm sure she'll part ways with her classmates and make new friends as she goes up a grade. She'll probably find herself desiring after new things and she'll work toward that like she's always done." "How long does she live for?" the member of the audience asked curiously and concernedly. "You know, I never thought about that! How far do you go with character development?" the host asked curiously. Of course, Juho had also thought about the end of Alexandria's life. Humans were bound to die at some point in their lives, and this principle remained true in the novel. Although Alexandria had still been full of vigor when Juho had first met her, there was no promise that she would be the same if he were to see her again. Looking toward the member of the audience, Juho gave an honest answer. "That, I don't know." "But… you're the author," the audience member said, implying that he should have an answer as the creator of the character. However, the young author was not nearly as capable and all-knowing as the audience member had assumed. He had no idea of when Alexandria would meet her demise. Her death wasn't something he had had in mind when he had first created her. While a part of him wanted her to be around forever, another part of him had actually made it a reality, which was further proof that he wasn't a god. "All I know is that there are moments when I feel that her life is nearing the end. Whenever she forebodes her own death, I put it into writing. It's a premonition, so you never really know what could happen until it actually does." When Alexandria complained to him, as the author, Juho listened. "Couldn't you write a sequel?" the audience member said, and the people around him weighed in to her suggestion by erupting into applause. People wanted more of the story. "I can't say," Juho said ambiguously. At which, Pyung Jin added, "I'm sure Mr. Woo will when the times comes." "Haha, I agree." At that moment, a shout came from the audience, "What about 'Language of God?'" "Come again?" the host asked, and the same voice replied in an even louder voice, "The 'Language of God' series!" "Ah, 'Language of God.'" "Yeah!" At the mention of Yun Woo's longest and most epic series, the audience looked at Juho with even more interest. Similarly, the host turned and looked toward the young author. "'Language of God' is definitely the book that's most appealed to the masses. What do you have to say to your readers, Mr. Woo? Should they expect good news?" Juho felt conflicted seeing the anticipation in the eyes within the audience. Since he didn't have any solidified plans, he couldn't give a solid answer, which left him to give the same answer he always gave, "... It's hard to say." At that, the audience started grumbling, and the host leveraged that atmosphere, rushing him for an answer, "Can't you give any specifics? I'm pretty sure the world is watching." "I guess I really have to think about what I say then." "Maybe just a snippet? Is there a story you have in mind? A direction that you wanted to take?" "Ah! That, I have." "What is it?" Although it was still an idea that was yet to even take shape, there was a part of the series that Juho had always wanted to expound on. Noticing the camera focusing on him, Juho replied, "I'd focus on the past more than the future." The story of the four companions within 'Language of God' had long been over. Although it wouldn't necessarily be a bad idea to have the same characters to go on a whole new journey, Juho wanted to focus more on the past and the history of the cultures the four companions experienced during their journey. The languages of those cultures had been slightly more complicated and somewhat ambiguous during their transitional period in the past, which was precisely the time period Juho wanted to focus on. It was the period in which the development of the languages was at its peak. "Is there going to be any backstory for God? Or the traitor for that matter?" Pyung Jin asked, obviously well acquainted with the book. The mythology within the series had been the most integral part of the novel, which provided readers a picture of what the past Juho wanted to focus on looked like even after generations had passed. "Perhaps. Perhaps not." The audience grumbled at the author's ambiguous answer again. Although Juho didn't want to disappoint his readers, there was no other answer he could give them since nothing was set in stone. Clenching his hands into fists, the host expressed his discontentment. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it seems like there's still hope, right? Let's wait just a little longer." At that, the audience gave an affirmative answer in loud unison. A story that took place in the same world as 'Language of God.' Although Juho tried playing around with the idea in his head, nothing came to him. "Next person?" "Here!" another member of the audience responded as they were given the microphone. A man of small stature, he was wearing a pair of glasses. "I loved the film adaptation of 'Trace of a Bird.' My understanding is that Myung Joo Mu, from the movie, was at your signing event recently. Are you still close with the actors and actresses in the movie?" "That did happen!" "That's a good one! A lot of people have been wanting to know about that!" Questions about the movie, 'Trace of a Bird,' were quite common. Not only had the movie been commercially successful, but it had also been critically acclaimed, which had been proven by the fans of the original novel recognizing its film adaptation. After some thought, Juho said, "Honestly, I don't see any of them that often. I was still anonymous when the movie was still in production, so we hardly ever met in person." Yun Woo's face hadn't been known to the public back then, and Juho had wanted his identity to remain hidden. "Besides, I had no intention of being part of the production. I just wanted to be able to enjoy the movie as another viewer. So, at the end of the day, the position I was in wasn't all that different from the one everyone else in here was. I'm just another fan of the movie." "Do you keep in touch with the actors and actresses?" "Occasionally." "Did you really not know that Myung Joo Mu was gonna be at your signing?" "No, I didn't. I was genuinely caught off guard when I saw him too." From then on, after receiving a few more questions, Juho answered them with sincerity. Then, as the microphone went to the last person, the audience member asked, "Do you consider Sung Pil your rival?" Looking at his friend, who was sitting next to him, Juho replied, "I remember growing kidney beans for a school project once. Whenever I think about that, I realize just how much my friend here has in common with those beans." Sung Pil's eyebrows winced at Juho's unexpected analogy. Paying no attention to it, Juho kept on, "Once you plant the bean, you don't see anything but dirt the first day. But the next day, the bean already starts sprouting, and the next day, the stalk starts to come up, and the following day, the leaves start growing. All that happens within the span of one week." Looking at the pace it grew, the bean looked like it had taken root as though it would grow into the sky. "I've never seen a plant backing away from something. Sung Pil's writing is kind of like that, which keeps me on my toes." Pyung Jin exclaimed quietly, impressed. Meanwhile, with his eyes widened, the host asked Sung Pil, "Mr. Woo seems to have a lot of good things to say about your writing! What do you have to say, Sung Pil?" "I'm already aware that Yun Woo's been keeping me in check," he said. At which point, the critic's exclamation turned into a subtle chuckle. Nevertheless, the rookie author didn't let up, "And I'm gonna do my best to overcome the burden that gets put on me by my friend here." As the segment came to an end, the audience erupted into applause. Indicative of the show's title, the topic naturally moved on to the subject of books. "Is there a book that you guys have particularly enjoyed recently?" "I like to binge read books written by the same author. I read 'One Room' by Seo Joong Ahn again recently and I found myself completely hooked," Sung Pil said, beating Juho to it. "Ah! I remember discussing that book!" the host said, weighing in on Sung Pil's recent obsession. "Have you ever met him in person?" "No," Sung Pil said. "What about you, Mr. Woo? You know him personally, don't you? You two have even published a book together." "I do," Juho said, nodding. "You should introduce your friend to Mr. Ahn one of these days!" the host said, an idea that Juho didn't find to be bad. "I think I will," Juho said. Then, the critic immediately followed up with another question, "What about you, Mr. Woo? Is there a book that's left a deep impression on you?" "'The Full Moon,'" Juho said without hesitation. As if welcoming his answer, Pyung Jin's eyes sparkled with interest. "'The Full Moon' is a book that reminded readers of Mr. Lim's amazing talent. It's very popular among the younger generation as well. It seems that you've enjoyed it yourself, Mr. Woo." "I didn't just enjoy it. I got so sucked in that I forgot about writing my own book," Juho said. "Do you meet with Mr. Lim in person often?" the host asked the young author, curious about his relationship with the literary great. However, they weren't quite close enough for Juho to be able to brag about it. Although he shook his head, the host didn't let up. While Juho was thinking about changing the subject, another person came to mind. "Actually, there's this novel that I've been really looking forward to." "Really? Please, do tell," the host said, looking somewhat reluctant to move on. Nevertheless, that was exactly what Juho wanted him to do. "Did you hear anything about Geun Woo Yoo?" "Not that I can remember… Is he coming out with a new book? He's in the same club as you, isn't he?" "Yes, he is." Before moving on to the next topic, the host took time to briefly mention the author. "He's known for being one of Yun Seo Baek's pupils. He's written a successful debut title by using the jarring subject of cannibalism and he's also known for his participation in the literary magazine, 'The Beginning and the End.'" "Right. When I checked last time, he had recently announced the release date for his book," Juho said. However, there was no response from the audience whatsoever. Only Pyung Jin nodded in agreement. "He told me a little bit about the story not too long ago, and it was quite interesting. I'm planning on going to the bookstore and buying it the day it's released," Juho said. "Mr. Yoo's writing tends to drag a little," the critic said. "And it's that depressing vibe his writing carries that I really like. You see, his worries and concerns really shine in his writing. He excels at writing about subjects like fascism or nationalism too. He might sound pitiful in his writing, but it's not exactly ominous, either. He might sound weak and vulnerable, but he's unyielding at the same time. Timid, yet bold. What I really admire about him is that he's not afraid to dive into the very things he regrets to bring about a story. A story written by such an interesting person is bound to draw the readers' attention. As for me, I won't think twice about buying Geun Woo Yoo's book when it comes out." "Sounds to me like you're a fan." "Yes, I am." From then on, they talked about Geun Woo just a little longer, and Sung Pill shared that he had also read Geun Woo's book. "Now, I hate to be the one to say this, but we're all out of time for today. Why don't we wrap up with one last question?" the host said. Then, looking away from his script, he asked, "How would you like to be remembered by your readers in the future?" At that moment, Juho noticed the cameras focusing on him, capturing every subtle change in his expression. Clenching his lips tightly on purpose, he replied, "I gotta try not to be forgotten, first of all." "That's just silly! How can anybody forget your name?" As the idle talk around them faded away, the question went to Sung Pil, who repeated the same answer from his first interview. Finally, with the host's energetic closing remark, the taping session came to an end. "Wonder how this will turn out," Sung Pil said. To which, Juho answered confidently, "I'd say pretty OK."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl 'Finally! Yun Woo Makes an Appearance in 'The Great Book Club!'' 'The Truth is Out! Sung Pil Appears in 'The Great Book Club.'' 'A Special Guest? An Unexpected Appearance in the Yun Woo Special.' 'Q&A Session in 'The Great Book Club.' Yun Woo Answers Burning Questions from his Fans.' 'Who is Yun Woo? A Closer Look.' 'The Youthfulness of a Twenty-Year-Old Author. 'The Great Book Club' Reveals the Mystery That Is Yun Woo's Personal Life.' 'First Entertainment Show Appearance! Yun Woo's Eloquence Leaves Fans Charmed.' 'The Secrets Behind Yun Woo's Writing? A Closer Look at His Talent.' 'A Closer Look at Yun Woo's Spontaneous Ending for His Story at the Exhibition Event's Presentation.' 'Behind-the-Scenes Story of the Presentation? Yun Woo Shares His Experience.' 'The Moment We've All Been Waiting For! Yun Woo Finally Appears on TV!' '"Alexandria" According to Yun Woo, and How He Approaches His Characters.' 'The Fans React to 'The Great Book Club: Yun Woo Special.' The Show's Viewership Hits an All-Time High!' 'The Truth Behind Sung Pil's Friendship with Yun Woo. Sung Pil Wasn't Trying to Take Advantage of Their Friendship.' 'Sung Pil Shares Information about His High School Friend, Yun Woo. Fans Fired Up with Excitement.' 'Sung Pil's Interview Prior to His Friendship with Yun Woo Going Public Revealed. 'I Don't Know Him in Person.'' ''The Full Moon,' by Hyun Do Lim, the Book That Left a Deep Impression on Yun Woo. What Is It About?' 'Geun Woo Yoo, the Author Praised by Yun Woo. Who Is He? The Web Goes Wild.' 'Geun Woo Yoo's New Release on the Rise. What Happened?' 'Geun Woo Yoo, a Pupil of Yun Seo Baek, Rises to Fame Overnight after Yun Woo's Mention of Him.' 'Who is Geun Woo Yoo? "We Wrote Together at One Point." One of the Participating Authors of the Literary Magazine "The Beginning and the End."' "Oh! Yun Woo! On TV! Finally!" "He's finally on 'The Great Book Club!' Pyung Jin Lee must be having the time of his life." "I wanted to see Yun Woo on that show so badly. It's just priceless to see your favorite author on your favorite show." "The stuff they were talking about was really interesting too. Sung Pil was on the show too! It turns out, it was the reporter who stirred the pot." "Sung Pil probably went through hell after that. Poor guy." "I was watching his original interview, and the interviewer was trying so desperately to tie him to Yun Woo. What's even more impressive is that Sung Pil doesn't ever mention Yun Woo, not once." "I didn't even know who that was. I just thought he was known for being Yun Woo's friend." "That was the vibe that most articles up to this point gave off." "You know what's funny? People were in love with him after his presentation at the exhibition event, but they start trash-talking the guy as soon as they found out that the two were friends." "Personally, I loved Sung Pil's presentation. I believe the story is getting made into a book. It won't be long before everyone realizes that he has more than what it takes to make it as an author, with or without Yun Woo." "Sung Pil was the first one to get people to cheer like that." "Am I the only one who's in love with his eyebrows?" "His eyebrows are hilarious. Apparently, Yun Woo has been staring at them the entire time they've known each other." "Can we talk about his age for a second? This guy is YOUNG. He's super talented for his age. He just happened to debut at a bad time. As in, when Yun Woo's around." "I agree. People tend to underestimate him, especially when he's standing side-by-side with Yun Woo. He's already publishing a second story at the age of twenty for goodness sake!" "I just read Geun Woo Yoo's book, actually. Super depressing, but super good. Now, I see why Yun Woo loves him so much." "I loved his book on cannibalism. I think it's the epitome of who Geun Woo Yoo is as an author." "His books ARE depressing, but he takes something as jarring and frightening as cannibalism and creates something so beautifully harmonious." "His books are moving up lists across all online bookstores." "This goes to show how influential Yun Woo's words can be. Let's be honest, how many people even knew about him before Yun Woo brought up his name?" "I'm sure there were quite a few people who'd read his short story in 'The Beginning and the End,' but it probably wasn't all that popular." "Every single author in that magazine knows what they're doing, so they each have their own fanbase. Personally, I'm on team Dae Soo Na." "I think it's because Geun Woo Yoo debuted last of that group. He's published the least number of books, too." "I fully intend on buying that book Yun Woo mentioned. I'd love to see more of Geun Woo Yoo's books." --- "Thanks." At Geun Woo's exceedingly serious and heavy tone of voice, Juho couldn't help but chuckle. "About what?" "Giving me a shoutout." Geun Woo had been stoked as of late. Since the show had aired, Geun Woo had become one of the most popular names on the internet. His name was constantly being mentioned, even as he and Yun Woo were speaking, as people discussed his older stories and the new story that was about to be published. "I'm not used to all this attention, but it sure feels good to get recognized," Geun Woo said. However, his fame also meant that Juho wouldn't be able to see his usually exhausted and depressed expression as much. "I've never been gladder to know you," Geun Woo said. "I hardly did anything. I only brought up your name because you're a good writer. Others who've read your books would agree with me." If Geun Woo hadn't been all that great of a writer, it wouldn't have occurred to Juho to even mention his name. Even if he had mentioned him then, the fans wouldn't have responded even remotely as intensely as they were currently. Geun Woo's recognition was the fruit of his labor. "I guess that's true," Geun Woo said, chuckling awkwardly. Then, the air sank into silence shortly after. "My book is already going into its second printing, even when it's still in the pre-order stage. This must be what it's like to live in your world." As Geun Woo grew somber, Juho also remained quiet. Soon, along with some noise in the background, Geun Woo's voice came from the receiver of Juho's phone once again. "But…" he said, sounding as depressed as his usual self. "If this book doesn't do well, then none of this will last, will it?" Blinking awkwardly for a brief moment, Juho replied, "That goes without saying." "Aghhh…!" Geun Woo let out. "I thought you were confident in your book?" "I was until suddenly I became the center of attention. I wasn't expecting to be the talk of the town like this. You don't think the book will flop, do you?" "I doubt it. You put a lot of time and effort into it." "That, I did. I remember being satisfied with the result. My publisher liked the manuscript too. But why am I so anxious?" "Beats me." "... You know what? It's gonna be fine. I'm proud of how it turned out this time." As Juho listened to him haphazardly, he remembered Geun Woo's past out of nowhere. Geun Woo had almost thrown the manuscript of his successful debut title away at one point. There was no end to his discouragement. In order to prevent him from getting any worse, Juho comforted him… "It'll be OK. Joon Soo thinks you did a remarkable job." "Does he now? When did he say this?... Wait, no, no. He knows me too well. There's no way he looked at my writing from an objective perspective." … Although, his words turned out to be less than effective. "What happens now?" "What do you mean?" "The pressure is getting unbearable! I feel like I'm getting crushed!" 'I thought he was thanking me just me now,' Juho thought to himself, confused. "What if my book is a massive disappointment? What if I let everyone down?" "Then, that's that." "How are you so nonchalant!? Is it because it's none of your business?" "OK, Geun Woo, let's think about your situation for a little bit. You were on cloud nine just now, but you got sad and depressed all of a sudden, right? That also means the opposite can happen. And, before you know it, you'll start feeling better. You don't have to make this harder for yourself." At that, Geun Woo's frivolous response came from Juho's receiver. "I can't take this! I'm still anxious and I don't know what to do with myself. I'm gonna try giving my editor a ring. I'm hanging up, now. Thanks!" Thanking Juho at the last minute, Geun Woo hung up the phone. 'Guess that's just who he is,' Juho thought to himself, carelessly putting his phone on his desk, imagining Geun Woo regretting his attitude on the phone with Juho as his book turned into a massive success. "All right then, time to get to work," Juho said, stretching his hands and reaching for a pen. He had been in the middle of writing about freedom, writing down any sentence that came to mind. The bigger his stacks of failed manuscripts became, the closer he got to the release date of Geun Woo's book. --- "My books have been selling several times more than before," Sung Pil said. Since the show had aired, his debut title had been selling at an increasing rate. After his appearance on 'The Great Book Club,' the rookie author had made several TV appearances, as well as a good number of interviews. "I wasn't expecting my book to become a bestseller after being on TV. I realized then just how powerful Yun Woo and the media could be. And how important it is to promote yourself." "The name Yun Woo is definitely a great promotional tool." "It is so weird. My story is getting printed in massive quantities, put on display in the most visible spots in bookstores. What's even weirder is that people are buying it." Looking at Sung Pil, Juho asked, "You go to the bookstore a lot these days, huh?" Juho asked. "... For this and that. While I'm there, I get some books." "I know where you're coming from. I also used to go a lot when my book first came out." "A lot of people have been asking me about you…" Because of his friendship with Yun Woo, Sung Pil quickly found himself being the main target of the curious fans who wanted to know more about his mysterious author friend. Not only were they curious about their stories, which they had mentioned on TV, but they also tried to get more information on Yun Woo through the rookie author. "... But that's nothing new." "You mean it's happened before? When was this?" Juho asked, unsure as to when it could've happened. At which, Sung Pil replied in his usual brusque tone of voice, "Remember the time when I got your award instead of you in that contest? One of the professors who handed me the trophy had a lot of questions, asking me about your whereabouts, if you were really not at the ceremony, if I knew anything about you, or what you looked like." "This is the first time I'm hearing about this." "That's because I'm telling it to you for the first time. I told him that I didn't know, and that was when he congratulated me. I gotta say, those were probably the most insincere congratulations I've ever gotten. That's when I thought to myself that I wanted to include that in one of my novels in the future." While Juho was conflicted as to whether he should be laughing or crying, the expression on Sung Pil's face didn't change one bit. In the end, letting out a small sigh, Juho said, "I guess that means we just do things the way we've always done." "Yep." Although the two found themselves in a situation different from the past, it hardly had an effect on their course of action. Sung Pil was still Juho's friend, and he still went over to his friend's house on a fairly regular basis. At that moment, as Sung Pil nodded, the doorbell rang, and it wasn't hard to guess who was on the other side of the door. "I'm here!" Bom said, greeting the two with a black plastic bag in one of her hands, which appeared to be filled with bottles judging from the clinking sound that came from it. "How many did you get?" Juho asked. Then, spreading four of her fingers, she replied, "Just enough, right?" "Yep," Sung Pil said. Bom had come over to Juho's house in order to celebrate Sung Pil's debut title becoming the bestseller. With alcohol, of course. Watching Sung Pil and Bom start taking and pulling the bottles out of the bag without delay, Juho also picked up a glass for himself. At which, Sung Pil asked, "Are you gonna drink?" "You see, I read a book recently that made me crave a drink," Juho said, fiddling about with his glass. "Really? Which book?" "The one I'd been looking forward to," Juho said, and Sung Pil caught on to it immediately. "But it hasn't been released yet, has it?!" "Oh, he sent me a few copies. I'll give you one later if you want." "Sure." "What are you guys talking about? Which book?" Bom asked, looking confused. "The book that will make Geun Woo Yoo one of the finest authors around," Juho replied. Then, he raised his glass, filled it with soju, stared briefly at the surface of the liquid bulging from the top, and emptied the glass. Meanwhile, his two friends stared intently at the young author and his unusual behavior. The sensation of the alcohol going down the throat was reminiscent of the feeling that Geun Woo's new book carried. With that, the young author flipped his glass upside down and said, "OK, I'm done. I'm gonna drink some water." "That's it?! I thought you were gonna drink with us?" "Nah. I care about my health," Juho said, washing the alcohol down in his throat with water. Meanwhile, his two friends filled each other's glass and changed the subject. "Man, the class went on forever today!" Bom said, grumbling, adding that there had been mention of Sung Pil's name during class. "The professor really seems to like you." "He treated me to some food along with a few seniors, too." "... That sounds uncomfortable." "The food was good, though." As if she couldn't imagine herself in that picture, Bom shook her head. "Well, tell me about your presentations." "There's not much to tell." "C'mooon," she said, narrowing her eyes. Instead of attending the event, she had been working on a piece of writing of her own. "Were you nervous at all?" "A little bit." "I just wanted to beat him," Sung Pil said. "Were you able to see the faces in the audience?" "I don't remember." "Yes, I was." "Did anyone try to barge onto the stage?" "If anyone had, you'd have already read about it on the news." "There was someone who shouted while Juho was presenting." Bom asked an array of questions. The more questions they answered, the less drink remained in the bottles. As the number of empty bottles grew, Juho sipped on his water. "It felt good, didn't it?" Bom asked Sung Pil, who seemed clueless as to what she was referring to. "When people cheered for you. Your books are flying off the shelves. You're practically following in Yun Woo's footsteps." An ambiguous look appeared on Sung Pil's face. However, he didn't deny it. "I was so anxious when this whole scandal between you and Juho broke out. But hey, everything worked out! I don't know who's behind writing the article that started all of that, but I'm sure he's not gonna be happy about it," Bom said with a cheerful smile, similar to Sung Pil, who was smiling more subtly. "I'm sure tomorrow morning you won't be happy about how much you had to drink, either," Juho said, warning her as she guzzled down her drink. Of course, Bom paid no attention to her friend.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I should've just stayed home," Sung Pil murmured, letting out a small sigh. No matter how hard he tried, his queasy stomach kept him from paying attention in class. Feeling like throwing up, he walked out of the classroom and sat by the stairs. Although he had felt fine when he had woken up that morning, reading a certain book just before breakfast had proved troublesome. Despite feeling like the words had kept floating about before his eyes, Sung Pil simply hadn't been able to put the book down. "I drank way too much yesterday," he said, regretting his decisions from the day before. The physical education majors were playing soccer in the distance, shouting something. The sight of the ball rolling across the field alone was enough to make Sung Pil feel even more nauseous. He massaged his temples in an attempt to improve his state, but to no avail, which inevitably put him in a bad mood. At that moment... "Hey! You're that Sung Pil, aren't you?" … Somebody called to the rookie author. When he looked back, he saw somebody with a bushy bleached hairdo, an upperclassman who Sung Pil barely knew. "Heard you're friends with Yun Woo?" he asked in a friendly manner, and Sung Pil was very well aware of why the upperclassman was even talking to him. As if completely oblivious to the apparent look of suffering on Sung Pil's face, he walked toward the rookie author and stood in front of him. Looking up at the upperclassman, who was standing against the Sun, was quite daunting in the state Sung Pil was in. "Let me talk to him on the phone, will ya?" the upperclassman asked. At which, Sung Pil couldn't help but furrow his brow, feeling provoked, all without a way to control it. It wasn't just the hangover, either. He remembered the book he had read that same morning. In it, was a sense of inferiority and defeat. Sung Pil was well acquainted with the emotions within the book, and the entire story felt like he'd been reading about his own life. Geun Woo's writing had caused the rookie author to reflect on everything he had gone through up to that point in his life. "Weren't you talking trash about me not too long ago?" "Wha-?" "Saying that I was taking advantage of Yun Woo?" The upperclassman had been among the group of people who had insulted the rookie author for his friendship with Yun Woo. As if feeling exposed, he brushed his hair up with his fingers, which was much too stiff and messy to keep in control. "That wasn't me," he said insincerely and without a care in the world. Sung Pil remembered having had trouble tolerating a situation like that when had was younger. He couldn't ignore it, either. He hadn't been able to stand people whose words and actions weren't in sync with each other. Their presence alone had often been highly bothersome. Now, for the first time in a very long time, he found himself revisiting those emotions. "No," Sung Pil said, deeply annoyed. "Why not??" "I'll throw up on you if you keep bothering me." However, the upperclassman didn't let up despite the rookie author's warning. "Must be nice having Yun Woo as a friend." "Yes, quite so." "Does he ever buy you stuff?" At that moment, Sung Pil sprung up from his seat. He had no time or energy to deal with the insensitive upperclassman. As Sung Pil wretched toward him, the upperclassman leapt back, frightened. In the state Sung Pil was in, throwing up was as easy as shaving his eyebrows off. Fully intending on vomiting all over the upperclassman, the rookie author charged at him. At which, the upperclassman kept backing up until he fell on his back, making a scene. Looking down at him, a thought, which felt more like the book talking to him, occurred to Sung Pil. It said, 'This is why you don't get along with others.' "Here, I have some tissues," the upperclassman said as he got back up and took a few pieces of tissue out of his bag, which was something he would have more need for if Sung Pil were to vomit on him. Looking at the crumpled up tissues in the upperclassman's hand, Sung Pil couldn't help but feel empty inside. Letting out a small sigh, he took the tissues, almost as if snatching them. "I better drink some water." Walking out of the campus, Sung Pil made his way to the convenience store. Although he didn't want to eat or drink anything, he needed something with which to comfort his stomach. After pretending to retch, he was actually starting to feel like vomiting. "Maybe I should just take something instead," he said, changing direction midway. Since neither of the places was too far off, he decided to go to the pharmacy instead. Upon seeing him, the pharmacist offered him a hangover recovery drink and a can of some beverage, as if well acquainted with young, hungover customers like Sung Pil. He took the pill and swallowed it almost immediately. "You're that author, aren't you?" the pharmacist asked after staring intently at him. "You're friends with Yun Woo, right?" "Yes." "Heard he's a good writer. Is that true?" "Yes." The pharmacist chuckled, as if finding Sung Pil's answer funny. "It's hard being around a friend who's so successful, isn't it?" "Not really." "I was like that when I was younger, too. I was an aspiring singer. You see, I had a rival." Sung Pil looked up at the pharmacist at the word rival. However, being completely oblivious about where the rookie author's interest lay, the pharmacist kept on with his life story. "I didn't stand a chance against him. He's still goin' strong. Do you know that one singer? That's my friend. You wanna see a picture?" "Sure," Sung Pil said, looking at the picture the pharmacist was showing him of someone who the rookie author didn't recognize. The shiny jacket was about the only memorable thing. "I went through some tough times. I was so jealous of his talent." "I see," Sung Pil replied haphazardly. However, the pharmacist didn't let up. "I still found my own path, though. However, this friend of mine, he might be successful, but nowhere near as successful as Yun Woo. Something tells me that you're in a much more difficult position than the one I was in." "Not really." "Stand tall, young man. Don't lose hope." Although Sung Pil couldn't understand what the pharmacist was talking about, he gave an affirmative answer since he didn't want to talk any longer. As he put the empty bottle in the trash can, the pharmacist asked, "You don't think you could get me an autograph from him, do you?" Feeling his patience reaching its limits, the rookie author said, "I'm throwing up right here, right now." "No way! Not here! There's a restroom in the next building over!" the pharmacist said, handing Sung Pil a black plastic bag. Taking the bag, the rookie author made his way to the next building, feeling as though the world around him was spinning. After debuting and starting to make a name for himself, Sung Pil had just begun to realize what it meant to be part of the literary world. Yun Woo wasn't the only talented author. In fact, there were a slew of authors who were significantly more talented than Sung Pil. "Now, I see why you don't drink," Sung Pil said, stopping under a gingko tree on the street, burying his face in the black plastic bag and thinking that he'd feel better once he poured everything out. 'I'm gonna start writing as soon as I sober up,' he thought to himself. Of all books, Juho had lauded a book that had a massive lingering emotional impact, which made Sung Pil wonder if Juho had known about the effect of the book all along. 'I can't let success get to my head. There are so many more people who deserve to be more successful than me. If I wanna protect what I have, then I have to put up a fight.' "One heck of a friend I have," Sung Pil said, pouring everything out into the plastic bag, along with the sense of inferiority and defeat welling up from within. --- "Hey," an exhausted voice greeted Juho as he walked into the studio. When the young author looked down, he saw Geun Woo lying in the middle of the room. "Are you sick?" Juho asked, and Geun Woo waved his hand weakly in denial. All of his things were scattered about the room as if he had been cleaning, which made the room seem quite untidy. Putting the gift he had brought for Geun Woo down, Juho added to the untidy state of the room. "Brought you a bottle of wine." "Thanks." It was to celebrate the release of Geun Woo's new book. The voice Juho had heard on the phone was nowhere to be found. Instead, the author was lying on the floor absentmindedly, like a marathon runner who just passed the finish line. Every time he inhaled, his stomach bulged up. "Seems like you are in the middle of cleaning your room." "Yep. I wanted to organize the manuscript papers that had been stacking around the room." "I'll help." "Fine by me," Geun Woo said, nodding willingly and getting back up to his feet. However, his hands were quite slow. Since they weren't his manuscripts, Juho couldn't even categorize them, which forced him to keep a similar pace to Geun Woo's. "Can you hand me that box over there?" "This one?" "The one next to it." Taking a large cardboard box, Juho handed it to Geun Woo, who proceeded to tape the bottom of it. The tape made a loud noise as Geun Woo pulled it away from the roll. "Gotta throw everything out." Geun Woo had already thrown out most of his old manuscripts. Although there were some he would stare at intently, as if reminiscing to the time when he wrote what was on the pages, he started picking them up by the bunches shortly after and putting them in the cardboard box, almost as if finding them cumbersome. "What if you lose an important piece of data?" "It's fine. I keep them separate from the manuscripts," Geun Woo said confidently, laying on the floor again. "Are you done? It hasn't even been that long." "I'm tired. Let's not worry about cleaning for now. Besides, I shouldn't be cleaning when I have a guest." "That's a decent excuse," Juho said, sitting on the doorway while watching the dust particles sparkling in the sun and escaping through the open window. "Lazy day?" "I just feel like I've used up everything I had." A breeze blew into the room through the window, blowing on Geun Woo's hair. "Did you read it?" "I did." After a brief pause, Geun Woo asked, "What did you think?" Looking at the bottle of wine he had brought, Juho replied, "Good enough to make me crave a drink." As if checking to see if the young author was telling the truth, Geun Woo looked toward the doorway at Juho, looking livelier than ever. "You? Drink?" "I only had one though." "One as in one can of beer?" "No, as in one glass. A glass of soju." "What? Who drinks like that?" Geun Woo said, chuckling. However, he didn't seem particularly offended. Looking at his chest moving up and down, Juho asked, "That was me, huh?" "Who?" "The one with the iron stomach." "Haha! Did you recognize yourself?" There were a variety of characters in Geun Woo's novel: an idiot, a maniac, a romantic, a white supremacist, an enthusiast, and a genius. "C'mon! A genius with an iron stomach? Really?" Not only was the character the most peculiar, but he was also the most absurd, the most riveting, and the most colorful. "But he's a genius, isn't he? Everybody wants to be like him." "He dies! From all the toxins that'd been building up in his body!" Juho said, Then, in a somewhat confrontational tone, he asked, "You held feelings against me, didn't you?" Geun Woo admitted quickly, saying, "Because you snatched my award right out of my hand! If it hadn't been for you, I could've been the one presenting on that stage! Geun Woo Yoo, the winner of this year's Rookie of the Year Award." "That's not my fault." "... Prick." The genius with the iron stomach eventually died in Geun Woo's new novel. Being inherently different from those around him, he believed that he was entirely made of steel. Falling on his face or running into something did nothing to him, allowing him to jump into a fire without a care in the world. Despite the extreme heat, he didn't melt away. If anything, he remained solid. Simply put, he was invincible. "How are you able to move on to another piece so soon?" Geun Woo asked out of nowhere, looking toward the ceiling and slurring slightly from lying flat on the floor. "What do you mean?" "I'm about to fall apart after writing just one eight-hundred-page book. But you, you don't have that problem. Even as we're speaking. It's only been what? A few months since your most recent full-length novel? Not only that, but you wrote in front of a massive audience. Yet, you still have the energy to move around. When you said that manuscript was incomplete, I thought you'd lost your mind. I can't believe you revealed a first draft to your readers!" Geun Woo said, shuddering at the thought of finding himself in Juho's position. "I'm telling you, you have a stomach made of iron. No wonder you're so resilient, unlike me, who is squishy and weak. Man, I'm getting sleepy," he added, letting out a big yawn, acting as if he didn't have what it took to overcome his laziness, like somebody who had either just woken up or was about to fall asleep. At that moment... "What are you talkin' about? We've even eaten together at a restaurant." Another voice came from behind Juho. When he looked up, the person to whom the voice belonged looked down and locked eyes with him. It was Joon Soo, looking as kind as ever. "He's been cleaning his room for a week now," Joon Soo said, letting out a small sigh. "Mrs. Baek keeps saying that I should leave him be and let him rest since he's worked long and hard, but…" he paused, looking slightly troubled. "You gotta clean your room at some point!" "Please, Joon Soo. Let me be." Paying no attention to Geun Woo's plea, Joon Soo tapped the stack of boxes next to him with his foot, which came toppling over, vomiting its contents. However, Geun Woo didn't move a muscle, and Joon Soo stared intently at him. "Long breaks aren't necessarily bad. Say… Thirty years? He wouldn't have to sleep another day in his life. Just imagine how much writing he could get done with all that time in his hands." As Geun Woo snorted, his body also moved up and down. "Don't be silly now."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho saw Geun Woo lifting his head as if looking down at his belly button. "You've never felt this lazy, have you?" "I have." "Yeah, right." "I'm human, you know." Geun Woo relaxed his neck shortly after and said, "You know what though? I feel somewhat relieved." "Why is that?" "Because I can still be like Yun Woo, even if I'm dilly dallying in my room like this." Juho looked at Joon Soo, who let out a small sigh. Leaving Geun Woo on the floor, he said to the young author, "I came to congratulate Geun Woo, but I wasn't expecting him to be like that. I'm sorry you had to see that." "Not a problem." "Oh! I watched you writing onstage during the exhibition event." "Ah, there are some videos of it floating around the internet, I believe." There were videos of the presentation recorded by fans floating around the internet. Despite the significant length, the number of views on each of them was growing. "That ending was really somethin'," Geun Woo interjected, keeping his eyes closed. "Was it fun?" "What was?" "Writing on a stage." "In some ways." "Seemed like there was a lot to see. Especially that heavy metal girl," Joon Soo said, leaning against the doorpost. "But your writing process was not exactly what I expected." The young author's writing process looked entirely different from the image Joon Soo had had in mind. Shrugging, Juho replied, "I was just typing away on that keyboard. That's all." "Actually, there was something about it that kind of reminded me of the genius in Geun Woo's novel." "... As in, I looked like I was about to die?" Chuckling, Joon Soo denied it, saying, "No, no. I wouldn't say anything about your stamina in front of Geun Woo, who'd do anything to have stamina like yours. I'm talking about how the genius comes to start eating metal." "That's because he's hungry." With that extremely obvious reason, the genius in Geun Woo's novel started eating metal. Nodding, Joon Soo added, "Right. Mrs. Baek was saying that you looked famished." "What?" "She suggested having a barbecue when you got here." "... I did skip breakfast that day," Juho said, chuckling and looking away. Since Joon Soo didn't speak any further on the matter, the subject moved on to something else naturally. "Speaking of which, any word on the contract?" Juho asked Geun Woo, who caught on to what the young author was referring to immediately. "Oh. The movie rights?" "Yeah." Since his debut title started catching on, Geun Woo had received a call from a movie studio. The fast pace and provocative subject of the novel made it feasible for a film adaptation. "Yep. I think they're about to have a meeting soon," Geun Woo said, sounding slightly more energetic that time, as if he were stoke about the movie offer. "Once a book gets made into a movie, the sales are bound to go up, no matter how good or bad the movie is. Besides, the company that approached me is pretty big. Everyone around me seems to think that I should go for it." "Mr. Ju said the same thing," Juho said. According to Geun Woo's request, Juho had recently talked to Sang Young Ju on the phone in order to ask about the company that had approached Geun Woo with the movie offer. Thankfully, it was a company that the director recognized. Just before hanging up, Sang Young had asked the young author: "What about you?" When Juho looked toward where the voice had come from, Geun Woo was looking toward him. Despite knowing what he'd meant, Juho asked, "What about me?" At which, Geun Woo asked again in a slightly louder tone, "Aren't you gonna do a film adaptation?" "I have." Furrowing his brow, Geun Woo said, "Hey, we all know that there's a film adaptation that we're all dying to see. Although, I feel kind of bad for Mr. Ju." "He's talking about 'Language of God,' you know," Joon Soo added. 'Langauge of God' was one of the most widely talked about novel series of all time. Film adaptations, sequels, TV series. Since it had brought the young author two of the most widely recognized literary awards in the world, it was inevitable that it received significantly more attention than his other books. Although the popularity seemed to have died down over time, the series had started rising to popularity due to the recent mention of it at the popular TV show. Although disappointing his fans was something Juho never wanted to do willingly, he hadn't been getting any new ideas for the series. Meanwhile, looking as though he was bringing up old news, Geun Woo said, "You turned down all of the movie offers from all of those famous movie studios overseas, remember? The competition for the film rights was probably insane. You have no idea how much your fans looked forward to seeing their favorite story getting made into a Hollywood movie, do you? That includes me." "I just didn't find any of them all that appealing." "As you always do!" Geun Woo said, calling out Juho's impulsive tendencies. Although he appeared to be calculating on the outside, he was never concerned about those around him, only about himself, which forced him to make up an excuse. "I was busy, you know. I had no time for anything." "Then, what about now? You have time. Does that mean you'd take up on an offer if it came your way?" "Not necessarily." "You'll get tons of money from the film rights alone. You'd make millions from the export advance alone. If I were you, I wouldn't think twice about it. Besides, what do you have to lose?" Although Juho was fully aware of where Geun Woo was coming from, he brushed his hand across the back of his neck, hesitating. "I just can't think of a reason to do another movie adaptation," he said. "You don't need anything fancy. Your readers want it." "Well, my opinions are important too, aren't they?" Juho asked. "Think about all the profit you'd make. Wealth. Fame." "'Language of God' has been more than popular and profitable for me, even without getting made into a movie." "Prick." "That's harsh," Juho said, shrugging. At which point, Geun Woo turned his body toward the young author, staring straight into Juho's eyes, which made him feel uncomfortable. "You just don't seem to have the drive when it comes to things like money and fame. Aren't they things you can never have enough of? Most people would do anything for them, especially if they'd tasted them once, like me and Joon Soo." At that, Joon Soo chuckled and added, "Juho was exactly the same when he did his first film adaptation. I saw it in the interview. 'A film adaptation that surpasses the original novel.' That was your condition for the director, wasn't it?" "That sounds right," Juho said. "I just don't get you." "What are you all doing here?" At Yun Seo's sudden appearance, everyone looked toward the doorway. Walking into the untidy room, she stared intently at Geun Woo, who sprung back up to his feet from lying on the floor. However, Yun Seo didn't make a big deal out of his seemingly lazy behavior. "The meat won't cook itself, you know," she said, and the three left the room at the same time. (TL's Note: In Korean culture, it's considered impolite and rude to be lying down in front of older people, hence Geun Woo's behavior when Yun Seo steps into the room.) --- "Any word from the publisher?" "No, not yet." Nabi had been looking into a certain author's copyright after receiving an inquiry from a client. Although having a substantial fan base overseas, the author was far from popular in Korea. After discussing it with another agency, with which she had been in contact, Nabi reached out to the publisher of the author. When she opened her email again, her inbox was filled to the brim with emails from all across the globe, which were mostly about an international book fair that was being held in Germany that year. Since Kelley Coin was known to participate, the fair drew quite the attention. One of the responsibilities of an agency was to introduce authors who they found to be promising. As for Nabi, she was thinking about bringing up Geun Woo Yoo, who was quickly rising to fame as of late. His debut title seemed like it would be well received by international readers. His new novel had been quite interesting in how it depicted the inner beings of the characters in great detail. Every single one of them carried a sense of inferiority and defeat, which enabled them to understand each other while having nothing else in common. Geun Woo's unique style of writing was quite effective when it came to bringing the most out of the material. One of the most prominent characters was the metal-eating genius, who added an interesting twist to the novel. Although being the most powerful and practically invincible, the character met his demise before any other character within the book. Aside from the tragic ending, the character had a lot in common with Yun Woo. "Hey, Nabi. Do you know which question I get the most since I started working here?" her coworker, whose desk was right next to her, asked. Having come from another company, she was quite the curious type, striking up conversations at every opportunity. Reading an email from a partner, Nabi replied haphazardly, "Don't know. Don't care." "It's about Yun Woo." At the mention of the young author's name, Nabi, while pretending not to listen to her, kept her ears open. "You'll get used to it soon enough." "I get questions about him all the time. Even from my parents! I haven't even met the guy." Then, studying Nabi's expression cautiously, the coworker asked, "Speaking of which…" "What?" "There's something I've been wanting to know. So, there's a rumor…" "A rumor?" Yun Woo had always been surrounded by all sorts of rumors. As a number of them crossed Nabi's mind, the coworker added, "... that he absolutely hates visual media. Is that true?" 'Oh. Right,' Nabi thought, chuckling. "Not at all. He appeared on TV not too long ago, remember?" "But he hardly ever makes TV appearances though." At that, Nabi let out a small sigh and explained, "He's just focused on writing. You know the type. Like San Jung Youn, who lives in the mountains, or Mr. Lim, who refuses to write testimonials for other authors." "Sure, but I think Mr. Woo's particularly worse." "Just get back to work," Nabi said. However, her warning did little to stop the coworker from speaking. "OK. This is what I've been REALLY wanting to know. If he doesn't hate visual media, does that mean there's a chance that 'Language of God' will get made into a movie? 'Cause I love that series." "A-ha..." The coworker wasn't the only fan of 'Language of God,' and rumors of a film adaptation had been circulating for a number of years by that point. In actuality, Nabi and her agency had been receiving offers from movie studios from all across the globe. Having prepared for a fierce competition over movie rights back then, Nabi had tried to convince the young author into selling the rights to a company offering the best conditions and price. However, he hadn't sold the rights to anybody. No matter how many scripts or how much money they offered, nothing had changed his mind. "I doubt it," Nabi replied to her coworker, smacking her lips. "Why not?" "You said it yourself. His case is worse, even among authors. He even turned down an offer from a Hollywood director recently, you know this." "... Can't hurt to hope." "Well, I doubt it's gonna happen anytime soon," Nabi said, and her coworker sighed deeply. With that, Nabi redirected her attention to her emails. At that moment, she heard her coworker, mumbling, "Mr. Woo has to come out more often, you know. He has to make himself known to the world. Isn't that what an agency is for?" "Just go back to work." "If he were to be at the book fair in Germany this year, the Korean booth would be booming with people. Is he really not going? The Korean wave shouldn't be limited to just music and TV, don't you think? Why shouldn't the publishing industry be part of that wave? Korean literature has just started catching on, and Mr. Woo would be in the center of it if he were to be there." Germany. Nabi stopped midway while reading through her email. Roughly eight-thousand companies from about a hundred countries were going to be part of the book fair in Germany, which was also one of the three most prominent book fairs in the world. Not only were there going to be celebrity authors, but there were bound to be countless other publishing agents sharing information with each other. Since there was going to be a booth set up for each of the countries, the fair was bound to get crowded. Then, cutting her coworker off, who was murmuring about how desperately the company wanted to take Yun Woo to the fair, Nabi said, "He declined the conference right off the bat." "I'm not surprised." "But I don't think it's quite over yet," Nabi added, resting her chin on her hand. "What's that mean?" the coworker said, coming closer to Nabi. A subtle smile spread across her face. "It means authors don't go to the fair just on official business. Whether it's on vacation or whatnot, as long an author gets there, they get to meet all the important people in the industry." There was much to be gained from an encounter with such figures, and Nabi fully intended on dragging Yun Woo with her to Germany. "Besides, Mr. Woo isn't anonymous anymore. Making public appearances isn't an issue anymore." The young author's face was widely known, which made the rumors surrounding him a natural thing, along with the anticipation of seeing him from the fans. At Nabi's remark, the coworker's face lit up. "So, how are you planning on convincing him?" "You see, that's the issue." "C'mon, really? You looked so confident, so I thought you had something in mind!" the coworker grumbled. At which, Nabi said quietly and menacingly, "I'm gonna put you with Kelley Coin if you don't stop talking." "Sorry." Since she started working with Yun Woo, Nabi had come to learn a few things about the young author. One of them being that he wasn't afraid to travel long distances as long as there was something he wanted at the destination. Although she had no clue as to what Yun Woo would want or when or where, that much was clear. In other words, she needed some kind of bait. "What could it be?" Nabi asked herself, redirecting her attention to the screen of her monitor.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Mr. Woo." "How've you been, Ms. Hong?" They were at an Italian restaurant known for their pasta, where Jang Mi ate regularly. Following her suggestion, Juho placed his order accordingly. "I loved your presentation." The editor seemed to view the exhibition event in a positive light. As the two caught up casually, their food started coming out. The pasta dish with tomato sauce was quite delectable. "So, did you give it some thought?" Juho stopped midway and looked at Jang Mi while twirling the noodles with his fork. There was another reason she had invited him out to a meal, and it had nothing to do with the presentation or with catching up with the young author. "You mean about a 'Language of God' sequel?" Looking at the young author with determined eyes, she was earnestly waiting for a sequel. Taking the noodles wrapped around his fork, Juho brought them up to his mouth and started chewing, washing them down with some water afterward. "I have a general sense of direction." "You said you wanted to write about the past, right? As in, the root and the foundation of the world within the story? I'm fully on board with that. Readers are curious about that too." Juho had been hearing about the series a lot as of late, and it had to be because he had brought it up first on TV. "Since the show aired, the office has been getting several times more calls from readers asking about the sequel." Readers welcomed the fact that there was another story even remotely related to the series in the young author's mind. Nevertheless, Juho fiddled with the pasta on his plate. "If you have something in mind, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to see where it takes you," Jang Mi said. She was right. Putting down his fork, which still had the noodles wrapped around it, Juho said, "You know, I've been thinking that too." At that, the editor's face lit up almost instantly. "The thing is…" "Yes?" "I feel cautious." "I'm sorry?" Resting his chin on his hand, the young author replied, "There is a war in the series." 'Language of God' held a myriad of information as it was. Culture, life, people, and language. The young author's depiction of war would be quite realistic, which meant it needed to be approached with caution. Meanwhile, Jang Mi noticed the competitive spirit stirring up within his eyes. "Does that mean you'll start writing now?" she asked, doing her best to remain composed. After a brief pause, Juho replied, "I'd like to think about it some more." "Mr. Woo…" At that moment, Juho's phone started vibrating in his pocket. After asking to be excused, he took the phone out of his pocket and answered. It was Nabi. "Would you mind if I take this?" "Not a problem. Feel free to answer it where you're at." "Thanks." Slightly turning his torso away from the editor, Juho answered the phone. "Mr. Woo, let's go to Germany." "What?" Juho asked inadvertently. However, he was well aware of what the agent was referring to. She had already reached out to the young author a number of times by that point. Feeling Jang Mi's gaze, Juho replied on the phone, "I thought we already discussed this…" "Yes we did, and I'm aware that you've turned it down. I'm merely suggesting a vacation. That's all," Nabi said, changing her strategy. Then, she proceeded to explain to Juho why he should go to the book fair. Korean literature, interaction with people from around the globe, being an official and meaningful occasion, a public appearance, meeting different people in the industry from other countries, career activity, reputation… etc. None of those reasons were attractive enough to draw the young author in. "Think about it, Mr. Woo. We're talking about four hundred thousand different books. Doesn't that sound fun?" "It sure does." "There will be plenty more to experience there. You said the sequel to 'Language of God' would be in the past, didn't you? Who knows? You might get something out of the trip." Juho chuckled quietly. Both Nabi and Jang Mi were well aware of Juho's priorities. The way they were going about convincing him was proof of that. "That did cross my mind," Juho said, contemplating for a brief moment. Juho didn't think that his appearance at the book fair would be smooth. It was very likely that it would quickly turn into a massive meet & greet session. However, as long as he wasn't forced to give a spontaneous lecture in front of a massive audience, it was a risk he was willing to take. Upon being reminded of that, the trip to Germany didn't sound like such a bad idea. "Germany, huh?" "That's right." Germany was a country with a history that left it in need of redemption. The apprehension that came from losing the First World War and the following economic crisis had led them to desire a powerful leader, which had ultimately led to the birth of dictatorship. "Germany, Italy, Japan… I was hoping to start from the country closest to home," Juho said, looking toward Jang Mi. War was an inevitable part of the setting that he wanted to write about. It was a violent standoff between countries, which had yielded unspeakable events in history. It was an act to suppress the opponent's will by force, and in order to handle it properly, one needed to properly educate themselves. However, that had little to do with the book fair. In fact, it would be better to go somewhere quiet. At that moment... "Oh, did I tell you? Coin's gonna be there!" … Nabi's voice interrupted Juho's thought process. "Coin? As in Kelley Coin?" "Yes. You heard it right. Didn't see that coming, did you? The German publisher must've made a special request." Coin was a person whose presence itself carried enough hostility. What would an unorganized, inconsistent conflict look like? It wasn't rare to come across an interpersonal conflict, which often arose from one party trying to superimpose their will on the other. A wave of thoughts started washing over the young author, slowly filling up his mind. Feeling like meeting Coin all of a sudden, Juho said, "I think I can make this sequel happen." "What was that?" Jang Mi asked, taken aback despite having an idea of what Juho's phone call was about. "At least in the emotional state I'm in at the moment. I don't have anything to back it up with though, which is slightly troublesome," Juho said. Then, he raised his hand and gestured to the editor to give him some time to think. Shortly after, he said to Nabi on the phone, "OK. I'll go." "You have no idea how desperate I was to hear that answer," Nabi said, making Juho swear by his decision before hanging up. Meanwhile, Jang Mi was looking at him as though puzzled and delighted all at the same time. "Well, I guess I'm going to Germany." "Sounds like it! May I ask what that call was about? Although, I have a slight idea," Jang Mi asked, trying to suppress her excitement. "It was about a book fair in Frankfurt, Germany." Being an editor, there was no way that Jang Mi didn't know about one of the most widely recognized book fairs in the world. "You mean in the South Korean booth? Are you giving a lecture, too? I mean, writing in front of an audience?" "I'm just going on a vacation/learning experience. It's nothing official," Juho said and added, "I'll bring back some research data." --- "Yun Woo, the genius author." Sitting at a park where a lake was visible, a man murmured with his mouth filled by a sandwich. Pedestrians gave him a weird look for his bizarre behavior, which involved ranting and smiling repeatedly. Then, somebody who recognized the man stopped in his tracks, taken aback by his presence. "Jenkins!?" At the mention of his name, the man looked up, removing the serious look that had been on his face. Having originally been an actor, he was quite handsome, features that were only further accentuated in the Sun. "Can I help you?" the man asked. After apologizing to the man for disrupting his personal time, the pedestrian brushed their hand down their face in disbelief and asked cautiously, "You're Zara Jenkins, right? The director?" "That's me. Who else would look like this?" "Oh. My. Goodness." The doubtful, scolding looks from the pedestrian slowly changed into those of interest and favor. If the man on the bench was really Zara Jenkins, the pedestrian would be more than willing to overlook his behavior, no matter how bizarre. "I'm a big fan! Would you take a picture with me?" "Of course! Here. Let's take one with the lake in the background. It'll make it even more memorable," the director said, wiping the sauce off his mouth and putting his arm around the pedestrians' shoulder. "Hm. Think we can bring out the blue in my eyes some more. Let's take another one." Then, after checking the photo one more time, the director took a picture himself. "I love your movies. You're a genius!" "I'm flattered! How's that look?" the director asked, tossing the phone back to the pedestrian and sitting back down on the bench. After obtaining pictures that would give him major bragging rights, the pedestrians disappeared into the distance before long. With that, the director took another bite of his sandwich and retreated back to his mind. "I wanna turn it into a movie," he said, putting the last bit of the sandwich into his mouth, not minding the sauce dripping from between the bread. He reached over for the book that he had been reading, which he had set aside, trying to rub the sauce off of its page. Although he only smeared it, he didn't mind that either. "I really like the background. I can just tell that this guy wanted things to look a certain way." Checking the year the book had been published, the director realized that it had been a few years since its release. However, he was reading 'Language of God' for the first time that year, which made him realize why all the other directors around him were so desperate for that book. "I'd love to make this into a movie." The villages, the languages, the lifestyles, the protagonist, the adventure and its story, God, the mythology. Everything about the book was so embellished that the director felt a strong urge to make it into a movie. Every sentence he read painted such vivid pictures, making his heart beat faster. Epic music, detailed props, quality filming equipment, a script written around the visuals, carefully chosen actors and actresses, and lastly, himself, who would be directing everything. He had a reputation that would bring him nearly endless support, which would enable him to focus on the production of the movie. "Why is this guy still holding the rights? Tsk." The only issue was that the owner of the rights, in this case, the author, was refusing to sell them. Although he had approached Yun Woo with confidence, he, too, had been flat out rejected by the young author. Yun Woo seemed to have no interest in movies whatsoever. Although the director had tried to find out more about him in many different ways, there was hardly any information known about him. Even watching every single interview and TV show that the young author had been on simply didn't give the director enough information, forcing him to judge the author solely based on his work. From then on, he had bought and read every single book written by Yun Woo that had been published in the US. After which, he had made up his mind to make 'Language of God' into a movie at all costs. "Nothing beats meeting in person, especially at a time like this." Jenkins was confident that he had what it took to be able to convince the young author. However, meeting him was proving to be a challenge. Even after calling Fernand or writing emails to the Korean publisher working with the author, his attempts to learn more about the author had gone in vain, including his efforts to meet him in person. By that point, Yun Woo had already made his stance known to both publishers: to turn down any requests regarding the filming rights. "Maybe I should fly to Korea," Jenkins said to himself, thinking about flying there and hoping for the best, willing to sleep on the street if that was what it took to meet with the young author. Actually, the one director who had successfully earned the filming rights from the author had done something similar in order to meet with him. "Or maybe I could try Coin." Coin was one of Yun Woo's most widely known acquaintances. "I might come back with a broken nose, but that won't take away from my good looks." Taking the phone in his hand, Jenkins looked up Kelley Coin on an online search engine, which yielded out a slew of information about the author, including his email address. Unlike Yun Woo, everything about Coin was significantly more accessible. At that moment, an article jumped out at him that said that Coin was participating in the Frankfurt Book Fair. "Coin? At Frankfurt Book Fair? That's something you don't hear every day." One of the things that made Coin's interviews fun to watch was listening to how the author had single-handedly ruined an official event. At that moment, the phone in Jenkins' hand started vibrating. It was the call he had been expecting. "So? Anything?" "No." Unfortunately, the answer was an utter disappointment. "I mean, how does one go about finding out Yun Woo's official schedule? I told you, you can't find something that doesn't exist." "I don't have time for this." Despite working for a large studio, the friend couldn't figure out a way to know Yun Woo's whereabouts. "You there? I'm not done." "Then, get on with it." "Do you know the agent who works with him?" the friend said, mentioning the name of the agency, which Jenkins had never heard of. "It's a Korean agency. It turns out that they arranged a meeting at the book fair." "Well, duh! They're probably there to buy or sell copyrights!" "Hold your horses! I'm not done yet." There was something strange about his friend's voice, which gave Jenkins a good feeling. "So, this is something that cost me an arm and a leg to find out." "OK! All right! What is it?" "I think he's gonna be at the fair." There could only be one person to whom his friend was referring: Yun Woo. But for what? At that moment, the name Kelley Coin rushed past the director's mind. The reason wasn't important. Yun Woo was going to be at the fair, and that was the only useful information. In a calm tone of voice, Jenkins asked, "When?" "The first day." The unhesitant words from his friend couldn't sound more beautiful to the director's ears. "Get me a ticket to the fair, will ya?" "That's not a problem." While the call was still ongoing, Jenkins put his brain to work. "It's not like he's giving it away for free. I hope he shows some flexibility. I went through hell last year trying to get consent from this dead author's family, but who would've thought that it was about to get worse?.... Hello?" Although his friend was bombarding him with complaints, none of it registered in the director's mind.