Novelist Running Through Time - Chapter 133



Only Krnovel

EP 5 – Love Story

Booker International Prize.

Booker International Prize.

Although it is one of the world’s three largest literary awards, it honors not only authors but also translators.

That is why, for translator Yohei Iwamoto, the Booker International Prize was no stranger to him.

In fact, it is one of the highest honors a translator can have.

So, not long ago, Yohei Iwamoto’s life seemed to be reaching its peak.

He won a fierce battle within the publishing company and translated the writings of author Eisaku Shidehara, and his translation was recognized and even nominated for the Booker International Prize.

What if, really what if.

If the winner of the main prize is confirmed and he truly wins the Booker International Prize, the next decades for translator Yohei Iwamoto will be literally paved with a golden road.

However, the situation going on is unusual.

The cause is definitely those guys.

‘These damn Koreans…!’

When news came that a man who was considered a writer or something had dared to be nominated along with Eisaku Shidehara,

Before becoming a translator, Yohei Iwamoto had contributed to the ‘Literature Out’ project conducted by the head office as an editor.

That doesn’t make sense.

A genius writer in his early teens?

Of course, this is not a manipulation or exaggerated marketing.

Even the fame that writers have is only an illusion created by the short-lived popularity of a low-quality anti-Japanese commercial film called ‘Communist Hunt.’

That was the industry consensus.

So, I gave them a few signs to help them understand the topic, and what was so evil was that the Koreans dragged reporters from their home countries and turned the Booker Prize venue into a Dottegi market.

Now I understand this incomprehensible and vicious behavior.

‘Chaebol?’

In the end, it was the money of high-ranking people. As the tycoon heiress wanted to gain fame as a translator, she was desecrating sacred literature with camera shutter sounds and OTT fluff.

How on earth did literature fall so low?

Eisaku Shidehara, a great writer who left his mark on the history of Japanese literature for decades solely with his writing,

Is it right for a teenage boy who rose to fame through fabricated fame and a noblewoman from a chaebol family who has nothing to boast about other than her lineage to be placed in the same boat?

The British guys who put these guys on the first round of Booker Prize nominations just to get some attention are equally pathetic.

With such resentment in mind, Yohei Iwamoto glared at the writer and Snow White who were being interviewed in the seat next to him with a smiling face.

(If you are Japanese, you will understand what this expression is like)

It was in the midst of a Q&A with readers. There were heated questions from the audience as to why it was so popular.

Baekseol translated the question in English and the writer answered, and Baekseol translated the writer’s answer and spoke.

– I went to the United States to learn about the daily lives of Brooklyn citizens in the 20th century. But it has completely changed since then. So, I researched approximately 40 films depicting 20th century Brooklyn, USA. It’s not a grand analysis, but I prepared a checklist in a hotel room with my friends, skipping along the way, and took excerpts from here and there and included them in the novel. Although it was research for a novel, it was also a very enjoyable memory for me personally.

– Thank you for answer. “Is it okay if I ask you a question about the composition of the novel?”

– of course.

– The beautiful love story that blossomed at the end of Part 1 was tragically destroyed as soon as Part 2 began…

– ah.

– Did you have to do that to feel refreshed?

– yes?

– Even though you had to take it all, did you feel relieved?

Even as Q&A with readers continued, Yohei Iwamoto was unable to concentrate on the event.

This is because the sight of the two people, the writer and Baek Sul, who seemed determined to take away his Booker International Prize, was so disgusting that he could not bear it.

– Okay, let’s move on to the next question. Is there anyone who would like to ask a question?

At one point, Yohei Iwamoto realized that everyone at the event was looking at him.

I was shocked and quickly adjusted my clothes and adjusted my posture, but I couldn’t understand the reason for this gaze. Did I fail to manage my facial expressions when looking at the writer and Baek Seol?

Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. What everyone at the event was looking at was not the translator, Yohei Iwamoto.

Sitting next to him was writer Iesaku Shidehara.

“May I ask a question?”

Eisaku Shidehara was raising one hand.

* * *

They are people who have a very high interest in literature, to the extent of participating in the Booker Prize ceremony.

Of course, we are aware of the conflict between the Korean and Japanese candidates who were shortlisted for the first round of the Booker Prize.

Therefore, the moment Eisaku Shidehara raised his hand to ask a question to the writer, the venue was filled with noise.

If this had been in the East, there would have been an intense silence, but it was because some of the sly people who foresaw a diss war made noises such as ‘Ohh-‘.