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Man, flying for twelve hours straight is no joke," Juho said, stretching his body. He wasn't used to flying long distances. Nabi, who seemed to be well acquainted with being on a plane for an extended period of time, chuckled quietly as Juho let out a small moan. She didn't let her time go to waste, even on the plane. "You'll have a lot of fun at the Messe. It's a business day, so you might not be able to buy anything, but it should be much easier to get around. On public days is when things get really crazy. There are cosplayers and people carrying backpacks or traveling carriers, hunting for books. The Forum and the 3.0 Hall are the most popular attractions in the entire fair, and lately, K-Pop's been getting really big." On their way to the hotel, Nabi told the young author about the area of the fair in detail. Held over five days, three of those days were reserved as the business days, which focused the entire fair on the business aspect of things. Civilians were not allowed to enter the fair during those days. With buying and selling of different copyrights from booths, there was quite an array of things to experience, including lectures from the participating authors. Nabi was well acquainted with the environment that was the book fair. She would fly to Germany every October on business. Of course, that alone didn't make her special in any way, as countless copyrights were bought and sold at the fair. "Would you like to take the rest of the day off, or would you like to look around a little bit?" "I do wanna see the Main River." "Ah! The ducks there are adorable!" Juho looked at the foreign surroundings attentively. Pointy roofs, streets that seemed like they had been around since the medieval age, skyscrapers that blended with the history around them, downtown, and the graffitis that decorated the walls. It seemed like a view straight out of the movies. After unloading at the hotel, the two went out to look around. "Make sure to keep your hat on. People WILL recognize you." "But we're in Germany." "And you're Yun Woo." Since the Sun was quite hot, Juho put his hat on without complaint. Although there were quite a few people on the streets, there was something calm and peaceful about Frankfurt. The weather was quite hot for October. "I see some sausage links hanging over there." "That's the first thing you'll see as soon as you walk into any market: sausages. They are really good. Speaking of which, how's that for dinner?" "Works for me. Oh! Isn't that gelato over there?" "I recommend mango. You know what? Why don't we each get one right now? The weather's just right." In order to see how much money he had, Juho checked the wallet in his pocket and said, "I'll get it. I exchanged some money before I left Korea." With that, he walked toward the shop, which was quite small. Standing behind the glass counter, Juho looked through the variety of gelato in the shop, from banana to lemon, kiwi, mint, and coconut. After some contemplation, he decided to go with Nabi's recommendation. "Two mangos, please." "Both of them?" "Yes." Taking the money from Juho nonchalantly, the owner scooped the gelato out and put the scoops on two ice cream cones. As he took the cones from her, he felt the owner looking at him intently. Pretending not to notice, Juho asked, "Something wrong?" At that, the shop owner shook her head with a brusque expression on her face, looking away from Juho nonchalantly. Although it was different from the attitude Juho was used to, he was thankful that the owner didn't make a big deal out of his presence, which allowed him to walk out of the shop safely and soundly. When he had first noticed the shop owner's gaze, Juho had tensed up, thinking that she had recognized him. Thankfully, she hadn't seemed confident. Perhaps, she simply wasn't a fan of the young author. "This is good." "Right?" With the cones of gelato in their hands, the two made their way toward the Main River. One of the first things that came into view were the joggers. On a bridge that had been built centuries ago, there were countless padlocks all across the fences to either side. There were ducks in the dark water, swimming about peacefully. "You seem to speak German pretty fluently. You've never been to Germany before, have you, Mr. Woo?" Nabi asked while they were watching the ducks and swans that were swimming in the river. The gelato in Juho's hand was long gone, leaving only the cone. The young author looked around at the people speaking in the foreign language. Although it wasn't his native language, it was definitely a language that he was familiar with, and one which he was able to understand. "Nope, this is my first time here. I hadn't seen the cathedral in person until today." "The buildings here are really pretty, aren't they?" "They are. It's interesting how the medieval scenery blends with the modern, commercial buildings." "The city's been restored from the ground up, essentially." Frankfurt had lain in ruins during World War II. The historical aspect of the city was mostly the results of skillful restorations. As the two walked about along the riverbank, they saw a ferry on the water, which carried a crowd that appeared to be made mostly of tourists, who were busy posing before cameras set up on tripods. There were also some enjoying some beer amid the comfortable atmosphere. As if she had decided they had done enough sightseeing, the agent asked Juho, "Should we mosey on over to the square? There's food there. Oh! There's the Goethe House, too. Although, I doubt we'll be able to see it today." "Actually, I wanted to look at the water for a little while longer," Juho replied after brief contemplation. Nabi respected his decision without complaint. "You seem to like rivers." "Not particularly." Stopping in his tracks on the bridge, Juho held on to the safety rail and peeked down into the water. The dark water made it hard to see what was beneath it. The wave broke restlessly. It wasn't such a bad sight. "Careful, Mr. Woo." At the agent's warning, Juho pulled away from the rail. "I won't be able to save you if you fall into the water." "Haha." After a short walk across the river, Juho and Nabi made their way back. "'Scuse me, Mr. Woo. I need to make a phone call." "Sure." With that, Nabi left the scene with her phone in her hand. Meanwhile, Juho strolled around the place. Even when he approached the ducks, they didn't seem to find Juho's presence frightening. They also seemed to be quite familiar with getting fed by people. Even when Juho was squatting right next to them, the ducks didn't make a sound. At that moment... "Wow! Duck!" The peaceful silence was broken by a child who started charging toward the unsuspecting birds without hesitation. No matter how comfortable or at ease they might have been, it only made sense that they would be startled by a presence charging at them, and they expressed that by flapping their wings. The child started chasing after a duck that had landed nearest to him, going into the water unhurriedly. "Check this out!" The child said in English. He had to be on a trip with his parents, who were walking toward him in the distance unhurriedly, their eyes fixed on their child. Meanwhile, Juho stared at the ducks without saying a word. "You can't do that." A man wearing a beret said to the child in German. "You're scaring them." Needless to say, the child couldn't understand a word the man was saying to him. However, what was clear was the emotion behind his words, at which, the child's eyes widened. At the seemingly unwelcoming tone and voice, the child ran to his parents, leaving only Juho and the man wearing the beret by the riverbank. Meanwhile, the ducks floated about in the water. "Kids," he murmured, probably thinking that the young author wouldn't understand him. "I swear, they're the bane of my existence. And don't even get me started on old people. They can't do anything aside from what they already know. They don't even have their own pair of wings, yet they make fun of the ducks floating in the water." After staring intently at him for a little while, Juho replied, "They'll learn. Both young and old." As the man wearing the beret was walking away, he stopped and turned slightly toward the young author. Although it wasn't visible on his face, he seemed to be taken aback by Juho replying in German. Scratching his mustache with his blunt fingers, he asked, "Where are you from?" "South Korea." "Did you live here growing up?" "No. I'm on a trip. So, this is what the air is like in Germany, huh?" Although the man narrowed his eyes, he didn't question the young author. "South Korea… Isn't that where Cha's from?" "... Oh, you mean the soccer player," Juho said, understanding what the man had meant in a delay. "That's what I thought!" Contrary to his view on the children or the elderly, the man wearing the beret seemed to be an avid soccer fan. As he started raving on about the subject, which was mostly compliments toward the South Korean soccer player, Juho listened to him haphazardly, taking note of how talkative he was. At that moment... "Hm." The man started staring intently at Juho out of nowhere. "What's the matter? Did something get on my face?" Juho asked. "You look familiar." Juho was caught off guard by the man's observation. Meanwhile, the ducks sat on the lawn after having made their way out of the water. "I don't think we've ever met before." "Aren't you that novelist?" "..." Left with no choice, Juho nodded subtly. "I do write for a living." At that, the man took off his beret and said, "You're Yun Woo, aren't you?" 'Dang it,' Juho thought to himself, looking around. Thankfully, there were no other people listening aside from the ducks. At that moment, he saw Nabi walking toward him in the distance, studying the situation. "Are you really Yun Woo?" the man in a beret asked again. "Yes, I am." "Ah! Could I get a handshake?" the man said, reaching his hand out. As Juho approached him, a subtle whiff of duck feed came up to the young author's nose. "Are you in Frankfurt for the book fair? The newspapers write about authors for a week straight whenever that fair is being held." "I'm on a vacation. Thought I could learn a thing or two during the trip." "... Huh. Does that mean you're not gonna be in the newspaper?" "Nope." "Well, in any case, I didn't think I'd run into Yun Woo here. Today must be my lucky day," the man said, looking through his pockets and pulling out his phone. During which, Nabi approached the young author and asked, "You got caught, huh?" "Would you take a picture for us?" "Sure, no problem," Nabi said, taking the phone from the man as he stood shoulder to shoulder with the young author. "What other languages do you speak aside from German?" the man asked casually after the picture. As if giving the young author the liberty to answer, he fixed his eyes on the peaceful water. "A little bit of everything." Despite Juho's ambiguous answer, the man smiled with satisfaction and asked no further questions. At that moment, Nabi said, sounding bothered "I keep getting calls from this one movie studio." Judging from the look on her face, she was clearly tired, which made Juho think that they should start heading back to the hotel. "Well, we better get going," he said, waving at the man in a beret, who also waved back. Turning around, Juho and Nabi went back the way they came from. On the way, Juho saw a familiar looking child, the one who had been chasing after the ducks by the riverbank. While the child was being held in his father's arms, the shop owner was standing behind the counter with a grumpy look on her face. At that moment, as Juho was walking past the shop, the child looked in his direction, whispering, "I know him." Although subtly, Juho was able to hear the child's words clearly. "Who?" The child was bragging to their father. Ducks must not have been the only thing the child had been paying attention to. After listening to the child next to her and her husband, the mother also looked in Juho's direction, locking eyes with the young author. Juho saw her blue eyes getting bigger and bigger. The family had to know the author before their eyes. Similarly, the shop owner also looked toward Juho. "Oh. My. Gosh." "You're that…" "Uh… What are you talking about?" Juho said, playing coy, glancing toward Nabi, who shrugged carelessly. "You're Yun Woo, aren't you?" the father said, putting the child down and reaching out for a handshake. Juho also grabbed his hand with a pleasant smile on his face. "I have every single one of your books in my study! My whole family's in love with your novels." "I'm honored." "Gosh, I can't believe we met you here!" Meanwhile, with a look of pride on his face, the child looked up at his father. "What brings you to Germany?" "I'm on vacation." "Ah. Well, I hope I'm not bothering you." "Not at all. It's not a problem." "Great! In that case, may I ask for your autograph? I should have some paper on me…" Enthralled by the young author's presence, the parents were completely neglecting their child. At that moment, without saying anything, the shop owner pulled out four sheets of paper. Three for each of the family members, and one for herself.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl The day after arriving in Germany, Juho spent the entire day going on walks, visiting the library and the museum nearby. First, Juho decided to start with the places that Nabi had recommended. The agent knew her way around the city. Thinking about the upcoming schedule in passing, Juho sat at the desk in the room and tried writing down the words that came to him. "Ducks, child, gelato." As usual, the story that came out of them was far from satisfactory, which kind of made the young author worried about the long-anticipated sequel to 'Language of God.' "Gettin' hungry." After a two-hour nap, hunger was the first thing that came to his mind. Despite feeling half asleep from the jetlag, Juho got out of bed to order room service, thinking that he'd go out again after eating, perhaps see the city at night. At that moment, while Juho was looking through the room service menu, the once peaceful evening quickly turned into chaos. The doorbell started ringing and his phone started vibrating shortly after, followed by the knocking sound coming from the door. In order to grasp the situation, Juho reached for his phone first. Upon seeing the name on its screen, he felt wide awake all of a sudden. 'Is he really here?' he thought, rising from his seat. "That took forever." Of course. Kelley Coin appeared as Juho opened the door, holding his phone on one hand while clenching his other hand into a fist. While Juho was glad to see him, it was simply too sudden. "I thought there was a fire or something," Juho said, rubbing his face. "Did you just get out of bed?" "Yes, I did. It'd be nice if you could let me know ahead of time from now on." "I did." At that, Juho checked his phone, which showed a text from Nabi and a few missed calls, including the call from Coin. It was the very call that Juho got while Coin was banging on the door. As Juho was writing a reply to Nabi on his phone, he said to Coin, "I'd prefer if you called a little sooner." Although Juho hadn't seen him in a long time, Coin was just as impatient as the last time they met. Opening the refrigerator, Coin took out a bottle of iced coffee and started drinking it. Then, he sat on the couch, looking at the interior of the room in an arrogant manner. "What brings you here? I wasn't expecting you'd come here," Juho asked. "What are you talking about? I got to Frankfurt before you did." "That's not what I'm asking, you know." "I heard you were in town, so I thought we should grab some dinner together." After Staring intently at him, Juho stated, "You're bored." … Which he didn't deny. "There isn't a whole lot to see here, either. It's just as boring as the States." "You're not planning on saying that at the fair, are you?" Juho asked, realizing what it must be like for Isabella, who had to deal with Coin's infamous temper on a regular basis. Drinking the water he had bought from a store outside the hotel, Juho sat across from Coin. "You're gonna be onstage, right? The theme is… 'Meet the Author,' isn't it?" "Yeah. What a hassle," Coin replied, his face twisting into a scowl almost immediately. The Frankfurt Book Fair was a massive fair with over a hundred participating countries every year. That year, there were over eight thousand companies participating in the fair, and suffice to say, the local newspaper wrote about the fair on a daily basis. It was in that very fair that Coin was participating. Assuming that he'd be busy, Juho hadn't reached out to Coin on purpose. However, to his surprise, Coin turned up in front of his door. "Shouldn't you be preparing?" "I have enough time," Coin said, resting his chin on his hand. Then, he asked, "What about you?" Being well aware of what he was referring to, Juho replied with a mellow smile, "I got nothing to prepare for." "No interviews? Nothing?" "Nope. I didn't make any plans whatsoever." "So, you have all the time in the world to dilly dally, huh?" Coin said, clicking his tongue, envious of the young author's lax schedule. "I'm sure the Korean publishers would've loved to have you promote for them. The Asian section is nowhere near as popular. Why aren't you participating? You might have been able to turn things around for the booths in the Asian section, especially the South Korean booth." "I don't think I could've helped in any way. Besides, I wasn't even planning on coming at first." "As boring as usual. Then what changed your mind?" "It's not the fair, I'll tell you that much," Juho said, subtly changing the subject. Although slightly annoyed by it, Coin drank his coffee without complaining. "I do NOT wanna go to this thing," Coin said genuinely. "You should be telling that to Isabella." "I wouldn't be here if she listened." Juho shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Isn't it a pretty big segment, though? Created for the one and only Kelley Coin?" "Please. Feel free to take over if you like it that much." "You know what? I'm famished. You're buying, right?" Juho asked, remembering how hungry he was getting. After glancing at the menu on the table, Coin said, "What do you want?" And after some thought, Juho replied, "Sausages." --- "Isn't that Kelley Coin?" Being conscious of his surroundings, Juho cut the sausage on his plate. People in the restaurant were, one by one, starting to recognize Kelley Coin's presence. Although the two were sitting at the innermost table of the restaurant, that did hardly anything to keep them from the eyes of the public. Not only was the restaurant quite small, but the tables were spread out uniformly. "I feel like it gets a lot harder to stay unrecognized whenever we're together." People around them were speaking in German. Although Coin didn't speak it, he had an idea of what they might be talking about. "By tomorrow, I'm sure the world will know that you had sausages for dinner today." "Doesn't matter. What's so interesting about me coming to Germany on vacation?" "And that's how you find out that there are people flying to Germany just to see you." Juho chuckled, doubting anybody would have that kind of time. "Germany's a big country, you know." "If people find out that you're in Frankfurt, wouldn't they make the connection that you're here for the book fair? You know how one-dimensional these people can be." "And the fair is massive." Shrugging, Coin looked around and said, "Well, they won't bother us while we're eating. Assuming their thoughts can get that far." It was a warning of sorts. Of course, nobody in their right mind would dare to interrupt Coin during a meal. "Damn it, I'd kill for a beer right about now," Coin said, taking a big bite of his Schweinshaxe. By that point, Juho had lost count of how many times he had heard Coin say those very words. However, he did understand where Coin was coming from. In actuality, almost everyone in the restaurant was enjoying a glass of beer with their food, fitting to the reputation of the country. (TL's Note: Schweinshaxe is a roasted pork hock, a dish traditional to Germany.) "I saw an array of them at the grocery store. It was impressive." "Are you telling me to get one?" Juho remembered the conversation they had had some time ago when Coin had shared his personal experience with alcoholism. "You said it yourself, you'd be back in hell the moment you let alcohol touch your lips." "Ugh. I hate myself. Why did I have to drink myself to near death? I can't even enjoy myself a drink anymore." "Well, what can you do?" "I hate myself," Coin said, fiercely chewing his meat. "You're really hard on yourself. Although, you're under a lot of criticism even as we speak," Juho said, avoiding the gazes directed toward them. "You know, this would be the perfect time for you to tell me something along the lines of 'Oh, you gotta love yourself more. Don't give up, even if everyone else around you does.'" "I thought you weren't into that kind of stuff?" "And feel free to add something like, 'What harm is there in having a drink or two every now and then?'" "... Haha," Juho let out, catching on with some delay that Coin was cracking a joke. The serious look on Coin's face made it nearly impossible to distinguish if he was joking or being serious. "If that's what you want, then, so be it. Love yourself, but properly. That way, you don't have to drown yourself in alcohol," Juho said, brushing his hand across the hat on his head. Words tended to carry different meanings depending on the person delivering them. In that case, who would be in a better position to say what he had said to Coin? Yun Woo's successful self, or his wretched self? "Acknowledge that you need help. You said that was the first step to recovering from alcoholism, right?" "I did. Most alcoholics are in denial that they're addicts. Yet, they keep pouring alcohol down their throats. Nobody can think when their brain is pickled in alcohol," Coin said, agreeing with Juho. "And what's at the end of that road?" "You're dead. What else is there?" Looking intently at him, Juho said, "So, in this case, to neglect is to die." As if he were stating the obvious, Coin tilted his head, saying, "Isn't that obvious? Even two-year-olds would know that much. Do not lie. Isn't that one of the first things you learn about survival when growing up? There's a reason why that's common knowledge. One can tell themselves that they're OK all they want, but does that really change anything at the end of the day? That's just negligence. I almost died back then." The conversation stopped briefly as Juho brought a piece of sausage up to his mouth. Then, he briefly immersed himself in thought. "I think that's Yun Woo sitting with Coin." As the air sank into silence, Juho heard the whispers around him and Coin. Meanwhile, Coin guzzled down on his water, as if he would a beer. Then, he asked Juho, "Wait, what brought you to Germany?" Juho looked up at Coin's question, thinking, 'I guess he didn't forget.' Meanwhile, Coin was busy eating the meat off the bone, a sight that looked quite threatening for no apparent reason. "What did you come here for?" Coin repeated himself. "I got an offer." "An offer? What offer?" Juho looked around, locking eyes with a few people. Although most people pretended not to look in their direction, Juho was well aware that they were keeping their eyes on him and Coin, which made it a less-than-ideal setting to tell Coin the truth behind his visit: to write a sequel to 'Language of God.' "I don't think it's something I can bring up in here," Juho said. At that, Coin put the bone down and reached into his pocket for a pen with the same hand he had been holding the bone. Then, along with a piece of tissue, he pushed it toward to the young author. 'Huh, didn't think he would bother,' Juho thought to himself, impressed by Coin's eagerness to hear him. "Is this really necessary? We're still eating." "I can't stand being curious." After putting a piece of sausage into his mouth, Juho picked up the pen and wrote: Materials for the sequel of 'Language of God.' Writing in progress. Upon reading the message written on the tissue, Coin took it and blew his nose with it, which echoed through the entire restaurant. "Speaking of 'Destroy after Reading.'" "I'll make sure to flush it down the toilet." "Thanks." Juho didn't go out of his way to add that Coin was one of the reasons that had brought him to Germany. After replaying the words that had been written on the tissue, Coin murmured, "Yun Woo, writing a sequel." "You're doing it, aren't you?" he asked. "That'd be nice," Juho replied. "Well, this just got interesting." "I'm still kind of lost, though." "But you're gonna make it happen, eventually." "I don't know…" "Whatever it is, do it well, and go to the award ceremony yourself," Coin said. At which, Juho chuckled quietly. "Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves here? I haven't written a single word yet." "It means I'm not going to another ceremony for your ass. I thought it'd probably be better to warn you now than later." Of course. There was no way that Coin would offer words of encouragement without a catch. After finishing their meal, the two authors left the restaurant, Coin turning down every autograph and photo request. Juho, on the other hand, stayed behind briefly to take some pictures with a few people, which made him have to rush to catch up to Coin. After sunset, the streets of Frankfurt were just as exotic as they had been during the day. "There are a lot of people out even after sundown." Coin answered indifferently, as if he had no interest in the people whatsoever. Of course, Juho was well acquainted with that attitude by that point. "Oh! I saw this manual traffic light on the way. That's something you don't see every day where I'm from." "Really? You're getting excited over a traffic light?" "You don't see things like that anymore these days, especially when everything's automated. Sometimes, it's more efficient to keep things manual." "That is true, I guess." At that moment, just as Coin was about to ask the young author for the location of the hotel he was staying in, a loud commotion came out of nowhere. When Juho turned in the direction it had come from, he saw two people about to get into a fight at any given minute. Judging from their faces, which burned red, both of them seemed to be drunk. "I guess you'll find drunk people anywhere in this world." "Drunk people fighting, I might add." Things were only getting tenser, and neither party looked like they were about to back down, drawing the attention of those around them. Without getting involved themselves, the pedestrians simply watched the quarrel from a distance. As the two drunkards held each other by the collar of their shirts, Coin asked the young author, "What are they saying?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl The two drunkards were arguing with each other in German. Navigating through their speech, which was both hastened and slurred from the alcohol, Juho studied the situation. In the end, the two were quarreling over a rather simple matter. "One of them owes the other money." One had borrowed money from the other, adding an additional dimension to their friendship: that of a debtor and a creditor. "Who's the debtor?" "The guy in red." "How much?" "Two hundred euros." "Just that? That's pathetic." It was about 225 US dollars worth of money. However, judging from the intensity of the situation alone, one could easily assume that there would be thousands of dollars worth of money involved. "I don't think it's entirely about money. There must have been a lot of pent up resentment." As a response to Juho's observation, Coin let out a small chuckle. Meanwhile, the pedestrians who had been watching the quarrel started going on about their way around the two drunkards. With his eyes fixed on the two still in a fierce argument, Juho imagined how the situation would come to an end. The happiest ending would be for the debtor to pay the creditor back in full. Since there was no way to know the details behind their situation, the young author started with the most visible factor, the one on the outermost surface. "I think it'll be over once the guy pays back his friend," Juho said. At which point, Coin sneered as if he found Juho's ending to the story silly and said, "I'd end it with the debtor never paying back his debt." "There are a lot of different ways to go about that, you know." Unless somebody let up, the quarrel would go on. At that moment, Coin brought up a thought that occurred to him, "What if you take one of them out?" Put in a dilemma, Juho thought to himself that he'd rather see the man in red meet his demise, saying, "I think I'd want to write a story about the debt he died with. I wonder what kind of purpose it serves in the otherworld." "I'd keep him alive. He'd probably stab his friend just so he didn't have to pay him back." "Stab him? Where?" "His eyes." "Yikes." "You're the one that brought up the otherworld." Once the debtor committed something he could never undo, the two hundred euro he owed his friend would suddenly lose all substance. Perhaps, it would even be cruel. At that moment, the debtor shoved the guy in red. "Let's not just think about this subtractively. Why don't we try adding to it? We can always have a third person get involved. Since they're both directly involved in the situation, neither of them will be able to put an end to their quarrel." "All right. Who?" "I don't know. Whoever, really. Family, the next table, a waiter, the bar owner, a street cat, the cigarette stand owner…" Anybody would fit, even an author watching a fight in Germany. "Then, who's the most interesting one?" "That would be…" Instead of finishing his sentence, Juho looked toward Coin. At that moment, Juho realized that Coin was thinking the same thing as him. At which point, he brought both of his hands up to his mouth and shouted in German, putting an end to the quarrel, "It's Kelley Coin!" It had been a while since Juho had shouted in public sober. Fortunately, the two stopped fighting and looked toward the young author. "You prick." It had been a means of self-defense. Besides, there was the added benefit of having stopped a fight before it got any worse. Although he regretted nothing, Juho ran toward the two friends and stood in between them. Meanwhile, the pedestrians around were all looking toward the young author, still clueless as to what happened. Although sticking his nose into other people's business was the last thing he wanted to do, Juho took hold of the opportunity. "Coin?" the two said, looking around. Although they both looked quite worked up, it was nowhere near like they once had. "If you guys go on, things will get a lot worse than they need to. Alcohol has that effect, trust me. Why don't we call it a night for the time being and pick it back up where we left off another day?" Juho asked the two. "Who are you?" "Oh, just some tourist who happened to be passing by. I gotta say, Germany looks beautiful at night." "... Where are you from?" "South Korea. That person over there, on the other hand…" Juho said, pointing toward where he and Coin had been standing. However, Coin was no longer there. He had run off. Resisting his urge to chuckle, the young author said, "Well, I guess he's not there anymore. In any case, if you wanna know more about the guy, look up Kelley Coin on the internet." "Coin?" "Did I make myself clear? No more fighting!" "... Coin?" The two didn't seem like they wanted to fight in front of a tourist, either. Besides, the atmosphere made it awkward for them to keep going. Feeling at ease, Juho rushed out of that place. Coin was nowhere to be found still. As he was running, the phone in his pocket started vibrating. Upon checking the message, the young author was forced to stop in his tracks. "Uh-oh." 'I'll see you at the fair.' Coin's exit was just as unexpected as his appearance. Chuckling, Juho walked through the buildings unhurriedly. "I've seen that guy somewhere," one of the two said. However, it wasn't until the next afternoon that they came to realize who the two tourists had been: Yun Woo and Kelley Coin. --- "Hello, Germany!" Zara Jenkins, the genius Hollywood director, murmured, breathing in the air. Massaging his tense shoulders, the director unwound himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been to Germany. The most recent trip had been during his college years, which had also been spontaneous. "I wonder if anything's changed since?" Pulling his bag, Zara got on the subway, getting off at the Frankfurt Central Station, and walked out to the square. He was planning to look around the Main River. Simultaneously, the director was thinking about the rumor that Yun Woo had been spotted in Germany. Since he knew exactly where to expect the young author to be, there was no need to rush. Still, he caught himself having to slow down. Stopping in his tracks, he said, "Think I'll get me some gelato." "One mango, please," the director said after walking into the gelato shop. As the shop owner pointed toward the mango gelato with a brusque expression on her face, the director nodded in affirmation. Taking the cup from her hand, the director took a bite and shook his head at the refreshing flavor of the gelato. 'That's the stuff.' Since there was a table set up just outside the shop, Jenkin decided to stick around a little longer. The director felt the owner looking intently in his direction, as if she knew who he was. "Do you know who I am?" "Who are you?" "... Nevermind." It wasn't long before the truth was revealed. After which, the shop owner looked away without hesitation. Meanwhile, Jenkins took his phone out while quietly eating his gelato. At that moment, two more guests walked into the shop. Appearing to be middle aged, one of them was wearing a red top. A potent whiff of alcohol wafted from the two. "I'll take a banana." "Blueberry for me." Then, one of the men said to the other, "So, you have enough to afford a gelato, huh?" "Really? Are we doing this again?" "I keep telling you. This will all be over once you pay me back." Although Jenkins couldn't understand a word of what they were saying, he was able to grasp that there was something uncomfortable between the two. Refraining from speaking his mind, the man in red, who seemed to be at a disadvantage, paid for the two gelatos. "Oh! We ran into a celebrity yesterday!" "Who?" the shop owner asked, wearing the same brusque expression on her face. The man in red seemed uncomfortable about the particular subject at hand. "You know Yun Woo, don't you?" "Of course, I do. I even got his autograph." "What!? Did you see Coin too?" "No," the shop owner said as if she had no interest in their business, cutting the conversation short. At that moment, Jenkins called to the man in red. He had been eavesdropping on the conversation that had been taking place inside the store. "Wait, did you say Yun Woo?" the director asked. "What the… Who are you?" "Yun Woo? That's what you said, right?" "Yeah. What's it to you?" "Where did you see him?" "At a bar." "Which bar?" While Jenkins didn't know a word of German, the man in red seemed to be somewhat fluent in English. However, he appeared to be in no mood to be interacting with the director since his friend kept bringing up his debt at every opportunity. "I'm busy, so if you're lost, ask the shop owner over here." "No, no. I'm not lost." "Just where do you think you're going? You're not going anywhere until you pay what you owe me." "I will! Will you stop pestering me about that!?" "We wouldn't be having this issue if you would just pay me back!" As the two started raising their voices at each other, Jenkins couldn't bring himself to get in between them. Instead, he looked toward the shop owner and asked, "Yun Woo?" "That's right. I even got his autograph," she said, repeating what she had told the two a moment before. Unfortunately, she didn't seem like she was in much of a mood to talk either. Instead, she lifted her hand and pointed in a certain direction. When Jenkins looked toward it, he saw a piece of paper on the wall with the young author's signature on it. "That's Yun Woo's?" "That's his autograph." For the director, the gelato melting away in his hand was hardly a concern. He looked down at his phone, which showed when Coin was going to be onstage. --- "This is massive." Not only was it massive, but the place was unbelievably spacious. That was the first thought Juho had when he stepped into the exhibition center. It was enormous, more than big enough to accomodate the eight thousand companies participating in the fair. The place seemed big enough to fit a number of buildings into it, and the directory alone was indicative of how massive of a exhibition center the place was. By that point, Nabi had already taken part in the preceding events, including a number of meetings. "Did you catch the prime minister's speech?" Juho asked the agent as they made their way into the building. "Of course! I also saw the king of Netherlands. They're guests of honor this year," Nabi said. "This is one ginormous event." "I mean, there are even shuttles bringing and taking people out of the place. Once the public day starts, that's when all hell breaks loose." "Children's literature and comic books have always been popular. Are we going to the Asian section first?" "Yes, we are. It's on the fourth floor," Nabi said, showing the young author around. There were countless booths set up, and within them, were people who were waiting for their meetings to start. Dressed in professional attire, the presenters were explaining the data they had prepared for those who had come to meet them. While some conversed casually, others appeared noticeably nervous. In addition, there were also those who were waiting for people who were yet to arrive. On the booths set up by larger, more well-known companies, there were pictures of their most iconic authors. "Everyone seems to be busy." "Of course! People are busy arranging meetings with as many clients as possible. I've had twenty daily meetings at one point. Everyone's just gunning for that one copyright they've been eying," Nabi said, chuckling quietly. When she arrived at the South Korean booth with the young author, they saw there were a number of meetings that were ongoing simultaneously. Juho looked toward the books that were being displayed on the wall. Similar to the relatively small booth, there were relatively fewer books available. Nevertheless, everyone there was hard at work. Meanwhile, after locking eyes with someone, Nabi started walking past the booth. Noticing the look he was getting, Juho bowed subtly before catching up to Nabi, who was making her way toward the Chinese booth. Although it was a given being that they were at a book fair, it dawned on Juho just how many books there were around the world. "Seo Kwang would be stoked," Juho said to himself, imagining the look on his friend's face if they had been at the fair together. Then, a science fiction story written by a famous Chinese author came into view. "So, this is the original," the young author said, skimming through the pages. The difference in the feel it carried compared to the translated version was quite noticeable. At that moment... "Hello," somebody said, walking toward Juho. Seeing the lanyard hanging from his neck, the young author grasped that the person was a staff member. After exchanging a brief greeting with Nabi as if knowing her, the staff member looked intently at the young author. "You must be Yun Woo," he said, reaching out for a handshake. Juho grabbed his hand and replied, "Yes, pleasure to meet you. I see a lot of interesting books here." With that, the staff member proceeded to introduce the publishing company to the young author, which happened to be the publisher responsible for publishing Juho's books in China. "We finally meet! This feels strange." "Likewise." There were countless people involved in the process of turning the young author's manuscripts into books. Seeing Yun Woo in person was quite intriguing. While Juho and the staff member were chatting, another voice came from behind Juho. "Ah! Molley!" Nabi said, greeting the older gentleman gladly. He seemed to be a publishing agent like Nabi, and the staff member from the Chinese booth also seemed to know the older gentleman. "I haven't seen you since last year. How've you been?" "You're right. I always come across all these lovely people whenever I'm at the fair." At that moment, Juho locked eyes with the gentleman, who offered him a hand to shake first, with a gentle smile on his face. "Hello. John Molley," the gentleman said, adding the name of a big agency after his name. It was a company that had worked with a number of big-name authors. From what Juho had heard from Nabi, Molley was the person who had been of tremendous help to her when she had worked on getting the young author's book exported for the first time. Grabbing his hand, Juho replied, "Yun Woo. Pleasure to meet you." "Why, of course! The pleasure's mine, Mr. Woo. I've been dying to meet you!"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I gotta say, you look slightly different from the pictures or the videos." "Is that so?" "Very much so. Cameras wouldn't bother to focus on the calluses on your hands," Molley said, looking at the hand he had shaken just a moment ago, which had a particularly rough spot on the middle finger. "What do you think? Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Woo?" "Knowing that there are this many books in this world really puts me in good spirits." "It's a festival if you will." Just as Molley had said, the book fair was a festival for book lovers. There was nothing at the fair that exuded more presence than books, and the crowd gathering around them was proof of that. "This takes me back to our first meeting," Molley said, brushing his hand under his chin, looking as though reminiscing to the past, and added, "I was very taken aback when I read 'Trace of a Bird' for the first time. And what I read had been a sample! I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that it was the fruit of your talent. The next book carried an entirely different feel and structure from that of its predecessor. I remember being worried and hopeful all at the same time when it came out sooner than I had expected. Let me tell you, Mr. Woo. Working with your books is a joy of mine." He seemed genuine, and Juho found his compliments quite pleasant. "I was at the award ceremonies for both the Nebula and the Hugo. Part of me was really hoping that I could meet you there. Speaking of which, I believe congratulations are in order." It was a congratulation that had come a long way around the world. As Juho responded with an awkward nod, the staff member of the Chinese booth said, "There are some rumors circulating about a sequel to one of your books." "You mean, 'Language of God?'" "Yes. What's your standpoint, Mr. Woo? Is it happening?" Juho covered his mouth with his hand. It was far too early to say anything. Catching on to the young author's gesture, the staff member let up almost immediately. "The entire world knows how good you are at keeping secrets. I suppose I'll just have to hope that it turns out the way I hope it does." "What about a movie? Are you still against it?" At that moment, an unfamiliar voice called to the young author, saying, "Hello, Mr. Woo." When Juho turned around, he saw a person who he had never met before. Recognizing the person immediately, Nabi introduced him to the young author, "Mr. Woo, this is the editor in charge of your books in Japan." Starting with the Japanese editor, more and more people started talking to Juho, including industry buyers and agents from all across the world, naturally creating a space for those people to interact with each other. Nabi was mostly talking to people from the US, the UK, and Germany. "I've been looking forward to this since the meeting with Nabi. I was told that Mr. Woo would be at the fair today." "Where was the meeting?" "Oh! I saw that director around that area. It completely caught me off guard." "Has Mr. Woo written a new book?" "Any good catches? The how-to books seem quite promising this year." "The US hasn't been very active as of late." "There's Coin at least, so that's something." A group of twenty or so people were each talking about their own subjects seemlessly. "You had no idea of how crazy things would get when Mr. Woo revealed himself." Before long, the subject moved on to the young author's first profile picture. Meanwhile, Molley described the scene at a bookstore on the release day of the young author's book. No matter where in the world, it seemed like things had looked more or less the same as long as there was a bookstore around. "I was more taken aback by Coin in that picture," one of the Chinese officials said. "Whenever I read their books back to back, I find myself getting even more confused than I was before I started reading. I just don't understand how the two grew close." "They're just the opposite of each other." "And reading their books only makes it even more puzzling." "Maybe it has something to do with both of them being prolific writers?" "Personally, I find myself leaning toward Mr. Woo's writing style." At that moment, one of the people there looked around in an exaggerated manner and said, "Just to make sure Coin wasn't around." After chuckling awkwardly, Juho subtly changed the subject. As they conversed, Juho found himself losing track of time. At which point, Nabi said to him quietly, "We better get to Mr. Coin's lecture. It's almost time." "Ah, right." Juho was quite looking forward to that segment of the fair. Catching on to where the young author was headed, the others said, "Well, I hate to say goodbye, but I better look around some more." "The author I'm working with is having a conference today." "We don't wanna call it a night just yet, so why don't we all meet again later outside the fair? I know a place." Everyone seemed to already be aware that Juho was planning on spending his time during his stay in Germany unhurried. With the exception of those who had other matters to attend to, the only people left who were going to Coin's lecture were Nabi, Molley, the Chinese official, and the Japanese editor. With that, the five, including the young author, walked out of the Asian section. "Wow, it's packed." Coin's segment appeared to be quite popular. By the time Juho arrived, Coin was already onstage, in the middle of a Q&A session. Standing in front of a red background, the color suited him quite well. Meanwhile, since all the seats were filled up, Juho stood behind the backmost seat. Thankfully, Coin was still plenty visible from where Juho was because of the monitors set up in between the seats. There were cameras aimed toward the author onstage, and there were dozens of monitors showing what the camera was capturing in real time. The scale was impressive. Looking at Coin in the monitors, he seemed somewhat bored despite the sheer number of people he was surrounded by. "I write all sorts of things. Not only have I been part of writing for a movie and a show, but I've also written a number of nonfiction and travel books. I've written for science and cooking magazines too, actually. In other words, I don't discriminate the opportunities that come my way." The host, who was wearing a suit that looked like it had come straight out of an eighties' Hollywood movie and a pair of thick, horn-rimmed glasses, looked intently at the author until he had finished. His belt was looking quite fragile from his belly bulging out. "Why is that?" "To me, that's the ideal image of an author." Juho looked at the audience, whose members were sitting on square chairs around the author onstage. It felt like he had walked into a bubble. Although the busyness of the fair was only a step away, the crowd was listening intently to the author onstage. "No author in this world decides that they only wanna focus on one subject. Sure, they look at, feel, observe, and study it, but it's never limited to one particular thing. Although, there might be scientists who approach research in that manner, an author has to be flexible." "But aren't there tons of authors who prefer to focus on a single subject?" At that, Coin's brow furrowed, disgruntled that his point wasn't getting across. He wasn't afraid to express himself despite being in front of an audience. "I'm not saying that an author shouldn't write the same thing twice. For example, let's say an author decides to use the same characters, settings, and values on another piece of writing," Coin said, speaking openly on his thoughts. Although there was aggression in his tone, it wasn't all that different from the usual tone in which he spoke. While some took pictures of him with their phones, others jotted down notes. "In that case, what about an author's individuality? Authors tend to be greedy when it comes to things that set them apart. For example, if I were to read one of your books without being told who it had been written by, I'd still know that it was your book. But according to your logic, wouldn't an author's pursuit of flexibility mean giving up their freedom in some sense?" "That's right. At the end of the day, I am me. It doesn't matter how hard I try to change that. I don't have to worry about my past vanishing into thin air or my potential future becoming another person's. It's a limit in some sense, but there are also endless possibilities." Juho glanced at the audience to either side. They were all listening intently to Coin. "If one finds that they're no longer themselves at the end of their pursuit of freedom, then what's the point of that pursuit? Who would want that?" Pulling up his glasses, the host in the eighties-style suit asked, "In that case, what's your take on Yun Woo?" "Oh!" Molley let out quietly, looking toward the young author and locking eyes with him. "I didn't see that coming," Juho whispered. "Your name tends to come up quite often, especially when it comes to a topic like this," the Japanese editor whispered, and the Chinese official nodded in agreement. Juho looked intently at Coin on the screen. "Yun Woo." "Yes. One of the things he's known for is having multiple writing styles. It's fascinating, really. I believe there's even research happening as we speak on it. What are your thoughts, Mr. Coin? Do you think Yun Woo would be the freest author you know?" Freest. Juho denied it internally. If anything, his writing styles held him back. They were shackles on both of his feet. "I don't know. His writing is ever changing. It's almost as if a child I saw one day became an adult the next, only to become a child all over again the following day," Coin said. "His writing is unbelievable. He's extremely well-trained for his age. He leaves no room for his readers to think that he could grow and learn from his mistakes. I mean, how many teenagers do you know who are capable of something like that? If he really did have a split personality, his alternate self would probably be my age. At which point, the world would laugh at him for not acting his age when he fell on his face," the host said. Meanwhile, Coin was resting his face on his chin. Although it was incredibly rude for him to do so, nobody pointed it out. "I suppose one could identify him as being sinful." "Sinful, you say?" "Yes. Reversing the flow of this world just so he can move forward on his own. It's inexcusable, really… but I suppose I'm already judging him by a certain standard the moment I deem him sinful. Actually, the fact that we're even talking about him and judging him already shows how far removed we are from freedom." "I'd love to have that kind of power," Juho said, lifting his hat up slightly and brushing his hair back with his hand. At that, a subtle smile appeared on Nabi's face. Meanwhile, Coin seemed to be looking for somebody in the audience. He had to be looking for the young author. "I just got a call from Isabella. What do you wanna do, Mr. Woo? Would you like to stick around a little longer?" "Yes, if that's OK. I'll go see her once this is over," Juho said, nodding at Nabi. "All right, then. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Woo." After following her with his eyes for a brief moment, Juho redirected his attention to the stage. At that moment… "Who's that?" Juho noticed something out of place. The audience was all listening to Coin intently and earnestly. Whether they were sitting or standing, there was a sense of dignity in their quiet behavior. However, there was one person who stood out. He was paying no attention to the author onstage. He was particularly tall. While everyone concentrated intensely on the author, the man was looking around as if he had lost something. He wasn't taking pictures with his phone, either. He seemed to have no interest in Coin whatsoever. In that case, why was he there? Juho became puzzled by the man's presence and his odd behavior. "If you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you," Coin said in a voice sounding much lower and heavier than usual. It was a quote from a philosophy book written by Friedrich Nietzsche, which stated that one needed to think beyond what was good or evil. As Juho turned his head to look to the monitor, he noticed a pair of blue eyes looking at him. The man had also recognized the young author from the distance. The bright stage light reflected from the man's eyes, accentuating the blue in his eyes even further. Despite the distance between them, there was something about his appearance that stuck out to the young author. While Juho kept his eyes on the man from the corner of his eyes, he noticed that the man's expression started to change. His eyes and mouth were started to widen, and soon, his hand was on his cheek. At that moment, the man started cheering out loud as if he had finally found that something or that someone he had been looking for, which caught Juho off guard. "I think he saw you, Mr. Woo," Molley said to the young author.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "What!?" the Chinese official said, looking around, taken aback. At that, the tall man desperately waved his hands, trying to communicate something. However, Juho couldn't understand the message. "I think he's a fan." "You think so?" Juho asked. "Just look at his eyes." 'Does he want a picture? Or an autograph, maybe?' Juho asked himself, thinking about a spot where he would be able to provide that for his fan. However, the time and place were less than ideal in every sense. When Juho made an X with his hands, the man stopped what he was doing. Upon looking down slightly, Juho saw the man's expression hardening as if noticing the young author was about to leave at any given minute. Nevertheless, Juho had no choice. If the man was one of the officials from a publishing company, he would understand the situation soon enough. Finding himself in somewhat of an uncomfortable situation, Juho decided to give Nabi a call and meet up with Isabella. "Would you excuse me?" "Of course." As Juho made his way through the crowd, he looked back and saw that he wasn't being followed. After that, he walked off to the side and toward the stage, past the monitors that were installed on every pillar, locking eyes with several clones of Kelley Coin. Then, Juho called Nabi and asked, "Where are you? I'll come to you." "To me?" she said, adding, "I'm behind the stage. Meet me there." "OK, I'm on my…" At that moment, Juho stopped in his tracks by reflex. A hand had kept him from going any further. Following up the arm with his eyes, Juho was met with the familiar blue eyes. "I came from the States just so I could meet you," the man said, sounding like he already knew who the young author was. Juho couldn't make sense of the situation in any way. "I made a perilous journey here, holding on to the slightest possibility of meeting you. And finally, here we are. Face to face. I was so happy!... Until you shut me down, that is. I'm not gonna lie. It hurt a lot more the second time around," the man said, his shoulders drooping weakly. Juho was bothered by the fact that it wasn't the man's first time interacting with him. Upon observing the man, the young author concluded that he wasn't merely a fan who was especially enthusiastic. "Is everything OK, Mr. Woo?" Nabi asked. Although Juho opened his mouth in an attempt to explain the situation to her, he simply couldn't put it into words. "There's a person from the States who came to see me." "Huh?" "Do you not know who I am?" the man asked. His eyes made Juho quite uncomfortable. No matter how hard he tried to remember, Juho simply didn't know the man, which forced him to say… "No." "No!?" the man said, his nostrils flaring. "Do YOU know me?" Juho asked that time. "Yun Woo!" the man shouted with impressive volume, which was loud enough to echo through the building. At that, Juho shook his head in a hurry, "No, no, that's not what I'm asking. And you don't have to be so lou…" "You're Yun Woo! Yun Woo! Yun Woo! Yun Woo!" the man said, opening up his chest and shouting at the sky. "Yun Woo!" "... Mr. Woo?" Nabi asked nervously. "Nevermind. I think somebody forgot their medication," Juho said, looking around and locking eyes with the Kelley Coin clones on the screens. When he turned toward the stage slowly, Juho saw that the audience, the host and Coin were all looking in his direction. The boredom that had been visible on Coin's face was nowhere to be found. At that moment, an evil look appeared on his face, and Coin said, "It's Yun Woo!" The best thing Juho could do in that situation was to make sure his that hat was on properly. Needless to say, a disturbance arose in the audience. Meanwhile, the tall man with blue eyes was glaring intently at the young author, as if he couldn't hear anything. "Yun Woo's here!?" "Where!?" "I did hear he was in Germany." "Is it him?" 'What do I do?' Juho asked himself. It was a sticky situation. Then, as the young author was searching for a way out, Coin, whose face shone from the spotlight, rose from his seat, walked toward Juho and said, "I didn't realize the two geniuses knew each other. Please, come on up to the stage." 'Two geniuses?' Juho thought to himself and turned toward the tall man. Only then, was there something familiar about him. 'Who is he?' "Remind me of your name again?" Juho asked. To which, the man answered in a loud, confident voice, "Zara Jenkins." 'That must be what makes this our second interaction,' Juho thought to himself. He definitely remembered hearing the name from Nabi at some point. Jenkins was one of the directors who were after the movie rights, and whose offer and request to meet, Juho remembered turning down. The young author had no intention of doing another film adaptation. Not only had he experienced it already, but he also concluded that there was nothing to gain from it. "You mean, you came all the way to Germany just to see me?" Juho asked upon discovering the man's identity. "You went to a local gelato shop recently, didn't you?" Jenkins asked, smiling confidently. "How'd you know?" "I came across a trace of you by complete coincidence. The shop owner had your autograph on the wall." "Hm." "Besides, getting a hold of your pictures has gotten significantly easier than before." "I thought they didn't let civilians in during business days?" "C'mon, Mr. Woo. I'm a former actor turned screenwriter/director. It's hardly a challenge to gain access to the fair." "Could I have you two gentlemen come up to the stage? The audience is waiting," the host in the eighties-style suit said, his face burning bright red from excitement. Before Juho had realized, the cameras that had been aimed at Coin at one point and the stage crew were all looking toward him, Nabi, and Isabella. "I suppose damage control is in order," Juho said, slightly irritated. However, Jenkins replied cheerfully, as if completely oblivious to the emotions behind the young author's words, "Well, what are we waiting for? I love being onstage!" As the director went up to the stage, Juho followed him. At which point, the faces in the audience became clearly visible, including those of the people he had left behind. Everyone's mouths were parted open. Soon, the audience erupted into cheers and applause, whistling loudly. "Oh, my goodness! I would've never known that I'd see you here!" the host said. "Likewise," Juho murmured. Then, the host wearing the tacky suit asked, still sounding excited, "How come you two are together?" The host started with a difficult question right off the bat. As the young author hesitated, Jenkins replied confidently, "Aren't we all here for one reason? To see Kelley Coin, of course." Then, walking right past Juho and the host, Jenkins reached over to Coin and offered a handshake. After shaking hands with the director against his will, Coin wiped his hand on his pants, looking disgruntled. Having Jenkins return to where he was suppose to be, as if trying to keep everyone in line, the host asked him and the young author, "So, what was happening earlier? What did we see?" "Oh, it was nothing. Call it a small surprise that makes life just a little more interesting. You know, something God would do if He had a sense of humor," Jenkins said as if rambling random thoughts. Moving on from the director, the host looked toward Juho, appearing as though having trouble making up his mind on what to ask first. "I'm gonna be honest. I don't know what to ask first. Were you watching Mr. Coin this entire time?" "I was." "That means you heard us mention your name too, right?" "That's right!" "We have a lot of people in the audience here, and I'm sure everyone was really looking forward to meeting you. If we can hear it directly from you, Mr. Woo, that'd be an honor." In actuality, the eyes within the audience were quite piercing. Finding himself being thrown in the middle of a publishers' festival, Juho swallowed the urge to sigh. "We were in the middle of discussing freedom. Do you consider yourself as being free?" "Yes and no. There are times when I feel like nothing's holding me back. Other times, I feel like I'm completely tied up. It happens to everyone. I'm sure everyone understands what I'm talking about," Juho said. "What do you think of yourself, Mr. Woo?" "That's a tough one," Juho said, smiling despite the uncomfortable attention he was getting. He was feeling the piercing gazes from all directions getting fixed on him like arrows, which almost made them painful. As soon as he answered a question to the best of his ability, another question followed. "Is this your first time at the fair?" "Yes. This is my first time." "How is it so far?" "I like that I get to experience the publishing market in person." "As far as I'm aware, you're a polyglot, am I right? Has that helped you at all?" "Yes, it has. There are all sorts of books from all across the world in this place. I actually got to meet people who have been working hard to get my books published. It was a lot of fun. Although, that isn't to say that that happened solely because I'm speaking English. There is plenty to see around here, whether you speak the language or not." As if satisfied with the young author's answers, the host maintained a cheerful smile on his face the entire time Juho spoke. "Well, since we weren't quite expecting you here today, I'm afraid we can't take too much of your time away unfortunately. I'll give one lucky audience member a chance to ask you any question they might have. Is that OK?" "Of course." "May I be part of this?" Jenkins said, interfering with the young author and the host, who assumed he was joking. Then, the host handed the microphone to a lady sitting in the frontmost row. She was a buyer from Spain. "I'd like to ask a question since we have a renowned Hollywood director here with us." Juho sensed that things were starting to take an unfavorable turn. "Could you tell us what you know about the long-anticipated film adaptation of 'Language of God?' Should the fans be expecting it sometime in the near future?" "That's a great question! I've been wanting to know about that as well." Thinking about the cameras aimed toward him and his clones occupying the monitors' screens, Juho replied, "At this point, I can't really say much. You see, I have no intention of doing another film adaptation." "Is that because you have a negative perspective of novels getting made into movies?" the host asked. Meanwhile, the Spanish buyer stared up at the young author, clenching her lips tightly. "Not necessarily. It seems like there are some misconceptions about that. If I really didn't have a positive opinion on novels getting adapted into films, the 'Trace of a Bird' movie would've never happened." When Juho glanced at Jenkins, he saw the director was glaring intently at him, as if watching his every move. Juho was able to imagine how the director came to decide to fly all the way to Germany just to see him. At which point, he had to suppress his urge to chuckle. "Although, I can't tell you how I'll feel in the future. Just as I have the freedom to feel as I wish in the future, I'd like to add that everyone here is free to hope as they wish." At that moment, another audience member shouted, "One more question!" "OK, then. Should we have one more?" the host said, pointing to a French agent who was sitting in the middle of the crowd. "The friendship between Mr. Coin and Mr. Woo leaves a lot of people puzzled," he said, and a quiet chuckle spread across the audience. Meanwhile, Coin was looking at the agent with a harsh expression on his face. "I was wondering if you two consider each other rivals. There have been rivalries in the literary world that are particularly well known. Do you two plan on following in your predecessors' footsteps?" Juho looked at Coin, who replied to the French agent without even giving the young author a glance, "I have no intention of being part of such stupidity. Yun Woo still has a long way to go to get to my level. He'd probably have to be born again." "That's one scary answer," Jenkins murmured. Hearing the audience responding in unison, Juho cleared his throat. "What about you, Mr. Woo?" "I respect Coin's decision. There's no doubt that he's a talented writer. I often find myself getting impressed whenever I'm reading his books. On the other hand, I still fall short in many ways." "I'm already in a bad mood as is. I suggest you don't make it worse and come up with a better answer," Coin said quietly, which Juho shrugged off. "The thing is, he doesn't seem to know that I've already died once. That's my sin. I've caught up to him." At that, Coin furrowed his brow, saying, "When I told you not to come up with a better answer, I didn't mean for you to go off the deep end." "It is better than the one I gave earlier though, don't you think?" Then, flashes started going off from the audience. Judging from the size of the crowd in the back, which was still growing, word had to have gotten out that Yun Woo was onstage with Kelley Coin. Unfortunately, the young author was about to wrap up his spontaneous interview session. The host closed the segment reluctantly, and after saying goodbye to the audience, Juho made his exit. "Keep at it," Juho said. "Why don't you just take over?" Coin said sarcastically. "Nah." After glancing at Jenkins, Coin looked away shortly after. As Juho came down from the stage, he was greeted by Nabi, who seemed short-winded. "Why are Jenkins, Coin, and Yun Woo together!? No, wait, what's Jenkins even doing here?? What's going on??" Looking at Jenkins, who was following the young author in a hurry, Juho said, "Well, I'm sure he has a thing or two to tell us." Meanwhile, the director was looking intently at Juho, unshaken.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Debuted with a short film. Invited to over one-hundred movie festivals across the globe. Nominated for one of the most widely recognized movie awards in the world. Winner of Best Director for his recent feature film. Winner of Best Actor. Nominated in forty-five categories." "People don't call me a genius director for no reason." Juho took the phone from Jenkin's hand and looked at the search results for the director's name, which the director had typed in himself. With an acting background, Jenkins was a director highly praised for his work. When Juho looked at his filmography, he saw a handful of titles that were also popular in Korea. 'So, he's the one that directed these movies,' Juho thought to himself while telling the director the words that he wanted to hear, "Seems like you know what you're doing, Mr. Jenkins." Folding his arms together, Jenkins' eyes sparkled with confidence as Juho raised his tea mug up to his mouth. They were in the young author's hotel room. "I'll get straight to the point. I'd like to turn your book into a movie. Trust me, Mr. Woo. You won't be disappointed." After brushing his hair back with his hand, Juho said, "I'm sure you already know that I've received offers from an an array of directors, and that I've turned down every single one of them. And, it had nothing to do with their skills, I might add." "All of Hollywood knows about your standards, Mr. Woo," the director replied, shaking his tea mug. Juho also shook his tea mug and said, "I'm sorry, but I have no intention of doing another film adaptation," sipping the tea. As the tea warmed up the inside of his mouth, he swallowed it. Then, Jenkins showed the young author his palms. "Let's not go there just yet. Hear me out first, will ya? It's just too soon to say no. BUT, I am curious as to why. Why don't you wanna do another film adaptation?" the director asked. "I've already seen what it's like. I've experienced it myself," Juho said in monotone. "You mean 'Trace of a Bird,' right?" "That's right." Closing his eyes, Jenkins shook head and said, "My movie's gonna be different. I'm going to create something that will blow the world away. You'll have nothing to lose. Trust me." Then, he proceeded to explain the benefits a film adaptation could bring to the creator of the original. "Everything's already in place. Do you know the studio you'd be working with? Would you like to know the filming sites or the cast? How about the CG company? Are you into wizards or transforming cars? Lightsabers? I'm sure you know which company I'm talking about by now. It's THE BEST visual effects company in all of Hollywood. You'll have the best of the best working in your story," Jenkins said, raving on about all the widely-known names in the industry, all without a single mention of failure. It was a strategy bigger companies tended to resort to when trying to draw someone in. In simple terms, it was a means to guarantee safety. "If I were to make this happen, it would make it even easier for you to come up with that sequel." "That's not what I'm looking for," Juho said, his eyes half closed. However, Jenkins didn't let up. Since the young author seemed much more resistant than he had anticipated, the director decided to approach things from a slightly different angle. "OK, how about this?" he asked, leaning toward Juho and locking eyes with him. "I'll make a movie that surpasses your novel series." "..." "That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it? Wasn't that why you gave the director of 'Trace of a Bird' the OK? I can do this. I WILL put your book to shame." Juho looked intently at the director. And, instead of giving him an answer, he asked a question, "May I ask why you're so obsessed with this? What's 'Language of God' to you, anyway?" At that, the director furrowed his brow slightly and asked, "Don't you know? Your books are impossible to put down." Then, he reached into his backpack and took a book out. "... That book's seen better days." "I've grown attached to it. Isn't she lovely?" Despite seeing a red sauce of mysterious origin on one of the pages, Juho didn't say anything about it. Then, opening to the back of the book, the director said, "God dies." In the novel, god eventually came to his demise. Nothing lasted forever in that world, and God definitely wasn't an exception. "Along with people's faith on God and the language He uses. The companions lose the purpose of their journey. That scoundrel of a protagonist actually matures. The relationship between the companions changes eventually, along with their social standings. Life is ever-changing, yet there's only so much time." Then, slamming his hand down on the book, he said, "This book depicts that principle in the most efficient way. The characters experience it firsthand, and so do the readers." Jenkins' eyes were sparkling with dangerous determination as he expressed how thoroughly, cautiously, and professionally he had studied the book, which was the kind of persuasion Juho preferred. "You sound like you've actually died once, struggling desperately to change. Not only is it multidimensional, but it's also incredibly realistic. The way this world ends is almost fantasy-like, and I wanna try something similar. I wanna make it into a movie." "Hm." "I noticed that you look like you're wondering why all these bothersome things keep happening to you. Do you get it now, Mr. Woo? The answer is in your writing." The answer was in his writing. Feeling the sentence resonate deep within his heart, Juho licked his lips. Meanwhile, Jenkins kept on unhindered, "Leave it to me, Mr. Woo. I'll surprise you. I'll upset you so much that you won't sleep at night. You might end up itching to write something even better for a while, but in the end, you'll feel proud and accomplished. After all, you're the creator of the original. My success will lead to yours." "And if you fail?" the young author asked. "That won't happen." "I admire your confidence." "I have the skill and the achievements to back that up. Not to mention the talent. On top of that, I'm not lazy. If anything, I'm burning with passion." The situation in which they found themselves backed up the director's claim even further. Fiddling with the handle of his tea mug, Juho replied, "I don't doubt one bit that you're a skilled director. They say that humans are fickle creatures, and I gotta admit, it seems like there's some wisdom in that. This is starting to sound more and more tempting, Mr. Jenkins." At that, Jenkins narrowed his eyes, taking turns to look at the young author and his raggedy book. Just like that, time passed. "You don't seem all that tempted to me, Mr. Woo." Nothing lasted forever. Similarly, the author had also changed. "Do you not want the same thing anymore?" Jenkins asked, and Juho gave no response, which told the director that he had guessed the right answer. "Do you not want a movie that surpasses your writing anymore?" "I don't know. What do you think?" Juho asked, taking his hand off the tea mug. Although he gave an ambiguous answer, Jenkins didn't find the author's answer upsetting because he knew that Juho was preparing to give him a proper an answer. Juho took some time to organize his thoughts. It didn't feel right to send someone away, especially when they were so earnest. "I've always been aware of how well the movie would turn out and how unlikely it was to fail. I'm also aware that you're not only talented but also passionate. And I'm sure all of your movies are special in some way, am I right?" "That's right. In fact, it'll be undeniably special. I'll make a movie that no one else can." "That's precisely it." "... I'm sorry, did I miss something? What's precisely it?" "The reason why I'm not all that interested in doing another film adaptation." Jenkins blinked rapidly, confused by Juho's answer. "I've learned something from my past experience," the author said. Sang Young had made a great movie, and Juho had also been quite satisfied by it after watching it in the theater with other viewers. The last scene, in particular, was still vivid in his mind. The birds that were flying up to the sunny sky were not only more embellished, but more beautiful than his sentences could ever be. While a part of him had been somewhat upset, another part of him had been inspired, making his palm itch. "I used to think that my writing wasn't half bad, good enough that my readers would be satisfied with it. I had no concerns. I used to tell myself that 'Trace of a Bird,' if any book, was the one decent book I'd written." "And that still holds true today." Upon returning home from the movies, Juho had taken out 'Trace of a Bird' and opened it. However, it hadn't been long before he'd closed it back. He simply hadn't been able to like the sentences within it, leaving him confused as to why his readers had been so obsessed with the book. He hadn't been able to like the story he had written himself. He hadn't been able to like himself, and the sense of relief he had had was no longer, only to be replaced by anxiety and insecurity. Only then, had the young author realized that he had been hoping in vain. "I eventually came to realize that a book is a book, and a movie, a movie. My novel, his movie. No matter how hard I try, I just can't overcome that limit. Now, I believe it's a line that must be respected at all times. Although one would argue that they're the same piece from a certain standpoint, what I had looked for hadn't been in the movie." It had been as if searching for the sea in the middle of a desert, expecting the flavor of an apple while biting into a mango, or asking for a sausage at a gelato shop. It had been a form of denial. "In which case, it would make logical sense to go where I think I would find what I'm looking for. And now, here I am, in Frankfurt, Germany. I hate to disappoint you Mr. Jenkins, but our encounter has nothing to with why I'm here." The director remained silent, realizing that he didn't have what the author was looking for. He had understood that much from Juho's roundabout explanation. However, he still didn't let up. He didn't accept it. The room sank into silence, leaving only the sound of their breathing. After holding his breath for a brief moment, Juho breathed out slowly. At that moment, Jenkins dropped his head all of a sudden, and the author looked intently at his sudden behavior. "Interesting," the director murmured. "What is?" "I've read every single one of your books because I wanted to know what kind of person Yun Woo was. You're somebody who tries to face his readers through his writing. But, the yous within your novels were so extremely different that I just couldn't get a grasp of what you were really like. Nevertheless, that's what brought me all the way here to Germany." "Well, is there something you learned?" "Yes. You're more defensive than I'd thought." Aside from blinking, Juho showed no response. After which, the director murmured the same words as he had a moment before, "Interesting." "On top of that, you're very proficient." With that, he started talking even faster. "Not only do you write a lot, but you write fast. I have screenwriting experience, so I know how writing can be. What you're doing is just unthinkable. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if you're a robot, but as we both know, there is no such thing. At which point, the next most logical explanation is that the author is really, really brave. Although having already achieved success, he keeps going around acting like a curious rookie. He doesn't play hard to get or try to store anything up. He just writes and writes, which seems to me like he's much more desperate for an opportunity than he's fearful of running dry. Yet, he's Yun Woo. It just doesn't add up," the director said, resting his chin on his hand. Then, one corner of his mouth turned up. "And it seems like you're still doing the same thing here. I saw the video of you writing onstage. You were writing as if standing on the edge of a cliff, as if it's your last story. Yet, now, you're casually talking about your experiences because you're not writing. Who knows? You said it yourself that books and movies were inherently different. Shouldn't you be trying to do everything within your power rather than backing down after a single failure? You're a young author. You can afford to face challenges head on," Jenkins said restlessly and desperately. "It appears to me that you're only brave as an author." Juho and the director locked eyes with each other. Jenkins was provoking the author in a way that was different from Coin. Juho felt the director's presence from the sole of his feet, traveling up his legs. It was as if he were standing in a swamp. Then, opening his mouth, Juho replied in a gentle tone of voice, "That's good to hear." "What?" Jenkins let out, no longer looking piercingly at Juho. "You're absolutely right. I'm a big coward. I'm so terrified of the water that I can't even think about going into it. Sometimes, I even imagine a dead body floating on the surface of a body of water and I get caught up with worrying, which is the first thing I try to get rid of the second I pick up a pen. You said you have screenwriting experience, so you'll know what I'm talking about. If I don't do something about that fear, I can't write. Fear brings even more fear." "..." "As far as I can tell, it appears to me that I've succeeded." At that, Jenkins let out a deep sigh. The taunting approach had been hardly effective. In the end, he resorted to the easiest, most effective and efficient method of approaching those living in a capitalist society, which was equally as ineffective against Yun Woo. "If you have a certain amount of money in mind, we'll do our best to…" "I'm gonna have to politely ask you to leave."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho rose from his seat. Although the young author was clearly driving his guest out, Jenkins looked up at him and waved both of his hands in a hurry. "Hey, hey! I was just messin' with ya! All right. How about this? Do you have a favorite actor? Hollywood actor, that is. Counting directors." "This has been a long day for me, Mr. Jenkins." "Hold on! This is so unfair! You gave that Korean director a chance! Why can't you give me one!?" "You can shout all you want outside." With that, Juho kicked the director out of his room. Even while being dragged out, Jenkins kept trying to convince the young author. After getting pushed out the door to the hallway, Jenkins desperately wedged his arm between the door and the frame and said, "One last thing!" "There's more?" "I have one more question." "... Go ahead." "There's a question that you've avoided answering in every interview, a questions about your future to be precise. How would you like to be remembered in the future? What's your goal in life?" Jenkins said in a hurry, dreading the possibility of the door closing on his arm. "Who wants to know?" "I'm a fan. I've been meaning to ask you that all along. What is it that you're trying to earn through your writing?" Since there was no one but Juho on the floor, the hallway was dead quiet. The young author had the entire floor to himself, which eliminated any possibility of another person overhearing their conversation. Seeing that the director was getting clingier, Juho decided to give him what he wanted and close the door after. Thankfully, it wasn't all that difficult of a question to answer. "I wanna be great." At that, Jenkins pulled his hand away from the door. As the young author closed the door, Juho saw a subtle smile spread on the director's face, which seemed like neither a sneer nor a chuckle. Rather, it was the look of a person who had finally gotten his hands on a long-awaited piece of clue. In those eyes, Juho saw a reflection of himself holding his breath and wondering, 'What's he thinking?' Finally, the door closed, and the air sank into silence, devoid of even the footsteps of the unwelcome guest, or his pleas to open the door. "I'll come back, Mr. Woo. This isn't over yet." As Juho remained silent, the director disappeared down the hallway. Left alone, the room felt even quieter than usual. Throwing himself on to the bed, Juho let out a deep sigh. In some ways, Jenkins was even more of a challenge to deal with than Coin. Although appearing to be scatterbrained and a man who stayed true to his instincts, there was no doubt that the director had a broad perspective on things. "I'm beat," Juho let out and closed his eyes, the director's words still lingering in his mind. Juho had what the director wanted, but the director couldn't provide Juho with what he wanted. The deal was a no-go. Having trouble falling asleep, Juho opened his eyes, his head filled with thoughts, such as: 'Shouldn't you be trying to do everything within your power rather than backing down after a single failure?' 'Who knows?' 'Your books are impossible to put down.' 'I wanna try something similar. I wanna make it into a movie.' 'I'll make a movie that no one else can make.' Juho sat up on his bed. Wrapped up in blanket, his feet felt heavier than usual. He felt as though he was caught in a swamp that kept him from moving forward. Letting out a small sigh, Juho opened his laptop and searched for Jenkins' movies. "Zara Jenkins!? What are you doing calling me!? It's not every day that you get the opportunity to work with a director like him!" As Sang Young's voice blasted from the receiver, Juho turned the volume on his phone down. Sang Young seemed to have a good knowledge of how Jenkins came to reach his current directorial position. In short, he was saying that… "He's a genius." Sensing a bicycle coming toward him, Juho stepped aside. At that moment, he heard the faint sound of street performers in the distance; one of them sounded like a violin. After glancing in the direction of the sounds, Juho continued on his way. "He started off strong with his first movie, even though it wasn't until later that it came out in Korea. But from what I'm gathering from how you're describing him, he's quite the character. He flew all the way to Germany just so he could see you? He must be out of his mind." 'You're one to talk.' As Juho swallowed the words that came all the way up to his throat, Sang Young raised his voice even more, saying, "You're doing this, right? You have to! He's the director with the fastest-rising acclaim in all of Hollywood. I'm sure he knows your book inside out by this point. When you watch his movies, you can tell just how much he understands the subject. Everything he touches becomes multi-dimensional almost instantly. Personally, I think I have an idea as to why he wants to do a film adaptation of the novel. He's probably confident, both in his interpretation of it and his skills." Juho agreed. After watching one of Jenkins' movies, he had realized just how talented of a director Jenkins was. "I'm sure he is." "Man, I would like to see that movie made!" At that, Juho looked down and said hesitantly, "... I don't know." "Or you could always let me do it." "I don't know about that either." "That was quick." Juho chuckled at Sang Young's playful remark. However, the moment was short lived because he heard a familiar voice upon arriving on his floor. "Yun Woo!" Jenkins shouted, springing up from the floor in front of Juho's hotel room. "I gotta go. Jenkins is here." "What? Now!? In front of you!? You don't think you could let me talk to…" Before Sang Young got to finish his sentence, Juho hung up and put his phone in his pocket. After which, Jenkins approached the young author swiftly. "You were speaking in Korean just now, weren't you?" "Yep." The director nodded his head as if thinking about something. Observing him for a brief moment, Juho said, "You're really here." "I'm a man of my word." "I didn't realize it'd been a promise." "That's how most promises are kept." Walking past him, Juho reached for the handle of the door to his room. "What's the matter? Did you forget your key or somethin'?" Jenkins asked upon seeing the young author hesitate in front of the door, anxious to go inside. Tilting his head, Juho asked, "Do you think this is some sort of battle?" "Is that supposed to be a riddle? Like that of the Sphinx? A rite of passage perhaps? Are you gonna let me in if I answer your question?" "Sure." "You're not gonna jump off the window if I get it right, are you?" Thinking of the tales of the Sphinx and the creatures' death, Juho smiled and reassured the director, saying, "Don't worry. I'm not taking my own life." "As you said, this is a battle," Jenkins said with his hands on his sides. Then, clearing his throat, he asked, "What is the creature that has one voice, walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three in the evening?" as if imitating the arrogant voice of the Sphinx. As Juho remained silent, the director spread his arms open and said, "Man." That had been the answer Oedipus had given to the riddle asked by the Sphinx, which ultimately had saved his life from the mythical creature. Overcome by anger and humiliation, the Sphinx had taken its own life. Meanwhile, Juho stood completely still in front of the door. "Personally, I think Oedipus depicts the most fundamental aspects of mankind. More specifically, the root of tragedy. Just look at the man's life. He's a hero who defeated a monster on one hand, but he's also an incestuous, murderous criminal who killed his own father. He's done unspeakable things to the very people who birthed him into the world. As he moves up in society, his appearance also changes. He crawls with his limbs, walks on his feet and, eventually, with a cane at various points in his life. Yet, he lives just like how it was predicted. It's just as interesting as your writing." It was well-known myth. In the end, the hero became blind after stabbing his own eyes out willingly, causing him to wander aimlessly, without a place to settle. "Your point?" "We're no different from Oedipus. We're both human, Mr. Woo, always finding ourselves at crossroads, trying to find our identities, letting things define us, and constantly wrestling with ambiguity. But what makes us different, are the things that you and I are looking for. Think of this as a conflict necessary in order to reach a mutual understanding. A perilous tug-o-war, if you will." "I don't think I follow." "All I'm saying is that I'll never give up trying, even if I don't get the movie rights from you. I'm not Oedipus himself, so I'm sure things will turn out slightly better for me." "I still don't follow," Juho said. "Let me rephrase this." By that point, It was clear that Jenkins was a man of confidence. Shaking his head, Juho turned the door handle. "Why don't you come in?" Since Juho couldn't eat the director alive for giving the wrong answer, like the Sphinx would have, he felt the need for a conversation. Bringing out a loaf of rye bread he had bought on his way to the hotel, the young author asked, "Do you like bread? I got some milk if you'd like." Juho turned around in order to see the response from the director. However, instead of a response, he was greeted by a gun. At which point, a wave of information about the director's country came rushing through the young author's mind. Juho blinked, but everything around him remained unchanged. The buttstock, the barrel, the iron sights, the slide, the magazine. Scanning the structure of the pistol in the director's hand, Juho wondered, 'Where did he get that?' "Are you gonna shoot me?" he asked the director, who held the pistol in his hands aimed precisely at the young author's chest. "You gotta let me make this movie. I really want to turn your book into a film, even if it means you not finding what you're looking for." Juho walked toward the gun unhesitantly. Similarly, Jenkins remained unfazed. He didn't back up either. Then, grabbing the gun by the cold barrel, the young author moved it up to his head. "Seems like you've thought about this quite a bit. Is this one of the ideas you came up with?" "That's right. You see, I found a hint from our conversation last night." "That's what it seems. You even remembered that I hate water." At that moment, the director pulled the trigger. When Juho stepped aside, a weak stream of water came shooting out of the barrel of the gun, wetting the sofa. "I'm going to follow you around with this thing everywhere you go, all day long." "Very original, Mr. Jenkins. I'll give you that," Juho said, taking the gun from the director and shooting it toward the ceiling. It was an elaborately-made water gun. "Where did you get this anyway?" "There are all sorts of movie props, Mr. Woo. You'd be surprised. In any case, it was all just a silly joke." "It was pretty funny. But, you're not in Germany just to crack jokes with me, are you?" Juho asked, looking at Jenkins, who was sitting away from the wet spots on the couch. The lengths at which the director was willing to go were far beyond what was sensible. So much so, that they made the young author doubt whether Jenkins really was looking to convince him about the movie rights. If Juho hadn't seen his movies ahead of time, he would've definitely come to that conclusion. "Are you mimicking your own movie?" Juho asked. "Ah! You've seen it, huh?" "I have. It was about a fugitive." There was a particular scene in the movie that involved two characters pointing guns at each other, having a dialogue that lasted five minutes. Despite the seemingly insignificant length, it was often considered one of the most iconic scenes in the movie. "Do you prefer milk or beer?" "Beer, please." Taking a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, Juho handed it to the director, who proceeded to open and drink it without hesitation. "Aren't you gonna have one?" he asked. "No, thanks," Juho replied, and the director didn't ask any further about the subject, as if already aware of the author's attitude toward alcohol. With that, Jenkins brought the bottle up to his mouth and guzzled down the liquid, looking at the label on the bottle afterward as if he'd liked the taste. Meanwhile, Juho sat across from him and looked attentively at the director. "I saw your movie," Juho said, and Jenkins looked up at him at the sound of his voice. "All of them?" "Just one," Juho said, playing coy. "It seems that people think your most recent movie does an incredible job depicting your inner being," Juho said, bringing up the most common review of his movie. "The way you portrayed a person's inner being in the movie was inherently different from a novel." "That's a given, isn't it? We're talking about a movie, after all." "I liked it. I found myself getting lost in it." At that, Jenkins smiled brightly, his eyes filled with a sense of accomplishment. He wasn't ashamed to express himself. At that moment, Juho remembered what Sang Young had told him about actors at one point: It's all in the eyes. "Well, I'd love to hear more about it, but it'll have to wait. I'm not here to get compliments after all," Jenkins said. Then, clasping his fingers together, he kept on, "Let's start from the beginning, shall we? The conditions haven't changed one bit. BUT, why don't we add one more thing to the list?" "Go on," Juho said, remembering the smile that had been on the director's face before he'd closed the door. "I'll make you the greatest storyteller there is." "Haha!" Juho let out, unable to hold back his laughter. Jenkins was insisting that he could offer Juho what he wanted. If it meant that he got to make Juho's book into a movie, he wasn't afraid to contradict himself. In an attempt to involve himself in the young author's life, he had gone as far as accepting Juho's discrepancies. Although it was charming, Juho couldn't help but notice the one, major flaw in the director's offer. "My goal isn't something that can be reached by another person." "No, I disagree," Jenkins said, still refusing to bring up failures in their conversation. "It's very much possible, as long as you let me do this." He was starting to sound like a con artist by that point. However, having no interest in how well or badly the movie did, Juho was finding that their conversation was getting more interesting.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl After guzzling down his beer, Jenkins wiped his mouth and said, "Now, I'm aware that you've been avoiding public appearances as much as possible. I remember that all the interviewers kept trying to get you to be more specific, but you kept telling them the same thing, that you don't want to beg your readers to buy your books." Juho also remembered saying that during a certain interview that had taken place while his apartment had been filled with pages of manuscript paper. Then, raising his chin, Jenkins added, "The second I heard that, I realized that your goal was something that could be purchased by another person." "It was just an analogy." "But what if I told you that it was actually possible? Greatness. I can give you just that." Juho tapped his finger on the desk as the director kept on, "I have experience, Mr. Woo. All of the actors and actresses with whom I worked rose to fame after appearing in my movies, and they each found their own unique identity. A romantic, a hero, a villain, a leader, an eloquent speaker. You might think that there's more to reality, but let me tell you, there isn't. Companies invest large sums of money just so they can maintain a positive image, and this is precisely what a country does. Think about the images that come to mind when you think of countries like Germany or the US. You get pretty similar pictures, don't you think? The rich are full of themselves, while the poor remain ignorant. We dress in expensive clothes, but for what? Just so we don't get looked down on. On the flipside, we dress like bums when traveling to places that aren't as safe. Everybody has a certain image of how they want to be perceived by others, whether it's looking appealing to others or wanting others to stay away." Jenkins seemed to be well-versed in the realities of modern society. Handling, creating, sculpting, and destroying images were all big parts of his job as a director. "Now, let's think about the subjects that we often like to put the word 'great' in front of. Nature, mothers. Personally, Mr. Woo, I don't think you're very far off. Yun Woo, the Great Storyteller." "I wanted to achieve my goal through my writing," Juho said. "And this is exactly what you're getting through your writing. Why do you think I came all the way to Germany?" "I'm certain that it's not." "No. It appears that you don't really know yourself, Mr. Woo. If you did, you'd be more conceited and far less cautious. You wouldn't have thought twice about accepting my offer. Do you know what the single most important thing is when it comes to having a certain image, Mr. Woo? It's the ground upon which you build that image. Companies donate exorbitant amounts just so they can be seen as 'good.' You, Mr. Woo, have more than what it takes to be great. You just happen to be hindered by preconceived notions about your age and your reputation as a genius." "Are you telling me that you, a movie director, will make me great?" "Yes. Besides, I'm not you, so I can say all this without having to bear any of the burdens that come with it. On top of that, I can also make it sound objective." Juho quietly observed the director. He was clearly trying to direct the conversation in a way favorable to him. However, Jenkins wasn't afraid to look directly into Juho's eyes. "Well, doesn't sound like you're trying to rip me off. That's definitely something you can give me," Juho said. "Right?" When books won widely recognized awards, the rate at which they sold increased. Books that bore famous names also carried that effect. It was also common for books to become bestsellers almost immediately after a mention in other media. Similarly, the titles and covers of books also played a major role in their sales. As for people, things like their level of education, the family in which they were born, and their occupation tended to determine their image on the surface. The most tangible aspects of a person became their most representative aspects, which gave others the power to determine what that person looked like. "But it won't come to readers as a surprise until after they actually open my book, don't you think? Finding how different it actually is in comparison to what they imagined?" Juho asked. "I don't think so. We're talking about making something that is already good to look at even better. A prodigy turned genius. It makes sense, doesn't it?" "But I'm not a product." "It was just an analogy," the director said, licking his lips. "All that to say that, in the end, everyone will look up to you even more than they already do. The King of Pop, the God of Basketball, they all had to start somewhere until others started calling them as such. That's why you haven't talked about your goal on official occasions, right?" Juho wasn't going to let being valued as a person determine who he was. He didn't think of himself as a commodity. "Did it sound like I was looking for a title?" "It definitely doesn't sound as impressive when you put it that way," Jenkins said, unfazed by Juho's appearance. Then, as if knowing the true value of having a title, he added with a greedy look on his face, "Not just any title. The world will call you the one and only Great Storyteller." "Doesn't quite sound like the greatness I'm looking for." "Well, what is it that you're looking for?" the director asked, sticking his tongue out like a snake hiding in a swamp. He was quite crafty. Letting out a small sigh, Juho thought unhurriedly about how he defined greatness, which was a dream forfeited by some. "I'd like to write for a long time," Juho said, reminiscing to his past. Although he had risen to the top in no time, his life had fallen apart just as quickly. He was fully aware that he was far from being the Great Storyteller. However, after receiving a second chance, that had become an earnest desire. "Is that what makes an author great? An author with a lasting career? That's too vague. Not everyone dies at the same age," the director said. "Sales have nothing to do with greatness, whether things sell a lot or a little." "But if it doesn't sell at all, then there won't be anything left to discuss. A book only has meaning when it's read. What I know for certain is that your book will become even more famous through my movie," Jenkins said in a hurry, his shoulders looking somewhat tense. Meanwhile, Juho sat up. "There are two reasons for why it's pointless for us to discuss that. One, my books are already selling plentifully. Two, every book gets at least one reader the second it comes into existence: the author. Though, not the most objective one if I might add." "The minority gets neglected all the time. If nobody recognizes you, then what's the point? Keeping something to yourself is no different. A name that never gets called loses its purpose." Juho didn't want to be remembered as a genius. In fact, he wanted his life to end in a way different from his past. He wanted to be remembered as the Great Storyteller, and the moment he said it out loud, he realized his thoughts started untangling themselves. He had a past that nobody else new about. Yet, unlike Jenkins' logic, that past was very much real. It was still leaving traces in Juho's life, and its presence tended to grow whenever the young author wrote. While it was painful, it was a relief at the same time. "The world might call me the Great Storyteller, but if I don't see myself as such, then there's no meaning," Juho said. The expression on the director's face started to harden slowly. "It's just as meaningless to keep that knowledge to yourself." "No, it's not. They're NOT the same. Would you take your own life just because you were told to?" "... Of course not. I'd tell 'em to go to hell," Jenkins said and dropped his head, his blue eyes also hiding from Juho's sight. Then, repeating the process of clenching his hand into a fist and releasing it, he added, "... You might as well ask me to get you an absurd amount of money. There was an author like that, and things fell through in the end." Juho stared intently at his lowered head. Not only had he watched every single one of Jenkins' movies, but he had also read every single interview the director had taken part in. On top of that, he had also seen him receiving an award at a ceremony. With that, Juho picked up the prop gun, which Jenkins had brought. The water inside it made it cold to the touch. "A movie that's better than my writing. Is that what you want, Mr. Jenkins?" Juho asked. 'I'll make a movie that surpasses your series.' That had been the cause behind the director's desire to make a movie based on 'Language of God.' Although genuine, it had proven to be self-centered in the end. Frankly, there was something that had been bothering Juho since their first encounter. It had been the director's blue eyes, which had an uncanny resemblance to another pair of eyes the young author had seen recently. Those blue eyes had been filled with a competitive spirit. At that moment, the director smiled and told Juho, "I've written a number of scripts." "I'm aware." "And writing a script is a completely different beast from writing a novel. When you compare them side by side, it almost feels like you'd have to hold your pen differently. A half-sibling, if you will. I mean, it's just so visible how different they are when you look at their respective results. Moving images and text." The difference between the two were quite stark. So much so that there was no need to convince anyone. "You don't have to nag your kids to watch more movies. They already like them. There are less and less people reading books, and there's no greater compliment than: 'It reads like you're watching a movie.'" "Your point?" "What I'm saying is that I think that there's nothing more entertaining than a movie," Jenkins said, his eyes filled with genuine passion, and added, "I'm not coming from a place of looking down upon literature. In fact, I'm often inspired by literature. But, the first time I came across a movie, I immediately fell in love, and that is something a book has never been able to do." The director seemed to think his emotional experience was the realization of an objective truth. As talented as he was, all the time and work he had put into honing his skill had only reinforced his misunderstanding. It didn't help that the world had been affirming his belief. Sniffling, the genius director said, "You're already great, Mr. Woo." As Juho remained silent, he glanced at the young author and scratched his chin, saying, "Guess you're not buying that either, huh?" "Unfortunately. It wasn't bad though." "Well, I guess I really don't have a choice, then. It seems like I'll just have to do my best to outlive you and buy the rights off someone else," Jenkins said weakly, putting his interlocking fingers behind his head. "As you said, Mr. Woo, that I couldn't give you what you were looking for. Even if I were to give that to you, it wouldn't be in the form you want it in. What can I do when you're not looking for it in other people? The real tragedy here, though, is that YOU have what I'm looking for, which makes our relationship less than equal, as most relationships tend to be," he said to the young author. Then, with another smile on his face, he added, "But that isn't to say that you're completely against making the movie, am I right?" "Sure." Jenkins lowered his head as if in anguish. There was truth to what he had said. If Juho had really been intending on turning it down, then he would have already done it. Besides, Jenkins was far too interesting of a person. When the young author watched his movies for the first time, he found them just as interesting and charming as their creator. Although things had been marked by bitterness the first time around, there was a sense of satisfaction the second time around. However, he still hadn't been able to find what he was looking for. Currently, Juho had no lingering attachment to doing a film adaptation, and no amount of money nor a script written by the best screenwriters would be able to change his mind. The director had said that the young author had what he was looking for. Then, taking the prop gun, Juho aimed it at the director's head and pulled the trigger. "Ah! Cold!" Jenkins let out, his entire body shaking as water dripped down his head. "The thing is, Mr. Jenkins, I would have said this sooner if it weren't for this gun." "I'm sorry?" the director let out, letting the water dripping from his head flow into his mouth. "You see, I'm not completely against doing a film adaptation," Juho said. Seeing the director's face starting to light up, Juho smiled. "I can be defensive at times. I just froze up at the sight of that gun." "Wha-?" "At the same time, it's just not in my nature to be cruel, either. On top of that, nothing in this world lasts forever." Although the gun was as rigid as a real one, it was merely a water gun. At the sight of the stream of water, which was aimed away from him, Jenkins asked, "Wait, what are you trying to say? Can you be more clear?" While they talked, Juho noticed a rather simple desire welling up in his heart, which had started taking roots after he had finished watching all of Jenkins' movies. Wondering how far he'd be willing to go, Juho had observed the director, and as expected, their conversation had not only been fun, but also informative. In the end, Juho decided to grant the director's wish. "With all the spiel about greatness and whatnot, I want to see your movie, Mr. Jenkins," Juho said, brushing his hair back with his hand. There was one more thing left to do. "Now, why don't we discuss the contract?" Juho said. Then, raising his chest and throwing his arms up in the air, the director cheered with joy.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl '"Language of God," the Movie! Is It Finally Happening? Contract for the Movie Rights Reported Being in Discussion. Fans Getting Fired Up with Excitement!' 'Zara Jenkins Reported to Direct the Long Sought After "Language of God" movie.' 'Negotiations in Progress? What Does Yun Woo Have to Say About This? How Much Will the Movie Rights Go For?' 'Yun Woo, Reported being in Germany, Remains Silent about the Film Adaptation of "Language of God." Did He Know It Was Going to Happen?' 'Who is Zara Jenkins? A Handsome Former Actor Turned Director. The Genius Behind Some of the Most Recognized Movies.' 'The Dramatic Encounter of Zara Jenkins and Yun Woo at the Frankfurt Book Fair. The Riddle Has Been Solved! How Will Their Story End?' 'The Meeting of the Two Geniuses. What Will the New Film Adaptation of Yun Woo's Most Beloved Series, "Language of God," Look Like? Will It Follow in the Footsteps of "Trace of a Bird?"' 'Christmas Came Early This Year! The Long Awaited "Language of God" Movie Is Finally Happening! Will the Publisher Give an Update on the Sequel?' 'Next Stop, Hollywood! How Far Will It Go? The Influence of Yun Woo's Books.' 'Hollywood Meets 'Language of God!' What Should We Expect from the Movie?' 'The Recent Announcement of the 'Language of God' Movie Leaves Fans on the Edge of Their Seats. Fans React.' 'An Interview with Sang Young Ju. What Does It Mean to Turn a Novel into a Movie?' "Film Adaptation? Did they just say film adaptation?" "Zara Jenkins is the director? This is insane. Now, I HAVE to go see it." "Finally! I thought it'd be awesome to see the book get made into a movie when it first came out. I've been waiting for so long!" "Good. I was starting to get ticked off with all the waiting. I was wondering why the studios weren't getting on this sooner! Then, all of a sudden, Zara Jenkins. All this waiting is finally paying off!" "Zara and Yun Woo, huh? I wonder how he'll go about turning 'Language of God' into a blockbuster movie. I sure hope he doesn't go overboard with CGI." "I'm sure he'll do fine. Zara Jenkins is one of the best directors out there. Considering the nature of the series though, I think it's really important that they capture how the characters grow and mature. In which case, I don't think anyone's better suited for the job than Jenkins." "Wonder what the movie will be like! I hope it doesn't reflect badly on the original in any way, though." "I mean, given that Zara Jenkins is directing it, we probably won't have to worry about him screwing it up. I do think that they'll make changes here and there, as with most film adaptations." "I think that's inevitable. People are bound to compare the film adaptation to its original counterpart. I wonder if the movie will surpass the original, though?" "Probably not? That's a tall order." "Zara Jenkins might be able to pull it off." "I feel like movies based on novels are really hit-or-miss." "I agree, but I am looking forward to seeing real-life actors speaking those languages!" "Those languages were so realistic! He even described how the words were pronounced. I think that's what really makes 'Language of God' so charming and special. I'm sure Jenkins will do well." "Wonder where they're shooting. I'm so excited that I get to see those locations with my own eyes." "Wouldn't they have to work with the author on that?" "But wasn't Yun Woo really hands-off with the 'Trace of a Bird' movie?" "He was! I wonder if he'll be the same this time." "Personally, I just want the sequel." "Ditto." "I'm so curious. Whatever the story's like, I'm getting it." "As long as it takes place in that same world, I'm on board." "He did say that he wanted to write about the past." "When is it coming out? Anybody know?" "I was expecting the sequel to come out first since it's so popular all across the globe, but surprise, surprise. "I don't care if it's the movie or the sequel. I want them all!" … --- "Ah! I didn't even get to say hi to you back then!" "Why are you here?" Coin asked, looking at Jenkins, who was opening the door for him. His understanding was that the room belonged to another person. "Hey, there," Juho said, coming out of the bedroom unhurriedly. Observing him, Coin replied, "I guess I'm in the right place." "Of course. I've been staying in this hotel this entire time." As Coin stepped inside, his face twisted into a scowl at the sight of the state of the room. There were empty glass bottles on the table and rolling around the floor. Clicking his tongue, he asked, "How much did you have to drink?" "I didn't." "I'm the person you're looking for, I believe," Jenkins said, throwing his hand up in the air, looking somewhat proud. Looking up and down at him, Coin replied, "You seem fine considering how much you've had to drink." "Don't get me wrong. I was so hungover yesterday that I could hardly get out of bed all day. Except for when I had to go throw up, that is. Isn't that how one should drink, though? It's like the thorn of a rose if you will. Beautiful, isn't it?" "I don't get why he doesn't drink in his own hotel room," Juho murmured. Jenkins had been visiting the young author's room constantly, and the reason was obvious. However, Juho, who had things to do, couldn't afford to spend the entire day solely on accommodating the director. In the end, he had let the director stay in the living room while he, himself, went into a room and concentrated on his research. That same night, after making an excuse that he was much too drunk to go back to his hotel room, Jenkins spent the night at the young author's hotel room. On top of that, he had ended up spending yet another day in the hotel room's living room, hung over. Since the director actually hadn't looked that good, Juho had had no choice but allow him to stay. "Mr. Jenkins is a very interesting person. Especially when he's drunk," the young author said. When drunk, Jenkins tended to get even more talkative. While Juho had been researching in the room, he had heard the director rambling on about something for hours on end, which made the young author forget that Jenkins was actually drinking by himself. However, once reaching a certain point, the situation took an unexpected turn. Having realized that it was completely silent in the living room, Juho walked out of the bedroom to see if the director had fallen asleep. However, to his surprise, he had found Jenkins trying to crawl into tight spaces under the desk or inside the closet, as if his memories of being in his mother's womb were still intact. "Although, not the most dignifying sight." Juho had watched the director ram his head against the couch repeatedly for some time. While he told the story, Jenkins cackled. "Well, at least I'm not going around picking fights with people, or anything like that. My drinking habit isn't so bad, don't you think? Clothes can always be washed." Coin shoved his hands in his pockets. Offering him a seat, Juho asked, "Coffee?" "I brought mine," Coin said, pushing the empty bottles off the table in order to make room for his thermos. The sharp clinking sound echoed through the room. "Huh! You carry coffee with you, huh?" Jenkins asked, staring intently at the thermos. Without giving an answer, Coin opened the lid of his thermos irritably and poured the hot liquid into his mouth. "You make it seem like you're having a drink. May I have a cup, please?" At that, Coin glared fiercely at Jenkins, and the director immediately backed down, saying, "On second thought…" "I thought you two knew each other." Juho said after watching their interaction. "I've seen him around at events. I saw him up close for the first time at the book fair," Coin replied. "You know, I was going to write you an email," Jenkins said. "An email?" "To ask you to introduce me to Yun Woo. Oh! I wanted to talk to you too, of course." While Jenkins rambled on, Coin listened to him with a blank expression on his face, slamming his hand on the table from time to time. Seeing that, Juho sat slightly further away from him. "You're quite the loquacious type, Mr. Jenkins," Coin said. "I get that a lot, actually! Makes my day every time!' Then, Coin asked the young author, "Are you really gonna leave this guy in charge of your movie?" "Sure," Juho replied, and Coin gave him a disgruntled look. Then, Jenkins objected to his question, saying, "Everyone was excited to hear about the movie! For those who know me… Wait a minute, have you not seen my movies?" "No, I haven't," Coin said. "Not a movie person, I see." "Just not yours." "Yet, how can you dislike my movies when you haven't even seen them?" "I can't stand unicorns either. I don't have to have seen something to not like it, do I?" Jenkins blinked awkwardly with his mouth agape, but said shortly after, "You hate what?! How can anyone possibly hate unicorns!?" Juho looked at the door to the bedroom, which was parted open slightly. Although the bedroom itself was far from being tidy, it seemed like the most peaceful spot in the that hotel room. "So, any progress?" Coin asked, and Juho turned toward his voice. Coin was looking away from Jenkins on purpose. "Some. Things are definitely becoming clearer as I gather more information. I still have a long way to go, though." "For how much longer are you planning on staying in Germany?" "Until I find everything I'm looking for. I'm not in a hurry." Then, Juho asked Coin the same question, asking how long he was planning on staying in the country. "I'm gonna take some time to go around the country," Coin replied. Then, the director interjected, saying, "Try Füssen. You won't be disappointed. Especially the Alps and the lakes." "... That's where the castle is, right?" Juho asked. "That's right." "Are you planning on visiting other countries too?" Coin asked the young author without even bothering to look at Jenkins. At that, Juho smiled awkwardly and answered, "No. I'm not." "Why not? If you're doing research on war, you could visit the States at some point. Didn't we talk about this?" Coin asked. "We did," Juho replied. Although that had been his idea initially, he had changed his mind since then. "After spending some time here, I came to realize that I didn't have to travel that far." "Ah! Korea," Jenkins let out, interjecting yet again while nodding. Lately, Juho had been studying anything and everything even remotely related to war. The more he learned about Germany's history with war, the more he realized how relevant it was to Korea, which was also a country with its fair share of wars. "I suppose that would be more convenient for you. It'd be easier to find inspiration, too." "Right." Then, Juho brought up something he had been meaning to do since the moment he had come back from the dead: "I'm going into the military." As the air sank into silence, Juho felt the empty gazes of those in the room on him. "... What?" "The military. I've been meaning to serve early and get it out of the way. I figured now was a perfect time to do that." Furrowing his brow, Coin asked, "Is Korea under a conscription system?" "It is. I have a feeling that I'll end up touching upon drafting and recruiting." The director screamed at the unexpected news, stammering, and Coin gave him a pitiful look. "But what about the movie!? There'll be times when I'll need your opinions! The settings, the depictions, and ESPECIALLY the language! I'm not some linguistics magician like you!" Jenkins said, bringing up both the script and casting in addition to his arguments. "The book should have all the information you need, including all the pronunciations. Besides, there's the offshoot volume." "But I want to be as detailed as possible when it comes to the languages!" "You know how uninvolved I was with the last movie, don't you, Mr. Jenkins?" "But this is different! I thought you said you weren't looking for significance in movies anymore!?" "You're right. It is a different situation. I'm going into the military." Jenkins threw his head back while clasping it and protested, "What the hell's going on!? The military!? This is absurd!" Never in his directing career had Jenkins come across an author who went into the military. However, Juho had no choice. He was legally obligated to do so. If anything, it was better to go sooner than later. 