– Oh, yes! Of course! Please speak!

“Then I will refrain from asking.”

“···!”

Baekseol thoughtlessly answered in English, but was surprised to realize that Shidehara was quite fluent in Korean.

Although his pronunciation was a bit slow and slightly garbled, his pronunciation was fluent enough to maintain formality even in public settings. It means it doesn’t sound funny.

Suddenly, a question and answer exchanged in Korean had to be translated into English for the audience to hear, but Baekseol had other worries ahead of him.

As long as the question and answer is exchanged in Korean, the writer will answer directly without Baek Seol’s involvement…

“……”

‘The snout of hell’.

Suddenly, another nickname for a writer floating around the Internet came to mind: Baekseol.

What if Shidehara mentions that the writer’s writing was cut out in Japan? What if you criticize communist hunting for being too anti-Japanese? What if you offend that fearsome scoundrel with other aggressive remarks?

Baek Seol could not have predicted what kind of disaster would happen.

As Baekseol watched anxiously, Shidehara asked.

“I would like to ask you about your motivation for writing a love story…”

Phew. Baekseol felt relieved and stroked his chest.

Fortunately, it seems to be a story about writing.

“…After all, you are my parents, right?”

‘···!!!’

While Baek Seol is shocked, the writer calmly nods his head.

“yes. “They are my parents.”

‘···!!!’

Snow White, who was looking at Shidehara in astonishment, quickly turned her head and looked at the writer.

The conversation between the two proceeded in a context that was, at first glance, incomprehensible.

It started with Shidehara asking a meaningful question.

“Parents… that’s what comes to mind. “Isn’t there something that writer Moon would like to ask me?”

“yes?”

“About books.”

Afterwards, Shidehara looked at the writer in silence. Baek Seol wondered why that person was acting like this, but the writer opened his mouth as if something had occurred to him.

“···ah! “Is the message of ‘Harvest and Corruption’ perhaps also directed at author Shidehara’s father?”

“That’s right. So in a way. “I think we both wrote for the same audience.”

Shidehara smiled happily as if he had guessed the correct answer. Baekseol looked around and watched the conversation between the writer and Shidehara. It seemed like there was a thread between the two that Baek Seol couldn’t see.

“It’s a shameful story, but when I was young, I made a name for myself by disparaging my father’s literature. But funny enough, as I got older, I realized that he had his own struggles as well. But the pain my mother and I suffered was too great for us to understand and forgive Him. I could never understand the literature of my father, who gave up everything and turned his back on this world for literature. The thought that came from that was, is it possible for me to understand my father? Going further, if one person cannot understand another, is it possible for one person to inherit everything from another?”

“…Can specialness be inherited?”

“That’s right. identity. By asking those questions, I went through the process of acknowledging and accepting the identity my father had. That way, I could sort out the pain in my heart before I die. “Isn’t it a bit funny that I, who had denied personal stories my whole life, would write about personal topics?”

The sight of the two authors having a conversation during the Booker International Prize reading was a valuable scene.

Especially if a war was going on between the two people.

Numerous eyes and cameras focused on the two people, but the two people looked at each other, not the camera.

“The only thing that concerns me and the question I have is this. I saw the hatred of literary writers in ‘Communist Hunt’ and Rado-Purge. At first glance, it could be misunderstood as Koreans’ hatred toward Japan, but as writer Moon himself said in a mass communication, I read it as writer Moon’s hatred toward his parents.”

“······”

“Isn’t it the same with love stories?”

A sharp gaze and the final test of ‘Are you truly the person who wrote this?’ were aimed at the writer.

Eisaku Shidehara fired a relentless question like a dagger.

“There are two perspectives on love. The first is a chemical reaction, and the second is the sanctity of human beings. And ‘Love Story’ started with the first and ended with the second. It was the love of parents for their children.

So, didn’t the literary writer write a ‘love story’ to criticize those who abandoned sacred and unchanging love, the eternal love in the heart of the giver?”

It took a lot of time and effort for the Japanese translator to translate Eisaku Shidehara’s questions into English and inform the audience.

Even as it went into deep content, Baekseol noticed that the meaning of the question was not properly conveyed to the audience due to a mistake made by the translator.

But to the writer, that didn’t seem important. What is important to this boy is his literature. So the answer came out immediately, without the slightest hesitation.

“no.”

Baekseol translated. No.