'Can't believe I'm doing this again,' Juho thought to himself, bitterness lingering in his mouth. "Don't go. I beg you," Jenkins said desperately. "It's a duty every Korean man has to carry out," Juho said, staring into the air. "A duty?" "Yes. It's a basic obligation. It has to be done." Although it made things easier if one was more willing to go into the military, that was hardly the case. Similarly, Juho wasn't particularly fond of the military. The strict ranking system was simply not attractive to the young author because it was a system in which there would always be people who suffered, which was the case with most communities, unfortunately. "When are you going? Which month? Day? Time?" Coin asked. "It's hard to say before I get a written notice." "It's not gonna be tomorrow, is it?" "I doubt it." Then, Juho saw the director rubbing his hands together anxiously, determined to make the most out of the little time he had with the young author. Despite the nonchalant answer he had given to the director, Juho was also well aware of the nature of his novel series. On top of that, he was also intending to cooperate to some extent. Rubbing his mouth, Coin asked, "How long do you have to serve for? What's the structure like there? Are there any more details? You said every male has to go." Juho answered him to the best of his knowledge. It was understandable that Coin would be so curious. The system was quite different from the one used in the States. "It's not like Korea's at war. I find it odd that they follow a conscription system." "The US switched to a volunteering system after the Vietnam War, right?" "Israel follows a conscription system, too." "Because they're always in conflict with Palestine." Naturally, the conversation that had initially started with the subject of war changed to one about peace. Nobody wanted war. In fact, everyone wanted to live in everlasting peace, in a world free of war or any sort of conflict. Then, whistling as if reaching a realization, Jenkins said, "So, does that mean Yun Woo's going on hiatus?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Most likely," Juho said. It was unrealistic to publish a book while serving in the military. That meant that Juho had to go on an unintended hiatus, and he had been preparing himself for it. "Was it at least two years? This is gonna take some adjustment," Jenkins said as if putting himself in the young author's shoes. Then, he asked, "Aren't you nervous?" "What is there to be nervous about?" Juho asked, shrugging. "This is your first hiatus, ever," the director replied, looking straight at Juho as though he was well aware of how fiercely the young author had been working. "Hard to say," Juho said, thinking about the even longer hiatus he had had in the past, which the director knew nothing about. Then, Jenkins came closer to Juho and said, "I read in some column that authors lose their self-esteem almost instantly as soon as they finish a book." "Is that right?" Juho asked nonchalantly, turning at Coin to pass the question on to him. At which point, Coin waved his hands irritably, as he would against a fly, and said, "Who gives? I would never stop writing if I were you. Two years? I'll make sure that you get forgotten from the face of the Earth." "That's disconcerting. But you see, I'm not exactly going on a vacation, either." "You know what? This one actor I worked with ended up with the role of a ballerino, so he spent four months with an actual professional ballet group, living with them and getting trained by them. He definitely learned a lot by the time we started filming. And now, there's an author in front of me who's about to go serve in the military just so he can write." "I'm kind of obligated to, actually." "You should delay it as much as possible," Jenkins said, clinging to the young author desperately. With a swallowed sigh, Juho asked, "Aren't you hungry?" That day, the three spoke well into the night about various subjects. --- "You're going into the military?!" At three in the morning, or ten in the morning in Korea, Juho received a call. Because he'd been reading well into the night, he was able to answer the phone without trouble. It was Seo Kwang checking in with the young author as his stay in Germany went longer than expected. Seo Kwang's voice shook at the unexpected news. "Yep. The military," Juho said, repeating himself for the sake of his friend. "What the heck…" Juho explained his situation to his friend. Meanwhile, Seo Kwang sounded as though he was facing the reality that he had been avoiding thus far. "What about you? When are YOU planning on going?" "Let's not go there," Seo Kwang said anxiously. To which, Juho replied light-heartedly, saying, "You're gonna be fine! They let you read in the military, you know." "If they didn't, I'd have come up with some sort of plan not to go." For some reason, Seo Kwang's joke sounded more like the truth. Then, sighing deeply, he added, "Baron told me that he's been thinking about it too. And now, you." "Is that right?" "Yeah, we met up yesterday to have a drink, actually. I think he's planning on taking some time off from school." "I see." "Maybe I should just go with you," Seo Kwang said, clearly out of impulse. "I'm fine with that, but you gotta think about what you're gonna do about school too." "I don't know, man. I just don't wanna think about it. I heard March is the best time to go. You're not gonna volunteer to the Marines or something, are you? Wait… knowing you, you might," Seo Kwang said, frightened by the possibility of ending up at the most intense branch of the military. "Should I? You wanna join me? Although, they say that the Marines are at the frontline when war breaks out." "I'm gonna take some time to think about this, actually. Can't hurt to be careful, you know?" "C'mon, let's do it." "No, thanks," Seo Kwang said emphatically, grumbling. "Man, when is this whole spiel with North Korea gonna end? Do you think it'll be soon? I thought they'd have shaken hands and made up before I finished elementary school." Hearing Seo Kwang's complaint through the receiver, Juho redirected his attention to the book he had been reading, which was a compilation of records of battles that had taken place across the globe. He had been finding himself going back to it whenever he wanted to take a breather. "Oh! I liked that book you told me about," Juho said, referring to a book he had come across while visiting Seo Kwang's blog. "It's good, isn't it?" When Juho asked the blog's owner for more details on it, he proceeded to rave about its informative nature for an hour straight. "Jenkins seems to find it interesting. He was looking for an English copy for himself too." "Yeah... Wait, Jenkins? As in Zara Jenkins!?" Seo Kwang asked, his voice shaking for a different reason that time. Then, he asked, "Did you tell him about me at all?" "Nope. He was drunk out of his mind and just happened to reach for that book." "... So, it was just a drinking habit?" "Not necessarily. He still had it together, somewhat." "Man, you got my hopes up!" Then, Seo Kwang asked Juho further questions about Jenkins, which Juho answered using only the pieces of information he knew for sure. "What if you have to attend an audition for a role or something? Why don't you delay it? The movie would turn out so much better if you were there." "We don't know that. Having too many chefs in the kitchen could spoil the soup. They might be better off without me." Then, rising from his seat, Juho picked up the cup of water on the desk, revealing the sunglasses Jenkins had left behind. It was common for the young author to find the director's belongings in his hotel room, such as his jacket and the lid of his pen, which made Juho worried that the director might show up at his door with all of his belongings, looking to move in. "Besides, I wanna see his movie as just a member of the audience." "I didn't know you were a fan!" "I watched every single one of his movies. Think that means something." "Huh, what do you know! Well, when are you coming back to Korea?" Seo Kwang asked. Looking at his research data scattered about on the desk, the young author replied, "It won't be for a while," feeling the need to dig deeper into his research. --- "Whew," Juho let out, sitting on the bench nearby as he slowed down. The trail that ran alongside the river was the perfect place for a run. On top of that, there were hardly any people around that time. Feeling his body cooling from the sweat, Juho rose from his seat and started stretching. At that moment... "Came out for a run, I see?" an older man, who appeared with the ducks, asked, sitting where Juho had been sitting up to a moment ago. "Lucky for that gelato shop lady. She even gets to go on a trip because of you," the man said playfully. At which, Juho snorted and asked, "It's the autograph, isn't it? Tellin' you, that name Yun Woo sure carries a lot of power." "Heard getting that mango flavor is near impossible these days," the man said exaggeratedly. Juho had heard him say that multiple times by that point. Having noticed the look of disgust on the young author's face when he brought up that subject the first time, the man had been bringing up the mango gelato and its rarity every time they met since. "Bread?" the man said, offering a bag with a loaf of rye bread from a bakery he had also introduced Juho to. Their bread was exceptionally tasty. Since he was starting to get hungry, Juho took the bread from the man's hand willingly and gratefully. At that moment, realizing that there was food, the ducks started surrounding the young author and the man, and Juho took a big bite off the bread, as if showing off to the ducks. "Could you translate this for me?" the man asked, pulling out a Latin Bible as the price for the bread. Since they first met, the man's goal had been to read the entire Bible written in Latin. "When I was young and learning Latin, that was the happiest time of my life," he had said. But now, he had forgotten nearly all of it, from the vocabulary to the grammar. Reading with a dictionary was hardly efficient or convenient. It was then that the man came across a translator who made his life significantly easier. Telling the young author about the geography of the place, the stores in the area and any other information pertaining to the city as payment for Juho's service, the man had been leaving the translation to the young author. Since their meetings were never planned, their every encounter up to that point had been by coincidence, which enabled them to talk to each other candidly and in an unforced manner. The information the man provided Juho was not only useful, but it was also technical. Having lived in the city for years on end, the man had acquired his copious knowledge through experience. "Didn't you learn this word last time?" "You just wait till you're my age. You forget what you had for breakfast as soon as the Sun sets." All Juho had to do was read the Bible to the man, one page at a time. Although the man's memory could definitely be better, he was quick to understand. Besides, Juho had been finding it quite fun to explain the text to him. His translation experience was definitely proving itself useful. "OK. Let's stop here," the man said, raising his hand. Then, looking at the translation written by Juho, he replayed the words in his mind, memorizing the entire thing. "How's research going?" he asked, and Juho shrugged. As the young author learned more about the subject, the scenes for the novel within his mind started taking shape, giving him a clearer idea as to how he should go about writing the story. "It's going well." "Does that mean you're going back soon?" "That, I'm not sure. Although, I'm pretty sure I won't be here forever." "Well, let me know before you do. I'd like to buy you some bread if it's the last thing I do." Although it felt like it hadn't been that long since he'd first come to Germany, it felt strange knowing that there was somebody he had to inform ahead of time prior to leaving. The characters within 'Language of God' must have felt similarly. Juho thought about the protagonist of the new book, whom he had met before. The character had also appeared in 'Language of God' and played an important role in enabling One to meet the creator of the myth. It was the life of that character that Juho wanted to write about in the sequel of the series. "Do you know anybody… weird and unusual?" "You?" the man said light-heartedly. Then, the man rose from his seat, startling the ducks. "Well, I'm gonna get going now," he said. "Take care." Just like that, their brief meeting came to an end. Juho had no idea of where the man was headed, but it didn't matter. Left alone by the riverbank, Juho stared at the peaceful water of the Main River and started organizing his thoughts about the new protagonist. There were bits and pieces of information about him floating around in the young author's mind. Within 'Language of God,' there existed a myth written in a language that couldn't be read by mankind, which contained the story of mankind being ostracized by animals, and of a traitor who had betrayed its fellow animals because of a favor it had received from mankind. The sequel was going to be about the person behind the recording of mankind's entire history. At that moment... "Meow," a cat let out. When Juho bent down at the waist to look under the bench, he saw a cat crouching, moving its ears with its eyes closed. Juho felt the blood rushing to his head. At one point in their history, humans in 'Language of God' had massacred cats, and the protagonist in the sequel was bound to hold resentment toward them for their actions. Having deified the traitor of the animals, the new protagonist was in a place of influence. Having written the myth, which was also exceptional literature, the protagonist was an author. In that case, he had to have written something else prior to the myth, which would explain how he had been able to write such an outstanding book. "What are you doing?" "Agh!" Upon feeling an impact on his back, Juho looked up, moaning inadvertently while feeling the blood rush back down from his head. Although fuzzy, Juho was able to tell that somebody was giving him a pitiful look. Then, squatting, Coin looked underneath the bench. "You were doing that just so you could look at some cat?" he asked "Good circulation is crucial to good health." "Why don't you walk with your hands while you're at it?" "Should I try it?" Juho replied, rising from the bench. At that moment, the cat came out from underneath the bench and leapt onto the very spot Juho had sat on. "It must've heard us." Although moving up and down in dull movements, the cat seemed to be quite clever. While Juho was looking intently at a spot on its snout, Coin said, "Your research must be picking up, seeing how you're trying anything and everything." "That's right." Once the story started taking shape, Juho often found his excitement getting out of control, making him look even more frantically for things to give the story even more shape somehow. "What? You're gonna write about somebody doing a handstand?" "I'm thinking about a certain character, actually." "Oh. You mean the traitor?" Juho remembered having talked to Coin about the traitor at one point. Back then, Coin had said that he'd disliked the character because of his cruelty toward cats. Coin had even gone as far as suggesting that Juho should drive mankind to extinction. "No, the author." The new protagonist was going to be an incredibly influential figure in the future. It was common in epic narratives to include elements that hinted at a future like that to the readers, which involved an unusual birth. "What do you think about having him hatch out of an egg?" "An egg?" Coin asked, his brow furrowing. "Are you planning on making your new protagonist a helpless chick? You like birds a tad too much, don't you think?" "But if I really made the protagonist a chick, then it would be vulnerable to cats."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho stared intently at the cat. Although it seemed to pay no attention to the people around it, its ears, which were pointed toward the young author, moved every time Juho spoke. It was a cautious predator. "Let's get outta here." "Right," Juho replied. Checking the time, he asked, "Jenkins should've arrived yesterday, right?" "Yep. Although, I don't know what business he has here. He needs to stick to making movies," Coin said, clicking his tongue irritably. Juho agreed silently. Jenkins had been in the States for about a month. While Juho had been enjoying his peaceful daily life in the director's absence, Jenkins had informed the young author that he had arrived from the States just yesterday. Looking at the time, he had to be sleeping at the moment. "Speaking of which, for how much longer are you staying in Germany?" "For as long as I want to." "Of course." Lately, Coin had been traveling around the country. Düsseldorf, Hamburg, Bremen, Nürnberg, Stuttgart, Berlin, Dresden, Bonn, Mannheim, Potsdam. Those were some of the places Coin had visited up to that point. Though, it wasn't clear what he was doing in those cities. "Are you going to Mallorca too?" "No. That's not Germany," Coin said, not playing along with the young author's joke. Although considered a Spanish territory, it was a popular vacation spot for Germans. "The piano recital at Bonn wasn't half bad," he added. Despite the rare occasion that was Coin complimenting something, Juho listened to him indifferently. "That's where Beethoven was born, right?" "That's right. He was born in Germany." Then, Juho listed every single German musician he knew. "Bach, Hendel, Schumann, Brahms, Hofmann, Mendelssohn… Who else is there?" "Seems like you listen to a lot of classical music," Coin posited, raising his eyebrows. "Not really. I don't know too much about it. It's just that they're all well known." Juho barely knew those composer's life stories in detail. Then, Coin asked out of nowhere, "Where's Mozart from?" "Austria," Juho replied at once. "What about Vivaldi?" "Italy, right?" "Frédéric Chopin?" "I believe he's Polish." "OK? What about Nicolas Chopin?" "France." "Remind me again of how you know this?" Coin asked. To which, Juho scratched his chin and replied, "I've been working on a novel that spans quite a few borders." "And what does that have anything to do with this?" "I tend to take interest in subjects relevant to the countries that appear in my novel." Then, Coin asked another question, as if trying to catch the young author off guard, "Who wrote 'Die Forelle?'" "Uh… Robert Schumann?" "Wrong. It's Franz Schubert." "Ah! So close," Juho replied, trying his hardest to remember the melody of the piece. Then, he heard music coming from the distance. Being lost in his thoughts about music, Juho briefly thought that he was hearing things. "Isn't that…" "That sounds like a violin," Coin said. Although it wasn't the particular piece they were talking about, it was still quite riveting. "Shall we?" Coin asked and started walking toward the sound without even waiting for Juho's response. There was a crowd gathered around the source of the sound. The closer Juho got to the source, the clearer the notes became. It was a street performance. Looking at the old man playing the violin, Juho was able to tell his philosophy and the depth of his relationship with the instrument from the furrowed brows, thick eyebrows, and tightly clenched lips. "Very nice," Coin murmured. Meanwhile, Juho looked around at the audience. While some were carrying groceries in their hands, others were holding purses and/or coffee. Regardless of what they had in their hands, they had stopped deliberately at the sound of the violin, willingly spending time listening to the performance. Their eyes were fixed on the old performer, just like the young author's. He had set aside all of his thoughts in order to listen to the music. "This is 'Carmen,' isn't it?" Juho asked Coin, and he nodded in confirmation. As the violinist bowed his violin cheerfully, a few strands of loose hair flowed about in the air. Although the hands that were playing the instrument were blunt, it moved freely and unhindered on the neck of the violin. While the music was heavy and somewhat sorrowful, it also felt as though the performer was calmly walking on his toes. Then, the violinist gave one of the strings a couple of plucks with his finger, changing the atmosphere out of nowhere. There had to be a name for that technique. He played his instrument skillfully and with impeccable technique, and an image of Carmen dressed in red welled up into the young author's mind. As the performance came to an end, the audience applauded briefly, and the performer readjusted the shoulder rest of his violin, positioning himself for another piece. Then, Juho made his way through the crowd toward the violinist and placed a bill in the violin case. Looking up, he locked eyes with the performer, whose mustache started twitching as if he recognized the young author's face. Then, showing off his jawline, the performer started off with another piece, one widely-known as 'Gypsy Airs.' "Wow!" It was colorful and embellished, as though the performer were trying to prove his skill through his performance. The rich tone created by the fingers of the violinist evoked an emotional inspiration within the young author, which was tangible enough that he could almost touch it. At that moment... "For the love of God." It was Coin. The sound of his voice snapped the young author right out of the performance. When he looked back at him, Coin was bending at the waist, reaching for his thermos on the ground. "So sorry," the pedestrian who had run into him apologized profusely. Looking at the coffee spilling out from his thermos, Coin grumbled irritably. His pants had a massive coffee stain on it, and upon seeing that, the pedestrian apologized all the more. Taking a deep breath, Coin waved his hand at him, gesturing not to worry. Although the author looked quite menacing, he didn't go as far as raising his voice in public. "Go on. It's fine," Coin said, picking up his thermos, which gave off the smell of coffee. Thinking that the smell went well with the sound of the violin, Juho asked, "You OK?" "Do I look OK?" "I thought you said you were fine." "What did you say?" Coin said angrily, his eyes burning furiously. "Nothing." Thankfully, Coin didn't seem to have suffered any burns. "I need to use your bathroom. NOW," Coin said. Since the hotel Juho had been staying in was closer than Coin's, Juho took him to his hotel room willingly, listening intently to the sound of the violin slowly fading into the distance. "Gown." "Here." Coin scowled with discomfort. Thankfully, his favorite coffee shop wasn't too far away from them, which meant that he would be able to refill his thermos with ease. However, the disgruntled look on his face didn't change, as if the present discomfort were greater than the reward in the immediate future. After going into the bathroom, Coin slammed the door shut. Thinking about buying a new pair of pants and some coffee before he came out, Juho went into another room within his hotel room, which was in a state of disarray from all the research data written in German. Despite seeing the wallet right before his eyes, Juho simply couldn't bring himself to reach for it. Looking up at the ceiling, he said to himself, "I'll just organize it really quick before I go." Pushing all the books, notes, notebooks and pages of manuscript paper to one side, Juho placed his laptop on the desk. It was showing a cursor blinking on a blank page. He thought about the protagonist, who goes on to accomplish great things in the future. His writing remained relevant even centuries after his lifetime, getting passed down by hands and word of mouth. The sound of the violin still lingered in Juho's ears, the same notes playing over and over in his head, something so tangible and real that he could almost touch it. At that moment, he heard the sound of the shower going, making him hesitate. However, that didn't last long. Closing his eyes, he listed a set of words in his mind. "War. Myth. Past. Music. Language of God. Sin. Betrayal. Record." Trouts swam against the flow of water. The further one went back to the past, the more colorless the world grew, until eventually, it was left with black and white. Juho heard the sound of water. The trout finally reached its home, which had a piece of red cloth hanging from it as if marking the end of the trail. Looking raggedy from the dust and the stains, it was stiff to the touch. At that moment, Juho saw a silhouette behind it. Breathing slowly, he pulled up the red cloth by its corner. A familiar, yet long-awaited, face greeted him. Juho took a step forward, feeling the corners of his mouth turning up while his hands covered his face. Barely reaching up to his waist, the figure behind the red cloth was quite short and much younger than the young author had anticipated. Covering himself with the red cloth, Juho fixed his eyes on the figure. "What's that smell?" Juho asked. There was a stench in the air, which was coming from the child. There were piles of bird droppings on one side, and there were ragged spots on its clothes, as if it had been gnawed on by rats. At that moment, Juho felt the cloth he was wrapped in starting to get wet. The ceiling was leaking. There was a hole big enough to stick a finger into it, revealing the sky through it. It was nighttime. Instead of lying on the cloth, the child looked around its surroundings, from where there were rats and insects also watching the child. Although locking eyes with them, the child kept looking around unhindered. Then, as if revealing their hidden secret, it walked over to the wooden plank on the ground, which hid something quite expensive. The young author wrapped in red cloth was visible over the child's shoulders. Then, the child took the object out from underneath the plank. It was a violin. Holding it against its chest, the child headed for the cave, where no one would follow it. Aside from Juho and a lone sheep, there was not a single person around. As the child went into the cave, Juho wandered around the entrance. In the end, he decided to speak to the child through the sheep, which was the ugliest and the fattest in town. "Where'd you get that?" Despite the bizarre sight of the animal speaking human language, the child, as if hypnotized, didn't seem to notice anything strange. "I found it. There's a wealthy family who moved away recently while saying that a war had broken out and that it wouldn't be long until it spread to our village. They left a lot of stuff behind." "They'll be really upset when they find out you took that from them." "Then, I just gotta make sure I don't get caught." In order to avoid being nagged at, the child changed the subject, saying, "Well, I wanna play it now, so stop pestering me." With that, the child rose from its seat and placed the shiny instrument on its shoulder, looking quite natural. The sheep bleated quietly. "Listen to this." The child started bowing across the thinnest string on the violin. Although it was as simple as a string rubbing against another string, the sound that came out of it couldn't be more beautiful. The sheep followed the child's movement with its black eyes. "Where'd you learn to play?" "Humans cry naturally after they're born." The sound of music reverberated through the cave. 'Gypsy Airs.' The sorrow of an outsider masked by the cheerful, yet, violent sound of the violin. As the sheep exclaimed, impressed, the child puffed itself up. "I have really good ears. I can tell when you're bleating, even when you're with all the other sheep." "Can you read, though?" the sheep asked directly, and the child clenched its lips tightly, as if disgruntled that its personal time was being interrupted. "Can you?" the child asked. "I'm a sheep. Animals don't have a written language." "I wish I'd been born a sheep," the child said, playing sorrowfully. Like a true artist, it seemed quite skillful in expressing its emotions. The child's performance exuded an unmistakable presence in the otherwise dark and quiet cave. The notes coming from the instrument were its words and emotions. A violinist. "Where's the sheet music?" the sheep asked, interrupting the music. Turning toward it, the child asked, "Sheet music?" "The record." "What record?" "Musicians usually perform with sheet music in front of them. It's music recorded onto a sheet of paper so that other people can learn and remember it." The child immersed itself in thought for a brief time. Then, sneering, it said, "I can play just fine without it." "What you played today will eventually get lost in your memory." "..." The air sank into silence. Taking its hands off the violin, the child looked at the sheep furiously. Then, stamping its feet, the child shouted, "Underwear!" Juho stopped his hands, his ears ringing from the shout. When Juho looked back, he was greeted with a pair of blue eyes.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl As Juho closed his laptop, the blue eyes followed the young author's hands. "Why are you here?" the young author asked. "I said I was coming. We were grabbing dinner, remember? Juho checked the time. About thirty minutes had past. "I didn't hear the door." "Because I didn't ring the bell. Coin let me in." Then, Juho looked at Coin, who was leaning against the door frame with a cup of coffee from a certain coffee shop, fully dressed. At that, Juho made sense of the situation. "Underwear, huh?" "I got you some while I was out getting mine. Look," Coin said, showing Juho the underwear with zebra stripes. At that, Juho glanced at Coin's waist. "What are you lookin' at?" "Nothing." "He knew exactly what he was looking for. It's not entirely zebra-like, but it'll have to do," Jenkins said. Coin seemed to prefer a certain brand of underwear. Taking the white underwear with black lines running across it, Juho waved it and said, "It's not a sheep." "A sheep?" "Nothing. You're early." "I wanted to sleep in for a little longer, but it turns out getting out of bed a little earlier isn't all that bad." "Well, it's not super early." "C'mon, I'm starving! Let's go get some food!" Jenkins rushed the young author, glancing at his laptop. "It's kind of early for lunch, but sure," Juho said as he rose from his seat to go to another room. Left alone, Jenkins and Coin didn't say anything for a little while. Then, Jenkins took the sunglasses from his head and set them on the desk. "Well, what do you think?" Coin asked. At which, the director lightly tapped the laptop with his fingers and said, "Seems like they just barely missed Mr. Woo in that video." The door had opened before the director had even rung the bell. Coin had been acting differently from usual. The room had been strangely quiet, and the host had been nowhere to be seen. Jenkins had started making sense of the situation as he stepped into the hotel room. Yun Woo had been writing, and the room had been dead silent. 'Is this how he writes?' he'd wondered. He had never been so upset that he couldn't read Korean. Then, out of nowhere, he thought of the young author's short story, 'River,' which had left him guessing where it had come from or where it was going. Licking his parched lips, Jenkins asked, "Well, what about you? Are you anxious at all?" "Don't be stupid, now," Coin said, immersing himself in thought. The cup of coffee Jenkins had brought him was already half empty. Meanwhile, Jenkins walked around the author idly. "A violin, huh," Coin said. "A violin?" "That's right." "Do you know Korean?" "I know a few words." Thinking about the word written in Korean, Coin said, "Though it seems like he was seeing something completely different." Yun Woo's writing process often involved seeing things that shouldn't be seen. It was almost his fantasy was a paranormal experience. "I'm ready. Shall we?" At the young author's voice, the two made their way out of the hotel room. "This is some good stuff!" Jenkins shouted, raising his glass while looking at the drink with affection. Between the three people who were eating at the round table, the director was the only person drinking. "I'm lovin' this!" Jenkins had been making quite the scene with each and every sip. Although Juho didn't mind it at all, the other person didn't seem too happy about it. "The Gift of God to us all." "Will you shut up!?" Coin let out irritably, glaring at the director as if ready to hurt him at any given minute. "Is it that good?" Juho asked in order to interject. "Very! Would you like one for yourself?" "No, thanks." Without imposing on the young author, Jenkins drank his wine quietly. However, because of his expressive nature, the silence didn't last long. "I gotta eat here more often. The food is amazing!" "Coin's recommendation." "I should've kept my mouth shut," Coin grumbled, cutting himself a big piece of beef and bringing it up to his mouth. The slab of meat poured out what looked like blood at every slice of his knife, which reminded the young author that Coin was eating what used to be a living being. As Juho quietly ate his asparagus, Jenkins put the glass down and asked, "That was the sequel you were working on in the room, right?" "That's right." "Do you have fond memories of things related to violins?" At that, Juho looked up at the two. At which point, Jenkins waved his knife in denial and said, "It just seemed like it had something to do with the man behind the myth, is all. I'd love to know more about anything that has to do with that man's life." 'Language of God' contained the end of the character, which involved the man creating a myth that got passed down for generation after generation. Perhaps, the director was thinking about mentioning the character in the movie. "I can't tell you anything on the kind of life he'd lead, unfortunately," Juho said, fiddling around with his fork. Jenkins waited patiently for the young author to finish. "But, what I CAN tell you is what makes him such an important character." At that, Juho saw Jenkins' lips twitch. "The piece of writing that he leaves behind will probably outlive God." Within the novel, God's lifespan was three-hundred years. Nothing lasted forever in that world. However, there were moments where things felt like they would last forever. "Maybe it'll be around forever. Who knows?" Juho said, revealing the mindset with which he had been writing, and added, "Do you think he'd like to know that?" Would he welcome the his creation outlived its creator? Juho thought about the spirit of the character witnessing the result of his creation after his death. What would the expression on his face look like then? "I'd say he would, at least a little," Juho added. That was as much about the character he could share with the director. Although smacking his lips, clearly wanting to hear more, Jenkins didn't cling to the young author and beg. Instead, he decided to approach things from a different angle. "So, about Bird in 'Language of God.'" "Bird?" Coin said, retracing his memory of the novel. "You mean God?" he said, remembering the character Jenkins was referring to. "Yes, him!" Bird had been one of the characters who had lived in the same neighborhood as the protagonist, who eventually left on a journey in search of God. However, the truth was that God had been, was, and would always be nearby. "I've been wrestling with the character for some time," the director said. While the series was still ongoing, Bird had served as an element of surprise. The fans had been ecstatic when the character's identity had been revealed. Unfortunately for the director, that dynamic was no different from a magic trick that everyone already knew. "But I still want to utilize him somehow. I want him to be special." "Do what you want. The script is different from the novel anyway," Juho said with a piece of chicken in his mouth. "But birds have special meanings in your books, Mr. Woo," Jenkins said, trying desperately to get the young author to tell him more. "There are birds in your other books too, and at this point, it's practically your signature. Besides, I really like Bird in 'Language of God.' I wanna have a deeper understanding of the character." "There's no correlation between my novels and what I think of birds. If you wanna know more about the character, then I suggest you read my novels." "C'mon, Mr. Woo. You know what I'm talking about," Jenkins replied, sighing and adding, "At first, I was gonna ask you to take over the adaptation." "Yeah, right," Coin said, sneering. Meanwhile, Juho ate his food quietly. Pouring himself another glass of wine, Jenkins said, "Well, we do have some of the best authors in the world taking part in the process, myself included." No matter how good or bad the result turned out, the director was confident that he would be content in the end. "As for the cast, I'm planning on giving the role to an actor who packs a punch." "Is that so?" Juho asked. "But I won't say who." "I didn't ask." "Don't care." "This is confidential, all right?" Although nobody had asked him to, Jenkins kept offering pieces of information to the young author, as if Juho would reciprocate the effort eventually. After some thought, Juho said, "So, the thing about Bird is…" "Yes!?" "... He can't fly." "Eh?" "His name's Bird for crying out loud. Yet, he can't fly. Tragic, really." "But Bird is a person! More precisely, God! Isn't it obvious that he wouldn't fly!?" Jenkins said with his fingers on his temple. Then, his expression started to change slowly. "Yet, you thought that was strange somehow? Sad, maybe? A bird that can't fly. A character with which its creator empathizes. Is Bird yearning for freedom? Vertical sort of… No, that can't be it. It has to be something dirtier…" the director said, thinking out loud. Then, he took his raggedy copy of 'Language of God' out and opened it. "What a mess," Coin said, abhorred by the state of the book, guzzling down his sparkling water as if letting his anger out on it. "... But the actor was just so full of himself! He was just the opposite of the image he projected. Although he's pretty infamous in Hollywood, a lot of people were against bringing him in. But, what could I do? I wanted him to take the role regardless, which meant having to play mind games with the guy throughout the entire filming process." As the meal went on, Jenkins, who was flushing bright red and reeking of alcohol, was starting to become more and more talkative. Unfortunately for Juho, that meant having to listen to his drunken rant against his will. "So, how did you sort things out with him?" "Why, I let him have it, of course!" Jenkins said, throwing his hands in the air. "I pointed out all of his flaws in front of people. I could've beat around the bush a little bit, but I didn't, so I could give the guy a taste of his own medicine. In the end, he stormed out of the set, and our staff members barely managed to convince him to do one more take. I'm telling you, that day was a mess. Voices were raised, fingers were pointed, people were cursing up a storm… Oh, I stayed out of all that, of course. It's undignifying." When Juho looked to Coin, he was flipping the director off, waving his middle finger in front of him. At which point, Jenkins started cackling while holding his sides. "OK. Frankly, I don't dislike actors and actresses who are full of themselves. Whenever they act out, that gives me a reason to treat them the same way." "Doesn't it get stressful?" "Of course, it does! I often find myself asking why I'm doing this. But, in the end, I always come back to the same answer: As long as the movie turns out OK, as long as they can deliver the performance I'm looking for, as long as my choice of casting them pays off somehow in the end. If anything, it's the actors the higher-ups are trying to force into the movies that bother me. There's nothing more annoying than that. Trust me." "Why waste time comparing them? They're all garbage for all I care," Coin said, his nostrils flaring as he added, "I hate 'em all, from people trying to take shortcuts to the cocky ones. I can't stand the latter in particular." "Are you sure you don't just hate people in general?" Jenkins asked, clearly drunk but stating the truth nevertheless. At which point, Juho chuckled quietly. "I didn't like you either, you know," Coin told the young author poignantly. "Me?" "Ah! Right! You flew all the way to Korea just to see him!" Jenkins said, staring into the air and nodding. Just like he had said, Coin had definitely been upset at Juho back then, to say the least. Although Coin and Jenkins had a noticeably different attitude toward the young author, something told Juho that they might have a lot more in common with each other than they realized. "You were outranked by Yun Woo back then, right? Yes, I remember reading about it. I think I remember his books doing even better than yours too. Is that why you went all the way to Korea? That's some dedication." At that, Juho rolled his eyes and looked away, playing coy, and Coin sneered and replied, "Hmph! This is why I can't hold a conversation with people who only focus on details. This kid and I? Our positions are a worlds apart. Ask anybody, and I guarantee you that they'll agree. Every single one of them." "So, you do acknowledge that you lost, partly? Well, good for you, Yun Woo." "You don't seem to understand the proper time to talk about that subject." "You mean now? Mm, that's some good wine." At that moment, as Jenkins put his glasses down, Coin reached over and held the director by the collar at a frightening speed. Juho blinked, both taken aback and impressed at the same time. However, it didn't seem like the best time to admire how fast Coin was. Then, the author raised his fist as if ready to punch the director in the face at any given minute, and Jenkins' eyes widened. "Hold on, hold on." "Now that I got a good look at you, I know your kind. It was some animal… ah. Human." "You're choki--ng-" "So, going back to what I said about the proper time, let me remind you of when that is. That would be now." "OK! I surrender!" Jenkins shouted desperately. Coin had a strength that matched his intimidating appearance. Although the director was confident that a broken nose couldn't take away from his good looks, that didn't necessarily mean that he wanted to have a broken nose. Before that became a reality, Juho held Coin by his arm. "Wuss." Thankfully, Coin didn't seem like he intended on going any further. As Jenkins opened his eyes, which he had closed by reflex, Juho breathed a sigh of relief. "I've said this before, but I'm gonna say it again: Couldn't you look less serious when you're pretending to hit someone? It's hard to tell if someone's joking when they're waving their fist around like that, especially if that person's Kelley Coin." "That's what makes it fun, isn't it? Ah! Would you look at that? He stopped running his mouth!" "Are you OK?" Juho asked Jenkins, who was covering his face, which was flushing an even brighter red than before, with both of his hands. "That was exhilarating," the director said, sounding as though laughing awkwardly or drunk. Relieved, Juho went back to his seat. "Why don't you tell us more about that pickpocket gang you hung out with?" Jenkins asked fearlessly as soon as he felt more at ease. Meanwhile, Juho ate his pretzel quietly.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Huh. It's already dark out." "Whew! I am WASTED!" Juho looked intently at Jenkins, who was staggering from the effects of alcohol, struggling to stand still. As if having no intention of helping him, Coin walked ahead, leaving the young author to help the director walk. "C'mon, Mr. Jenkins. Get it together." "What are you talking about? I feel fine! In fact, I feel great! Not only am I a genius, but I got the good looks. On top of that, I've managed to buy the movie rights from Yun Woo himself!" At that, Coin sneered loudly in the distance. Nevertheless, Juho was relieved that the director was still talkative. Otherwise, Jenkins would have made Juho's life much harder by trying to squeeze into a tight space. Unfortunately, there was little Juho could do about Coin's irritable mood. "A drunk in an otherwise beautiful street," Coin said, trying to get the director to shut up yet again. At which point, Juho stepped in in order to stop him, "Let's leave him be. Maybe it'll help him sober up if we let him talk." When the arrived at the riverbank, there was hardly anybody around. Even the ducks were nowhere to be found. There was nobody out for a walk, riding a bicycle, jogging, or sitting on the bench. The night sky shone brightly with stars. Similarly, all of the buildings and the bridge shone brightly with street lights, which were being reflected by the water. Standing still for a brief moment, Juho stared intently into the water. "Hey, it's that thing you're afraid of," Jenkins said. At which point, Coin turned toward him. Then, walking closer to the water, Juho said, "Who knows what could be lurking underneath?" "What? Are you afraid that there could be a corpse floating in the water?" "Yep. That's exactly what I'm worried about," Juho said, still staring into the water. He couldn't see anything aside from the reflection of the surroundings. It was as though the water was trying to hide its thoughts. "You know, it has a lot in common with you," Jenkins said, sniffling. "In what sense?" Juho asked. "The way it keeps flowing." "Now, he's just speaking gibberish," Coin said, and Juho agreed. By that point, Jenkins was practically thinking out loud, blurting out every thought that came to mind. "Actually, the river doesn't look too terrible at night," Juho said. "Is that something somebody who's deathly afraid of the water would say?" Coin asked, and Juho chuckled quietly. After staring at the water for a brief moment, Coin said, "You're gonna be writing while you're training, aren't you?" "I'd assume so." "I mean the sequel." After some thought, Juho replied, "Most likely? Whenever I can find the time." Just like always, Juho's story would come to completion as he repeated the process of writing and revising. "Me, I'm making a movie," Jenkins interjected, throwing his arm into the air, toward the sky, still staggering. Then, looking up at the sky, he asked, "But, what if it doesn't turn out well?" Being a genius also came with its own set of concerns. "I fought so hard for it, but what if it turns out to be the quickest and surest way of killing my career? What if all this effort was for nothing?" At that, Coin yawned and answered his question, "Then, you kiss your directing career goodbye. If I were God, I'd make it a priority of mine to make that happen." "But, why?" "'Cause you're annoying as hell. That's why." When the director looked at Juho for help, the young author shrugged and said, "You never know what the future holds. You'll be fine." "That also means the movie could flop!" "Yep." At that moment, Jenkins raised his chin toward the sky and shouted from the top of his lungs, "Then, I better enjoy this moment while it lasts!" spinning in place and gagging. At which point, Juho took a step back in order to distance himself. "This guy needs to pull it together," Coin murmured while shoving his hands in his pockets, which made the young author chuckle. At that moment, a cold breeze blew against his hair, reminding him that it would no longer be there in the near future. Brushing his hair back, Juho walked on, followed by Coin and Jenkins. --- "Come again?" "He really went." "Where?" "Into the military." "Who did?" "Yun Woo." "Why?" "Who knows?" "OK, let's go back a little," Myung Sil said, swallowing nervously. "Now, tell me again." At that, her coworker sighed impatiently and said, "Yun Woo! He went into the military!" "Yun Woo did?" At the news that Yun Woo, the genius author, had gone into the military, all hell broke loose in her office. People in all directions started talking about the young author. He had disappeared. Now. Of all times. Out of the blue. Without telling anybody. "You mean he's planning on it?" "No. He's already at basic training." "He's already there!?" Myung Sil let out, picturing the young author sporting a short hairdo inadvertently. "I'm tellin' ya. This guy's like a spy," the supervisor said, gnashing his teeth and scratching his head irritably, sending the dandruff flakes on his scalp flying in the air. "All right, let's send a team over. You come up with an article. Give the publisher a ring." Taken aback, Myung Sil still couldn't make sense of the situation, unable to answer the question: "Why now of all times?" "Isn't there a movie coming out? He'd have so much to do in Hollywood! Yet, he's gone into the military at a time like this?" Everyone had been ecstatic to hear that the movie rights to Yun Woo's ultra-successful novel series had been sold to Hollywood. Not only was the director one of the most prominent figures in the industry, but the studio behind it was also a massive one. Every show on TV that had anything to do with books, movies, or the latest trends was mentioning the young author's name. "I thought he'd do another interview soon." Yet, Yun Woo's decision had caught many people off guard. "He's really something else," Myung Sil said, chuckling, clueless. "Do you think Jenkins knew?" "How am I supposed to know? It would have made our jobs so much easier if only he wasn't so sneaky," the supervisor said irritably. However, Myung Sil didn't let up. "Jenkins probably knew, don't you think? Do you think Mr. Woo told his friends, family, and colleagues? If anybody, I have a feeling that Jenkins knew." "I suppose it's possible." "I thought him being at the Frankfurt book fair was him sending a message that he was gonna start being more active with the public? Wait a minute… Does this mean that there won't be any new Yun Woo books for the next two years…!?" Myung Sil said, her expression growing darker. "This can't be happening," she said, clasping her head, her shoulders trembling at the realization of having to wait two years without any new books from the young author. To fans like her, the young author's decision had been quite cruel. At that moment, the supervisor shouted, "Let's go! Get a move on!" "... I'm gonna pay Dong Baek publishing a visit." "OK. Good idea. You do that." With that, the reporter sprung up from her seat, eager for an explanation. --- "We were caught off guard just as much you," Jang Mi said with a pleasant smile, which looked as though somebody had drawn on to her face. "Did you now know about this as well?" Myung Sil asked. "I did know," the editor replied while maintaining the same expression on her face, which was hiding the emotions that were still raw from the day she had first come across the news. "I really appreciated him telling me as soon as he came back from Germany." "When did he come back?" "Let's see… about four months ago, I believe?" Jang Mi said, staring into the air as she retraced her memory. Expecting a sequel, she had been ecstatic by the news of the young author's return. She had thought that Juho had come back with most of the story mapped out after intensive research. With all of what he had gone through in Germany, he had to have gotten a lot out of his time in the country. When he had visited her office, Jang Mi had taken him to the conference room and asked, "So, did you learn a lot?" As usual, the young author had had a mellow look on his face, and Jang Mi had stared intently at it. "I sure did. I'm at a place where I have enough details to work with." "Do you think you'll be able to win anything this time around?" At that, an awkward look had appeared on the young author's face. Although knowing that he would have responded affirmatively, Jang Mi hadn't been able to help herself. She had been ecstatic. "I can't say." Jang Mi's impression of Juho was that he was modest. Even as the hype of 'Language of God' started dying down, never had the young author raised his voice or stomped his feet. Whenever they would talk on the phone, he would always respond in a calm, unhurried tone. Most authors she knew who were five years into their writing careers were still delighted to see even a picture of their books being sold at a bookstore, ecstatic when their books went up to a higher rank, and anxious once their books became a bestseller. Modesty would always take a back seat, only to peek its head when they were at the peak of their success. However, it was just the opposite for Yun Woo. "So, have you decided on the name of the protagonist?" "Yes, I have." "What is it?" "Violinist." "That's his name?" Jang Mi asked, her eyes wide. "He's an author, isn't he?" she asked. "He plays the violin, hence the name." Jang Mi focused on listening to the young author's thoughts. The more she heard, the more her hands shook. Soon, she was about to discover how the golden goose had been killed. She was anxious to see the product. Hearing the summary of the plot, the editor nodded affirmatively. "So, it's really a tragic story," she said. "I mean, just think about what's surrounding the character. Sense of defeat, depression, greed, self-centeredness… They're everywhere." "Which are emotions you seem to represent quite often." "Is that right?" Jang Mi inhaled deeply. The answer became apparent just from the story the young author had presented on the stage of the exhibition event alone. With the future knowledge of a book that hadn't even been announced, Jang Mi couldn't hide her excitement. Hiding behind the genre of fantasy novel, the young author was about to speak his mind on the convoluted reality of modern society, poignantly calling the issues within that society out through his uniquely crafted world within the novel. The hope of the protagonist becoming the hero behind the myth would allow readers to enjoy the tragic past of that world without the emotional burdens. "One started digging into the myth in order to meet God. The traitor was very, very briefly mentioned, yet it's one of the most popular characters within the novel. Readers have been curious about who was behind the myth too." Mankind had started a never-ending war in the past, which had led to an ever-lasting massacre. The animals that lived during that time had witnessed the cruelty of humans, killing each other for the most trivial reasons. In order to survive, the animals had come up with a plan to ostracise mankind by creating a written language that couldn't be read by humans. However, the traitor betrayed its fellow animals, saving mankind from their imminent destruction in order to repay a favor it had once received. Meanwhile, Jang Mi was curious as to how the new characters would be similar or different from what the characters within 'Language of God' had discovered about them. "The myth isn't the protagonist's first piece of writing. Writing a myth requires training. He'll explain the reason he was chosen by the traitor as the writer," Juho said relentlessly, and Jang Mi fixed her eyes on his lips, which were moving restlessly. "The first piece written by Violinist will be a war story." War was a popular subject among the people living in the world within the novel. Winning a war also came with a slew of benefits, such as wealth, abundant life, and reigning supreme over all the other countries. In that world, only the strong survived, and the weak were quickly wiped out. With the weak gone, the world became a slightly better place to live for the strong. The author, Violinist, posed a question about the pattern his fellow humans follow: fighting, winning, and keeping everything to themselves. Writing was the means that allowed him to do so. "... Writing about the wretched spectacle of war that he experienced firsthand. He'll be an author who writes something realistic, heavily emphasizing experience." "That reminds me of a certain author," Jang Mi said, and Juho chuckled. "It'll be a while until his writing starts to pick up. Till then, it gets neglected and forgotten. But that's when the traitor comes across Violinist's writing, which ultimately leads to more readers." The protagonist was a figure who influenced the world both knowingly and unintentionally. Being musically illiterate, he barely manages to learn to write and proceeds to write a book. Unfortunately, the book turns out to be a massive failure. Yet, moving forward one step at a time, he doesn't give up despite being blatantly looked down upon by those around him. Afterward, Jang Mi also heard about God, the upcoming war, and the new languages Juho was planning to introduce. At which point, she couldn't help but applaud. "So, when are you gonna start writing?" At that moment, the expression on the young author's face changed all of a sudden, and the editor, who couldn't contain her excitement, didn't catch it. "We can give you as long as you need." "That's a relief. Then, I'd like at least two years." Despite the joke being incredibly dull, Jang Mi laughed. Then, laughing along with her, the young author added, "I'm going into the military."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "You mean for research purposes?" Jang Mi had asked after a long pause. "No." "Wait, who?" "Me." The wave of emotions she had felt back then were still vivid in the editor's mind to that day. Looking at Myung Sil sitting in front of her, Jang Mi said, "I'm tellin' you, I've yet to come across anybody as interesting as Mr. Woo." The young author had gone into the military quietly, which was something he had been meaning to do for some time. As his editor, Jang Mi had respected his decision and cooperated. Myung Sil asked her about the smallest of details, and Jang Mi gave her preplanned answers. "What's the publisher's standpoint on the Mr. Woo's hiatus?" the reporter asked in a low voice. Letting out a small sigh, Jang Mi answered, "It happens to every author, but I won't deny that I feel rather sad about it. We, as both the publisher and readers, were one of the greatest beneficiaries." Leaning back onto the couch's backrest, Myung Sil said, "Personally, I felt like I had sent my own son off into the military." "Well, you know the saying: hunger's the best seasoning there is. I'm sure it'll be worth the wait," Jang Mi said, chuckling quietly. "I didn't realize it could be this agonizing to wait on an empty stomach," Myung Sil said, and Jang Mi agreed silently. Then, the reporter rose from her seat. "Are you heading back?" Jang Mi asked. "Oh, no. I better go around and get some more information." Then, checking the email that had just arrived, the reporter added, "I'm meeting with other authors." --- 'Yun Woo, the Genius Author, Goes into the Military, Leaving Fans and Publishers Shocked.' 'Yun Woo Reported to Have Already Gone into the Military." 'The Web in a State of Mass Confusion. Yun Woo? In the Military? News Climbing Up the 'Most Searched' Rankings.' 'How Old Is Yun Woo? His Recent Enlistment Catches Fans Off Guard. "I Will Do My Part as a Citizen."' 'Yun Woo's Recent Enlistment Leaves the Globe in Shock. Fans Overseas React. Military? Conscription? When Can We Expect from Yun Woo's New Book?' 'The Riveting News of Yun Woo's Enlistment Catches the Attention of the International Media.' 'The Enlistment of a World Class Author and What He's about to Experience in the Military. Who Are Some of the Authors with Military Backgrounds? A World War II Veteran Author Shares His Story.' 'What Would Yun Woo's Life in the Military Be Like?' '"That Was Quick." An Unhesitant Decision from the Young Author. Why is the Web Rooting for Yun Woo?' 'The Beauty of a Dutiful Citizen. Compliments from Fans to Yun Woo Pour Out.' 'Yun Woo's New Look? The Perfection That Is Yun Woo.' 'Who are Some of the Celebrities Burdened by Military Duty? What Makes Yun Woo's Decision to Enlist Unique?' 'The Publishers Speak on Yun Woo's Recent Enlistment: "We Already Knew."' 'Two Years Without Yun Woo. "We'll Be Waiting."' 'Fans and Critics Alike Applaud Yun Woo's Recent Decision to Go Into the Military.' 'How Will Things Change without Yun Woo for the Next Two Years? The Absence of the Genius Felt by Many.' 'Yun Woo's Fellow Authors Speak on his Enlistment: "He Didn't Say Much. He Didn't Seem Nervous Either."' 'Comments: 1523.' … --- "How dare he just disappear like that?" Seo Joong asked as he put the pool cue down. He had just gotten off an urgent phone interview. Since the news of Yun Woo's enlistment had finally gotten out, Seo Joong was relieved that he no longer needed to keep it a secret that he had been asked about it by the young author. As always, Dong Gil gave him a look of disdain. "They called you yesterday. You just happened to miss it." "I was sleeping!" "Till six in the evening?" "What's wrong with that? I didn't go to bed until 10:00 a.m that day!" Seo Joong said confidently and added, "Because I was writing." Of course, instead of giving an answer, Dong Gil flipped the page of the book he had been reading. Looking at his laptop on the pool table, Seo Joong said, "People seem to have taken it well." "Well, it's nothing to get offended about." "Good for him. I was really taken aback. Sometimes, I get a feeling that he acts without thinking." "Coming from you, that's rich." "Think about it! He's doing so well and he just disappears and goes into the military! If I were in his position, I'd stall as long as I could. Remember how miserable we were when we had to go?" "It was like being dragged to the slaughterhouse." "OK, that's a little dramatic." The two authors had dreaded going into the military. Unfortunately, it was one of the things that needed to be done regardless of one's preference, which had made them even sadder. "I wonder if he's afraid he'll be forgotten?" Seo Joong said, swinging the pool cue in the air. "He's never been gone for that long. Yet, he joined the military willingly. That kid's a mystery." "Hmph." "But, what makes Yun Woo tick is actually pretty simple," Seo Joong said as his pool cue came to a halt, pointing toward the cold man reading a book by Hemingway. "Maybe he was looking for something. Kind of like when I went to Russia," Dong Gil said. As Seo Joong picked up a ball from the table, Dong Gil closed the book. "So? Did he tell you anything?" Seo Joong asked. "He's writing a sequel, apparently." "A sequel?" "To 'Language of God.'" At that, Seo Joong's eyes were filled with life. "This is gonna be about the past, isn't it?" "It's probably going to be about war." "Hence, the military?" "I'd figure so." Then, Seo Joong laid himself on the pool table, and a ball came rolling out from under his buttocks. The Sun shone directly on his face, changing the color of his eyes. "Interesting." Dong Gil was well acquainted with his friend's attitude. "Well, what about you? Any good catch? You even went all the way to Russia." "You could say that," Dong Gil said. In reality, he was quite satisfied with the product. "You're actually really happy with how it turned out, huh?" "... I won't deny it." Then, Dong Gil took out a plethora of data he had been keeping for a long time. If he hadn't been satisfied by it, then he would have never taken it out willingly. Meanwhile, Seo Joong saw an ominous smile on his friend's face. Dong Gil's new spy novel would surely be a masterpiece. On top of that, the timing was just right. "You don't think people will forget about Juho when your book comes out, do you?" That time, rather than making a judgmental remark as he normally would, Dong Gil replied, "That would be interesting." There was a subtle sense of playfulness in his cold, low voice Meawhile, Seo Joong spun the cue ball on the table and made a shot. "I'm telling Yun Woo." "Why am I not surprised?" At that moment, a thunderous roar came from Seo Joong's stomach. While Dong Gil's face twisted into a scowl, Seo Joong cackled and said, "I'm gettin' hungry. Maybe we should've just gone to the outing." "You said you didn't feel like going out. Besides, it's already late." "You're right. Let's get delivery." "You do that. I'm going out." "C'mon! I'm buying!" In the end, the two ended up eating much later into the evening after an unnecessarily long quarrel. --- "Hoo, yeah!" Mideum exclaimed. Gesturing for her to wipe the beer foam off her lips, Dae Soo said, "Would've been nice to eat together one last time," referring to the young author who had left suddenly. Stomping her feet, Mideum also agreed, "I know! I wanted to ask him about a few things too." "Like what?" "Like how he was feeling, his mindset; what he's most afraid of; IF he's afraid; how did he come to enlist… etc." "I didn't realize you were a reporter?" Geun Woo murmured quietly and Joon Soo added, "Well, I do understand. It's just that it was so sudden." "We did get to eat together before he left though." Before disappearing with the wind, the young author had visited Yun Seo at her house and stayed well into the night. "What did you guys talk about?" a voice asked quietly from across the table. It was San Jung, dressed entirely in black. After a long period of research in Taiwan, she had returned to Korea just a few months back. Wincing at her question, Geun Woo replied, "That, we don't really know either. He was talking with Mrs. Baek for the most part." The young author was probably paying her a visit out of respect. Although Yun Seo had invited Hyun Do to join them for dinner that evening, he hadn't shown up. "He looked like his usual self while we were eating, wearing that silly smile of his, without a care in the world," Geun Woo said as if grumbling. At which point, Joon Soo added, "Geun Woo was trying so hard to scare him." "C'mon! He's still young." "So? Was Juho intimidated?" Mideum asked, leaning toward Joon Soo, who shook his finger sideways exactly three times. "Not one bit, which is why this guy looks disgruntled." "Of course," Dae Soo said, resting her chin on her hand. The image of the young author being fazed or intimidated only existed in people's imagination. People describing his age as being preceded by his demeanor had long turned boring. By that point, the young author was closer to reaching the tranquility of Buddha. "It was so boring! He knew everything there was to know about being in the military! And this is his first time going into it!" "You don't say! How's that possible? Does he know anybody?" Mideum asked. "No, but it seemed like he'd been studying, though," Geun Woo said, shaking his head. "Studying? For what?" San Jung asked quickly, and Joon Soo replied on Geun Woo's behalf, "It seemed like he was working on something war-related." As the utensils clinked against the plates on the table, the authors locked eyes with each other. "How brave of him," San Jung said, staring intently at her glass of red wine. War was made of flesh and blood, which meant the young author would have to face stomach-churning images repeatedly. Within imagination, it was possible to see even the most explicit details. Why do humans kill each other? What makes them desire or reject war? What does it mean to win or lose? What starts wars and what makes peace? Where's humanity headed? The young author would be able to bring up such lofty questions to his heart's content, and readers would search for answers within the book. It was a sequel to 'Language of God,' which meant it was bound to appeal to the masses. The success lay in how much Yun Woo could raise the quality of it. "He doesn't ever get tired, does he? That already sounds like a headache and a half," Dae Soo said quietly. "I'm tellin' ya. He feeds on metal." "Is that why he went into the military? That's some dedication right there," Mideum said, her mouth parted open as if in disbelief, revealing the chewed up food within it. Then, offering her a glass of water, Joon Soo said, "I know he doesn't act like it, but Dong Gil seems pretty confident in his new novel. He already submitted the manuscript to the publisher, apparently." "Must've had something to do with his trip to Russia?" "He's writing a story that's been on his mind for years. I can only imagine how happy he'll be. Besides, Yun Woo's not around either." Dae Soo and Joon Soo locked eyes with each other. Dong Gil was about to reveal the story that he had always wanted to write. The subject, the story, and everything else. "His spy novel does sound riveting, though," Dae Soo said, and San Jung nodded quietly in agreement. "I'm looking forward to it too." "Good for him," Mideum said, pouty-lipped. "I'm looking forward to yours too. You write some good detective novels," San Jung said, chuckling quietly. "I appreciate the lip service." At that moment, the door to the room they were dining in flung open, revealing the last member to join the rest of the crew that evening. It was Sang Choi, and he was standing confidently with his chin raised high. Seeing that, Mideum's eyes widened. "Lip service? San Jung doesn't do lip service!" Sang Choi said, walking into the room confidently, indicative of the conviction behind his words. "You're late," Dae Soo said. However, the romance writer remained unfazed. "Work is more important than eating. I was really in the zone today, so I went on a tad bit longer than usual." "Come, sit here," Joon Soo said, showing him to his seat. Glancing at the faces of the authors sitting around the table, Sang Choi said, "I don't see Yun Woo." "Dong Gil and Seo Joong aren't here either," Geun Woo said. At which point, the smile on the romance writer's face turned upside down. "I'm sure we all know what I'm talking about?" he added, referring to the young author's enlistment while crossing his legs. "... My bad," Geun Woo replied, apologizing reluctantly.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Heard your movie's coming out?" Sang Choi asked Geun Woo, almost as if picking a fight and in a way that would've been offensive to those who didn't know the romance writer. Of course, Geun Woo was fully aware that Sang Choi wasn't coming from a place of ill-intent. "Ah, right. I sold the movie rights." "Yun Woo went to Hollywood, you know." "... I'm aware," Geun Woo replied, feeling something well up from within. Despite the effect his words had on the author, Sang Choi became distracted by the menu. At which point, Geun Woo found himself getting confused as to whether there really was no ill-intent behind the romance writer's words. "Well, congratulations. But you still have a ways to go as an author, though. You know this, right? There were about fifteen places that I didn't like in your new book." "Riiiight," Geun Woo said, dragging his response and wondering, 'Couldn't he be any less excited?' "That's fifteen!" Sang Choi said, emphasizing his remark even further. When Geun Woo looked at Dae Soo, she nodded and said, "He's keeping you in check." "... But I started out so late." "What did you say?" Sang Choi asked. "Nothing." (TL's Note: In Korea, people with more experience are commonly expected to be treated with respect by those who are newer and less experienced in life/job field. Simultaneously, those who are more experienced are supposed to be looking out for those who are less experienced. However, this culture is often abused by those who are older. In this case, Sang Choi, being a self-centered person that he is, is more concerned with his own career than looking out for Geun Woo, who is less experienced than he is.) While Geun Woo was dealing with Sang Choi, Joon Soo talked with San Jung about Yun Woo. "He looks good with short hair. Although, it did take some getting used to." "Really? I gotta see it now. Do you have a picture?" "Of course! How can I not?" Joon Soo took his phone out of his pocket and showed San Jung a picture of the young author. At which point, all of the other authors gathered around him to see it. "Huh!" San Jung exclaimed upon seeing the picture of Juho looking straight into the camera, sporting the subtle smile with which she was well acquainted. "Not too bad! He looks cold though." "The reporters must be anxious to get their hands on this picture." "That takes me right back to when I was in the military." As the waiter came into the room in timely fashion, Sang Choi placed an order for food. After the waiter stepped out, Joon Soo said to his fellow authors, "I'm about to start working on another book." "Are you now?" "What kind?" "It's a full length novel. I was planning on publishing it through my blog initially, but I got an offer from the publisher." "I see." Nobody seemed to be caught off-guard by the news. Writing was an author's primary job description, and that remained unchanged with or without Yun Woo around. Joon Soo thought back to the day when he had taken pictures with the young author. "What's with your hair? It looks good." When Joon Soo had opened the door, he had been greeted by Yun Woo and his new hairdo. While Joon Soo had been thinking about the young author's noticeably shorter hair, Juho had said, "I'm enlisting." Their brief conversation had brought a significant change for the next two years of Joon Soo's life. Two years without Yun Woo. The absence of the young author gave what would otherwise be just a number a name. Juho's time in the military meant his absence was guaranteed. Noticing that his hand had started shaking subtly, Joon Soo hid it behind his other hand. "Do you think Juho's anxious right now?" Mideum asked, emptying her glass of beer. At which point, Joon Soo looked up and looked at her. "It's just that I can't seem to make peace with it for some reason. I wonder how he's feeling." "He's probably not thinking about it all that much," Juho said. Juho had always moved forward while the rest of the world around him waited on halt. By that point, the young author had gone ahead of the world by a considerable distance. "Does he even have things to worry about?" "He looked like he was already about to get discharged," Geun Woo said, looking depressed as usual. At the same time, everyone imagined the young author in their own way. Some pictured him struggling to adapt, constantly clashing with the senior officer, getting punished, and ending up in the guardhouse. However, Joon Soo pictured Yun Woo in his uniform, carrying a notepad issued by the military, which would contain his ideas. There had to be a number of awe-inspiring sentences in it. After being disciplined as a soldier, what kind of stories would Yun Woo write? "Well, I got my own things to worry about." "Same here," San Jung said, agreeing to Joon Soo's murmur. Whether consciously or not, everyone in the room had to be thinking about the same thing: "What do I do while Yun Woo's gone?" "You know, our club's changed quite a bit since Yun Woo came along." "I don't even remember what it was like before," Dae Soo said, chuckling. That day, the atmosphere of the outing took a slightly more serious turn. --- From cars spewing out pollution, to skyscrapers, to a street bar selling snacks, and pedestrians wearing various types of clothes, walking toward their respective destinations in various paces, Juho looked at everything attentively for a little while. As he inhaled, he felt cold air rushing into his nostrils. "Greasy food," Juho said, reading one of the words from the list of food items he had written down on his notepad. "A soldier!" a child said, pointing toward the young author. However, its guardian merely repeated after the child without even looking toward Juho, "Right. A soldier. Let's go." "A soldier!" "Yes, a soldier." Holding the child by its hand, the two crossed the street in a hurry. Brushing his hand down his face, Juho made his way home. "Is that you, Juho?" Juho's father asked at the sound of the door opening. "Yes." The mouth-watering aroma had been tempting the young author since before he had reached the door, reminding him of how hungry he was. Upon arriving, he was greeted with an impressive array of freshly-made food in the living room. As delighted as he was, there was a question that he had to ask. "Is today New Year's Day?" From Japchae to various skewers, pan-fried cakes, and rice cakes, the table seemed set like a New Year's Day meal. (TL's Note: Japchae is a traditional Korean side dish typically eaten on New Years. It usually contains pork or beef, a variety of vegetables, and glass noodles, seasoned and stir-fried together. The ingredients for the skewers could also vary from household to household.) "You said you were craving New Years' Day food, that's why," his father said, ecstatic to see his son home. Meanwhile, Juho looked at the array of food, noticing the grilled mackerel resting precariously on the edge of the table. "It feels like News Year's all over again, doesn't it? We couldn't spend it together." "We'll have some barbecue for dinner," Juho's mother said as she came out of the kitchen. As long as it was greasy, Juho was ready to eat anything. Then, just as he was about to sit, his mother stopped him, saying "Go get changed first." "But I'm starving." "I'm gonna wash it soon, so just set it aside somewhere." Standing back up, Juho went to his room to get changed. When he came back out, his mother asked, "The food isn't all that great at camp, huh?" Needless to say, it was incomparable to the delicacies spread about before his eyes. After sitting down, Juho took the grilled mackerel and split it in half down the middle. The meat was soft and buttery, while the skin was crispy. "The skewers are really good." "Here, have some Japchae." "Did you make this yourself?" "You can find just about anything in the market these days." "Mm! This place knows their Japchae," Juho's father said after tasting the dish. "Right?" Meanwhile, Juho picked up another skewer for himself, which had slices of imitation crab, ham, and green onions. When he pulled them out of the skewer, the egg coating around them came loose and hung untidily. "How's life at the base?" his father asked, which was a question he tended to ask every time Juho would come home on vacation. "I think it suits me," Juho said confidently. "Ever considered it as a career?" "I have. Didn't seem like it'd be a bad idea." Looking proudly at his son, the father asked, "It's still hard even after you adapt to the environment, isn't it?" "A little." "You did well it seems." "They let me out of the base on vacation from time to time, so it's not too bad." "Have some short ribs. They're good," his mother said, putting a piece of short rib on the young author's plate. At the end of the meal, he felt his stomach was noticeably warmer than it had been. "Think I'll go out for a walk. Want me to get you anything?" "It's fine. Be safe, now." "Will do." Feeling bloated, Juho put on some clothes haphazardly and went out for a walk, meandering around the neighborhood. He had no destination in mind. Although he was walking quietly, he moved his eyes busily, looking around. "Maybe I should try the bookstore for the old times' sake," Juho said to himself impulsively. Although he hesitated upon reaching the crossroads, he didn't change his mind. Once he left the neighborhood, there were significantly more people on the streets, of whom the young author soon became a part. Nobody was talking to him or causing a ruckus. It had been twelve months since Yun Woo had gone into the military, and the media had long stopped writing about it. Being conscious of the people walking past him, Juho kept walking forward, eventually arriving at the bookstore without trouble. "There it is." Finding Dong Gil's new book wasn't hard at all. Feeling a warm, stuffy air underneath his nose, Juho rubbed it. "'Frigid Winter.'" The title seemed to suit its creator well. The book had already sold more than a hundred thousand copies by that point, and suffice to say, Dong Gil's career had been flourishing since the book had been published. For a brief moment, Juho looked intently at Dong Gil's picture in the paper band wrapped around the book. At that moment... "'Scuse me," a voice said to the young author from behind him, and Juho stepped aside to let the person through. Then, reaching for the book Juho had been looking at, the person grabbed it and walked away. While he was at it, Juho looked around the store. Of course, he was bound to come across names with which he was familiar. Dae Soo had also put out a new book about six months ago. It was a novel about a story that took place in the corporate world. Being the master of horror novels that she was, Dae Soo's new book contained an element of horror that was unique to her, despite it being pure literature. As an author who was often criticized for being excessively grotesque in her writing, her new book was a meaningful attempt at something different, which made the young author feel a subtle pressure. "I think Joon Soo said that he was coming out with a book soon." Juho walked further into the store, where there was an even greater variety of books, stopping in front of the name Hyun Do Lim. Before joining the military, Juho had visited Yun Seo at her house in order to let her know about his enlistment. Although Yun Seo had invited Hyun Do, he had never come, saying that he had been in the middle of writing. Juho still remembered the last time he had talked with the literary great on the phone. "So, you're enlisting?" "Yes, sir. I'm planning on going as quietly as possible," Juho had said. "Right," Hyun Do had said, sounding uninterested. Even as they were talking, never once had he wished him good luck or safety. It was as though the young author was on his own. However, by the time their conversation was nearing its end, Hyun Do said, "You might not like what you see when you get out. Your friends will be soaring up to the sky while you're gone." Juho brushed his hand down the cover of 'Frigid Winter.' Just as Hyun Do had predicted, Juho had started to feel competitive. Instead of picking up a rifle, he wanted to pick up a pen and write even while on nightwatch duty. He wanted to write all day if he could. There were pent up emotions that needed to be released somehow. "Whew..." Juho breathed slowly. Thankfully, there was another way for him to deal with the emotions pent up within him. Juho turned back, thinking about his ongoing piece, which had been progressing slower than his previous books. --- "Let's meet up," Seo Kwang said on the phone. Upon arriving home, Juho had started writing almost immediately. Until he had been interrupted by a phone call from his friend, that is. "I haven't seen you since you first came out on vacation, you know that? The only way for me to hear about you is through news articles." During the twelve months he had been serving in the military, Juho had met up with Seo Kwang only once. Aside from that time, he had been investing every minute of his vacation time into the piece in front of his eyes. "Sorry, I've been working." "And I am happy to hear that as a reader," Seo Kwang said, implying that he wasn't as happy as a friend. Juho wasn't sure of what to say. "Well, if my author friend says he's busy, then he's busy. I'll manage." "Are you free tomorrow?" Juho asked. He also wanted to catch up with his friend. Starting with the trip to Germany, to the military, and even now, writing the manuscript had been quite a time consuming task. There was a need to be intentional about maintaining a balance in his life. A sprint was an entirely different race from a marathon. Thankfully, Seo Kwang had reached out to the young author at just the right time. Going to bed and waking up at the same time every night and morning, Juho looked over his manuscript while waiting for his friends unhurriedly. "Gosh, it's like I'm trying to meet the president or something," having arrived first, Seo Kwang grumbled. Upon finding Juho's uniform on one side of the wall, his expression changed almost immediately. When walking toward it, he shuddered and stepped away from it. "Egh! That smells like a soldier's uniform, all right." "You're gonna be wearing that too one of these days." "Shut up! Don't wanna hear it!" "It's not too terrible there, you know." "Uh, huh. Yeah, right. Couldn't you put it somewhere out of sight!?" Seo Kwang said, raising his voice irritably. "There's no place with better ventilation, though." "For goodness sake, man. I don't even wanna look at it," Seo Kwang said. The rest were on their way to Juho's house. Then, staring intently at the young author's hair, Seo Kwang said, "That hairdo's gonna take me some getting used to." "Yeah?" "Yep. Well, how's life at the base?" "It's not bad. It's not the most comfortable either." At that, Seo Kwang became teary-eyed, like a deer terrified for its life. "You get used to it though, as with most things." "It still scares me." Seeing the frightened expression on his friend's face, Juho chuckled quietly, thinking of a certain author who had tried desperately to scare him before he went off to basic training. The look on Seo Kwang's face at the moment was probably what Geun Woo had hoped to see from Juho back then. "It's OK. It's just this once," Seo Kwang said. 'Speak for yourself,' Juho thought to himself, patting his friend on the shoulder.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Seo Kwang looked up at Juho as though he didn't feel any better. After playing along for some time, Juho greeted his friends, who started arriving one by one. Seeing them for the first time in a long time, Sun Hwa and Bom seemed much more mature to him. "Long time, no see, buddy! I'm tellin' ya, this is what happens when you have friends who are successful," Sun Hwa said, patting the young author on the back. Her hands were as relentless as ever. As Juho smiled awkwardly, she took a pack of beer she had brought and handed it to him. "It's a gift!" The pack was quite heavy. Meanwhile, Bom took the bag of strawberries she had brought and waved it in front of Juho. Seo Kwang took it from her and buried his nose in the bag as if trying to comfort himself. While Bom looked at Juho's uniform on the wall, Juho put the pack in the refrigerator and said, "This is a great gift you got me. Too bad I don't drink, though." "Don't worry. I will! Gotta get drunk while you're young and free!" "You must have a pretty high tolerance," Juho asked. At which, Sun Hwa placed her hands on her sides, looking proud of her drinking prowess. "Well, you're at that age, all right." "C'mon! Act your age! Enjoy yourself!" "Should we order some food, then? What do you guys want?" Sun Hwa shook her head. However, respecting the majority opinion, which asked for pizza, Juho called the pizza shop nearby and placed an order. It was the long-awaited reunion of the old Literature Club members. Although, they were missing a person. "We're missing Baron," Bom said, sounding bummed out and like she had read Juho's mind. "He's serving in the military too." "You too, Baron!?" Seo Kwang cried out, clasping his head. Juho was able to relate to his desperate behavior, at least to a certain extent. At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Juho walked over to the door, opening it gladly. It was a man wearing a brusque expression on his face. It was Sung Pil. "Hey." "You're late!" "Come on in!" "All right," Sung Pil said, playing along with Bom. Although Juho had heard of how close he and Bom had gotten, the young author couldn't help but be taken aback once he actually witnessed it in person. "You two got really close, huh?" "Bom kept dragging me out to drink. There's nothing like alcohol to get close to someone." "So, does that mean everyone there got drunk?" Juho asked, picturing Sung Pil and Bom speaking gibberish to each other. However, Bom waved her hand in denial, adding, "Sung Pil didn't have any." "Like somebody he knows." Knowing how Sung Pil could get when drunk, Juho looked intently at his friend, who avoided making eye contact with the young author, keeping the brusque expression on his face as usual. "I just thought I needed to get my life together. That's all." "Hm?" At that moment, Seo Kwang came out from between Juho and Bom, placing his hand on Sung Pil's shoulder, and said, "Sung Pil! Loved your new book!" Sung Pil stared quietly at him, without moving his hand away. "Which book?" Juho asked, and Seo Kwang said, "He recently wrote a short story for a literary magazine that I subscribe to." Seo Kwang was referring to a literary magazine that was published by a massive publisher. Then, Seo Kwang added unhindered, "Sung Pil's really good at establishing a connection with readers. Maybe it's more accurate to say that he encourages building the connection? Anyway, no matter which character you look at, you're bound to grow attached to it. It's just so ironic that he's such a rigid person in real life. I'm tellin' ya, he keeps improving day by day. It makes it easier that Yun Woo's not in the picture, doesn't it? You're arguably one of the most successful rookie authors." "Not necessarily." "I gotta hand it to ya. I really appreciate your go-getter spirit, reaching for the sky as though there were no limit. It's simply radiant. At this rate, you might even surpass Yun Woo! You know what? You should just go for it while you're at it! Bring him down!" Sung Pil spoke no further on that regard. At which point, Seo Kwang patted him on the back as if he liked the rookie author even more. Of course, Sun Hwa was about to let her bookworm friend have it. "Stop babbling and get on with setting up the table!" "OK! All right! There's hardly anything to put there… " Seo Kwang said, making his way to the kitchen reluctantly. Juho glanced at Sung Pil. Thankfully, the rookie author seemed quite comfortable. With a smile on his face, Juho asked his author friend, "So, a short story, huh?" "Yep. It was a request. I'm very grateful." "I had no idea." "So…" Sung Pil dragged on, looking for something to talk about. Instead of questioning him further, Juho murmured, "I wanna see it." "... I'll go get it," Sung Pil said as if ready to bolt out of the apartment at any given minute. At that, Juho raised his hand in order to prevent him from doing so. "I knew you'd ask! Which is why I brought it with me," Seo Kwang interjected with the bag of strawberries still in his hands. "You did?" Sung Pil asked, looking as though caught off guard, which only encouraged Seo Kwang further. Reaching for his bag, Seo Kwang pulled a magazine with a purple cover out. It looked quite intriguing. Looking at her bookworm friend as though in disbelief, Sun Hwa said, "He's a walking bookstore, that one." Taking the magazine from Seo Kwang, Juho said, "I look forward to reading it." "Hey! Pizza's here! Somebody get the door!" At that, Sung Pil moved without hesitation. Meanwhile, after staring intently at the magazine, Juho set it down elsewhere. "Aren't you gonna read it?" "I wanna take my time and savor it later." "I know exactly what you mean," Seo Kwang said, crossing his arms and nodding in agreement. "Come get your drinks." The party started as everyone gathered in the living room, each with a slice of pizza in one hand and a can of beer on the other. Although Juho had taken a can, Sung Pil didn't seem to have taken one for himself. Resting his chin on his hand, the young author asked, "Are you not drinking anymore?" Sung Pil's eyebrows winced at Juho's playful question. "No." Juho chuckled quietly. Witnessing a change in a colleague's lifestyle was strangely entertaining. Meanwhile, the old Literature Club members started pouring out their hearts to each other, which mostly consisted of complaints about college life: professors, classmates, upperclassmen, registering for classes, GPAs, job searches, the upcoming future, the meaningless past, the uncertain present, doubts directed toward each other, the distrust toward society. "Life sucks." "My money." "Why did I choose this major?" As the atmosphere kept sinking, Seo Kwang stepped in to change the subject. He was the person most capable to speak with joy. "Have you read Dong Gil Uhm's new book?" he asked. As Juho brought the can up to his mouth, he felt Sung Pil's gaze following the can in his hand. Tasting alcohol for the first time in a long time, it was refreshing but bitter, and unpleasant. "Yep." At that, Seo Kwang threw both of his hands up toward the ceiling before anyone else. "Wasn't it incredible? It was the essence of what a hard-boiled novel should be like! 'Frigid Winter.' A snowy winter night, completely engulfed in darkness, and the merciless cold that freezes your hands and feet right off. I think this is definitely going to be the turning point in his career." "How was it?" Sung Pil asked Juho. Sitting up, he replied, "I know I still have some time left in the military, but I think it was one of the most memorable books I read at the base." "I thought so!" Seo Kwang exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists. "He's definitely stepped up his game. His depictions were so realistic. I could really tell that he did his research. The violent emotions and the touching story hidden behind that distinct writing style. I find myself literally craving his book." Sung Pil gave Seo Kwang, who was wiping his eyes as though crying, a confused look. Meanwhile, Sun Hwa clicked her tongue and said, "Always so dramatic." "It's good to express your inner thoughts to others." "Not when you're drunk." "Art starts with expression. The honest feeling of a deeply moved reader. This is a beautiful melody coming from the bottom of one's heart." "More like noise." At that, Seo Kwang narrowed his eyes at Sun Hwa, who sneered and drank her beer. "Two authors, one aspiring writer, one bookworm, and one former Literature Club member. I guess there's no getting around talking about books," Sun Hwa said with a bright smile on her face. "Personally, I liked Dae Soo Na's book a lot more." "That's also a really good one," Seo Kwang said, weighing in with Sun Hwa. Bom also chimed in, saying, "It was terrifying, though." "But, it's a little light for a novel written by Dae Soo Na." "She always crosses the line on purpose. I like that about her." Juho brought his beer up to his mouth again, feeling Sung Pil's eyes following his hand yet again. After looking off into the air for a brief moment, Juho said to his author friend, "You could have one, you know." "... I'm thinking about it." "You're not working on anything. It can't hurt to have a drink or two as long as you're responsible about it." "..." "C'mon! Have some!" Sun Hwa said gladly, opening a can of beer and offering it to Sung Pil. People seemed to be having a good time, and it made sense that Sung Pil would want to drink. Besides, he was in a place where he could afford to have a drink or two. Taking the drink from Sun Hwa, Juho handed it to Sung Pil and said, "Cheers." The cans made a dull sound as they bumped against each other. At that, the others joined in with their nearly-empty cans. --- "Well, this is awkward." There were times when people tended to be recklessly brave: when they had just become used to something. Having gotten used to drinking, Juho's friends weren't afraid of getting drunk. Seeing his friends sprawled all across his apartment, the young author sighed deeply. "This room is way too small for this," Juho said, putting down his can of beer, which he had hardly drunk. He had been taking very small sips the entire time. After moving all the empty cans aside, he sat on the couch, looking around his quiet house, and picked up the magazine containing the short story written by Sung Pil. "All right. Let's see," Juho said, looking at the cover of the magazine. That particular issue was on tradition and innovation, which gave the young author an idea as to what his author friend might have written. Regardless of the field, there were progressives and conservatives. Juho opened the magazine and found Sung Pil's short story toward the middle. The words printed on the pages put him in a good mood almost instantly. At that moment, a bird flew past the window, cawing. "Eh? What are you up to?" Seo Kwang said, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. Juho remained silent. After pouring himself a cup of water and drinking it, Seo Kwang walked toward the young author and looked at the pages over his shoulders. Despite his friend standing right behind him, Juho didn't respond. "You can see it too, can't you? He's gonna make it big," Seo Kwang said. When it came to books and authors, his words tended to carry significant weight. The sheer number of books he had read was beyond anybody's imagination, and they had given him a sharp eye. "It's only been a year since he started writing." Meanwhile, Seo Kwang stared intently at Juho from behind. "Jealous?" "A little bit." From Seo Kwang's point of view, Juho's attitude didn't make a lot of sense. However, it wasn't a new development. Because of that, Seo Kwang felt that the young author had gone crazy at times. Crazy about writing. Crazy about sentences. "Well, fret not, friend," Seo Kwang said calmly. Sung Pil was unbelievable. His skill definitely set him apart from all the other rookie authors. He was growing at an explosive rate. However, that wasn't to say that he had caught up to Yun Woo. In reality, Sung Pil still had a ways to go until he caught up to the other authors in Juho's literary magazine. Nevertheless, that didn't change the fact that Sung Pil had something unique to offer as an author, which would give readers a reason to read his book. Staring intently at the reflection of his friend's face, Seo Kwang asked, "You're not actually anxious, are you?" "I'm very anxious." At that, a corner of Seo Kwang's mouth started twitching. If what the young author had said was true… "You really don't know yourself." Only then, did Juho look up. Streams of light poured into the apartment through the window. 'Of course,' Seo Kwang murmured to himself internally. Juho didn't seem shaken in any way. Not one bit. Envy, sense of urgency, fear, anger. Nothing. "That wouldn't be very Yun Woo-like," Seo Kwang said, chugging the remaining water in his cup. There was something refreshing about his swallowing sound. "The really anxious ones are probably all the other authors around you."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Other authors, huh?" "Yeah, 'cause you're gonna be out of the military in a year," Seo Kwang said, and added, "Which means that's how long they have to catch up to you. But, as we're both aware, you don't just become a better writer overnight. Though, we probably couldn't say the same about you since you got to the top in almost no time." "Well, I can't say you're wrong," Juho said with a mysterious smile. At which point, Seo Kwang winced and said, "... They're not Yun Woo, so they can't catch up that quickly at the end of the day." "Hm." Juho brushed his hand down the book he was holding, while Seo Kwang stared at it. Juho was at the halfway point of his military service. In one more year, the monster that was being held captive would be set free. At which point, his fellow authors would probably wish that there was more time. "He makes it big." Although caught off guard by the young author's remark initially, Seo Kwang caught on to the meaning of it shortly after. Juho was referring to Sung Pil. Although he sounded oddly certain of the rookie author's future to Seo Kwang, he shrugged it off and said, "I think he will as well, but who knows what could really happen?" "It'll happen sooner than you think." "..." Seo Kwang couldn't make sense of where Juho was coming from. The first. The youngest. First edition starting at one million copies. Yun Woo was a one-of-a-kind figure who wrapped himself in all sorts of dazzling adjectives. He was a dominant figure in the industry, and his life was undoubtedly successful. If anyone were to be offered to live the young author's life on his behalf, nobody would think twice about accepting the offer. From time to time, Seo Kwang would become unbearably curious as to how the young author saw the world. What did he see that Seo Kwang didn't? At that moment... "It's not good to talk about someone behind their back, you know," Sung Pil said as he opened his eyes. He had been lying so still on the floor that he had looked almost lifeless. "Ah!" Seo Kwang screamed out, grasping his chest. However, Juho merely turned his head toward his author friend and said, "I thought we were pretty explicit." Then, Sung Pil sat up and said out of nowhere, "Can you lend me a razor?" "..." At his random remark, Juho clenched his lips tightly, and Seo Kwang gave him a puzzled look. "What do you need a razor for?" Seo Kwang asked, looking at Sung Pil's chin. Unfortunately, that wasn't the place the rookie author was thinking about shaving. "It's for my eyebrows." "... Eyebrows? As in, a touch-up?" "No. I need to shave them." "Shave them?!" Seo Kwang asked, even more confused. When he looked toward Juho expecting an explanation, the young author's lips had narrowed, as if he was holding back laughter. Sung Pil was the only one serious. "So, do you think I can borrow one?" "No." "Why not?" "'Cause I'm gonna end up thinking about your eyebrows every time I go to the bathroom," Juho said, shaking his head emphatically. Rather than clinging to him and begging some more, Sung Pil nodded with understanding, smacking his lips. Then, he lay back on the floor. "Did he just say that he wants to shave his eyebrows off?! What the heck was that about?" Seo Kwang asked, thoroughly confused. However, seeing that things had already moved on, he gave up and waved his hand. At that moment... "Can somebody make me some honey water?" Bom asked. The Sun was about to set by the time Juho's drunken friends started sobering up, looking for honey water. Upon checking the time, the young author was reminded that it was almost time for his other guests to arrive. "Let's clean up a little. This is embarrassing." "What? It ain't that bad," Seo Kwang said, waving and looking hassled. Walking over to the window, Juho opened it in order to ventilate the apartment, making everyone shiver with the cold air that came rushing into the living room. Paying no attention to them, Juho looked out the window and saw a familiar face in the distance, one who seemed to be headed for his apartment. At which point, Juho walked over to the front door in preparation to greet his guests. Then, as he opened the door, a voice came from the entrance. "Some example you guys are." It was the younger members of the Literature Club: Bo Suk and the twins. Looking at their forebears drunk and sprawled about in broad daylight, the younger club members gave them somewhat pitiful looks. At the same time, they were glad to finally see their old clubmates. "Been a while, Juho!" Gong Il said. Her once long, sharp eyes were now curving stylishly. "It's near impossible to see you in person these days," Gong Pal added. Although looking quite similar to his twin sister, he was noticeably taller than her. He had been going through a growth spurt since becoming a junior. "Here! We brought you a gift!" Bo Suk said, offering something in a plastic bag. It was a box of fried chicken. "Is it food?" "Yeah. We figured you don't get to eat fried chicken at the base," Bo Suk said, greeting her old clubmates behind Juho in a friendly manner, including Sung Pil, who she seemed to have met prior to that day. Meanwhile, the twins were busy pushing each other's backs. "Did you drink with Bo Suk too?" "Yep," Sung Pil said, looking intently at the twins, who were quietly arguing about who should introduce themselves first. Growing impatient, Seo Kwang took the initiative on their behalf, saying, "Gong Pal Kong. Gong Il Kong." Sung Pil tilted his head at the strange-sounding names. "Your names?" "Yeah, we were born on the eighteenth of the same month and year. For the record, I beat her to it by one minute." "If you'd been born on the seventeenth…" Sung Pil said, quickly changing the subject shortly after. (TL's Note: Last names comes before first names in Korea, which would make the name "Gong Chil Gong (or Kong)," "Gong Gong Chil," which means 007 in Korean.) "Sung Pil. Or Pil Sung. Call me whichever you feel like." The twins nodded emphatically. Then, raising their hands, they took turns to ask, "We have a question." "It's about something we've been wanting to know." "Uh, yeah. Sure." "How did you come to use Sung Pil as your alias?" Sung Pil looked at Juho by reflex. The author had a chicken wing in his mouth. "It was a nickname." "From childhood?" "Who gave it to you?" "That guy," Sung Pil said honestly. From then on, the twins clung to the young author and started bombarding him with questions. At that moment, the young author was saved in the nick of time when Sun Hwa's dying voice interjected, groaning, "I smell chicken." After calming the twins down, Juho took a seat. As the apartment became filled with people, the air became filled with their voices. "We have thirty-one members now." "Whoa! The club's massive now!" Bo Suk and Gong Il had been the heads of the club during their last years. Although the position had hardly ever been a prominent one, that reality had come to change as the club grew bigger. "People know our school as the school Yun Woo went to, so the school's been supporting the Literature Club in major ways. Things got crazy after you guys graduated! People came to us willingly before we even started promoting the club!" "Everyone was trying to see your short stories. It was chaos." "Which created a world of problems." "It was so upsetting. It still is whenever I think about that time. I can't remember how many times I found myself missing the old times, when things were quieter and more peaceful," Bo Suk said. She clearly missed the club experience with her old clubmates. "Well, it's all in the past now," she added. At which point, Juho brought up a certain person that came to mind, saying, "I'm surprised Mr. Moon is still teaching." Agreeing with Juho's remark at once, Bo Suk said, "He was NOT happy about what became of the club, though. He was pretty upset actually, saying that what was meant to be an outlet had become part of work. I thought he would quit teaching after that, but he didn't. He said that there were bills to be paid." "That sound about right," Juho said. That was the kind of person Mr. Moon was. After listening quietly, Sung Pil said, "The almighty Yun Woo." "Well, things have calmed down since," Juho said, shrugging it off. The name Yun Woo was bound to be forgotten at some point in the future, and there was no way to prevent it... even if it was Yun Woo. "Calm?" "Juho!" Bo Suk called to the young author, overpowering Sung Pil's curiosity. "Tell us what happened since the last time we met! You haven't hung out with us since coming back from Germany. You kept saying that you were writing! You didn't even hang out with us when you came out on breaks after you went off to the military!" she exclaimed with a beer in her hand. Sucking on her greasy fingers, she said, "Also, can I touch your hair?" In the end, the hangout lasted well into the night, and Seo Kwang and Sung Pil even spent the night at the young author's apartment. The three-day vacation went by in the blink of an eye. After following Juho to the subway station to send him off, the two friends said goodbye to the young author. "Take care," Sung Pil said, and Seo Kwang added, "Enjoy your last year at the base." "Will do." With that, Juho waved at his two friends and went down the stairs into the station. Standing by the entrance, the two watched their friend disappear into the underground. "The uniform suits him," Seo Kwang said, thinking back to the uniform that had been hanging from the wall in Juho's apartment. "I'm sure we'll be wearing that soon too." "... Don't go there, Sung Pil." "Why?" Seo Kwang let out a small sigh at Sung Pil's oblivious attitude. Having become part of the crowd, Juho slowly faded into the distance. Unlike when he had come out as a celebrity author and while he was a civilian, nobody in the crowd seemed to recognize him, shout or ask for an autograph upon seeing him. Nobody was calling out to him. To Seo Kwang, it all looked too foreign and awkward. "They can't have forgotten about Yun Woo in just a year." "I agree." Seo Kwang waved as Juho looked back at his friends one last time, waving back and disappearing into the underground subway station. Yun Woo was nowhere to be found. "It is so quiet," Seo Kwang said quietly. When Sung Pil stared intently at him, he added, almost as an excuse, "I mean, I thought it would look and sound a lot more chaotic." Shoving his hands in his pocket, he added, "Maybe people forget about each other more often than we think." Sung Pil wondered if the longevity of Yun Woo's popularity had something to do with the pace at which the young author had progressed. Perhaps, that had been why Juho had joked about being forgotten so nonchalantly. "That's not entirely true," Sung Pil said emphatically, and Seo Kwang looked at him. At his soon-to-be-shaved-off eyebrows, to be exact. "Look." "What?" Seo Kwang let out, looking in the direction Sung Pil was pointing. There were two people coming up the stairs, looking ecstatic about something, their fingers tapping frantically against the screen of their phones. As they came up to the surface and walked past Seo Kwang and Sung Pil, their conversation became audible. "That's what I call a coincidence!" "We should've tried talking to him." "He was in his uniform, though." "Oh, man! My heart's racing!" Meanwhile, Sung Pil stood quietly in his place, realizing that he had been worrying over nothing. Then, rubbing his stomach, Seo Kwang suggested, "Can we go get somethin' to eat?" "Sure." "Why don't you come over to my place if you're free? My parents own a bookstore." "I'll be there." With that, the two went on their way, blending into the crowd. "Maybe I need to speed things up a little," Juho murmured in the subway. The thunderous roar of the train overpowered everything. Time flew by like the train, moving at a frightening speed. --- "It's almost Christmas." Nam Kyung nodded in confirmation to Ms. Song's remark. He was in the middle of looking through the edits of a recently imported book's manuscript. "Mr. Woo's book should be coming out soon, right?" "Yep," Nam Kyung said briefly. At his seemingly indifferent attitude, Ms. Song looked toward him and asked, "Aren't you excited?" "Of course, I am." "You don't seem like it," she said, sipping the coffee that she had bought on her way back to the office. "Personally, I was really sad that he was gone at first, but time flew by as I kept working and reading other books by different authors. Then, when I remembered that his new book was coming out and the release date was just around the corner, I found myself getting really stoked. I've been on a Yun-Woo marathon for a week now." At that, Nam Kyung burst into laughter and said, "Yeah. Bummer that he's gonna start with another publisher after he gets discharged." He had already been informed of the sequel to 'Language of God' by the young author. "Oh! You mean the sequel? There's a rumor circulating about it right now." The rumor of the sequel was widespread in the publishing industry. Knowing that, Nam Kyung nodded affirmatively. "Is it true though?" she asked. "Who knows? I'd say it is." "Did you not hear anything from Mr. Woo?" "He's very busy." At that, a look of utter disappointment appeared on Ms. Song's face. "Well, I hope it comes out soon," she said, genuinely and earnestly.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Sure, it's a bummer that such a massive series is getting published by another company, but as a reader myself, I really hope that it comes out soon." "What she said." Nam Kyung looked at the person who interjected in his conversation with Ms. Song. It was Mr. Maeng. Next to him, was Sung Pil, who was visiting the company, whom Nam Kyung greeted briefly, still having trouble getting used to the author's lack of eyebrows. When the editor had seen it for the first time, it had left him utterly confused. Since the Mona Lisa, Nam Kyung had never come across someone without eyebrows. "Aren't you cold?" Ms. Song asked. Tilting his head, Sung Pil replied, "I'm quite warm. Thanks for asking." "Right…" With that, Ms. Song reverted the subject of the conversation back to Yun Woo, and Mr. Maeng, being the fantasy novel fanatic that he was, actively forced himself into the conversation. He had to be the most enthusiastic 'Language of God' fan in the entire office by far. "The fan community seems to suspect the possibility of a sequel series to 'Language of God.' Although, there have always been rumors." "The publisher made it seem like they were about to announce something big. It makes sense," Ms. Song said, and Nam Kyung nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Sung Pil sat and listened to their conversation quietly. At that moment, Mr. Maeng looked toward Nam Kyung, giving him the same, familiar look that the editor had been getting throughout his career. When Nam Kyung shook his head, Mr. Maeng looked at another person. "I don't really know, either," Sung Pil said. "Why not?" "I think he's quite busy," the rookie writer answered briefly and added, "... writing." At that one word, all the editors thought of the same book. Covering her mouth, Ms. Song said, "You mean…" As much as she wanted to say it, she had to control herself. Then, noticing the awkward tension in the air, Mr. Maeng changed the subject, "There's that, but guess what else is coming out next year? The 'Language of God' movie!" "Oh, yeah!" Although Mr. Maeng tried to keep a calm look on his face, he simply couldn't resist the excitement, "The cast members are made of top actors and actresses, not to mention who's directing it. Man, am I stoked!" Nodding her head enthusiastically, Ms. Song said, "It feels like everything we've been waiting for is coming out all at once. Kind of like payday." Pushing his glasses up, Nam Kyung took a glance at the calendar on his desk. "Yun Woo is finally coming back." --- "And nobody came out!" An actor said, and laughter sounded from the crowd of reporters. "Anyway, it was definitely one of the more interesting projects I've ever been part of. I also had the most fun. What made it particularly challenging, though, was studying the script, which was quite unique, to say the least." Jenkins looked through the dozens of reporters sitting before his eyes. There was a press conference that day for the 'Language of God' movie, and Jenkins' appearance was comparable to those of the actors. "I have a question for Mr. Jenkins." At that, the actors sitting to either side of the director looked at him simultaneously. Since it was just after the screening, there was excitement in the reporters' voices. They all had watched the film adaptation of 'Language of God.' Sensing the excitement in the air, Jenkins raised his chin and said, "Yes?" "It's about Yun Woo, the creator of the original." The name Yun Woo came up just as he expected. Jenkins locked eyes with the reporter, whose cheekbones stood out quite a bit. "He recently resumed his career after finishing his service in the Korean military. But, for some reason, he hasn't made any public appearances, even though it's been months since his discharge." "Yes, I'm aware. I haven't seen him yet," Jenkins said, cutting the reporter off mid-sentence. At which point, the reporter asked back by reflex, "You haven't?" "You see, he doesn't treat me any different just because I'm a movie director in Hollywood. Actually, I'm scheduled to visit Korea soon. I think I'll pay him a visit. Although, I don't really know where he lives," Jenkins said, clicking his tongue. The sound of fingers tapping on keyboards filled the room as the reporters typed out everything that the director was telling them, including his jokes. "Uh… right. I actually had a different question in mind. How do you think Yun Woo will react to the movie? What do you think he will have to say?" Although he felt the corner of his mouth turning up, Jenkins didn't bother hiding it. "I'm sure he'll be more than satisfied. And maybe, just maybe, he might even acknowledge that letting me direct his movie was the best decision he ever made." "Does Yun Woo call you Zara?" one of the actors interjected. Jenkins waved in denial and replied, "He's very polite. Unlike somebody I know." Questions started pouring out after the name of the young author came up. The reporters were desperate to hear more about the author after his two-year hiatus. Although unsure as to why he had to be the one to quench their curiosity, Jenkins responded as sincerely as possible. "How much have you two talked? Could you tell us more about his input in the production of the movie?" "Not since he went into the military, unfortunately. As for the advice regarding the languages within the novel, he gave me that while we were in Germany. I also got some help from Mr. Sanders, the translator of the novel series." "Was there anything in particular that he insisted you left unchanged?" Reminiscing to the time he had spent with the young author in Germany, Jenkins replied, "No. He gave me full creative freedom." "Why do you think he hasn't made any announcements yet?" "I can't say," the director replied. In actuality, he had no clue as to where the young author even was. "There have been rumors circulating among fans about a sequel to 'Language of God.' Have you heard anything about that?" "Look. This is press conference for the MOVIE 'Language of God.' You can take that question to the author yourself," the host said, correcting the trajectory of the conference. Then, he pointed to another reporter, who was sitting to the left side of the room. Jenkins looked toward them. "It's a widely-known fact that you flew all the way to Germany just to see the author. In one of his interviews, Yun Woo stated that his first impression of you was similar to that of an intimidating boss at work," the reporter said, bringing up one of the young author's answers from an interview given prior to that day. "He did say that. The second he saw me, he gave me an 'X.' It almost felt like I was getting fired." "So…" Of course, the next question was also about Yun Woo. After answering it haphazardly, Jenkins decided to draw the line in order to prevent any further questions about the young author. He was disgruntled as well that Juho didn't even bother to give him a call since his discharge from the military. "Now, I'd appreciate it if you all could refrain from asking any further questions about Yun Woo after I answer one more." At that, nearly every reporter raised their hands simultaneously. The turn went to somebody who introduced themselves as a blogger. Before Jenkins even spotted him in the crowd, the blogger asked, "What do you think of Yun Woo as an author?" "As an author?" Jenkins said, pausing for a brief moment. Then, the blogger added, "Yes. If you were to use an adjective in front of his name, what would it be?" Deep in thought, the director looked down. His mind was urging him to blurt out the very word that was in his mind. 'Is this the devil or the angel whispering?' It was neither. In fact, it was merely his desire to speak his thoughts. Although it was slightly ill-natured and resentful, it was also genuine. "Mr. Jenkins?" Everyone in the room was waiting for the director's reply. By the time the actor sitting by the edge of the corner peeked his head to look over in his direction, Jenkins opened his mouth and said, "He's not a genius as he's colloquially known." "Huh?" "At first, I thought we were under the same category: a modern-day genius, complete with talent AND effort. Then, I noticed something different about him by the time I read his book about fifty times," Jenkins said with a bright smile on his face. 'Was it a flaw of sorts?' the reporters thought to themselves, hoping for the author's misfortune. At which point, Jenkins added, looking directly at the reporter, "... That he's quite rational. There's not one bit of conceit in him and there's not a single indication that he's the type to follow his instincts. If he really was a genius, then it wouldn't add up that he lacks so many things, don't you think?" The director remembered Juho. Juho's novel wasn't the only place where Jenkins had noticed the young author's rational side. After spending some time with him, the director had come to learn a few things about the young author. First, Yun Woo was quite defensive and was inclined to hide within himself. At the same time, the young author seemed to understand when not to hide, which had to have come from experience. It was the only thing that enabled one to act on their knowledge. "What's even more baffling is that he doesn't have a single wrinkle in his body." Leaning back on the chair's backrest, Jenkins spoke about the young author to his heart's content, unhindered, exaggerating slightly while adding a touch of false information. Creating an image and giving one a role and a name was the director's specialty. "... And that was his answer. Isn't that incredible?" Using anecdotes, Jenkins hid things about the young author that could be interpreted as flaws. The room was in an uproar, and Jenkins massaged his temple as if he had a headache. "So, going back to the question, if I were to use an adjective before his name, it would have to be this one. Genius just doesn't cut it. Yeah… OK, I got one," the director said. Just like that, he spoke his thoughts. His hand shook from the excitement. The expressions on the reporters' faces started to change. Staring at his fingers, which were wiggling like a spider, Jenkins said, "OK, then. Why don't we move on to the next question?" "Wait! Hold on! Just one more!" "No, I don't think so," Jenkins said, shutting down the reporter's desperate request. After that day, most of the reporters who had been present at the conference gave the movie a high rating and positive reviews. However, what really drew the most attention was the article about Yun Woo, who still didn't make a public appearance, even after it was printed. The hollow shouts from the fans waiting desperately for his return echoed through the media. --- "Achoo!" Endless green lawn, the sound of a fountain spurting in the distance, and people speaking different languages with their shirts off, bathing in sunlight. Away from it all, was a person who was sniffling under the shade, laying on his stomach. It was Yun Woo, the author who was desperately waited for by the people. Although the Sun was quite warm in March, the air was still cold. "It's been too long." Juho sprawled across the lawn, relaxed to the point of feeling lazy. It had been quite a while since his last vacation. "Jenkins must be in Korea by now." The director had scheduled a visit to Korea right around the time of the movie's release there. Meanwhile, Juho was well aware of all the atrocity for which he was responsible. Thanks to the massive bomb he'd dropped, what should have remained a quiet life had become hectic and vibrant all over again. As the phone started vibrating, Juho took it out of his pocket and looked at it. It was an email, the twenty-eighth email, to be precise. Upon checking it, Juho put the phone back in his pocket. At that moment, a pigeon that had landed next to him came into the young author's view, bobbing its head. While Juho was staring dazedly at it, he sensed a shadow cast over him. A man in light sportswear was looking down. Seeing as though his chest was moving up and down, he had to have run up until he stopped. Nevertheless, the man's face was filled with astonishment. "Can I help you?" Juho asked. "You're Yun Woo, aren't you?" the man asked, catching his breath. Staring into the blue sky over his shoulders, Juho said, "Yes, I am." As the young author rose from the ground, the man asked in a hurry, "Could you take a picture with me?" Picking up the hat, which he had placed next to him on the lawn, and brushing off the blades of grass on it, Juho said, "Of course," willingly getting in front of the lens with the man. The man seemed ecstatic that he had run into Juho. "What have you been up to?" "Nothing much. Just killing time." "I'm a fan! I own every single one of your books!" At that moment, the man called the young author by a peculiar nickname, "Mr. Great Storyteller." "..." Juho looked up at the sunlit sky. Since Jenkins' had made a certain statement, the young author had been coming across the nickname on the news, no matter the country he was in or where he was in that country. When presented in such a manner, even his greatest dream was reduced to a repulsive and hollow-sounding set of words. "That wasn't me he was talking about," Juho said, putting on the hat and walking away. The water drops in the grass tickled his calves pleasantly. At that moment, his phone started vibrating in his pocket yet again. That time, it was a call. "Hello?" "Did you see it?" Even without the specified subject of his question, Juho was able to understand him thoroughly. "Mr. Jenkins, you asked me the same thing just ten minutes ago. Do you realize how long your movie is?" "Good. DO NOT watch it." "OK, I heard you the first time," Juho said. At which, the director warned him sternly, "DO NOT watch that movie. Not until I'm there."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I have to see you getting impressed in person," Jenkins said. He wanted desperately to see Juho watching his movie in person. Meanwhile, Juho stopped in his tracks and squatted in front of a nameless plant. "Seems like you still refuse to say anything about failure." "I made the movie while you were gone. I'm sure you'll find plenty of inspiration," Jenkins said confidently, probably with his chin raised high. "You sound very confident, Mr. Jenkins." "I very much am." "Well, that makes me look forward to the movie even more," Juho said, fiddling about with the leaves of the nameless plant. At that, Jenkins stopped running his mouth all of a sudden. "I'm leaving Korea tomorrow." "You see, Mr. Jenkins, I'm kind of in the middle of a vacation." "Please, Mr. Woo. Is there a way we can make this work?" "I don't have a problem waiting a little longer," Juho said, chuckling, and Jenkins gnashed his teeth irritably. "Why did you decide to go to the States of all places when I'm in Korea!?" Jenkins asked, pointing out inadvertently the precise reason for Juho to be in the States. "I was afraid you might show up at my door without any notice." "C'mon, Mr. Woo! Isn't it a bit excessive for you to fly out of your country like that?" "I find that reaction difficult to take seriously when coming from you, Mr. Jenkins." "... In any case, DO NOT watch that movie without me there! All right? BY ANY MEANS!" On one hand, Juho wanted to run to the nearest movie theater and watch the movie. However, after some thought, the young author nodded and said, "You know, it's beautiful out, so I think I'll enjoy the Sun while it lasts." "Promise?" "You got it." Then, like he had promised, Juho made his way to a movie theater just after dark. "Been a while since I've watched a late-night movie." It was the result of adjusting his schedule to the director's. When Juho looked around, Jenkins was still nowhere to be found. The young author was aware that Jenkins had already landed in the States. Since he was early, Juho decided to wait for the director peacefully, standing a slight distance from the theater entrance and watching moviegoers going into the theater. Then, Juho checked the time. "Maybe he's running late." Jenkins was still nowhere to be found, ten, even twenty minutes later. When Juho checked the time again, it was officially after the time when they had agreed to meet. At that moment, his phone started vibrating in his hand. "Where are you?" Juho asked. However, instead of a response, coarse breathing came from the receiver. Leaning against the building, Juho asked, "Running late?" "Wait just a little… Huff… longer! The jet lag… whew … I'm a hot mess." He had to have slept through his alarm. However, considering the intensity of his schedule recently, it made sense. "Should we meet tomorrow?" "No! Whew… I'm on my way." "The movie's about to start. You sure you're gonna be able to make it in time?" "I'm here!" Jenkins said, sounding even more desperate than usual. At which point, Juho looked back. "I'll get us the tickets." "You do that. Huff… Huff.." Juho bought a ticket from the ticket office. After some thought, he decided to go to the snack bar and get Jenkins a drink. The movie theaters in the States didn't seem all that different from the ones in Korea. Lingering around in front of an empty arcade, Juho checked the time. Since there were commercials and previews before the actual movie, there was still time. "Whew!" Upon hearing a breathing sound, Juho felt a strong impact on his shoulder. It was Jenkins, who seemed quite distressed. "Hey, there," Juho said. Instead of giving him an answer, Jenkins stretched out his neck and coughed noisily, holding his sides. "You made it." "I told you. I fell asleep… before I knew it… when I saw the time... Oh, man. Whew!" "Here," Juho said, offering the drink to the director, who took it and guzzled it without question. At that moment, a group of people walked past them, staring in their direction. At which point, Juho pulled down his hat in order to conceal his identity. "Burp!" Jenkins let out. He looked noticeably better. "You're not gonna pass out during the movie, are you?" "I can't tell if it's day or night, but I'll be OK. To this day, I've never passed out watching a movie." Although there was no way to confirm that, Juho nodded. "Well, we better go in now. Though, I don't know if we'll find any good seats." At that, Jenkins let out a small sigh and said, "I wanted to show it to you in the best possible environment. Not in some janky neighborhood movie theater." Making his way into the theater, Juho replied, "I like it here." "... All right, then. Well, my movie will stand out on its own, no matter where it's being played." Then, he snatched the tickets from the young author's hand and walked on ahead. "Let's sit here." After entering the theater, the two found a reasonable spot. Although there were quite a few people in the theater, there was no one else sitting on the row Juho and Jenkins were sitting on. The two had to be the last people to get in. While Juho was staring dazedly at the commercial being played on the screen, a chuckle came from the director. "I'm having trouble staying calm." Juho looked at Jenkins, whose face was dyed blue from the screen light. "I've been waiting for this day for two years." Without replying, Juho looked toward the screen. However, Jenkins still had his eyes fixed on the young author. "You can't give me what I'm looking for," Juho said. "No. I cannot." Jenkins couldn't give the young author what he was looking for. No matter how much others tried to convince Juho otherwise, that didn't change the fact that the director didn't have what he was looking for. "Which also means it could be something completely unexpected," Juho said. At that, a big grin appeared on the director's face. "Precisely. I'm confident in my product," he said. At that moment, the screen went dark. Then, a bright light illuminated the silent theater. The movie started. --- "Not bad," Coin murmured with his eyes fixed on the screen. He had come to the movie theater by himself. Then, he thought of Jenkins. He was one of the most widely recognized directors in Hollywood, and his colorful resume and history were proof of that. Even those who knew nothing about movies or movie festivals knew who Jenkins was. However, Coin, who hadn't seen any of Jenkins' movies, was simply uninterested. He didn't care either. From the time the movie started, Coin hadn't done anything aside from looking at the screen, captivated by the very first scene of the movie. From the start, Jenkins depicted the world within the novel effectively. Feeling his pulse responding to the flow of the movie, Coin realized that he was completely immersed in it. 'The actors don't seem like actors. The movie doesn't seem like a movie. The makeup. CGI. Performance. A tribe made of people who have six fingers. A tribe that communicates through motions. Everything's fake. None of it actually exists.' The movie was more than riveting enough to silence those thoughts. Along with the epic background music, the languages became audible. Completely captivated by the visuals, Coin found himself more emotional than rational, which made for a good movie experience. He was able to focus on the movie without holding back, and that was the kind of effect Jenkins' movies had on their viewers. The characters spoke in foreign languages, and the translations appeared as subtitles on the bottom of the screen. That was a language that Yun Woo had created. Tapping on the armrest of his seat, Coin wondered what the languages in the movie would sound like to its creator. How satisfied would he be? Watching the movie had to be a different experience for him, one unlike that of Coin, who was just another spectator. "This water exists so that we can cross it." Coin was aware that Yun Woo was in the States. However, he didn't go out of his way to reach out to him. 'Maybe I should've watched it with him,' Coin thought to himself, rubbing under his nose, realizing that he had missed a sight to behold. At which point, he genuinely wished he had called the young author ahead of time. --- "Hahaha," Juho let out along with the rest of the audience. At which point, Jenkins flinched. Juho fixed his eyes on the screen. Then, a member of the six-fingered tribe said, "God is all-knowing." Upon hearing those words, Juho heard a sound in his head. Click. "God is dead." Juho didn't recall being delighted to hear that statement. The intriguing, yet strange and foreign ability had never come to him as pure joy. Juho clasped his hands together, naturally focusing on One, resonating with everything the character saw, read, and translated. "It is foolish to mock God." Juho and One were strangers to each other. Having first met in the young author's fantasy, the two had parted ways without ever becoming friends. Just as every person in Juho's world was different, everyone in One's world was also different. However, the movie gave Juho the illusion that he had become one with the character on the screen. "This water exists so that we can cross it. It's a way for us to see something greater," One said. Then, along with the land, the sea stretching into the endless horizon appeared on the screen, which was far wider than the span of Juho's arm, and far longer than he could ever reach. A world so big that it overwhelmed those who saw it. That was precisely what the young author had envisioned. Licking his lips, Juho murmured, "Very nice." At which point, Jenkins swallowed nervously. After what felt like thirty minutes, the three-hour-long movie finally came to its end. When the movie ended, it took Juho a little while to adapt to the silence. While Juho was massaging his brow, Jenkins asked as they were left alone in the theater, "What did you think?" "You were blatantly observing me, weren't you? What do you think I was thinking?" "I can't say," the director said, crossing his arms. "You can't say?" "I was too nervous." When Juho looked at Jenkins, he had a stiff smile on his face. He looked like he had held his breath for the last three hours. Juho unclenched his hands. He had been just as nervous "A beer would've been nice right about now," Juho said, drinking the Coke that had gone flat. Then, breathing slowly as though savoring the drink in his mouth, Juho relaxed on the seat. When he locked eyes with the director, there was excitement and the lingering effect of the movie in the young author's eyes. "To say that letting you direct this movie was the best decision I ever made..." At that, a look of delight spread on Jenkins' face. Then, the young author added, "... would be a slight overstatement." At which point, the look on the director's face quickly turned into that of perplexity. Juho wasn't comfortable with being transparent with his emotions in front of Jenkins. By the time the director reached the limit of his patience, Juho shared his honest thoughts, saying, "I really enjoyed the movie. I learned a lot from it." At the young author's genuine response, Jenkins' blue eyes started shaking. When Juho had seen those eyes for the first time, he hadn't been able to picture them being so vulnerable. "I think I'm gonna cry," Jenkins said, teary-eyed and covering his mouth. "I'm sorry?" Upon seeing the director having an emotional moment, Juho straightened up, confused as to whether he was acting or genuinely happy. Then, springing up from his seat, the director shouted, "THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE!" Whatever that meant, it made the young author quite uncomfortable. --- 'The 'Language of God' Movie Wins Over the Critics! Jenkins Does It Again!' 'The 'Language of God' Movie Reaches Five Million Viewers Six Days after Its Release.' 'Will Yun Woo's 'Language of God' Be Able to Top Its Predecessor?' 'The 'Language of God' Movie Rakes in Six Hundred and Twenty Million Dollars in North America Alone. A Major Box Office Hit across the Globe!' 'What's Behind the Success of 'Language of God?' The Secret Behind Jenkins' Approach to Bringing the Most Out of the Original.' 'Every Detail Matters! 'Language of God' Said to Follow the Book to a Tee.' 'Yun Woo's and Jenkins' Obsession and Their Synergistic Effect.' ''Language of God' Sets the New Standard for Film Adaptations. The Jenkins' Approach.' 'Yun Woo's Potential Shines in Hollywood. Sets the Example for Utilizing a Character.' 'Actors and Actresses of 'Language of God' Reported to Have Spent Three Months in Verbal Training. "It's One of the Most Interesting Projects I've Ever Been a Part of."' 'What Did Yun Woo Think of the Movie?' 'Written by One Genius and Produced by Another. Fans and Viewers Rave with Excitement!'

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Hm," Juho let out, unable to read on any further. Closing the book, he pushed it aside. The epic background music, dazzling visuals, performances, and directing were all still lingering in the young author's mind. The movie had been epic, stylish, and most of all, a great movie. Seeing his writing made into another form of art was always a joy, and it came with a sense of accomplishment. However, that was about the extent of the experience. "Why aren't you reading it? It's your book, isn't it?" When Juho looked up, the student abroad came into view. It had already been years since they had presented onstage. Juho had reached out to him upon arriving in the States. He looked exactly the same as he had when Juho had last seen him in Korea. As he gave the young author a puzzled look, Juho replied, "It's been a while since we last saw each other. Thought we should spend some time talking instead." "I'm OK either way," the student abroad said, glancing at the book and biting into his hamburger. He had been eating when the young author had arrived at his house. After a failed attempt to revisit 'Language of God,' Juho put the book back on the shelf, where every single one of Juho's books could be found. Although he had heard countless readers tell him that they owned all of his books, seeing the collection with his own eyes made for a strange experience. As if avoiding them, Juho started to look around the room, which was quite indicative of the student abroad's personality: well organized. Upon spotting collection of LPs, Juho asked, "Not a fan of rock, I see?" "Not at all," the student abroad replied emphatically. The place belonged to his older sister and her husband, whom she had met when she had come to the States as a student abroad. Her husband was American and deeply in love with her. "Anyway, I was so touched when you called," the student abroad said. "You were?" Chewing the lettuce in his hamburger, the student abroad replied, "You're staying on the downlow after getting discharged from the military. You haven't made a single public appearance, even after the movie was released. Frankly, I was starting to get curious about you. Hearing it through Jenkins is just not convincing." "You could've called," Juho said. "..." Juho saw the student abroad moving his dry eyes busily. "I tend to be an overthinker. I wasn't sure if you'd remember me after becoming the Great Storyteller." Chuckling quietly, Juho took the book he had received from the student abroad, saying, "Or, it could be that you were really busy." It was the novel he had published in Korea. The first edition had started at five thousand copies, the second edition had gone into print almost immediately since it was a steady seller. "Not the most impressive figure in front of Yun Woo, really," the student abroad said, sounding almost sarcastic. That was exactly why bringing numbers into a conversation with an author tended to make things uncomfortable. "I thought I should try to make the most out of your absence, but it seems like it got buried by your movie. My sister and brother-in-law went out to see it, actually. It takes her a month to finish reading my books." "I'm sure it's because it's directed by Jenkins." "Quite the opposite, actually. The novel came first, which means he wouldn't have been able to make a movie like this if it weren't for you." Juho shrugged light-heartedly. Then, he opened his mouth wide and ate what was left of the hamburger, crumpling the wrapping paper afterward. "I don't know much about movies, but he seems to have done one heck of a job with the adaptation. Good enough for the fans of the original series." "Yes, he did. I enjoyed the movie myself." Sitting back down, the student abroad asked, "If you had said that to a reporter, the movie would be making double the money it's making." "It's already doing well enough as is," Juho said, and the student abroad didn't deny it. "What have you been up to?" the student abroad asked out of nowhere. However, the young author answered without hesitation, "Why, I was in the military." "And then?" "And then I wrote." "I thought so," the student abroad said, nodding. Yun Woo wrote no matter where he was. To the student abroad, Yun Woo was an author who would choose to pick up a pen rather than a rifle in a battlefield in an attempt to tell as many people as possible about the pain of war. At which point, the student abroad thought that he'd like to see the young author release a war story in the future. "Honestly, there was a piece that I'd been meaning to write since before I went into the military." After thinking quietly for some time, the student abroad narrowed his eyes. The time of the young author's enlistment crossed his mind. "Wait, you're not telling me that you went into the military to write, are you?" "That's part of it." "... You really know how to keep someone on their toes," the student abroad said. The ambiguity in the young author's response was bound to stir up curiosity. Rubbing his hands together anxiously, the student abroad asked determinedly, "If I were to ask which piece it was, would you tell me?" At which, Juho replied nonchalantly, "'Language of God.'" From Juho's standpoint, he had no reason to hide that there was a new work in progress. The final draft had already been sent to the publisher and was probably in the middle of a translation process. "'Language of God?'" "Yes, the sequel." However, things looked very different from the student abroad's standpoint. It was the long-awaited sequel to 'Language of God,' which was about to come out to the world in the near future. "You mean there's going to be a new series!? You're working on it!?" "It's already finished." The student abroad found himself at loss for words. Unlike his usual self, he seemed to have trouble maintaining a calm look on his face. "Kind of cruel, don't you think?" "I'm sorry?" "I thought I'd be able to take it slow during those two years you were gone. First, the movie. And now, a whole new series? Why don't you just take over the world while you're at it?" Juho blinked awkwardly. The student abroad's face was flushing bright red, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I don't know if you can tell, but I've been on a frenzy since the movie was released, which was some quality work to say the least. Before I knew it, I picked up 'Language of God' and I've been on a marathon ever since. And now, you're telling me that there's going to be a sequel? That there's going to be yet an entirely new series that will inspire me all over again? Do you understand where I'm coming from, Mr. Woo?" "Uh… sure." "No, you don't. So, when is it coming out?" "There should be articles turning up soon, but I can't say for certain." "The new 'Language of God.' A whole new series. I can't believe it!" At that moment, they heard somebody approaching the house from the outside. "Your sister must be back." Although looking slightly disgruntled, the student abroad sprung up from his seat and rushed down the stairs. Juho followed him. "Hey! Get down here and ask me about the movie!" the sister shouted as if she had a desperate need to talk about the movie with someone. "Get your butt downstairs! You have NO idea how anxious I was that Jenkins might crap all over the novel!" "All right! You don't have to shout!" the student abroad said. Then, noticing an unusual smile on her brother's face, she asked, "What's with your face? You're freakin' me out." "What about my face?" "That smile of yours! What did you do by yourself while I was gone?" "I'm not alone." "You know, if you have a date, you better take that outs…" When Juho walked down the stairs, the first thing that came into view was a shopping bag that was taking up about half the couch. Then, locking eyes with a lady sporting a tight ponytail, Juho rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Hello." "Wait, am I seeing things?" "I told you I was having a guest over." At that, the sister punched her brother in the stomach, saying, "You didn't say anything about the guest being Yun Woo!" "Honey, you forgot somet… Oh, my!" "Hello." The husband, who came in through the door while spinning his car keys on his finger, responded similarly to his wife. Wiping his mouth, he asked, "Can anybody explain to me why Yun Woo's here?" "I was graciously invited by your brother-in-law." "Uh… right. I mean, welcome! So good to have you at our home!" "Here I was thinking that he was gonna be some loser who read books all day. And what does he do? Brings Yun Woo over out of nowhere," the wife murmured. Then, slapping her brother on the shoulder, she added, "Not too bad. Not too bad at all!" Juho shook hands with her husband, who had a firm grip. Since the sister and her husband had turned up, everyone spoke to each other in English. "Can we all take a picture first?" she asked, and Juho nodded affirmatively. --- "Did you see the movie?" the sister asked while putting a slab of meat on to the grill. Insisting on treating the young author to some food, she had put together a small barbecue party in the backyard. Although Juho had declined repeatedly, she had insisted even more emphatically, saying, "It's OK! We do this often. Don't be shy!" Her husband nodded in agreement. Along with lamb chops, drumsticks, steak, and short ribs, there was also some Kimchi and slices of Halloumi cheese on the grill, sizzling and looking incredibly appetizing. On top of that, there was an array of vegetables and a salad. "This is a lot of food," Juho said, and the student abroad replied nonchalantly, "Nah, this looks about right." "Of all the characters in 'Language of God,' I like One the most. I'm obsessed with him! When you see how he changes from his childhood, before and after he leaves on that journey, and just how he changes throughout the book, it makes me feel like I'm watching my own child growing up," the sister said, waving the tongs in her hand. As she cut the slab of meat into smaller pieces, her husband stepped in to finish the rest. "Are you a wine person?" she asked. "I'm sorry, but I'm not much of a drinker." "Ah! Would you like some Coke instead, then?" "Yes, please." Then, she looked at her brother, gesturing for him to go to the kitchen and bring out the mentioned items. Clicking his tongue irritably, the student abroad rose from his seat. "Make sure to bring out some plates too!" she said, kicking her brother in the buttocks. "So, going back to the book, I went into the theater with a certain image in mind. Of course, it didn't exactly match what I saw in the movie, but the movie was so well-made that I found the image in my head starting to change. Especially the six-fingered tribe member playing the violin. It was so much better than what I had pictured." Juho listened to her quietly. Meanwhile, her husband moved all the pieces of meat on to a plate, putting one into his own mouth while he was at it. "Apparently, they filmed in New Zealand. What did you think? Was it similar to the image you had in mind when you wrote the book?" Staring into the air, Juho reminisced about the movie and said, "I actually met with Mr. Jenkins before coming here. We watched the movie together." Jenkins was now in another country because of a prior engagement. Before he left, Juho saw the delight on the director's face with his own eyes. "Yes! I heard him bragging in an interview." "He seemed like he was really proud of his work. Is it true that you were shedding tears of joy afterward?" Jenkins seemed to have added his own twist to his statement yet again. With a sigh, Juho shook his head. "I didn't cry, but it was quite a moving experience." After the movie, Jenkins had followed the young author all the way to his hotel and drunk to his heart's content. It had been a celebration of sorts. Despite having scheduled events for the next day, he hadn't been afraid to get drunk. "If you were to give it a rating, what would it be?" the student abroad asked while carrying a bottle of wine, some Coke and plates. "Way to rain on my parade," the sister said, giving her brother a disgruntled look. However, the student abroad didn't let up, acting as though he had the right to know. "A rating?" "Yes. In a number. I wanna know how satisfied you were with the movie." "Hm. I didn't even do this in front of Mr. Jenkins." "And that makes me wanna hear it more," the student abroad said. "You're supposed to talk about stuff like this behind someone's back," he added, giving off an ill-natured vibe. After some contemplation, Juho replied, "You know what, I don't think I can do it." "C'mon, now. Don't be like that. Is that another way of saying that it wasn't perfect?" "I think the meats done," the brother-in-law said, cutting off the student abroad while he was clinging to the young author, bringing several platefuls of grilled meat to the table. In comparison, there was significantly more meat than vegetables, and needless to say, everything was quite tasty. While Juho was tasting everything one by one, the student abroad's sister asked out of nowhere while pouring herself a glass of wine, "So, Mr. Woo, how good of a writer is my brother?" Feeling like a teacher meeting a parent, Juho barely managed to swallow the piece of meat in his mouth.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I'm not sure," Juho said, looking into the distance. Springing up from his seat, the student abroad, with his face twisted into a scowl, said, "I think I'd prefer you say that I still have a ways go rather than some ambiguous answer like that. What did you mean by you're not sure?" "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything," the sister said light-heartedly. However, the student abroad didn't let up. Having no intention of starting an argument in front of delicious food, Juho explained himself calmly, "I'm not sure because I don't really know you yet." "You don't know me?" "I haven't read your book yet. That's why you gave me one as a gift, isn't it?" "..." Although the student abroad still looked quite upset, he sat back down willingly. At that, Juho shrugged and added, "Besides, I've been busy too. Not to mention the environment I was living in never really alloted me a whole lot of freedom. There are actually a lot of books I haven't been able to read." Which included the one written by the student abroad. Still sounding disgruntled, the student abroad asked, "Then, what about now? You're staying on the downlow. I can't imagine you're all that busy." "Of course, your presentation was outstanding. I assume that's why it got made into a book, right?" Then, Juho looked around at the student abroad's family to study their expressions. Sitting quietly, the student abroad still had the same disgruntled look. "Good for you, kid. You know what? Let's make a toast. Pick up your glasses!" Thankfully, the subject changed quickly. Everyone there were quite tactful. At one point, a neighbor's dog came into the backyard after smelling the meat, causing a ruckus. Although the amount of food had been quite intimidating at first, every bit of it had been eaten without much trouble. The family seemed to have quite the appetite. By sunset, they started cleaning up after themselves. As the sister and her husband went inside, Juho picked up the plates. At that moment, the student abroad approached him and asked quietly, "All right, can you just be honest and tell me?" "Tell you what?" Juho asked, giving him a puzzled look. "Now that my family isn't around, you don't have to worry about making me look bad in front of them." "I told you. It was outstanding. Did you want a number or something?" "Judging others is one of the easiest things to do, don't you think? Don't be such a prude now. You're Yun Woo! If this is about your age, don't you worry. I won't go around telling people that you're full of yourself." "What's with you all of a sudden?" After some thought, the student abroad replied in a calm tone of voice, "It's not sudden. A pretender like me tends to be curious about how a genius sees the world, including himself." "I don't consider myself better than others." "I think that's being too modest." "Are you looking for criticism? Is that what this is about?" "Have you ever compared yourself with me?" Stopping midway while picking up the plates, Juho looked at the student abroad, who asked, "Or do you not have an answer to this question?" "Was that why you were so riled up back there?" Juho asked, making sense of why the student abroad hadn't contacted him first. Before he knew it, Juho had acknowledged that the difference between an author who sold one million copies and another who sold five thousand copies had to do with their skills. "You really are an overthinker." "It's because you showed up out of nowhere. You have no idea how anxious I've been the last two years. I wrote with everything I had and I've managed to sell five thousand copies. And then, you show up and put that number to shame. It's just demoralizing." Unfazed, Juho, who kept stacking the plates, said, "You really know how to keep someone on their toes." That time, the student abroad's came to a halt. "What's that supposed to mean?" "You're good with long sentences, aren't you? And you're still relatively young, which only goes to show how talented you are as a writer. You have a very exotic, sophisticated style of writing, which I don't have. So, when you tell me that you poured everything into your book, how can I not look forward to reading it?" At that, the student abroad's head lowered slightly. "I know it sounds funny coming from me, but don't obsess over how many copies you sell. It's a waste of your talent," Juho said. Then, locking eyes with him, he added, "If your book hadn't even been on my mind, I wouldn't have bothered coming all the way here." At that moment, as the young author went inside the house, a dog started barking outside. It seemed to be barking at a certain person, who happened to be laughing. Coming out of the kitchen, the sister yelled, "What the hell's happening outside? Hey! Pipe down!" However, the dog barked even louder. Meanwhile, Juho soaked the dishes in the water in the sink. --- "You could stay for the night, you know." "Oh, no. I couldn't do that. I'm grateful that I'm even getting a ride," Juho said in front of the car, in which the student abroad was sitting in the driver's seat. "Come again sometime," the sister said, reluctant to say goodbye. "Will do." Watching the young author getting into the car, the student abroad said, "Let me know when you discover the release date." "I will." "The release date? For what?" the sister asked, puzzled. Then, the car started shaking as the student abroad started it. "I have a new book coming out," Juho said nonchalantly. "A new book…? Which one?" Grabbing the car door, the young author replied, "'Language of God.'" At that moment, just as he was about to close the door, a foot jumped out and prevented him from doing so. At which point, Juho was forced to tell her the exact same thing he had told the student abroad. "Is that what brought you to the States? Did you have a secret meeting with your publisher or something?" "Something like that," Juho said, remembering the actual reason for why he had come to the States for. "I have to talk to someone about translating my new book." At that, the sister looked around cautiously and said, "We won't tell anybody." Then, the student abroad started the car again. --- "All right, Mr. Sanders. Thanks for your time." "Thanks for coming," Sanders said to an employee from a certain publisher, who had visited the translator in order to retrieve the requested project. Although it had been long past due, the delay had been the result of an unforeseen circumstance on the publisher's end, which led them to send someone to visit the translator at his home in order to apologize in person. Chugging the remaining tea in his cup, the employee rose from his seat and said, "Seems like there's something good happening in your life, Mr. Sanders." Also rising from his seat, Sanders asked, "Why do you ask?" "You look like you're in good spirits," the employee said, seeing the persistent smile on the translator's face. Although Sanders had always been a kind person, he was especially generous that day, and it was especially apparent with all the high-end cookies, the tea set, and the black tea that he had offered his guest. "Do I now?" Sanders asked, caressing his beard. In actuality, he had been itching to tell the world about the good news he had come across. "I'm expecting a guest." "A guest? Who?" "I'm afraid I can't say," the translator said. Although an ambiguous look appeared on the employee's face, it did hardly anything to affect the translator's mood. "Haha! Well, that definitely doesn't happen every day. But really, who's visiting?" the employee asked. "How was the tea?" "The tea? It was delicate as always." "Right? I only bring it out on special occasions." "Well, I don't know who you're expecting, but I am privileged to have tasted such fine tea." "I guess it's your lucky day." Chuckling quietly, the employee asked, "Are you expecting somebody like Yun Woo?" At that, Sanders let out a hearty laughter, just like Santa Claus would. --- "Hello, there! Been a while." Juho arrived at Sanders' office in a timely manner. Upon going upstairs, the translator opened the door and greeted the young author before he even had a chance to knock. Sanders' office was brimming with all sorts of information. Meanwhile, looking intently at Juho's short hairdo, Sanders tried to get used to the young author's look. "Do you like black tea?" "I do." "I got some tea as a gift recently. It's exquisite. Give me one moment," Sanders said, walking over to the kitchen, which was connected to the office, in order to boil some water and prepare the tea. He seemed to be quite adept at what he was doing, which told the young author that he was an avid tea drinker. While the translator was preparing the tea, Juho looked around the interior of the office, which gave off a warm feel. Then, as he noticed a peculiar tree, Sanders said, "Bengal rubber tree. It's from India." Although it was an exotic-sounding name, the tree itself looked quite familiar to Juho. "They're quite popular in Korea too, actually." "They're very low maintenance." Resistant to cold, the tree required hardly any watering. On top of that, it came with the added benefit of purifying the air around it, which made it even more desirable in modern society. Its branches were strong and its leaves, glossy. It seemed well taken care of. "You must like plants." "Yes. They make me feel at home." "Feel at home?" "I used to live with my grandmother as a child. Raising plants was a big part of her life, so naturally, I grew up around a lot of plants." Then, Sanders brought the tea out, which was in tea set made by a famous manufacturer. Meanwhile, Juho pictured what the translator's grandmother would have looked like surrounded by plants while drinking tea peacefully. "The environment one grows up in has a profound impact in their life. Language being one of those things, of course." It was quite an interesting thought. "Which is why I find your books so enticing," Sanders added, raising his tea mug. 'Language of God' was filled with characters whose values were shaped by the things they grew up seeing, which they came to accept and reject. "It's kind of like Oedipus, don't you think? Resisting his destiny." "You seem to know enough, Mr. Sanders. I'm not sure if there's even anything left for me to help you with," Juho replied, chuckling quietly. "The thing is translating your work comes with serious challenges," Sanders said, caressing his beard again. In order to minimize mistranslations, Sanders had asked for quite a bit of additional information. When the translator had suggested the young author visit him, Juho had replied affirmatively without hesitation. Looking at Juho, who had traveled a long way from home, the translator shared his thoughts on the young author's manuscript, "After reading it, degeneration was the first word that came to mind. But, that isn't to say that that has to do with the setting being in the past." As Juho listened to him quietly, Sanders placed his hands on his chest and added, "I also thought that I couldn't dare let my translation ruin such a well-written piece." "Please, feel free to do as you please, Mr. Sanders." "No, no. I wouldn't dare. Aside from my pride as a translator, I'd be facing the wrath of the public," the translator said, shaking as though terrified by the thought of that happening. Everything about 'Language of God' was grand and massive. Should Sanders decide to make a move, the reaction would be as equally as great. "The written languages were astounding," the translator said, chuckling quietly, his eyes sparkling with interest. By that point, Juho had already handed all the data, which included translations, of those languages to Sanders. "It's a bit messy this time, isn't it?" Sanders asked. "It's supposed to be." Being far less refined than their future counterparts, not only were the written languages uncouth, but they were also quite cumbersome. Languages tended to rise and fade away with time, and the new languages Juho had come up with were bound to face the same destiny. "Did your time in the military play into this at all?" "I wouldn't say that it didn't." At that, Sanders replied, nodding, "The fact that it's a piece that you wrote at the base already makes it riveting." "You know, my editor said the exact same thing." The phrase practically advertised itself. When Juho had met with Jang Mi prior to flying to the States, she hadn't been afraid to show her excitement. "So, these are some of the questions I had," Sanders said, taking a stack of papers from a table. They were handwritten notes. "First of all, this part here," Sanders said, pointing at a certain place on one of the pages. Juho read along. "The war from Violinist's point of view." "Right," Sanders said, nodding with a serious expression on his face. Then, he pointed to another spot and said, "But his thought process is not explained here." "Right." Juho had left out the protagonist's thought process intentionally in order to leave room for reader interpretation. However, things changed if the reader happened to be a translator. Sanders had to know the intent with which the author had written certain sentences. "I just wanted to make sure. What's the protagonist thinking and feeling here?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho took a cookie from the table in front of him. The pleasant sweetness went quite well with tea. Although there was nothing special about its shape, the taste was just the opposite. While Juho was breaking the cookie in half, Sanders asked, "Is he angry?" Violinist had witnessed the war in person. He was neither a ruler of a nation nor did he have a sense of justice that drove him to do what he could to save his nation. A war-fanatic, a dictator, neither of those things defined who he was. He was merely an individual. The scene in which Violist witnessed the war showed readers what kind of era the protagonist was living in. When the protagonist came face to face with the brutality of war, there had to be a storm of emotions within him. "Of course," Juho said, locking eyes with the translator, who nodded in confirmation. 'I wonder if this is what it's like to be interviewed by Santa Claus,' Juho thought to himself. Hearing Sanders use such a strong word like angry was quite strange. Maybe it was because it wasn't very Santa Claus-like. "Sense of void, perhaps?" "Yes." "Overwhelmed?" "He was." "Do you think he'll grieve what he saw?" "Not immediately." "Does he find himself afraid?" "Yes." There was no time to grieve. The fear was simply too great. Yet, Violist didn't succumb to it. "Does he ever grow numb or indifferent toward it?" "A little later into the story, actually. He gets used to longer-lasting wars." "Seems like he's quite the emotional type." "He is. He's easily influenced. When another person gets upset, he'll join them in getting upset as well. When they're calm, he's also calm." While Sanders jotted everything down on his notebook, Juho brought the cookie up to his mouth. "What's the strongest emotion he's experiencing? What should I be emphasizing?" There was no way the young author could list all the emotions the protagonist was feeling. The character was very much alive in Juho's mind, and he felt various emotions at once. Describing the character required some decision-making, which involved having to leave certain things out while emphasizing others. "Why?" Sanders murmured, quoting one of Violinist's lines from the novel. Standing before a mountain of corpses, the protagonist lets out, "Why?" "Anger, a sense of emptiness and being overwhelmed, fear, and assimilation. He obviously becomes used to seeing war at some point. So, what's Violinist thinking and feeling when he says that line?" The protagonist leaves a myth behind, which will be passed down through word of mouth for years on end. The first thing that Violinist comes to ask himself is: Why does conflict happen? "You see, Violinist…" Juho said, brushing the cookie crumbs off of his hands. Sanders listened intently. "... wasn't exactly born under a lucky star." At that, Juho saw the translator's head tilt. "He's the epitome of bad luck. Starting with the time in which he was born. Maybe even the fact that he was born human. Or even that he's the protagonist of my story." The protagonist had been born with talents that he could hardly make use of. Despite his grandiose name, the character never lived up to it and became a violinist. "He's a hero, yet he didn't hatch from an egg. He wasn't born a prince either. He's just an average joe. Yet, he's burdened with the task of preventing war without even knowing it. It's a serious responsibility, really. There tend to be those who make the mess and those who clean it up. And, of course, Violinist gets the short end of the stick," Juho said, looking down at the reddish liquid in his cup. (TL's Note: Juho is referring to a Korean folklore, specifically about Park Hyeokgeose, who had hatched from an egg according to the legend.) "He leads a life that looks nothing like the one that his name suggests." "That can also mean that he escapes his fate and carves his own path in life, can't it?" "Yes, you could say that," Juho said. If anything, he had made it seem as though the character had escaped his fate. "Actually, I never saw Violinist as a victim of bad luck. If anything, I thought it was the opposite," Sanders said, looking at the notes in his hands. "He might have been born in wartime, but he survived. He might be poor, but he's talented. He might not have become a violinist as his name suggests, but he knows the joy of music. He changes people and how they see things through his writing. It's an achievement. I'm sure it takes more than luck to turn a tragic existence around," the translator said, posing an interpretation contrary to Juho's. In the end, it was a matter of perspective. Juho had been well aware of that even before he had started writing the sequel. In which case, the question became: Which side is right? Juho decided to let the character answer that question, saying, "What matters is how the character thinks and how he makes of his own life." "Which means you'd be right in the moment he thinks he's miserable," Sanders replied. While he was busy thinking about what the protagonist would have made of his life, Juho took another cookie and split it in half. "You see, I met him while I was serving in the military." "Ah, right," Sanders said, catching on to where Juho was coming from. He had a general idea of the young author's writing process. "When and where was this? What kind of scene were you thinking about?" The translator asked. "It was during a march." "A march?" "It's basically running a twenty-five-mile marathon while carrying fifty-five pounds of military equipment." "... That sounds like about the right time for it." Juho recalled aching all over that time. The protagonist had appeared with different expressions on his face. He would stare dazedly at the marching soldiers, either hiding from them or lingering in front of Juho's eyes. "Must've been exhausting." "I can't say it wasn't. I found myself gritting my teeth at one point. Haha," Juho said. However, Juho hadn't been the only person under distress. In fact, Violinist had been in a similar state, following him until the end while clearly looking hostile. Then, Juho moved on to talking about the war in the novel rather than his training experience. "The soldiers must have seemed like they were marching across the border to him," Sanders said. Violinist came to pick up a pen for the first time as a young man. "He tried to be mindful of his responsibility and recorded history, but he didn't exactly look like the writing type," Juho said. If anything, the protagonist had looked quite vicious, with clenched teeth and the veins on his neck bulging out. "Was he influenced by what he saw?" "Not quite. But, he does have an impressive hearing. The sounds of the battlefield were probably clear as day to him," the young author said. In the end, the protagonist gives up trying to write and lets his emotions take over, breaking everything around him. Although he kept trying to resume the writing process, it wasn't long until he gave into his emotions. He couldn't help himself. At which point, he murmurs… "Why?" "So, bloodthirsty?" "That's what I saw on his face." Violinist had developed a thirst for blood after witnessing war for the first time. With a firm grip on his pen, the translator wrote down the young author's answer. The story was starting to change, from the nuances to the overall shape. The change brought about a sense of fulfillment to Sanders, which was his favorite part of his work. "All right, then. Next question." "... Do you have a lot more?" Juho asked with a cookie in his mouth. "At this rate, we'll get through it in no time," Sanders said, pulling up closer to the young author. Realizing that there was a lot more talking to do, Juho quietly drank his tea. --- "Ah! Crap." A certain forty-five-year-old Korean man living in Paris was having a particularly bad day, which had been off to a terrible start. Upon leaving the house, he had discovered that his bicycle had been stolen. Then, after getting pickpocketed on his way to the store, he had discovered that the clerk hadn't given him the proper amount of change, leading him to miss the bus, which meant being late for work and having to be scolded by his boss. On top of that, he had gotten into an argument with a coworker and missed an appointment with his significant other. Unfortunately, his day wasn't about to look up anytime soon. Upon arriving home, he discovered that somebody had coated the doorknob with glue. At which point, he lost control of himself and started kicking the door frantically, but the landlord caught him in the act. And now, after he finally managed to get into his home, he took a beer from the refrigerator in order to lift his spirits, which proceeded to spill all over the rug. "Sorry, Bok Ja," the man said, apologizing to the only member of his family that was around, a six-year-old cat. As he wiped the beer off the rug, the cat moved its tail up and down. 'Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse,' the man thought, sighing and rolling up the rug. It was already dark out when he looked out the window. The day was nearing its end, but it didn't look like it was going to get better. 'What a crappy day.' Sitting still, he decided not to do anything and let the day pass by, hoping that his luck would turn the next day. That day had been simply much too eventful as it was. "Any good news?" Finding himself getting bored after about three minutes, the man looked around his house looking for a cigarette, but gave up shortly after. After brief contemplation, he picked up his phone, expecting a phone call. However, there was no sound, and his cat rolled itself up, getting ready to sleep. The man glared angrily at the rug, which had absorbed every drop of his beer. Needless to say, the glare didn't change anything. His body and mind were exhausted. 'Why is this happening to me? Why?' "Damn it," the man let out, realizing that his phone wasn't going to ring anytime soon. "What the hell did I do to deserve this?" he asked his cat, which moved its tail about instead of giving him an answer. "That prick who stole my bicycle is probably having the time of his life. At least better than mine, anyway." At that moment, his phone started vibrating, and the man sprung to check the caller. It was a friend from Korea. Thinking about the time in his home country, the man answered the phone, "Yeah?" "Did you hear??" the friend asked as if completely oblivious to the man's indifferent tone. At which point, the man decided that he just about had it and replied, "What? About the scoundrel who stole my bicycle?" "Wha? You got your bicycle stolen?" "Don't even get me started. I had one hell of a day." Then, the man recounted his day to his friend, which felt much more refreshing than a beer or a cigarette ever could. However, after listening to him for some time, the friend cut him off subtly. Of course, the man was well aware of his friends' tendency. The friend preferred talking over listening. "Well, my friend, I've got just the thing for you." "This better be good," the man said. The friend had rarely been able to make him feel better. However, that was about to change. "Well, let me finish. It's about Yun Woo." "... What about him?" the man asked, wincing at the mention of his favorite author. Yun Woo had been off the radar for some time now. Thinking of it, the man realized that things had started going wrong when the young author had gone into the military two years prior. Unlike his expectation that the author would come out with a new book upon his discharge from the military, Yun Woo had been nowhere to be seen months after his service. Instead of the author, there were constant mentions of a director called Zara Jenkins, who was known for his movies. Upon watching his recent movie, the man came to realize that the director lived up to his reputation. The first thing he did after watching the movie was go back to the original novel. While reading the story with which he was already familiar, the man had wished that his favorite author would come back soon, and preferably, with a new book. "What? Is he releasing a new book?" the man asked, sneering. "His new book is coming out." The two different tones of voices overlapped, making it difficult to make out the sentences. After a brief silence, the man sprung up from his seat as the words said by his friend registered in his mind. Caught off guard by its owner's sudden movement, the cat looked up. "It is!?" "It sure is," the friend said. Although the man wasn't fond of the tone in his friend's voice, he decided to let it slide. "When? Who told you that? Is this only in Korea? Which Book?" "Hey, hey! One at a time!" "Spill it!" the man said impatiently, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was midnight. The new day had arrived, and it was off to a great start. The man felt strength welling up from within him. Then, he walked over to the desk and got his laptop. "The internet's going crazy right now. Go see for yourself." "I'm already looking at my laptop," the man replied. As soon as the man typed the young author's name, a series of words came into view, which were Yun Woo, New Title, and 'Language of God.' "'Language of God?'" "Yep. The sequel!" "Oh, my!" Without hesitation, the man logged into a Korean news website. Upon seeing an endless list of articles that included the name Yun Woo, the man shouted with joy.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl 'The Sequel to 'Language of God' Finally Announced! Yun Woo Is Coming Back!' 'The End of His Long Hiatus. Yun Woo's Comeback Entices the Globe.' 'Dong Baek Announces the Long-Awaited Sequel to 'Language of God!'' 'The Story of the Second Installment of 'Language of God,' Reported to Take Place in the Past.' 'The Publisher Speaks about the Long-Anticipated Sequel: "This Will be the Most Depressing Installment of the Series By Far. You're in for a Shock."' 'Who is Violinist from 'Language of God?' Fans Enticed by the Story Alone. "The Story Might Be Received Differently Depending on the Reader."' 'When Did Yun Woo Start Writing the Sequel? A Clip from a Previous Interview Included.' 'Dong Bake Publishing Speaks on the New 'Language of God' Book: "The Protagonist Will Be a Character from the Past. All the Familiar Faces Will also Make a Comeback."' 'The Reason We Should Look Forward to the Sequel: Yun Woo's First New Book in Two Years. The Wait Is Over!' 'What Did the Preparation Process Look Like for the Second Series of 'Language of God?'' 'The Focus of the World within the Sequel to 'Language of God.' A Closer Look at the Story.' 'Yun Woo Invites Readers to the Colossal World within 'Language of God.'' 'The End of a Long March. The Comeback of the Great Storyteller!' 'Yun Woo, the Great Storyteller, Comes Back with a New Book after the Movie.' --- "Finally! It's happening!" "New 'Language of God?' Why, yes, please!" "It seems like it's gonna be about war. I wonder what a war story would be like when told by Yun Woo. Every nation's had a golden age at some point in history, even the ones that aren't around anymore. At the same time, I'm sure there are even those that used to lie in ruins at one point in history that rose up to be one of the most prominent countries around. Anyway, can't wait to find out!" "He's finally getting to the traitor! I've been really curious about One's interpretation of the myth. Hope Yun Woo talks about how the traitor came to betray its own kind!" "Another 'Language of God?' Take my money! If Yun Woo's stretching out an already-massive world timewise, sign me up." "Heard he's made some subtle changes to the languages from the previous series. Languages do change over time, but he goes back in time instead of moving forward into the future. For example, there are certain expressions and names of certain objects that tend to get lost over time. The pronunciation evolves, too. It may be subtle, but it definitely happens. The details are what makes 'Language of God' what it is. I can't wait to find out what the languages were like in the past!" "I heard he talks about fascism? There must be a reference to World War II." "It sounded like he touches upon religious wars and autocracies too. Wonder if the book's gonna be violent." "'Language of God' wasn't exactly the most cheerful book either. Going by the things that have been mentioned so far, I doubt that's gonna change." "I mean, the character's name is Traitor, so that says a lot. 'Language of God' has always been massive and epic in every sense possible." "He even went to the military. I'm sure he knows a thing or two about wars now. Besides, you can't go wrong with Yun Woo." "'Language of God' is such a good book, whether as a casual read or a book to geek out on." "I haven't even read the book yet, but I'm already having a great time!" --- "Mr. Moon?" With all the teachers in their respective clubs, the staff room was quiet. The only teachers who were in the room were those who were excluded from leading a club. In other words, Mr. Moon, who had become popular a few years back, more precisely, when Yun Woo went public, wasn't supposed to be there. Looking for their homeroom teacher, who was nowhere to be found even after the club activities period had started, one of the freshmen had entered the staff room. "Mr. Moon," the freshman called to the teacher. "What?" he replied, barely managing to part his lips, which had been tightly clenched. He looked rather serious, as if he had gotten some bad news. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes fixed on one spot. Seeing as though the teacher didn't seem very happy, the freshman said, studying his expression, "The bell rang, and we were wondering if you were coming up. It's a raucous, and everyone's doing their own thing." "You don't say?" Mr. Moon said, sounding hassled. "The club leader told me to go find you," the freshman said, hoping that the teacher would move to action. However, Mr. Moon remained completely still in his seat, quietly turning the page of the book in his hands after some time. "What are we doing today?" the freshman asked. At which point, the teacher flipped back to the page he had just moved on from, blatantly gesturing to his student that he was being bothered. "What do you think you guys should be doing?" "... Writing?" "You should be doing whatever the heck you want. Just like I am," Mr. Moon said, paying no attention to the freshman, who was desperately trying to think of an answer. At that moment, the dry laughter of the freshman lingered in the staffroom. The student seemed to think that Mr. Moon was joking, thinking that he'd get up and head to the classroom eventually. However, he didn't move a muscle. "Mr. Moon?" "What do you want?" "Aren't you coming?" "I told you, you guys can do whatever you want. What do you need me for?" At that, the freshman rubbed their hands together anxiously, saying, "... As in, study?" "As in, do what Literature Club members should be doing," the teacher said. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "Just like I am." The freshman moved his eyes, hopelessly confused and unsure of whether they were even allowed to leave or not. In the end, the freshman decided to walk into the room rather than standing by the door, appearing as if protesting in some way. Meanwhile, Mr. Moon flipped another page of his book. And another. "Scary," a voice said while the freshman was standing in the staffroom awkwardly, breaking out in cold sweat and looking anxiously at the teachers walking by. "That's Yun Woo's new book, right? 'Language of God: The Glory of Traitor?'" the freshman asked, alluding to the thick red book in the teacher's hands. "Yep. Written by a former pupil of mine." The freshman was also well acquainted with the book. After all, it had been that story that had brought them to join the Literature Club. "I can't stand the subheading. Traitor? Glory? I can't stand that those two words are next to each other. What about the victims of the betrayal? At the very least, he could've gone with something like 'The Betrayal of Glory.' That would've been more reasonable." The betrayal by a certain animal had allowed mankind to survive. To them, Traitor was a hero. "It is a bit mind-boggling from mankind's standpoint." "And that's probably what the author wants his readers to think." "My classmates are borrowing each other's copies all the time." "Really?" "... What's Yun Woo like as a person?" the freshman asked, unable to resist their curiosity. Perhaps part of it was their attempt to escape the situation. Thankfully, the freshman's attempt proved successful, and the teacher finally looked away from the book. "That's a surprisingly difficult question." "Really?" the freshman asked, imitating the teacher inadvertently. "Well, to answer your question… He's quite arrogant in my eyes. Not only did he tell me about his enlistment the day before he went off to the basic training, but he didn't tell me anything about his new book coming out. He does call me from time to time, but he leaves out all of the important information. Yet, he knows how much I like his writing. What's worse is that he never tells me what he's working on while he's writing. Though, he does send me a copy every time he releases a book. That cheap shot." While the freshman was thinking that that wasn't the answer they had anticipated, the teacher asked, "Well, what do you think of him?" "Me?" "What's Yun Woo like as a person in your eyes?" Looking at the blood-red cover of the book in the teacher's hands, the freshman replied without much hesitation, "He's the Great Storyteller." "..." The freshman tensed up upon seeing the expression on Mr. Moon's face. "Mr. Moon…?" "Right… I see," the teacher murmured, fumbling with his earlobe and nodding repeatedly. Then, he asked out of nowhere, "Candy?" Without hesitation, the freshman took the candy from the teacher. It was peppermint. Then, just as they unwrapped it and put it into their mouth, Mr. Moon asked, "Have you read this book?" "I have," the freshman replied. Unlike Mr. Moon, who was constantly swamped with work, the freshman had all the time in the world. Since their parents weren't the type to obsess over their child's grades either, the freshman was one of the lucky few who could actually afford the time to do other things outside of school. "Tell me what you thought," Mr. Moon asked. At which point, the freshman realized that they hadn't just been making small talk. Nevertheless, it wasn't such a difficult question to answer. "It felt like I had received a signal," the freshman said. Then, as Mr. Moon gestured for them to keep going with his eyes, the student added, "... That he was back." The new book felt as though the author was running toward his fans at full speed, blowing off fireworks that exploded into bright red flames. It was as if he was saying: 'Here I am! Alive and well. Sorry to have kept you all waiting. But don't worry, I'll make it worthwhile with my new book. Now, shut up, read, and praise me, the Great Storyteller." "I felt terrible for Violinist for having to witness such awful sight. On the other hand, I was on my toes, not knowing when the traitor would make its move. Of course, I already knew what happened. The traitor turned hero. A poor man turned the Great Storyteller. I was put off by the way the titles evolved. Personally, I was nervous to know that the world had been saved by those two people. The book really kept me on my toes. I knew it wasn't going to happen, but there was a part of me that made me feel like everything would fall apart." "Go on." "And by the time I start wishing that the world would just fall apart and put me out of my misery, a new character turns up and makes me wanna root for them. Sometimes, I found myself getting disillusioned by the atrocity committed by humans. Nobody seems to understand that their peace came at the cost of countless lives. Whenever Violinist got angry, I got angry. People were just so… oblivious. Way too oblivious." "Huh…!" "What happens when a person kills another person? The population decreases. The book made me much more aware of that principle. It shows the process of the world's population getting reduced to a tenth of what it used to be. The population of fifty-million decreases to five-million within a century and a half. That means ninety percent of the population was sacrificed! And who was responsible for that? Mankind. The hundred-eyed tribe went extinct, bleeding out from their eyes at the awful state the world was in. Where was God in all that!?" According to the novel, nothing lasted forever, which was a truth that brought both hope and despair. As the freshman caught their breath after sharing their thoughts on the book, the room sank back into silence. At which point, the student realized that they had talked way too much. However, Mr. Moon turned toward the book as if he hadn't heard anything. "I'm gonna go back to reading now." "Mr. Moon?" Despite his student calling to him, Mr. Moon opened the book. However, that wasn't to say that he was ignoring the freshman altogether. "Yun Woo, Peppermint, Population Decrease. Tell everyone to start writing." "All right." With that, the freshman left the room without hesitation. As soon as the door shut, Mr. Moon put the book down and murmured, "The Great Storyteller, huh." The teacher reminisced to his youth, but he stopped shortly after starting, remembering that everyone had their own path. "Life can be intriguing at times," Mr. Moon said, his first time having that thought at school. --- "I'm sure it's crowded. I saw an article earlier. People were already starting to line up before the store even opened." During lunchtime, Juho went to the city with Jenkins. 'Language of God: the Glory of Traitor' had been released in the States. Showing up at the young author's door without notice, Jenkins urged Juho to come out. Because he had been sleeping in, Juho listened to the director still half asleep. "You, me, bookstore. Now." Although Juho declined repeatedly, the director didn't let up. Although Juho had been meaning to visit the bookstore at some point, Jenkins was the last person he wanted to do that with. As Juho resisted, Jenkins said, "We need to see things from the opposite side." "What do you mean opposite?" "As in, opposite of our perspectives in the movie theater." Brushing his hair back, Juho replied, "Then, you can go to the bookstore and get the book yourself. You can just read it in front of me." "Where's the fun in that? Buying the book is the beginning of the reading experience." From then on, the director quibbled his way through attempts to convince the young author while knowing that Juho was already planning on going to the bookstore. In the end, Juho found himself in a situation that he didn't particularly want to be in. The bookstore Jenkins took him to wasn't too far from the hotel. "I come here often," Jenkins said. Meanwhile, Juho let out a big yawn.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Clearly fond of the store, Jenkins made quite a fuss when telling the young author about it. "You see, there's this person who works there, and he's quite the character. Some say that he gave up the right to manage some company and chose to work at that bookstore instead. Others say that he's a member in Mensa and holds a number of degrees. I don't have a way to confirm any of that, but I know that he's a book lover. He's fun to talk to, too." "I see." It wasn't usual for a bookstore worker to have a reputation like that. Seeing the astonishment on Juho's face, the director added, "The thing is that the owner of that store is… how should I put it… a pathological liar." Upon discovering that the rumors had been started by the mythomaniac bookstore owner, Juho was able to make light of the impressive things about the certain bookstore worker. At the same time, he felt that the owner of the bookstore knew how to leverage his employees' images as a means of promoting the store. "I actually heard the rumors much later. As in, after I met the worker." "And?" "I think the rumors might be true." Whether the rumors were true or not, Jenkins seemed to think that the certain bookstore worker was quite smart. Testimonies tended to give rumors weight. Knowing that, Juho nodded. "I wonder if he's working today," Jenkins murmured. Then, turning toward the young author, he added, "Otherwise, he'll be missing out big time. One could have the brain, but they won't get far without luck." "Isn't it a good thing if he has the day off when the store's busy?" "Sure, but he would also be missing out by taking off the one day Yun Woo visits the store." "It's not easy being popular," Juho said, putting his hands in his pockets. "You know, Mr. Woo, I hope you understand that I contributed to that popularity." "That's not exactly what I meant." "C'mon, now," Jenkins said, walking ahead. Juho followed him unhurriedly. Soon, the bookstore came into view. "It's crowded today." "Guess today's that one day when everyone decides to go to the bookstore." Although it wasn't exactly booming with people as the article Juho had read in the morning had described, the store was still quite busy. Thankfully, even as he went into the store with Jenkins, nobody seemed to pay attention to their presence. Everyone was busy either looking up or down at books, and Juho was quite fond of that sight for some reason. "Here it is," Jenkins said. However, when Juho looked at where the director was pointing, he saw a sign that read 'This Item Is Out of Stock at the Moment.' "Guess we're too late." "Not even one, though?" Jenkins said, looking around the store as though looking for an employee to talk to. Before Juho even had a chance to tell him that he could give him the copy that he owned, the director turned toward an employee nearby and asked, "Are there none left? Not even one?" "No. We're out of stock at the moment. Sorry, sir," the employee said with a blank expression on his face. At which point, Jenkins furrowed his brow. Then, another employee came into Juho's view over the director's shoulders. He was already interacting with another customer, who was an older man. "Then, what's that in your hands?" the customer asked, pointing to the book with the blood-red cover in the employee's hand. "Oh. This is mine," the employee said proudly. Then, with a confident smile, they added, "We get breaks too, believe it or not. I bought this copy so I could read it during break time." Clicking his tongue irritably, the customer said, "If I were the owner, you would've been the first one to go." "C' mon, now. There's no need to be harsh. There are more on the way, so how about you come back in about a week? I'll set one aside for you." "Tsk. All right," the customer said. As the man walked away, the employee opened his book without even looking back. "Are there really none left?" Jenkins asked. Upon looking up, the employee's face changed when he saw the director's face. "Long time no see, Mr. Jenkins." "Guess you are lucky after all." "I don't think I follow." "Look over there." "Where?" Juho had been standing idly when the employee looked in the direction Jenkins was pointing toward. When they locked eyes, Juho saw the employee's Adam's apple move up and down, his eyes darting back and forth between him and the red book. "Hello," the employee greeted Juho. Leaving Jenkins giggling, Juho greeted the employee back. The employee asked, "Looking for anything in particular?" "Oh, no. But if you could keep that man busy for a little while, I'd appreciate it," Juho replied, waving in denial and turning around in order to look around the store. "H-hold on!" "Yes?" "This way," the employee said, leading the young author in a certain direction. When Juho gave him a puzzled look, the employee explained his intent, "We gotta keep you out of other customers' sight. I have no intention of taking advantage of your name for the sake of the store, either. Besides, the sequel's already sold out." Then, looking toward a lady by the counter, who seemed to be the owner and was also looking in the employee's direction, the employee made a signal. At which point, she brought something out from under the counter and led them to the resting area. It was a small space that was connected to a kitchen, and aside from a few pieces of cleaning equipment and a small table, there wasn't much else to the place. "This place's hardly changed." "Yep." Jenkins seemed to be familiar with the place. Handing a sheet of paper and a pen to the employee, the owner reached out her hand to the young author for a handshake. When Juho shook hands with her, he felt a welcoming warmth from her hand. The silent owner and her mythomaniac husband. An employee with an impressive reputation. Juho started to make sense of why Jenkins came to that store often. "Would you mind giving us something to remember you by?" the employee said, asking for an autograph. "Sure. I don't see why not." "Would you like mine too?" Jenkins asked. "The more, the merrier." When Juho took the paper from the employee's hand, the young author realized that the employee was shaking from excitement. After signing his autograph quickly and skillfully, Jenkins handed the paper back to the employee. "But seriously, you have none left?" the director asked, looking at the employee, who looked at the young author. "Nope. Why did you come to a bookstore when you have the author of the book next to you?" "I'm a firm believer that buying a book is part of the reading experience." "Never heard of that," Juho said, and the employee replied, "Me neither," his eyes sparkling with interest. "I've been working since early in the morning. Today has been especially busy since morning. As soon as we put the books on display, they came rushing into the store like a swarm of bees." "You're calling your customers that? That's not very nice," Jenkins said. However, unfazed, the employee replied, "Bees are one of my favorite insects. They have a very, very logical way of life. Also, there are over a hundred thousand species of them across the globe." Then, the owner shook her head subtly. At which point, the employee stopped talking any further about bees. "Would you like some coffee?" the employee asked. Although they weren't exactly at a book cafe, the employee was offering to make them coffee. Feeling slightly awkward, Juho glanced over at Jenkins. Meanwhile, the employee called to a trainee, who was lingering around, and sent them to the kitchen. "When I first started working at this store part-time, I fell in love with the coffee here. It's probably what kept me here all this time," the employee said calmly. Soon, the trainee brought a couple of steaming mugs with pictures of cats on them. As the employee took one for himself, Juho noticed that his hands were still shaking. It was subtle, but noticeable. Juho drank his coffee. "Did something get on my face?" Juho asked, noticing the employee's burning gaze. At which point, the employee jumped from his seat and said, "I'm so sorry. This is my first time seeing Yun Woo in person." "Riveting, isn't it?" Jenkins interjected. "I think it feels even more surreal because I was reading your book up to a moment ago. You really are Yun Woo, right?" 'Are you really Yun Woo?' Juho couldn't remember the last time somebody had asked him that question. Licking his lips, he replied, "Yes, I am." "I'm gonna be honest with you. I'm itching to go back to my book right now because I'm almost at the end: the climax." Then, letting out a strange exclamation, Jenkins interjected, "You mean it's so good that it makes you forget that Yun Woo's sitting right in front your eyes?" "Let me tell you. This is the real deal," the employee said with a corner of his mouth turning up. Narrowing his eyes, the director glared intently at the book. Having yet to have read the book, Jenkins couldn't relate to the employee, and the employee was well aware of that. At which point, he looked toward the young author and said, "If I were the writer, I think I would've turned completely insane by the time I finished writing a book like this." Instead of giving an answer, Juho put on an ambiguous smile. He remembered the moment when he had first finished the first draft at the base. It hadn't been special in any way. "It's always exciting to see a world taking shape, but there's something special about your book," the employee said, placing his hand on his chest and adding, "I almost cried in the middle of my shift." "So, there are sad parts too, huh." "It's definitely on the depressing side, I'll tell you that. I mean, the book talks about some heavy stuff, too. You'll find yourself getting terrified in no time. This is not your typical novel. If you're a casual reader, you're in for a surprise." "Does anybody die?" "I don't mind telling you if you want." "I'm just kidding." The more Jenkins talked to the employee, the higher his expectation got. There was a stark contrast between someone who had and someone who hadn't read the book. Meanwhile, Juho listened intently to the sounds that were coming from the outside of the resting area, including the customers talking to each other. "So, I actually have a question," the employee asked cautiously, unlike his confident demeanor up to that point. Juho nodded and gave him permission to ask, saying, "As long as it's something I can answer." "Personally, I really like Traitor as a character. It could feel so different depending on how you look at them." Juho nodded in agreement. Traitor was one of the most polarizing characters among readers. Being a symbol for both hope and despair, mankind wouldn't have been able to avoid extinction if it hadn't been for the character. At the same time, if it hadn't been for Traitor, no lifeforms would be suffering under the reign of mankind. What the character did was integral to the existence of Language of God and the journey of the companions. In a bigger scale, their world existed because of Traitor's betrayal. "What's your take on the character as the author? Is it a hero, or a traitor like its name suggests? Is it God in the myth, or a fool who's inclined to make foolish decisions?" Juho looked up. There was a dust particle floating around, which disappeared shortly after. "There's a certain person that comes to my mind whenever I think of the character," the young author said. "Who? A friend, perhaps?" Jenkins interjected, but Juho shook his head and replied, "A reader who passed away." The room sank into silence for a brief moment. Juho knew of a certain reader who had passed away from leukemia before he got to read the ending of his favorite series. The reader had liked Traitor in particular and couldn't stand his favorite character being called by such a name. "Is that why it becomes a hero in the end?" the employee asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Juho shook his head and replied, "No. It dies." "..." While the employee froze in place, Juho said cheerfully, "What's the matter? He's part of the myth, and the book takes place in the past. You knew that it died." "As a reader who's hopelessly lost in the story, the story is very much in the present. You should know, Mr. Woo. You're the one who wrote such a nerve-racking story." Inhaling slowly, Juho replied, "I believe that readers have the freedom to judge the dead. Hence, I decided to leave the interpretation up to my readers." "... I see," the employee said calmly while thinking that the dead reader had had an influence on the author's writing process, leading him to write a story filled with death. Perhaps that was why Yun Woo excelled at the subject of death. "That's it." While the employee was preoccupied with analyzing the young author, Jenkins sprung up from his seat, which rocked the table and everything on it. He seemed to have already finished his coffee. "How much do you want for it?" the director asked emphatically, his hand clasping the employee's shoulder tightly. While the employee looked up at Jenkins, looking unusually caught off guard, Juho drank his coffee peacefully.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "How much do you want for it?" Juho looked up at Jenkins, who seemed quite stirred up, behaving like Coin after a cup of coffee. "For what?" "The book! How much?" "... It's not for sale," the employee said with a look of greed on his face, determined to hold on to it. "I'll give you fifty books worth." "No." "OK. I'll give you ten times that." "Now you're just making me uncomfortable." "So, you do have a price in mind, huh?" Shrugging, the employee looked at the young author, concerned about coming across as shallow to his favorite author. Although Juho was watching him and the director haggling while resting his chin on his hand indifferently, Jenkins caught on to the employee's intention almost immediately. "Good. I like the way you think. Very rational. With that, let's discuss the price. The way I see it, I think it's a fair amount, especially considering the name that's on the book." "There are things in this world you can't buy with money. For example, this book." "C' mon, now. Don't be ridiculous. You work at a bookstore for crying out loud! All right, fine! I'll give you double the amount I suggested earlier." "... No can do. Not this copy, at least." "THIS copy, huh?" Jenkins said, smiling, and adding, "I should've known. You buy three copies at a time when you buy a book! Enough talk. Sell me a used one." 'Now, I get it,' Juho thought to himself. Jenkins had already taken into account that the book had been sold out on that particular store. On top of that, he had been thinking of getting the book through a certain employee at the store. At that moment, things started heating up between the employee and the director. Just as Juho was about to step in to break them up, the owner beat the young author to it. Placing her hand on the employee's shoulder, she gently put pressure on her hand. "But…" At his hesitation, the owner applied even more pressure on her hand. At which point, the employee let up, saying, "... All right," closing his mouth and sighing. The owner looked at him as though he needed to work on self-control. "I was just having some fun. I'll give you a copy. Think of it as a gift for allowing me to meet Yun Woo in person." "How thoughtful of you," the director said without hesitation. At which point, Juho gave him a slightly disgusted look. He seemed to be the type who had to have what he wanted. Meanwhile, having been forced to give up his book, the employee smacked his lips. From his point of view, each of the three copies he owned served a distinct purpose, and letting even one of them go had to be rather heartwrenching. Pushing through the heartache, the employee went to his cabinet and brought out a book. "Come again," the employee said, glaring at the director fiercely. Despite his passive resentment, Juho nodded affirmatively, glad to have discovered a good bookstore. Juho and Jenkins walked out of the store. Although nobody saw the young author, his picture and autograph was proof that he had been at the store at one point. "Can you slow down?" Juho asked Jenkins, who was walking ahead in a hurry. However, instead of slowing his pace, the director replied, "Let's go to your hotel room. I'm reading this book right now." Juho followed the director unhurriedly, wondering what he would think of the book. --- "This is the worst!" Ignoring the voice coming from behind him, Juho moved his hand busily. He had just passed the halfway point of the paper he'd been writing. He was doing a writing exercise where he took a word chosen at random, came up with five different stories related to the topic and connected them all together. That day, the topic was 'lid.' "I CANNOT stand this human." Juho wrote away. "If I were the traitor, this would be the one I'd sink my fangs into. Your patience is admirable." "Hm." Juho looked back and saw the director, who was relaxing on the couch with a book in his hand. He was talkative even while reading. "I think this paragraph sums up everything there is to know about Traitor. Listen to this. Ahem! 'Traitor took both of his hands…'" "I think that's quite enough, don't you think?" At that, Jenkins stopped mid-sentence and looked up, asking, "What is?" "How many times have you read that book now? How many weeks has it been?" Juho asked, brushing his hair back with his hand. He was coming to realize that he had been underestimating the director. 'He had to have known that movies and books were inherently different from each other." "A month," Jenkins replied. Since getting his hands on the book, the director hadn't put it down in a month. It was incomparable to a three-hour movie. "And how much longer are you planning on reading it for?" "I don't know." "Can't you read a different book?" "What if I get tired of it?" The same set of questions had been repeating themselves over and over again up to that point. Chuckling, Juho asked, "What is with you and that book? What makes it so special that you haven't put it down even once?" Narrowing his eyes, Jenkins replied, "This is a form of self-compliment, isn't it? I know what you're doing. I ask myself a similar question all the time. Who do these good looks belong to?" "This is not a library, you know." "You can read anywhere. There's a sense of freedom in that." With that, Juho turned around and resumed writing. However, his peace was short lived as the director started talking again. "You know, I love the process of the protagonist getting more and more used to war. Do you think it's human nature, or is he merely adapting to his environment?" Juho thought of Coin, who wouldn't have thought twice about calling the cops and filing a restraining order against the director. He would have done it multiple times if necessary. "OK, hear me out." In the end, realizing that Jenkins wasn't ready to stop talking any time soon, Juho opened his mouth and said, "You know who we haven't seen in a while? Coin." "Ah! Coin! What about him?" "Oh, nothing. It's just that I find myself missing him whenever I'm around you." With the talkative director in front of his eyes, Juho started missing Coin, who knew exactly how to shut Jenkins up. Juho hadn't met with or contacted Coin since his discharge from the military. However, that wasn't to say that the young author had severed his relationship with Coin. If anything, it had been normal behavior. Besides, they had never seen each other all that often. "Me not seeing him for two years is one thing, but I was surprised to hear that you two haven't met up once," Juho said, quoting what he had heard from Jenkins about Coin. Apparently, the two had never met during the young author's service in the military. "We were both busy with our own works. I was busy with my movie, and Coin was busy with his book. He was doing very well while you were gone. Which reminds me, he really is a man of his word." "He never called you? Even after the movie came out?" "Nope. He must have loved it so much that it didn't even occur to him." "Is that what you think?" Juho asked. However, the director seemed convinced that Coin was fond of the movie. Then, waving, Jenkins added, "All right, forget about that for a second. Have you read his new nonfiction? It is SO good! I wasn't able to read it once filming started, but people just wouldn't stop talking about them, and I couldn't get away from it. Oh! Did you hear that he sued this one magazine or a newspaper company not too long ago? Wonder how that went." Recently, Juho had been binge reading Coin's books. During which time, he was reminded of just how great of an author Coin really was. Known as an eccentric problem child in the industry, not only was Coin a four-time Nebula and Hugo winner, but he had also won a number of other literary awards. On top of that, he was a prolific writer who wrote in just about any genre, from a scripts to nonfiction, short stories, novels, pure literature, genre novels, and children's literature. Both his infamous reputation as an author and his talent had remained unchanged during the young author's absence. "If anything, he almost seemed reckless and frantic. I remember laughing at just how desperate he seemed." 'You're one to talk,' Juho said internally, barely managing to swallow the words that came all the way up to his throat. Then, after looking up for a little while, Jenkins reached into his pocket and took out his phone, saying, "Should we give him a call?" calling the infamous author before Juho even had a chance to reply. The two stared at the phone as the ringing echoed throughout the peaceful room. However, after ringing for some time, the phone stopped. "Why isn't he answering?" Jenkins said and called Coin once again, only to receive the same result. Just like that, their first attempts at trying to reach Coin for the first time in two years came to a disappointing end. "Maybe he deleted my number?" "That's very likely." Jenkins started tapping away on the screen of his phone, so Juho assumed that he was sending a text to Coin and went back to writing. From then on, Jenkins also remained silent for a period, completely immersed in the book. Juho knew the director's favorite part of the book: the climax. Jenkins tended to be quiet whenever he was at the favorite part. By that point and after a month-long observation, it had become quite obvious to Juho. Juho stopped writing for a brief moment and thought back to the time when Jenkins had read the book for the first time. Juho had also been writing back then while the director had been reading. It had been so quiet that Juho had been even able to hear the sound his arm brushing against a sheet of paper, much like now. After putting the finished manuscript into a box, Juho opened his laptop, wondering if Coin had read his new book. He had to have done it. If what the director had told him had been true, the fact that Coin hadn't tried to reach out to him might be proof that the author had really enjoyed the book. At that moment, Juho hesitated as he pulled up a web browser. "Hm?" Juho looked closely at the screen of his laptop and read through the article slowly. "What is it?" Jenkins asked, walking up to the young author. Without looking back, Juho replied, "I think I know why he didn't answer the phone." "Well, do tell. Was he bashing me in an interview or something?" Moving his eyes busily, Juho said, "He's releasing a new book." Noticing Jenkins moving around behind him, Juho read the synopsis of the book. It was a full-length novel inspired by the Old Testament of the Bible, taking place in a dystopian future where everything had been created anew after the Apocalypse. Upon reading the description, Juho felt his heart jump. "This is very interesting," Jenkins said and added, "It's just the opposite of your book." Then, Jenkins pulled Juho's laptop toward himself, and Juho followed it with his eyes. "Whose book do you think would be better?" Instead of giving him an answer, Juho checked the release date. 'Now I get why we couldn't reach him,' Juho thought to himself while picturing Coin wearing a complacent smile. --- "C' mon. Can't a guy get some sleep?" Juho murmured as he got out of bed. His phone was was about to explode with text messages arriving from various people, which prevented him from sleeping any longer. Seo Kwang, Bom, Sun Hwa, Bo Suk, the twins, Mr. Moon, Seo Joong, Mideum, Sang Choi, the two editors, Sung Pil, the student abroad, etc. There were at least twenty nearly identical messages. "Coin." Something similar had happened when the 'Language of God: The Glory of Traitor' had been released. Everyone had written long texts to the young author, telling him about what they had thought about the book after reading it. Of course, there had been congratulatory messages as well. This time, everyone was expressing how excited they were about Coin's new book, all at the same time, and seeing as though the phone wasn't going to stop ringing, Juho massaged his neck and sighed. Before replying to all the messages, Juho reached for the water cup by his bed. When he drank some of the lukewarm water, he felt somewhat more awake. 'Why do I have to go through all this trouble when Coin's the one who released a new book?' Juho muttered to himself with Coin's new book in his hands. "This is why." At that moment, his phone started vibrating. That time, it was a call. After checking the name on the screen, Juho answered the phone. "The man himself." "The hell are you talkin' about?" Juho recognized the irritable tone almost immediately. Clearing his throat, Juho replied, "I'm sorry. It's just that there have been so many people asking me about you." "This is nothing like the time when you were anonymous. Were you sleeping?" Coin asked. "Yep. Just got out of bed, actually. I was starting to wonder if you were still alive." "Don't state the obvious." "Mr. Jenkins was sad that you weren't answering his calls, you know." "Why does he keep pestering me!? Do you have any idea how many times I had to replace my phone because of him!?" "Replace your phone?" "I chucked it every time he called." At that, Juho remembered all the mugs Coin had broken in the past. "In case you're wondering, Mr. Jenkins is doing just fine." "I didn't ask." As the two authors caught up with each other briefly, Juho told Coin the name of the hotel where he was staying. At which point, Coin sneered and said, "Are you planning on spending the rest of your life in hotels?" "I am in another country, you know." "Ah, right. That explains why you have a pest like Jenkins hanging around." "Well, at least I don't have to worry about getting bored." 'Though, he does get pretty distracting,' Juho thought, swallowing the words. Then, Juho brushed his hand down his face as the air sank into an awkward silence. Although they both had things they wanted to say, neither of them acted on their urges. While Juho was staring at the clock, Coin asked, "Well, unless you have a thing for hotels, how about you stay at my place?" "At your place?" "You've been here. You know what it's like." It was a lone, white villa in the middle of a cornfield. That was where Coin lived. Since Juho had stayed up nearly the entire night, there was no reason to decline. "How's Susan? Is she well?" "Too well." "When should I be there?" "I don't mind you coming right this moment." "Good. Well, let me get some shuteye before I leave, then." "Shouldn't you be more grateful?" "I'm tired. You sit tight," Juho said, chuckling quietly and getting ready to leave.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "This place's hardly changed," Juho said, surrounded by low buildings while looking at a pedestrian walking past him. There weren't that many people around, and it didn't seem like there were all that many tourists either. There were hardly any stores open. Meanwhile, Juho stood on a corner of the street, waiting for his ride. Soon, Coin would be there to pick the young author up. "Are you there?" "Oh, yes." The phone in Juho's hand was starting to feel quite hot, the same went to the voice that sounded from the receiver. "Do you have any idea how taken aback I was when I found your hotel room empty?!" "Well, if you had the common sense to let me know beforehand that you were coming, that wouldn't have happened." "I thought we had already agreed on this! Nonverbally." "That's my first time hearing that." As the sound of the director's loud grumbling sounded from the receiver, Juho moved aside in order to make room for a person unloading his truck. Juho fixed his hat. Nobody was looking at him. "So, has Coin picked you up yet?" Jenkins asked. "Nope." "You're going to his house, right? The white villa?" "Yep," Juho replied haphazardly while checking the time. It was almost time. He looked at the cars passing by in front of him, which there weren't that many of. "Heard you're guesting on a talk show? Hope you're ready," Juho said to the director. "Don't you worry. Talking is what I do." At that moment, Juho saw a certain car approaching his location. Realizing that it was the car he had been waiting for, Juho walked toward it. As the car stopped right in front of him, Juho hurriedly cut the director off in mid-sentence, saying, "Uh-huh. Right. I gotta go." "What? Wait! Hold on…" As Juho hung up the phone without hesitation, he saw the driver of the car in front of him getting out of the driver's seat. He looked irritated. It was Coin. Although Juho was seeing him for the first time in two years, Coin seemed to be off to a bad start. First, Juho greeted him. "How've you been?" "Wait here. I gotta go get some coffee." At that, Juho made sense of why the author was in such a bad mood. After staring dazedly at him running toward a coffee shop in a hurry, Juho started loading his bags into Coin's car. At that moment, Juho spotted a familiar-looking book with a blood-red cover in the trunk. "What's this?" The book hung precariously from the edge of the trunk, as if about to fall off at any given minute. As he pushed the book back into the trunk, Juho opened it cautiously and smiled at what he saw. The pages were filled with notes and underlined sentences. Then, just as he was about to get a closer look at the book, a voice came out of nowhere and startled the young author. "Excuse me," a lady said with a peculiar accent. With the truck that had been unloading gone, the view was much more open. "Yes?" "Do you know how to get to this place?" "Ah, I'm sorry. I don't really know the area myself. You might be better off asking somebody in one of these shops," Juho said. However, she stood there quietly, blinking awkwardly, as if she hadn't understood a word of what the young author had said. After looking around, Juho asked, "Where are you from?" "Spain." Nodding, Juho asked, "Could you tell me where you're headed?" At that moment, her eyes widened upon hearing her native tongue at an unexpected place. Realizing that the young author spoke Spanish, the rest of her party joined in and explained where they were going, which turned out to be the park Coin had told him about at one point. Although he had never been there himself, Juho knew where it was. Just to make sure, Juho went into a nearby shop and asked in English, "'Scuse me, is this how you get to the park?" "Yes. It'll take you about half an hour, though. You might get there quicker if you take this route instead," the shop owner replied, correcting the young author. When Juho relayed the same information to the tourists from Spain, they seemed to realize when they had started losing track of where they were going. At which point, looks of confidence appeared on their faces. "Thank you." "Enjoy your trip." By the time Juho returned to Coin's car, Coin was already waiting for him, standing by the driver's side. He seemed to have had a cup of coffee already, which explained his calmer attitude. "What were doing?" "Somebody was asking for directions." "You hardly know the area." "It just so happened that they were headed to one of the few places I knew around here." "I guess it's not too out of ordinary. There aren't that many things to see or do around here." "I even went into a shop nearby to make sure I was showing them the right direction," Juho added, confident that the information he had given the tourists was accurate. At that moment, just as he was about to catch up with Coin, he heard somebody asking in Spanish, "Was that Yun Woo?" It was coming from the same tourists who had asked Juho for directions to the park. They were starting to slow down. "Get in," Coin said, holding the steering wheel. Juho got into the car. "'Scuse me?" "Yes?" Juho replied, and the tourists started walking toward him. At which point, Coin started the car without hesitation. At the sudden roar of the engine, the tourists hesitated, and Coin took the opportunity to escape the scene. Looking at them in the mirror, Juho asked, "What's the hurry?" "There's no hurry. I just didn't feel like dealing with them," Coin replied. "That's not a way to treat your readers." "Well, that's just too bad. I have way too many readers out there. There's no way I can interact with them one at a time." Coin seemed to be set on not letting anybody get in the way of his day. Instead of speaking any further about it, Juho looked out the window at the scenery rushing past. Soon, a cornfield appeared. Seeing it for the first time in years, Juho couldn't be more pleased. "This places looks exactly the same as last time." At that, Coin snorted and replied, "None of that corn was there when you visited last time." All the corn Juho had seen during his last visit was long gone. Looking out the window quietly, Juho asked, "Do you think the corn would say the same about me?" and reached for the blood-red book in the back seat. Coin followed the young author's hand with his eyes, almost as if glaring at it. "This cover makes the book stand out like a sore thumb," Juho said, and Coin sneered. "How as it?" the young author asked. "Have you read mine?" Coin asked back. Looking at the book in his hands for a brief moment, Juho played along with him. "I have." The book in Juho's hands looked slightly different from the translated version that he owned. Meanwhile, Coin sped up. "Intimidating, wasn't it? Seeing somebody better than you." "No way." "I saw it," Coin said in a low voice, barely audible over the surrounding noise. Juho closed the window in order to listen to Coin. "I saw the anxiety in your writing. You might have looked like you were on a two-year hiatus, but we both know that there's a beast living deep within us. There was no way that you could've written in peace. Even authors tend to get excited when working on subjects like flesh and blood." "A beast, huh? A bit much, don't you think?" Juho asked, flipping the book around. "You lost this one. Admit it." Coin pressed even harder on the gas pedal. There was nothing getting in their way. Remembering Coin's book, Juho said, "The future. The birth of new humans. A blank slate history where everything is in its original state." That was the description of the world Coin had showcased through his new novel. It was in a world like that that the two brothers were born. "A world untainted by murder." Like the rest of humanity, the brothers didn't understand the concept of murder. "I stayed up nights reading. Over and over." Coin's world was different from Juho's, where death was a regular occurrence. It was astounding and impressive. Juho had been so lost in the book that he had almost forgotten to breathe. Finding himself in a good mood, Juho looked at Coin. His Adam's apple was moving up and down. "I did notice something, though. I got a feeling that you were quite anxious during the two years I was gone." At that moment, the car jerked, slowing down all of a sudden. At which point, Juho raised a corner of his mouth. "Anxiety comes from certainty. The moment you believe that pain is caused by cancer, the moment you believe that a person is a burglar, the moment you believe that this world is coming to an end, that's when anxiety starts to creep in, robbing one of hope, causing them to fight a cancer that might not even be there, running away from somebody who might not even be a burglar, praying to God in desperation," Juho said. "Get to the point." "Isn't it just a pain in the neck that those who see the beast within us are guaranteed to be set free?" Being well aware of what the young author was about to say next, Coin clicked his tongue internally. "I saw the same thing in your writing. The anxiety." "Damn it," Coin let out, looking at the book in Juho's hands. The young author's book had been astounding and impressive. Breathtakingly so. The book had been filled to the brim with sin, which had left a bad taste in his mouth. "It felt like I had blood on my hands," Coin said with a hardened expression on his face. "There's always been a sense of moderation in your writing. But not this time." Then, Coin raised his voice all of a sudden and Juho pulled back. "You purposely made it so that there were no corpses lying around in the castle. There are wars and massacres surrounding the people just outside the walls, but those who grew up behind the walls had never seen a dead body in their whole lives. To them, there was not a single thing wrong with their world. It was peaceful. There was no war. Violinist was the only character who understood that reality." It was quite unlucky to be granted the ability to see things that no one else could. "Do you know what you offered your readers? A world so wretched that it drove the Hundred-Eyed Tribe extinct, making them bleed to death from their eyes. That's what you gave your readers. There's not one speck of hope. You can tell that the end is near, and you can just feel it in the air. Everyone deserves to die there. In the end, a written language came about that only humans couldn't read." That was when Traitor appeared. With it, Violinist had to change the course of the future of mankind. They had to deliver the news of imminent danger, change mankind's hearts and values. That was the only way to survive. "If the two were to save mankind, they didn't have a choice but to come face to face with the greatest sin of the very beings they were trying to save." Violinist and Traitor had had no choice but to face the atrocities outside the safety of the castle walls. In order to raise awareness to the reality to those living behind the walls, the two had to understand the real state their world was in. Readers had to connect with the two and go through their pain together. Whenever the flags would blow in the wind, Violinist would be reminded of the perilous reality he was living, that there was a chance that he wouldn't make it back alive, and that his body would be nowhere to be found. "It's a downright dreadful story and your anxiety only brings that out more," Coin said and asked, "You knew that, didn't you?" At that, Juho rubbed his forehead and replied, "What can I say? I had an unbearable itch on my foot." "Your foot?" "I had a blister on my foot, and it popped while I was writing." It had been a blister from the combat boots, which weren't made for comfort. Because they were made for combat, they tended to be heavy and rigid, which made them hard to wear, let alone walk for an extended period of time, damaging the very part of the body they were made to protect. Juho recalled having to change socks dozens of times, using a softer innersole, and making sure the laces were tightly tied so that his feet wouldn't rub against the walls of the boots. Unfortunately, those things had done little to alleviate the young author's pain. Violinist was trying to free his people from pain and constraint similar to being in combat boots for hours on end. At that point, Juho became curious about what Violinist would think of the life of the two brothers in Coin's novel. "Your story wasn't exactly the happiest either," Juho said. As the car changed direction, Juho brought up Coin's novel, "Murder happens eventually." "There's no way around it. The story takes place in a world before the very first murder in the history of mankind. It was bound to happen. The older brother kills the younger brother." "I stared at the last page of the novel for a good while." "That wasn't the most important part of the book," Coin said. What he had emphasized in his novel had been the time before the first murder had occurred. "I know, but I couldn't help myself." "You're one to talk. You killed Traitor." "The story takes place in the past. Everybody dies in the end." One was a story of redemption from sin, and the other a story of those headed toward sin. Although they seemed to be the polar opposite of each other, the two stories were strangely similar but different at the same time. The two authors had written according to the directions they had each decided to take. At that moment, Coin's white villa came into view in the distance. It seemed quite peaceful. "Guess it's a draw this time." As the car came to a halt, Juho got out of it and set his foot on the ground.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Susan." "Welcome! You look well. You've grown a lot in the last two years," Susan said, greeting the young author from the living room. Much like the villa, she had hardly changed. Seeing as though there was a tea set on the table, she had to have been drinking tea up up to the moment that Juho showed up. "I apologize for coming so suddenly." "There's no need to walk on eggshells around me. Make yourself at home. There are plenty of rooms, so feel free to pick one," she said, pointing toward upstairs with her chin just like Coin did. Juho went upstairs with his belongings. Walking past the door to Coin's room, which was tightly shut, Juho went into the same room in which he had stayed during his last visit. "Come in once you're done unpacking," Coin said, pointing to his room and going into it without even waiting for the young author's answer. "You could at least give me time to hydrate myself," Juho murmured. "This room looks just like it did last time too," Juho said. When he went into Coin's room with a glass of water in his hand, he was greeted by the familiar interior. Looking around unhurriedly, Juho spotted the things that had changed since then. "Got yourself a new chair, I see?" Juho asked, pointing at the chair Coin was sitting on. It seemed different from the one Juho remembered. Coin looked like he couldn't remember when he had bought the chair, but he patted it and said, "It broke, so I got a new one." "How did that happen?" "You really wanna know?" After staring at a dent on the wall for a brief moment, Juho shook his head and said, "I think I'll manage." The young author started to make sense of how many nights Coin had stayed up writing. At that moment, a phone started ringing. However, it didn't sound like Juho's. Glancing at his phone on the desk, Coin tapped the decline button on the screen. "Who was that?" "Jenkins." "That was cold," Juho said. Then, his own phone started vibrating in his pocket. By that point, it was obvious who was calling. In the end, Juho answered the phone, and Jenkins asked about the young author's current situation in his usual, unhurried cadence, adding that he still couldn't get a hold of Coin. "Why do you think he's avoiding me?" "Who knows?" Juho said, glancing over at Coin. At that, Coin narrowed his eyes and reached his hand to Juho, gesturing for his phone. "Here's Coin," Juho said, handing the phone over to the author, who proceeded to hang up upon taking the phone from the young author's hand. Then, he tossed it over to Juho, who barely managed to catch it. "You gotta be gentle with these things. They're not cheap, you know," Juho said, letting out a sigh of relief. "What? You're loaded. Besides, you don't think I can afford to get you a new one?" "All I'm saying is that we should take good care of our things," Juho said, looking intently at the cracked screen of Coin's phone. Of course, Coin ignored him blatantly. Then, Juho redirected his attention to the books on the shelves, which he didn't recognize aside from the names Cain and Abel. "If those two were to meet Violinist…" Juho said to himself, thinking, 'What would happen?' Then, as Coin raised his eyebrows, the door opened nearly at the same time. "You guys hungry?" It was Susan. Before Coin and Juho even had time to respond, she said, "I am. Should I start cooking?" Rising from his seat, Juho replied, "Sure. What can I do to help?" "You like fish, right?" Remembering the dish she had made him during his last visit, Juho nodded. "Well, come on down, you two," she said, turning back and heading downstairs without delay. Juho followed. His eyes darting back and forth between where his mother had been standing and where Juho had been sitting, Coin, too, rose from his seat. "I am stuffed," Juho said, looking up at the night sky. The place tended to get noticeably colder after sundown. There was a unique taste to Susan's cooking, which was quite pleasant. As a means of getting some exercise, Juho walked around the villa in a big circle. Standing conspicuously in the middle of a cornfield, Coin's villa looked quite different at night. Looking at the dusky surroundings, Juho replayed the conversation he had had with Coin earlier that day. "Cain and Abel." The very first recorded murder in human history had occurred between the two brothers in the Bible. While God had rejected Cain's offering, He had accepted Abel's offering, which stirred up Cain's jealousy toward his younger brother. Picturing their lives before the relationship between the two brothers had turned sour, Coin had added his own imagination to the widely-known story. The result was one that took place in a distant future, when and where a new type of human, including the two brothers from the original story. Coin had emphasized the aspect of offerings in his new novel. While the older sibling had been a farmer, the younger had been a shepherd. Although their occupations had differed, they had both worshipped the same deity. The two brothers had always worn the same clothes, woken up at the same time, bathed themselves at the same place, and made offerings, which signified their identity, to their deity at the same time. Although the two brothers had been quite close to each other, the reality was that they hadn't been able to unite since the god they worshipped didn't love them equally. The two had never fought or harbored resentment toward each other from the day they had been born. They had grown up seeing only the most beautiful things while doing only what they were supposed to do. It had been a peaceful life. Coin pinpointed the reasons behind their peaceful lives one by one, without which, the brothers started to change slowly. Juho wondered how the story might have changed if God had been a vegetarian. Would the other sibling be the one to commit the murder? Would there have been a murder at all? In that case, humanity would have never grasped the idea of war, massacre, or death. "In some ways, my novel seems more like it takes place in the future." The very first murder in the history of mankind followed by a war. Did peace come first, or conflict? It was quite confusing. Coin's distinct style of writing had been an integral part of the novel. Unlike his wild, atrocious personality, his writing couldn't be more gentle and beautiful. Juho thought of the blue flame, where, in the novel, the offerings were made. Then, he started running in place. Although everything shook, he reminded himself that Coin wasn't too far off. "Violinist," Juho said, calling out for the protagonist of his novel. How would he react if he were to see the peaceful world with his own eyes? How would he come across in a world where people didn't have the concept of murder? Would Violinist leave them in their blissful ignorance, or would he go out his way to teach them? How would characters that live in completely different worlds interact with each other upon meeting? "Maybe I should try bringing them together," Juho said, closing his eyes. About five minutes later, Coin came out of the house looking for Juho. Then, upon finding him by the house, Coin leaned against the doorframe and stared intently at the back of the young author's head. Although it was quite obvious that Coin was behind him, Juho didn't move a muscle. In the end, with a cup of coffee in his hand, he called out to the young author, "Hey." There was no response. Disgruntled, Coin walked over to Juho and called out to him again, "Hey," raising his eyebrows. When Juho locked eyes with him, Coin had rather unpleasant look on his face. "Are you tryin' to pick a fight?" "... A fight? Who is?" Juho asked, blinking awkwardly. At which point, the disgruntled look disappeared from Coin's face. Then, furrowing his brow, Coin asked, "What's with that look?" "I saw something unpleasant," Juho replied with a delayed response. "You saw what? It's dark out," Coin said, looking around, and Juho took the opportunity to catch his breath in order to calm himself down. "I think it's better to keep them separate." "Keep what separate?" "Everything." In the end, the three characters had been ruined beyond recovery when they came together. Then, bending at the knee, Juho squatted in his place. Coin followed the young author's movements with his eyes. "Did you go for a run?" "I ran in place if that counts." "At this hour?" "For digestion." At that, Coin drank his coffee, slurping loudly on purpose. At which, Juho shook his head in disapproval. "So, I did some thinking." "About?" "Your book." "Was it nerve-racking?" Without giving him an answer, Coin chewed on chunks of ice. Unlike his usual preference, he seemed to be drinking iced coffee. "I hate to admit, but it's a draw." At that, Juho couldn't help but laugh. Although he had wanted to win, a draw meant that he hadn't won. However, the news didn't come with discouragement. Coin was quite the formidable opponent, and he probably thought similarly of the young author. At the moment, a draw was the fairer assessment. "A draw against the eccentric problem child of the industry? That's an honor. You might have a reputation, but you are one of the most representative authors this country has to offer," Juho said, reminiscing to the time when he hadn't even been able to afford a book. Everything about Coin's achievements, including his awards and recognition, was impressive. Coin had been at the top even up until the moment of Juho's death. Though, he had often been in the spotlight for his demeanor instead of his books. "Why don't you say what you mean?" Coin said, calling the young author out as if already aware of Juho's intention. "You're already thinking about your next book," Coin added, accurately pointing out Juho's thoughts. However, the clues were quite obvious. "You're the same way, aren't you?" Juho asked. Coin had always maintained his position in the literary world. He had never grown weary as an author. "Guess there's no hiding it. Though, I have this lame and boring event coming up." "Good luck with that." "The worst is yet to come. You just wait." "I guess that's true. I do have to start showing my face around," Juho said, stretching his neck from side to side. The thought of it alone was exhausting. Then, as Juho looked into the dark inadvertently, he saw something completely unexpected, "What's that?" Juho said, referring to a pair of lights approaching them. "There are cars around here at this hour?" Coin added, furrowing his brow and glaring at the headlights. The car was rushing toward them at a frightening speed. "Are you expecting another guest?" "No." "A reporter, maybe?" "Were you telling people where you were going before coming here?" "No way." As the car approached, Juho heard what sounded like a funeral march played on a violin. It was gloomy. 'Maybe it's a hearse?' Juho thought to himself, rising from the ground as the plate of the car became visible. Then, as the car came to a halt in front of them, the door opened from the driver's side. While Juho took a step back, Coin walked toward the car, which Juho remembered seeing somewhere. "Ta-da!" "I knew it." It was Jenkins. The genius Hollywood director was visiting Coin at his residence. Upon recognizing the director's face, Coin stopped in his tracks. Coming forth toward the author, Jenkins said, "I'm here!" as if he had been invited. Wondering if Coin had talked to Jenkins on the phone while he had been outside, Juho glanced over at Coin. At which point, it became obvious that they hadn't talked to each other. Similarly to the time when he had visited the young author at his hotel room, Jenkins charged toward Juho. "Been a while, Mr. Woo! Guess what I brought! A sixty-six-year-old wine!" Fully aware that Jenkins was behaving that way on purpose, Juho said, "Our host doesn't drink, remember?" "Ah! Right. Well, more for me!" Juho chuckled at the director's nonchalant attitude. "By the way, I was very moved by your new book. I came running here as soon as I finished reading it. I loved it so much! Oh! How was my movie? It was unbelievable, wasn't it?" Jenkins asked, looking all over the house. He was bouncing off the walls. "So, this is the Villa! It's kind of hard to see it at night, though. You see, I was very excited to see the cornfield, but it was too late by the time I got here. Such a bummer. I had some business to attend to, so I couldn't leave any earlier. Man! Am I BEAT! All these hours behind the wheel… Let's go inside, shall we?" 'How did he even get here? What was he thinking coming here? Why is he here?' Juho thought, smacking his lips at the thoughts rushing into his mind all at once. However, unlike Juho, Coin was much more emphatic. "GET! LOST!" Coin said, turning around without hesitation, going inside and slamming the door. "Wha-? Seriously? He's kidding, right? Is this about the wine? I brought other gifts too." The door remained tightly shut. "I don't know if that door's gonna open anytime soon," Juho said, and Jenkins scratched his head, feeling slightly awkward. "Well, this is not what I had in mind." He kept blabbering until Susan came outside. In the end, he took a room next to Juho's.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "I thought I'd have to sleep in my car! So, this is the world-famous bacon cooked by Kelley Coin himself." When Juho came downstairs in the morning, the first thing that he saw was the disgruntled look on Coin's face and Jenkins making a fuss about Coin's cooking. Instead of joining them, Juho walked over to the living room to join Susan. Having already eaten, she was enjoying herself a cup of tea on the couch. "How'd you sleep?" she asked peacefully. "Slept like a baby," Juho replied, walking over to Coin, whose voice was starting to get louder. "I'd like some too, please." "Good morning!" Jenkins greeted the young author, and Juho nodded haphazardly. "So, I had dinner with a friend of mine, and he kept talking about boring stuff like film festivals. He just made it so obvious that he's got a fat paycheck. That's why eating with someone else in the industry gets tiring really quick," the director said, biting into a tomato. As its red juice flowed down his wrist, Jenkins pulled out his tongue and pulled his hand up to his mouth, licking it. "That's disgusting." "What? It's my hand." At that moment, a drop of hot oil from the pan splashed on Jenkins, making him jerk. However, Coin seemed indifferent about what had happened. "I'll go get the bread," Juho said, removing himself from the situation so as not to get dragged into it. "So, this is your writing space." After breakfast, Jenkins peeked his head in just as Coin went into his room. However, Coin didn't even consider Jenkins a hindrance. Walking over to the door, the author started pushing the door close while Jenkins was still peeking his head in, choking the director. In the end, Juho stepped in to help Jenkins pull his head out of the door. A director who recklessly peeks his head into a closing door in the same place as an author who's strong and ruthless could only mean one thing: Trouble. "This place is filled to the brim with things," Jenkins said, looking around the room, the coffee stains, the torn-up wallpaper and Coin's untidy desk. "Yet, I don't see your next work," the director said, smacking his lips and sitting on Coin's bed. "You two have a lot in common," he added, repeatedly tossing something up into the air and catching it. Juho watched him quietly. "Although, I could probably get a lot more information out of Mr. Woo here." "That'll be four hundred dollars," Coin said. "Four hundred!? You mean this baseball!?" Rolling the baseball around in his hands, Jenkins thought about the stark contrast between the two authors in front of his eyes. The director had been visiting the young author in his hotel room. Whenever Jenkins had visited, Juho had been writing either on a laptop or on manuscript paper. Writing was just about the only thing the director recalled Juho ever doing in his hotel room. Similarly, the director was also aware of Coin's prolific character. However, there were also other things in his room, things that had nothing to do with writing, such as the baseball. By contrast, Juho seemed like someone who was investing his entire life into his writing, and Jenkins simply couldn't understand that. "Can I ask you something?" "What?" "What's your net worth?" the director asked Coin, wondering if the difference came from their wealth. "What!?" Looking at Coin, who was blatantly expressing his discomfort, Jenkins was reminded that Yun Woo couldn't possibly be poor. Pointing at Juho, the director asked, "You don't wear any designer clothing, do you? That T-shirt of yours is made by some budget, casual clothing store, isn't it?" Looking down at the clothes he was wearing, Juho nodded. "You don't wear a watch or any sort of accessories, or own a car. On top of that, the hotel you were staying in isn't exactly the best either. You don't even collect anything, right? Shoes, toys, puzzles, bags, wallets, art pieces, medals, insects, etc. You don't spend a penny on a hobby, if you even have one, that is." "Are people around you into collecting things like that, Mr. Jenkins?" "You don't have a hobby, do you?" "I do," Juho said, putting his brain to work in order to think of an answer. "I watch sports on TV, and I exercise regularly. I also enjoy reading and listening to music." "Do you gamble?" "I do not." "Do you have a business?" "Nope." "Then what do you do with your money? Maybe you don't know what to do with it. In which case, I can teach you all about it!" "What's with you all of a sudden?" "I'm worried for you, Mr. Woo! I didn't realize there were authors like you!" With that, Jenkins lay completely flat on Coin's bed, repeatedly throwing the baseball right above his face and catching it. Catching the ball mid-air, Juho said, "I spend over ninety-percent of my yearly earnings, so don't you worry." "Make sure you have enough saved up to get by until you're done writing your next book. You can't write anything if you're homeless." "I'm aware," Juho said, fully aware of what Coin was talking about. Seeing the young author calm and unfazed, Jenkins interjected in a hurry, "Hold on! That's important information! Do you guys even have a way of confirming any of this? Where are you guys investing!? Stock, perhaps? In that case, I'd be much obliged if you shared some information about them." "I'm not investing in anything. I got nothing to tell you." "You're up to something shady, aren't you?" "You have a very active imagination, Mr. Jenkins." At that, Jenkins pulled back, narrowing his eyes and glaring up at the ceiling. 'What's he thinking now?' Juho thought to himself, tossing the ball into the air just like Jenkins had done. "Do you donate?" At that moment, Juho dropped the ball, staring at it as it rolled on the floor. "You do, don't you!?" Jenkins asked with an unpleasant smile. Standing awkwardly, Juho replied, "I don't know." "Now, I get it." In the end, Juho sighed, realizing that the director had discovered what he did with his money. Meanwhile, Jenkins had his chin raised up high with confidence. However, it wasn't long before that confident look turned into a puzzled one. "That is admirable! Why didn't I know about it?" Jenkins asked. "Because I didn't tell anyone about it." "Why not? What is there to hide?" "It's just never been brought up. Until today." "No, no. That's not what I'm talking about. A celebrity like you HAS to be open about this so that other people can join in." That was very different from telling friends or acquaintances, however, and with an ambivalent look on his face, Juho replied, "I don't wanna make a scene." "Even after doing something so admirable?" "I'm just not looking for compliments. Anyway, it's just something I decided for myself," Juho said, picking up the baseball from the floor and putting it back where it had been originally. Meanwhile, Jenkins watched the young author. "And how much longer do you think it'll stay a secret?" "What? Are you gonna go around telling people?" "Oh, no. It's nothing like that. It's just… You're impossible to read." "You took the words right out of my mouth, Mr. Jenkins." Having been visiting the young author on a nearly daily basis, Jenkins giggled and said, "I just couldn't resist! I was so curious about what kind of mind games you two were playing!" "Is that why you've been visiting me almost every day?" Juho asked Jenkins, glancing over at Coin. "Well, I know what I'm doing for the next month," the director said, referring to Coin's new book. At which point, feeling liberated, Juho asked, "So, does that mean my book fell out of favor with you?" That time, Jenkins looked toward Coin while waving his finger from side to side. "Oh, no, no. This is simply a matter of when the books came out. Coin's came out later." "So what? You don't think I want something from you, do you? If you do, you're making a big mistake." Despite Coin's seemingly threatening remark, Jenkins didn't stop talking. "If both books had come out at the same time, which book do you think I'd have held on to longer?" "Who gives? Whichever one it is, it's gotta be better than that third-class movie of yours." "OK, now, you just sound crazy. My movie? Third-class? That's impossible!" Jenkins said. Then, he sprung up from the bed and shouted, "If you'd really thought my movie had done the original a disservice, you wouldn't have sat there and not done anything about it. Oh, no. You'd have called and confronted me as soon as you watched the movie. In other words, I would have been the one hanging up on YOU!" "It was trash. I'd rather eat rotten cabbage." Neither Jenkins nor Coin was letting up. The bickering went on until Juho went downstairs to get a cup of water and saw Susan out. Catching his breath, Jenkins said, "You know what? I admit. How long I take reading the same book doesn't matter, whether a month or three months." Juho nodded. At which point, Juho saw a corner Jenkins' mouth turn up. "You two are about to compete for a literary award." "A literary award?" Juho asked, and the smile on the director's face grew even bigger. "That's right. You'll probably both end up getting nominated for the Nebula award this year. It's always been one or the other up to this point, but this year, I can just feel it happening. Besides, there's no way that you two WON'T get nominated, don't you think?" Jenkins said, his eyes sparkling with interest. Juho scratched his head awkwardly. None of that felt real because the two authors had already reached a consensus. It had been a draw. Yet, now, there was suddenly a literary award involved. "What's with your faces? It's been a hot topic among your readers," Jenkins said, rubbing his hands together and adding, "This is a sight to behold. Coin vs. Yun Woo. The match of the century." Without saying a word, Juho looked toward Coin, who murmured, "I thought we already…" "... Talked about this." "What?" Jenkins asked, looking at the two authors in turn. Then, as if he caught on to the situation, he rubbed his chin while looking at them with slight disdain. "What good is it that you two agree on who the winner is? Do you two have any idea how many readers you have across the globe? The winner is whoever gets the award. What could be more convincing than that?" "Whatever happened to film festivals?" Coin asked, mocking the director. Putting his hand in his pockets, Jenkins said, "Don't play coy with me now. You swept every major literary award out there yourself. Think about it. How can you not wanna win when the award is sitting right in front of your eyes? Well? What do you think?" Jenkins darted back and forth between the two authors with a look of anticipation. Coin, meanwhile, remained unfazed. "I guess that is true." "I thought so. You're an honest man, Mr. Woo." Then, after looking intently at the director for a brief moment, Juho said, "Remind me of why you're here?" "What kind of question is that? I thought we were over this." "If the winner gets determined at the award ceremony, then you could have gone there instead. Why come here? What's there to see?" Jenkins remained silent for a good while. Then, tilting his head, he replied, "I guess I knew where the real match was?" "Well, whoever ends up being the winner, it's already been decided. I hate to break it to you, Mr. Jenkins, but you're a tad too late," Juho said. "But I'm sure it won't stay between you two. So? What happened? Who lost?" "Enough talk. You owe me four hundred dollars," Coin said. "You meant that?!" 'The award ceremony, huh," Juho thought to himself, looking out the window at the Sun. --- "They're getting nominated," Nabi said, looking at the nominees for the Nebula Award, who had been decided a month before. In that list, were Coin and Yun Woo. Although they were both preliminary nominees at the moment, everyone knew that it was highly unlikely that either of the authors would be eliminated. The two were practically the final nominees, competing for the same award in the end. Both fans and people in the industry alike, everyone was already starting to place their bets. "I vote Yun Woo." "But he's up against Kelley Coin." Nabi looked at her coworkers, who were clearly talking about the award. To be frank, Nabi thought that the young author had nothing to lose even if he were to lose. After all, the opponent was none other than Kelley Coin. Their rivalry wasn't something that had been formed overnight. Readers had been keeping their eyes on the two authors' mysterious friendship and rivalry. 'This is a chance,' Nabi thought to herself while looking at the document on the screen of her laptop. After doing some calculations, she picked up her phone in order to ask the person directly involved in the competition. "Yes, Mr. Woo. Are you free today by any chance?"

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl Juho was visiting central Manhattan, which was always booming with people. Standing in his place, he watched the pedestrians walking past a memorial not too far from him. At that moment... "Mr. Woo," a voice called to the young author. When Juho turned around, he saw Nabi displaying her usual intellectual smile. Leading Juho toward her car, which she had parked nearby, she took the young author to a restaurant she had made a reservation to ahead of time. "I knew things were about to get busier, and boy was I right?!" she said as she updated Juho on the things that had occurred recently. Juho realized that was his second time driving across the streets of Manhattan in Nabi's car. The first time, Nam Kyung had also been there. "Back then, I was here to watch the award ceremony on TV." "And now, you're going to one in person," she said, adding that both the people at her work and her clients were waiting anxiously for the ceremony. Nabi wasn't afraid to show her excitement. Coin and Yun Woo, the long-awaited battle between the two authors was finally happening. "Are you confident?" "About?" "Beating Coin." Looking at the traffic ahead, Juho replied, "I'm not sure." "OK, let's be honest for a second here. You want that award, don't you?" "I do." "Then, I guess you gotta win." Juho chuckled at Nabi's remark. At which point, she lowered her voice and added, "Frankly, it feels surreal that we're talking about winning an award with Kelley Coin as one of the competing nominees. This will take some getting used to." Despite the nervous tone, she looked quite confident. Observing her expression, Juho asked, "Who do you think will get the award?" "Why, you, of course!" Nabi said sincerely and without hesitation. Shrugging, Juho replied, "That kind of puts pressure on me." Although she didn't buy what Juho had said, she said, "Well, we're not the ones giving the award. Don't worry about it too much." Then, recognizing the inconsistency in her statement, she added, "As in, we should be cautiously optmistic." "Right. Well, the ceremony's still far away, anyway." "You're right." The anticipation was starting to boil over. However, Nabi didn't go out of her way to bring it up to Juho. "Well, what did you wanna talk about today?" She swallowed nervously at Juho's question. Then, trying to sound as light-hearted as possible, she said, "There's a TV show that wants to cast you." At that, Juho's eyes narrowed. --- "Where's Yun Woo?" "How the hell should I know?" Coin was at a high-end hotel restaurant as one of eleven invitees, every one of which were bestselling authors whose books had sold millions. Because Coin tended to be left out of social gatherings between authors by default, his presence was an unusual one. Of course, he had been invited to the gathering only because the inviters had been under the assumption that he would've brought Yun Woo along. "I might as well be chewing a rubber tire," Coin said, spitting the meat out on a napkin. Amid the uncomfortable silence, a daring soul spoke up. Two of the authors on the table had gotten into an intense argument with Coin, nearly leading to a legal dispute. "Seems like the food isn't to your liking," Kings said. Being the oldest of the eleven authors at the table, Coin remembered him having held a party in Germany in order to celebrate having sold a hundred million copies. "I really didn't feel like coming here, but I couldn't stand that these people were trying to use me to their own benefit, so I thought I should stop by. I couldn't tell whether they were just trying to piss me off or invite Yun Woo," Coin said, putting the knife down almost as if throwing it and chugging the sparkling water in the wineglass. Then, another author sitting next to Kings said, "I was looking forward to meeting Yun Woo, honestly." "I know. Which is exactly why I'm here," Coin said. The only reason he had bothered to show up at the gathering had been to see the disappointment on the authors' faces. At Coin's edgy remark, the author clenched their lips tightly, appearing disgusted. Every author on the table, with the exception of Coin, knew better than to start a conflict with the infamous author. If necessary, Coin wasn't afraid to sling mud, even against somebody of higher social standing. However, Coin's prominence had often prevented others from retaliating. While wealthy, Coin acted as though he had nothing to lose. To be more precise, he wasn't afraid to lose all he had, which made him an opponent to be avoided at all costs. Although he seemed to be relatively well-behaved as of late, it wasn't long before the authors found out that he had hardly changed, especially the two who had picked a fight with him. "I told you not to start anything with him. He even filed a lawsuit against a press company not too long ago. Tamed? Well behaved? Yeah, right." While half of the authors on the table focused on eating their food while avoiding eye contact with Coin, the rest of them were intimidated by his presence. Only Kings had a welcoming smile on his face. "There's always next time. Seems to me that Mr. Coin here seems to think there was an ulterior motive for our invitation. Though, I am glad to have such an unusual guest. In any case, please, let's be respectful to one another." The table grew silent. Meanwhile, with an oblivious look on his face, Kings said to Coin, "I heard you're close friends with Yun Woo! It's always fun to be able to connect with the younger generations." "What do you know?" Coin said. He was the only author in the literary world who dared to speak to Kings in such a manner. "Haven't seen any new books from you lately. Are you planning on retiring soon?" Coin asked. "I can't say, but I appreciate that you're waiting." "This conversation is going nowhere. I doubt you'd be able to connect with younger folks," Coin said, drinking from his thermos. Then, locking eyes with another author, who gave him a strange look, Coin asked, "What are you lookin' at? You have something you wanna ask?" "Oh, no. Uh… Actually…" the timid author said, hesitating while rubbing his scruffy chin. "Well, spill it." Being significantly younger than Coin by more than ten years, the author had a medical school background, which he had utilized in his successful debut title. Since its release, his book had been a steady bestseller. With the recent news that stood out to him lingering in his mind, the author said, "I was wondering if you're planning on attending the award ceremony." At the mention of the award ceremony, somebody stepped on the timid author's foot, and Coin clicked his tongue at the subject that was far from interesting to him. As though untactful and oblivious, the author kept on, "You were nominated for the same category as Yun Woo. Do you think you'll win?" "What are you? A reporter?" "No, an author, actually." "An interviewer, maybe?" "I'm an author." "Which magazine do you work for?" "... I'm a writer." It took the timid author a while to realize that Coin was blatantly looking down on him, refusing to answer his question. Then, other authors started to chime in as they barely managed to muster up enough courage to speak up. "Well, this should be interesting. This is Coin's first nomination in five years. Though, he did go to the award ceremony on somebody else's behalf." "I was there too! I felt so lucky that I got to witness the youngest winner of the award getting announced." "You were up for a short story, right?" "That's right. Along with another author sitting at the table next to us…" As the conversation naturally moved on to the award ceremony, Coin was also having a chat with Kings. "I'm betting on Yun Woo." Coin calmly sought out the person to whom the voice belonged, who turned out to be the author who sitting next to him, the one who had a background in journalism. Writing mostly for a science magazine, he had sold over thirty million copies. "Yun Woo had never invested this much time into a book before. Of course, time and result aren't always proportionate to each other, but the story about the traitor was exceptional." At that moment, the author with the medical school background raised his hand and said, "Personally, I read Mr. Coin's book many times. It was great! A world untainted by murder, just before the first murder in human history took place. I thought it was incredibly charming." "Aren't you a Coin fan by default, though?" "I guess I am," the timid author said, looking at Coin with an awkward smile. Then, another author, who had a blank expression on his face, added, "Regardless of who wins, both books were outstanding." "But it's impossible to take authors out of the picture completely. People already view the ceremony in a certain way. To them, it's a showdown of sorts. I guess I should be thankful that I'm not one of the judges who have to endure the pain of having to choose one over the other." "Speaking of judges, have you heard anything new?" "I'd be lying if I said no, but…" "I'm not rooting for anybody in particular, but I do have somebody in mind that I wish would get eliminated." At that moment, the table sank into an awkward silence, and Coin rolled his eyes to look at the author across the table. Being a familiar face, Coin was well acquainted with the author's scowl. "It's always entertaining to watch the idiots who think that polar bears live in the South Pole." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means Yun Woo and I already came to a consensus, and nobody has time to listen to your crap," Coin said, rising from his seat. Meanwhile, the author sitting across the table turned slightly away from Coin with his arms crossed. Then, walking over to him, Coin grabbed the chair the author was sitting on. "I did kick some serious ass, though." "What?" "I know. I'm not the easiest person to be condescending to," Coin said, eating a shrimp off of the author's plate and wiping his hand on the tablecloth. "I'm leaving. Watch your teeth, Mr. Kings. They tend to overcook their meat here." "I'll give you a call sometime." "Don't bother." Then, as Coin left the hotel without even looking back, his phone started ringing immediately after he switched silent mode off. "What?" "Why didn't you answer the phone?" "I was busy," Coin replied, wondering if Isabella had already found out. Thankfully, it was about another subject. Instead of scolding the author, the editor said, "Somebody wants you on their show. Now, keep listening before you hang up." With his hand in his pocket, Coin waited for his editor impatiently. "How would you like to appear on TV with Yun Woo?" she asked. Having been waiting with his mouth parted open, Coin said, "Go on." --- After a short jog, Juho stared at the lake in front of his eyes, where Coin had brought him at one point. Catching his breath, he made his way toward a bench. "You were pretending to run, weren't you?" Coin asked, examining the young author. "What? You want me to sprint around the lake?" "That works too." "No, thanks," Juho said, stretching instead of sitting on the bench. The park was still as quiet and unoccupied as ever. There was a big zelkova tree that created some shade. "Have you decided?" Coin asked. Needless to say, he wasn't there to watch the young author exercise. "I don't know yet." Similar to Coin at the authors' gathering, Juho had heard only one thing from Nabi. "What do you think would happen if we were to appear on the show together?" The two authors had been asked to appear on a certain TV show, one on which Coin had already appeared. Going to great lengths to accommodate their guests, the show tended to invite authors to interviews often, not to mention that they also tended to pay their guests quite well. Picturing them sitting shoulder to shoulder on the set, Juho scratched his cheek. "Well, I'd be appearing with Kelley Coin himself, so I don't intend to make light of this." "What's that mean?" "It means I would NOT want to get involved in some accident." To that day, there had never been an author who had appeared on TV alongside Coin. Nobody had been willing to appear on TV with a walking time bomb, and Nabi had also been quite concerned about that. "So, are you turning it down?" Coin asked.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl A breeze came along and blew against the peaceful, unsuspecting lake, causing it to waver. Standing in his place, Juho stretched his wrists and ankles. "What about you? Would you want to go on TV with me?" "I hate interviews." "I'm sure you do." "Even if I were to decide to appear on the show, the kind of questions they would ask are obvious," Coin said with his legs crossed, yawning. Seeing that Coin was responding in the way that he had expected, Juho chuckled quietly. "All of my friends seem to think I should go," Juho said, feeling the tension on his inner thighs as he stretched his legs. Seo Kwang had called the night before. When Juho had asked about the TV show in passing, his bookworm friend had said emphatically, "BY ALL MEANS! Whatever they end up capturing on that camera will be precious data for the future generation." Juho hadn't found that argument all that convincing however. Meanwhile, Coin sneered and said, "I know my interviews are popular, and I don't need some surveys to prove that." "Jenkins was saying that I should go for it too." "Don't you ever bring up that name." Unlike Juho, who had been staying in Coin's residence, Jenkins had been leaving and coming repeatedly, all without notice. It was similar to when he would visit the young author in his hotel room. "Though, I'd hate to miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." "You mean it would be the perfect opportunity for me to humiliate you?" "Maybe I should just go for it. What do you think?" "Why?" "Everyone around me seems to want me to." "Don't be silly now." "Well, what about you?" "..." What made the decision difficult was the fact that Juho felt ambivalent toward it. Part of him wanted to appear on TV with Coin while another part of him didn't, which meant that he had reason to both decline and accept. "There shouldn't be anything within the fine print, right?" Juho asked. "It'd be too easy otherwise, don't you think? If you're not feeling certain, then try to negotiate something with the producer." "Are you gonna do it, though?" "Are you?" Their conversation wasn't going anywhere. Then, as Juho remained quiet, Coin made a suggestion out of nowhere, "Maybe we should let coincidence guide us." "You mean me?" Juho said, looking up at him. Then, Coin reached into his pocket and took a coin out. At which point, Juho immediately understood what he was going to do. "That's making the coin do all the work." "Call it." "Tails." After deciding on tails being that they would appear on TV together and heads being that they would decline, Coin nodded, pulled out his hand, and started counting down. "Three." Squatting, Juho looked up at his hand. "Two." Coin placed the coin on top of his thumb. At which point, Juho swallowed nervously, wondering what it would mean if the coin fell and got stuck in a groove somewhere. 'Would it be the direction it was tilting at that point?' "One." As Coin flicked his thumb, the coin shot up into the air, spinning quickly. As the sunlight reflected off of it, Juho covered his eyes. Then, upon hearing a dull sound, Juho moved his hand away from his eyes and saw that Coin was sitting on the ground. The numbers became visible on the coin. "Tails," Juho said, locking eyes with Coin. "Damn it." Just like that, the decision was made between Coin and Yun Woo. --- 'Yun Woo and Coin Reported to Appear in an American TV Interview Together.' 'It's Official! Yun Woo and Coin Said to Appear Together on TV. Taping Schedule Set. "We're Looking Forward to Working with Them."' 'Renowned American TV Show Live Streaming on the Internet. Yun Woo and Coin Said to Appear Together. Fans Fired Up with Excitement. Taping Said to Start on the Eighteenth.' 'Yun Woo's Agency Speaks on the Author's Decision to Appear on TV. 'His First Public Appearance since the End of His Service in the Military.'' 'Coin and Yun Woo's Appearance Draws Massive Attention. What Will They Talk About?' 'The Web Responds to Yun Woo and Coin's Appearance on a TV Interview. How and When to Watch the Interview.' 'Coin and Yun Woo Said to be Interviewed by a Renowned TV Host. Fans in America Getting Fired Up! Who Were Some of the Guests in the Past? Pictures Included.' 'Yun Woo, the Heartbreaker of the Broadcasting Industry? Why Did Choose to Appear on American TV?' 'The Award Ceremony Approaches. Will a Miracle Happen Again? What Would Yun Woo Say?' 'The Eccentric Problem Child of the Literary World Reported to Appear on TV with Another Author. The Head-Scratching Friendship between Yun Woo and Coin.' 'One Hundred Million Copies Sold Combined? The Two World-Class Authors Join Forces. How Did the Producer Bring the Two Most Elusive Authors in the World Together? A Closer Look.' 'How did Yun Woo and Coin Come to Decide to Appear on TV Together?' "The day has finally come!" "Isn't this their first time appearing on TV together?" "Man, I remember when Yun Woo first revealed his voice! Coin had called him out of nowhere. My heart skipped a beat back then! Yun Woo was essentially forced to reveal his voice!" "I still don't get how those two could be friends." "I heard a story about the book fair in Germany. They must know each other." "I've seen them talking about each other, but never as guests on a TV show, let alone together." "Yun Woo's staying at Coin's place as far as I know." "This makes me think that Yun Woo has been heavily influenced by English literature. There are times I feel like I'm reading classic literature when I'm reading his books." "I heard he read a lot of Korean literature too." "I think he was just influenced by a lot of different people." "I feel like he would have grown up reading Yun Seo Baek, Wol Kang or Hyun Do Lim. Maybe he's from a different generation? He's actually close to Yun Seo Baek and Hyun Do Lim, isn't it?" "Yun Woo reminds me of Wol Kang. Granted, Yun Woo is much younger. People used to call Wol Kang a genius back in the day too." "Hope this interview goes on air soon! I'm sure there's going to be a translation at some point." "Considering how many blogs out there are about Yun Woo, I don't think it'll take long at all." "I don't know if I can trust Coin. Hope he doesn't cross the line somehow." "I have a feeling that he'll cause some sort of trouble too." "Aren't they playing mind games with each other right now? Heard they're nominated for a literary award in the same category. It's by vote too, so you can usually tell from the preliminary results. Most people seem to think that Coin and Yun Woo will be the final nominees." "There's still some time, though. You never know. There might be another author who's better than Coin OR Yun Woo. Maybe they might even break Yun Woo's record." "I heard there's this Chinese author who's looking really promising? Apparently, that market started expanding like crazy a few years back." "I don't think Yun Woo's 'youngest' title will be broken anytime soon." "I doubt he'll be able to beat Coin, though. He might be a jerkwad, but he sweeps every major literary award there is." "Personally, I hope Yun Woo wins." "People seem to really like Coin's new book too, and I honestly agree with them." "Isn't Yun Woo technically the challenger, though? Coin's already won a number of literary awards, every single one of which is recognized worldwide. As far as science fiction awards, he's won EIGHT so far." "That's because he's been around longer. I don't think that's a fair comparison." "I wonder if anything's changed now? Eh, I don't know." "What we should be mindful of here is that Yun Woo isn't just another author. I was in awe when I read the sequel. I don't know if it's because I've been following him since he was a teenager, but that book definitely felt like it had been written by an adult." "He wrote that book during his two-year military service. I think he definitely has a shot at winning." "I have a feeling that Yun Woo will win." "But he's up against Coin, though." "I vote Yun Woo." "Same here." "I vote Coin. I still remember Yun Woo's translation of his book." "Dang, that's true." "Rooting for you, Yun Woo!" "Wonder what they make of the situation themselves." --- "PLEASE, don't do anything out of line." As the car rocked up and down, Juho sat up in his seat. "Mr. Woo's here too, so don't you make any unnecessary comments. You know how sharp these people on staff can be, right? Remember how they got you last time? Even the thought of that article makes me grit my teeth." "I heard you." "As in, I don't want any phone calls complaining about you." "All right." "Don't get all ticked off just because there's no coffee around." "I brought my own." "Make sure not to say anything bad about other authors." "I didn't say anything false." "Don't pick fights with critics either." "I'll take responsibility. Don't you worry." "I worry about how your books do whenever we get written accusations against you." "I won against 'em all. What's there to worry about?" "That's not what we're talking about, you know." Meanwhile, Juho let out a small yawn. Isabella and Coin had been arguing for quite some time now. "You're not nervous at all, are you, Mr. Woo?" Nabi asked, and Juho nodded affirmatively. "You have a heart of steel," she said, smiling confidently as though she already knew the young author wasn't fazed. "Call it an inclination," Juho said, thinking of Nam Kyung, with whom he had talked to on the phone the night before. Despite being back in Korea, the editor had made all kinds of a fuss. "Make sure to watch what you say." "What is there to watch?" "Stay calm and don't get too excited just because you have Coin next to you." "It's not like we just met." "If they keep asking you a question you can't answer, don't give in, even if they keep pestering you." "I won't." Despite having watched the young author be interviewed a number of times already, Nam Kyung had sounded like he was anxious. He had to be expecting the worst: the young author's mistake leading to the downfall of his career and putting Zelkova's reputation at stake. "Though, part of me does feel kind of nervous today," Juho told Nabi, glancing over at Coin, who gestured as if to poke his eyes out. At which point, Nabi chuckled awkwardly. Coin looked quite annoyed. Then, as the car stopped at a red light, Isabella said while looking toward Juho, "I was surprised. I was certain that you'd turn me down." Nabi nodded in agreement. Although Juho understood where they were coming from, Juho had had little choice in the matter. "I didn't think I'd get tails either." "I was at loss for words when I heard that you and Coin decided to appear on TV after a game of heads or tails," Isabella said, bringing her hand up to her forehead as if imagining the possibility of the coin showing heads: "I guess we're not doing this after all," Yun Woo says. To which, Coin replies, "Yep. It seems that way." It would have been quite the disappointing result. After thinking of the producer, who had reached out to her with all sorts of accomodations in order to interview the two authors, Isabella gave up. Seeing as though her expression was getting darker and darker, Juho quickly changed the subject. "So, I was told that there was going to be a mini-game after the interview?" The show was known to play a brief mini-game, which tended to change depending on the guest, after interviews. It was to accommodate the viewers. "What kind of questions should I be expecting?" Juho asked. The game he had been told to expect ahead of time had been a quiz. Although competing against Coin, there was no risk of the game getting overly competitive. On top of that, it was simple and had a promising result. "People in mass media love to pull pranks on other people." "It couldn't be harder than the title of each other's books or the year they came out, right?" Coin asked nonchalantly, picking his ear. "That puts me at a disadvantage." "How?" "Well, think about the number of books you've published." "Pff. Come on. How strict would they really be?" Coin asked, still sounding uninterested. "Well, you said you were up for it, so I'm gonna give it my best. Don't get mad at me later for losing." "Oh?! You wanna bet?" "What do you get if you win?" "You get ready to walk around Manhattan… buck naked." "If YOU lose…!" As things started to get heated, Isabella interjected and said, "Before we get to that, I'd appreciate it if you both focused on the interview." "Yes, ma'am," Juho replied. Meanwhile, Coin turned toward the window and looked out. Their destination appeared in the distance.

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Are they really coming?" Having gotten her admission ticket, Amanda simply couldn't hold back her excitement, which made her ask her friend the same question repeatedly on their way to the broadcasting station. Were Kelley Coin and Yun Woo really coming to the set? Would she really get to see the taping? "That's right," Chris replied, also struggling to hold back a smile, much like all other audience members. His heart had been thumping even on the subway ride to the station. Having met online, Chris and Amanda would get together for concerts and various stage presentations at least once bimonthly. Upon discovering that they spoke similar languages and shared similar hobbies, they bonded quickly, and Chris harbored feelings for Amanda. "You don't think Coin will storm out in the middle, do you?" "Maybe. Honestly, though, I think it's worth seeing it at least once." "No! That means the taping will stop!" "Well, what can we do? Nothing's free in life," Chris said, putting his hands in his pocket. Then, elbowing him on the side, Amanda said, "What do you think Yun Woo will be like? Exemplary? Mature? Innocent?" "Whatever he'll be, he'll be anything but boring. That's for sure. At least, he was in the magazine, anyway. I wonder what he'll be like in real life, though." "Do you think he's nervous? He's never been on TV in the States, and it's his first TV appearance in a long time. On top of that, he'll have Coin by his side." "It is remarkable, I'll tell you that much," Chris said. Although he initially wondered what it would be like to be in Yun Woo's position, that didn't last long as he was struck by a suffocating fear of being away in another country. "It's a scary thought, really," she said. At which point, Chris felt somewhat validated by her. "I don't think it'd bother me at all," Chris said proudly and confidently for no apparent reason. However, looking indifferent, Amanda said, "You know what? I just can't picture Yun Woo getting nervous. I'd love to see it one of these days though." "We'll find out soon enough," Chris replied, coughing awkwardly. "I'm gonna scream from the top of my lungs as soon as they come out. What if we make eye contact?" "Well, there go your virgin eyes." "I'm so anxious to meet Coin and Yun Woo!" Since he was also looking forward to the occasion, Chris agreed with her silently, enjoying the fact that they were sharing that excitement together. --- The audience erupted into cheers. Juho couldn't remember the last time he had heard it. Perhaps, that was why he was so caught off guard. Meanwhile, looking impatiently at Juho, Coin walked ahead. Following him, Juho recognized the green sofa on the set, which he had only seen on TV. "This is crazy." The audience was shouting from the top of their lungs as the two authors appeared on set. Then, the host, who had been preparing for the taping, walked toward them, pretending to be taken aback by the explosive cheers. "People love you guys!" the host said to them. Of course, his voice was being buried by the thunderous applause from the audience. A man with well-defined facial features, there was no awkwardness between him and the two authors since they had met prior to the taping. "This is normal," Coin said arrogantly. The host smiled naturally, but there was something about his smile that gave off an exaggerated feel. "I'm sure it is," Juho said. To which, Coin replied, "I'll make it a goal of mine to expose that mundane life of yours." "Mundane? I worked hard to get here." "Looking forward to it, you two," the host said. Looking intently at the young author, who was talking to Coin, the audience was anxious to know what the three were talking about. "Ready?" Juho turned his head and looked toward the person to whom the voice belonged. It was the host, who had been hosting the show for over a decade. Juho recalled having seen him on TV, hosting a film festival. "Good to go." "You don't seem nervous, Mr. Woo." "It's not like I'm alone." At that, the host narrowed his eyes and looked toward Coin, who was standing next to Juho. Coin's presence wasn't exactly the most comforting. "What are you looking at?" "Oh, nothing. I'm just really looking forward to this interview." "Is that so? I'm bored out of my mind already." "C'mon, Kelley. You have Mr. Woo here by your side." "It's not like he can make the cameras in front of me disappear." "No. There would be even more cameras around with Mr. Woo on set. In fact, that's exactly what happened." Juho listened to the quick exchange of words between Coin and the host, both of whom remained unfazed, as if they were talking casually. As time drew closer to the taping, the host looked toward the young author and said, "We should be starting soon. Break a leg." "Likewise." Then, the host started the show off with opening remarks in an adjacent set, and the audience responded enthusiastically. Meanwhile, sitting with his legs crossed, Coin looked toward the audience in a manner contrary to his usually defiant attitude. The host had to have known that Coin would still follow through despite his noncompliant demeanor, which explained how he was able to joke around with the author earlier. Picking up his mug, Juho drank the liquid that was in it. The lukewarm water going down his throat reminded him of how dry the set felt. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have two incredible guests joining us tonight!" At that moment, the band started playing out of nowhere, and the lights started flashing. As the host walked over to the set where the two authors were sitting, the atmosphere changed to something that resembled a show. Then, when Juho and Coin appeared within the camera's frame, the audience erupted into an even louder cheers. When the host covered his ears as if overwhelmed by the volume of audience's shouts, the cheers started to die down. "Kelley Coin and Yun Woo! The dynamic duo of the literary world! It's a real pleasure to have you both!" the host said, staying true to the script. "Believe it or not, I'm actually a big fan of detective novels. So, I'll make sure to find out everything there is to know between you two." "Good luck," Coin said with narrowed lips. Then, the host looked toward the young author and said, "Welcome, Mr. Woo. Thank you so much for joining us tonight. I have so many things I wanna ask that it's not even funny." The audience responded. They would pipe down whenever the host signaled for them, but they also expressed their excitement to their hearts' content when allowed. Looking toward his fans, who welcomed him, Juho smiled and said, "I'm privileged to be here with Coin as well." The host moved on to asking questions without hesitation: how the two came to hear about and meet each other, their pictures, their respective homes, Juho's spontaneous phone interview, Juho sending Coin to the award ceremonies on his behalf, etc. Coin remained well behaved up to that point. While answering the questions, Juho was reminded of how the public looked at him. "So, you didn't experience anything unusual during childhood?" "No. It was just as ordinary as the next person," Juho replied. The host nodded a few times, asking, "Who's Kelley Coin to you?" "He's a good colleague." "Speaking of which, why don't we talk about your relationship?" the host asked, looking at Coin, who crossed his legs in another direction and said, "I don't find it necessary to make such a big deal out of a casual relationship." "When you say casual relationship, do you mean that your friendship with Yun Woo needs no description?" "Now, where did you hear that nonsense?" Coin said calmly. At which point, the audience laughed at the funny look that appeared on the host's face. "OK, honestly, I find it really surprising that you two are still friends. You guys are just the opposite of each other in terms of personality and writing styles." Then, pointing toward Coin, the host said, "I consider myself a veteran, but whenever Coin comes out, I always make a reservation to a Thai massage parlor the day before we start shooting. I just get so tense, you know? It's so bad that my neck looks like this." The host pulled his shoulders up, looking like a turtle. Then, he asked the young author, "Aren't you scared of him?" Meanwhile, Coin sat quietly as the host remained within the line which the producer and the author had agreed to prior to shooting. Looking toward Coin, Juho said, "If I were, I wouldn't have thought twice about being here. Coin is actually pretty rational, so I don't really feel like I'm facing a hungry lion or anything like that." "Have you two ever gotten into a fist fight?" "I've known him since I was a teenager. He might be rough around the edges, but he would never go as far as swinging his fist at a minor," Juho said, shaking his head. At which point, the host smiled as if he had been joking and looked at Coin cautiously, yet playfully. "Then, what's he like as an author? People tend to compare themselves to other people in the same field. OK, you know what? Let's stay on the positive side for now. What are your favorite books written by each other?" At that, a mysterious smile appeared on Juho's face. Meanwhile, Coin looked up into the air and rubbed his temple. Of course, being the seasoned show host that he was, the host didn't miss the stark contrast in their reactions. "Why don't we start with Mr. Woo?" the host asked, glancing at his script. It being a question that he had previously been asked, Juho replied willingly, "I'm a fan of Coin's debut title." "Out of all of his books? So, you're referring to 'Witch Hunt,' right?" the host said, his eyes widened. Coin had written roughly forty full-length novels and two hundred short stories. 'Witch Hunt' was considered Coin's worst book and was often mentioned by people when mocking the author. Looking and talking about the book, people frequently comforted themselves, reminding themselves that even Kelley Coin had to start somewhere before reaching the position he was in currently. "Are you telling the truth, Mr. Woo?" "I'm dead serious," Juho replied. Unlike the popular perception, 'Witch Hunt' was Juho's favorite book written by Coin to that day. "Did you hear that, Kelley?" the host asked, looking toward Coin and genuinely observing his expression that time. It was an unspoken rule to never bring up 'Witch Hunt' in front of Coin. Considering that the book was often associated with his assault charge, it was a rather sensitive matter. Even interviewers tended to avoid mentioning that book at all costs. Yet, Yun Woo had broken that rule with great nonchalance in front of the cameras. 'He's done it!' the host thought to himself, clenching his hand into a fist in secret while sensing imminent success. "Haven't heard of that book in a while," Coin said indifferently. At which point, Juho chuckled and said, "It's the story of a liar who makes up stories about Santa Claus and a grand journey. The protagonist understands how harmful words can be, so he does everything he can to avoid hurting others verbally. Personally, I thought it was interesting that people were hurling insults at that book." In Juho's eyes, 'Witch Hunt' was a success. "Prick." "So, it seems to me that you two have already talked about this before?" the host asked, interjecting. Looking at his vivid eyes, Juho nodded and replied, "Yes. We went to a bookstore together while he was visiting Korea. That's when it came up." "Well, I'm happy to see that you're still alive." "I was lucky." Then, the host took the opportunity to ask Coin, "Then, what's your favorite Yun Woo book, Kelley?" Coin wasn't smiling when Juho locked eyes with him. He simply looked back at the young author, almost as if glaring. Juho waited for his answer patiently, but Coin seemed to already have an answer in mind. "Well, anything?" the host asked, and Juho clasped his hands together anxiously. "Don't waste my time asking questions like that."

Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl "Don't waste my time asking questions like that," Coin said emphatically and with dazzling confidence. The host hesitated at the author's blatant refusal to answer the question. Then, a couple of audience members beat the host to it, yelling, "C'mon!" "Tell us!" a lady shouted from the audience. After which, a man who appeared to be her friend covered her mouth in a hurry. Although the host calmed them down with a smile, Coin remained completely unfazed. "Nobody can force me to answer a question. This is not a court." At that, Juho covered his mouth, resisting a chuckle. Although it was unfortunate that he wouldn't find out which one of his books Coin liked the most, Coin was also staying true to himself in the way he had answered. "I don't have a favorite. He still has a ways to go until I can even consider which one of his books I like the most." "Is it because you like them all? Is that why you're having trouble deciding?" "I never said that." While the host was looking at Coin, trying to think of an angle from which to approach him, Coin said added, "But..." "But?" "... Since we're talking about our debut titles, I do have something to say in that regard." "What would that be?" Juho asked, puzzled. "Whether people love it or hate it, authors tend to have certain elements that they carry from the very beginning of their writing careers. It doesn't matter what they do to cover it up. They're bound to show somehow. For example, I've written about lies a number of times, and it shows up in other stories that are about completely different things because it has found a way to infuse itself in other areas in my writing. But 'Trace of a Bird' is… How should I put it? It's unique." "What do you mean by that?" the host interjected. At which point, Coin looked at him as though he was asking an obvious question. "You people rave about it all the time. Split personality this and that." People were referring to the different writing styles Juho possessed. However, Coin had noticed the difference long before everyone else. After some contemplation, an irritated look appeared on Coin's face. "Does that mean you have questions for Yun Woo? From one author to another?" "Not necessarily." "Then what?" "Why don't we move on?" To Juho, 'Trace of a Bird' was the connecting piece between his past and present. Whether when he had been homeless in the past or after remaining an author in the present, the book had kept its place. Juho looked at Coin, who was growing increasingly irritable. Soon, the interview moved on to another subject. "Frankly, I can't really remember what things were like before Yun Woo anymore. That's how big of a presence he is in the literary world. You two are known for being prolific writers, but you, Mr. Woo, just came back from a two-year hiatus." "That's true." "I heard you kept writing even after you were discharged from the military?" "Yes, I did," Juho said. "And I also heard that you were planning the sequel for quite some time?" "I wouldn't go as far as calling it planning, but I did have a vague image in mind." "So, this was probably about six years ago." "Yes. I didn't actually start writing until I got to Germany." "You mean at the bookfair, right? Kelley was on the stage back then." "What happened back then was completely unexpected." "You signed a contract with Zara Jenkins, right? I remember jumping up and down when I found out that 'Language of God' was getting made into a movie. As far as I'm aware, you were pretty firm about not doing another film adaptation. What made you want to work with Zara Jenkins?" At that, Juho answered according to the script. As the audience listened to him intently and with interest, the screen on the set showed the host dressed like one of the characters from the movie. "So, I heard that the three of you got together at one point? As in Kelley, you, and Zara?" the host asked Coin, who proceeded to share a few things that had occurred while they had been in Germany. "When Yun Woo was about to fly back to Korea, I ended up having to send him off somehow. At the same time, there was Jenkins, who was hungover like no other, throwing up left and right. Probably, at least six times on our way to the airport." "Do you think you could tell us more about that? Did you all drink together?" "No, he drank on his own. I didn't wanna throw up in the plane. If I were to let everyone in on a secret, Mr. Jenkins has a peculiar drinking habit of wanting to squeeze himself into tight spaces when drunk. Of course, that day wasn't any different, and he seemed to be really fond of the restroom that day. I remember being exhausted from trying to pull him out of there all day." Then, the host dug deeper into their time in Germany, from pubs to restaurants, bookstores, libraries, museums, and other tourist attractions. When the conversation started to feel like it was dragging on, the host asked, "So, Kelley, how was it spending two years of your life without Yun Woo?" To which, Coin replied without hesitation, "It was very good." "Did it give you some room to breathe?" "The world was my oyster back then, but that isn't to say that his absence affected my life in any way. Yun Woo didn't have any impact on my life." "But there had to be some… OK, I hear you. You wrote a book back then that did really well. I believe it was nonfiction? How did that make you feel, Mr. Woo? Did Coin's success make you anxious at all?" After some contemplation, Juho replied, "A little bit, but he was in a completely different situation from mine, and I wasn't exactly slacking off either. I did like that there were a lot of books around to read." "Great! Now, let's change things up a little, shall we?" the host said with a satisfied look on his face. Then, with a silly look on his face, he shoved himself under the desk and pulled out a box. "In here, we have different topics that have been chosen by our amazing audience. But, I have to warn you, you might end up with something that makes you uncomfortable. Say, first love." Then, looking toward Juho, the host asked, "Do you have a girlfriend at the moment, Mr. Woo?" "No, I don't." "Why not? I'm sure there are plenty of ladies out there who want to date you. So, do you think you can let us in your private life a little bit?" At that, Juho groaned and shook his head, saying, "I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm pretty sure that it'll look nothing like the picture you have in mind." "How are they different?" As Juho zipped his mouth, the host asked no further. Nabi was standing behind the cameras with her arms crossed and an intimidating look on her face. "All right. Not a problem. But, should you come across a paper that asks about your private life, there won't be a way out," the host said, handing the box over to Coin, who reached into it indifferently and pulled out a piece of paper. Upon checking what was written on it, an ambiguous look appeared on the host's face. "OK. Back to the basics. I can appreciate that," he said, flipping the paper around, which read: 'The reason why you were born.' For the first time since the taping had started, Juho agreed with the host. The audience applauded as if jeering the question. "You go first," Coin told Juho. Although he needed more time to think about the question, Juho was left with no choice. In the end, sighing, Juho replied, "I don't know. What do you think? To write?" Coin sneered at Juho thinking out loud. Since Juho had already expected him to behave that way, he didn't take it personally. "Well, what about you, Kelley? What do you think?" "Sperm fuses with ovum, leading to fertilization, which then proceeds to grow into a fetus. Birth of a human being." "Wow! I thought I was in science class for a minute there!" the host said as if encouraging the author. Knowing that Yun Woo was the only person who wasn't intimidated by Coin, the host wanted to expose the nature of their relationship to the fans. The two authors were on equal footing, which meant that they would be able to hold a discussion on an even level. "What about making up for my past mistakes?" Juho said. "That's not even funny." "What makes you say that, Mr. Woo?" Although Coin had an arrogant look about him, he still seemed to take interest in the young author's answer to some extent. "What? We're bringing past lives into this, now? Making up for mistakes? That's what idiots do." "Do I sound like one?" "Yeah, you do. Humans go their entire lives doing nothing but making mistakes. As for myself, I'm the prime example of that. My entire life is defined by mistakes. Yet, to say that you were born again just so you could try to make up for that? That's absurd." "Hm," Juho let out. After some contemplation, Juho approached the subject from another angle, "OK. How about this? Not repeating the mistakes I made in the past." Coin pouted his lips as if Juho's answer had improved only slightly. "You can do that without being born again." "... Sure, assuming that you stay alive," Juho said, adding after looking around at all the cameras, "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I shouldn't be the one to take my own life." After the bizarre conclusion, Coin looked at the host, who asked quickly, "What makes you say that?" "You know, I just don't like this subject. The reason why I was born? Why would anybody wanna know that?" Coin said. "Why wouldn't they? Doesn't everybody think about that at some point? Mostly when their hormones are raging during their teenage years," the host replied. "I thought it was an interesting subject," Juho added. "Right!?" "But I also get where Coin's coming from," Juho said, and the host looked toward him. Sitting up on his seat, Juho added, "We're not objects, after all." "I'm sorry, what?" "As in, we're not born with set values," Juho said, picking up his cup from the table. "Like this cup. It's made to be used a certain way. But, that's not so with humans. It's not that simple for us." One's search for the significance of their birth could also mean that they were searching for their purpose in life. It was similar to looking for warnings or the ingredient labels of products. "When we're lost and confused in life, we all wish that we were born to do one certain thing, like this cup. For example: when we're deciding on a career path. We also have the ability to adapt to different situations. Say I'm thirsty, but I don't have a cup on me. In that moment, I would drink out of my hands like I would out of a cup." However, at the end of the day, a cup could never be human, not by any circumstance. "Actually, Coin talked about something similar in one of his novels," Juho said. That had been why he had expected Coin to sneer at him. "What do you know?" Coin said in his usual tone of voice. "Or not." If Juho had been wrong, Coin wouldn't have bothered to wait for him until he had finished talking. Meanwhile, the host made it so that the two talked to each other more candidly. "Are there things that you guys don't like about each other? Like just now, when you guys didn't see eye to eye. Why don't we start with you, Mr. Woo?" Juho put his brain to work. Meanwhile, Coin glared fiercely at him. Then, just as the the silence was about to get uncomfortable, Juho said, "You need to stop breaking your cups." "Cups?" Coin and the host asked simultaneously. "You see, Coin has a habit of breaking his mugs on a regular basis. I really wish he'd be more careful. I feel really bad for all the mugs that get replaced. Whenever I'm at his house, I always see pieces of what used be mugs." "Hmph," Coin let out, looking at Juho as though it was none of his concern. "Anything else? Do tell more! You're surrounded by cameras, so you're safe. Besides, it's not every day you get to do this." "Honestly, we low-key trash talk each other on a regular basis. Though, I'm having a hard time thinking of an example now that I'm actually trying." "What about you, Kelley?" "I can't stand his very existence." The host smacked his lips. However, he still had cards left to play, and they were bound to incite the two guests. "So, my understanding is that you were both nominated for the Nebula Award." At the mention of the award, which Juho had been expecting, he sat up on the sofa. "And you two have a special connection to that award ceremony. I remember when Coin received the awards on Mr. Woo's behalf. Are you planning on attending the ceremony yourself this year, Mr. Woo?" "Yes, I am," Juho replied. He wasn't going to send somebody to the ceremony to represent him. "Which means you two will be sitting next to each other at the ceremony," the host said, looking delighted. "First, I'd like to ask Kelley: What's it like to have such a young rival? Do you get pressured by it?" Then, Coin opened his mouth and said…

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The Great Storyteller The Great Storyteller - 임한백 - Ongoing 200 To 385

The Great Storyteller

The Great Storyteller
The Great Storyteller - 임한백 - Ongoing 200 To 385