“I will admit what I have to admit. Hunting Reds is a post filled with hatred. It was a book that was nothing short of an insult to my parents who abandoned me. Everything was destroyed because of you. The conflict and division of the older generation colored the world in which the younger generation would live in with hatred. People should love others as parents love their children, but the world has become dark and terrible because of people who break this. “It is true that this novel was written with that in mind.”

But the writer realized.

That he was no different from them.

Just like my parents abandoned me, I also abandoned Yuna.

This world is too cruel for one person to love another.

“······But love is difficult. “Just like my parents abandoned me, I abandoned someone and hurt them just as much.”

Here, the writer’s literature asked. So should you give up on love?

“Does that mean I have to give up on love? no. Love must continue. Even if you fail in love once, you must constantly seek and long for love. Love can continue as long as you don’t give up on it. I’m not talking about dating or sex. Only by continuing to keep the desire to love others can a person preserve his or her humanity. That is why I believe that love is both a chemical reaction and the essence of humanity.”

Even while Baekseol was trying to convey this answer to the audience in the most appropriate language, Shidehara was looking at the writer with a meaningful smile.

And the reporters Baek Sul brought in from Korea and the people behind the cameras they were holding.

The writer spoke to them.

“I don’t want my parents to suffer forever for abandoning me. I just pray that someday we will find love again, remarry, have new children, and not repeat the mistakes of the past. And even if you make mistakes and fail again, I just hope that you will not lose the love in your heart and will continue to love and move forward. “My parents and everyone who reads this book.”

The writer put down the microphone with an expression that seemed confused at first glance, but at the same time seemed relieved.

Baekseol’s simultaneous interpretation ended the moment the writer put the microphone down on the desk.

yet.

― !!!

A burst of applause filled the building.

In a building designed to direct the speaker’s voice toward the audience, the audience’s applause and whistles were directed toward the stage.

The power of language is weak. However, the power of the message created in that language can reach the hearts of people on the other side of the world.

At this moment, something invisible, a soft power more powerful than anything else, was at work, moving the hearts of the audience and readers.

“···?”

A boy looking at the audience applauding him with puzzled eyes.

Eisaku Shidehara smiled happily as he looked at the boy, and did nothing but add a little to the endless applause pouring in on the boy.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, there was a bald man who was applauding as he watched this scene. His name was Lim Yang-wook, with tears in his eyes in front of the TV.

He pledged to attach an ‘Author’s Note’ section containing the motivation for writing revealed at this event to ‘Love Story – Booker Prize Nominated Edition’, which will be published soon.

And somewhere in the Baekhak Group headquarters, there was a middle-aged man plotting a sinister plan while looking at the neatly dressed Baekseol. He is Baek Seol’s uncle.

The chief manager of an online bookstore with an office on the 23rd floor of a high-rise building in LA decided that the writer’s work should be promoted in a more visible place.

In a corner room on the second floor of Gu Hak-jun’s home, Gu Yu-bin, who was lying face down on the bed and watching the writer with wide eyes, covered herself with a blanket, mocking herself for her inferiority complex.

Unlike her older sister, Gu Yuna, who was in the next room, couldn’t take her eyes off the writer amidst the applause and cheers with bright eyes.

In this way, the series of events surrounding the Booker Prize influenced the thoughts of many people.

However, there were also those who were influenced not by their thoughts but by their lives.

Writer Shidehara and the writer get along well and are eliminated in the first round, and the writer is shocked and widens his eyes at the fact that his future has changed.

Someone entered a quiet bookstore.

“Excuse me…!”

It was late in the evening, right before the bookstore closed, and it was the busiest time as people were leaving.

“Hey, it’s not closed yet, right?”

The clerk couldn’t tell who the customer was.

They were wearing hoods, covering their faces with masks and sunglasses, and their voices were almost whispering, making it impossible to tell their gender.

What a strange person,

The clerk nodded, thinking.

“Yes, it’s not closed yet.”

“thank you! thank you···”

I wondered if I should be thanked for not closing the bookstore, but the customer ran into the bookstore in a huff as if his life depended on it.

Such a bizarre customer is bound to attract the attention of the clerk.

The clerk watched until the end as the customer wearing a mask looked around like a guilty person, then carefully picked up a book.

#1 bestseller, ‘Love Story’ with a pink cover.

The customer turned the first page with trembling hands.

I’ve already seen this book.

– I believed that eternal love does not exist.

– Until I met that person.

The novel began with a story about love.

An abandoned Asian boy who was adopted by the United States.

The child does not believe in love.

– Why did you help me?

– Then, are you still sitting still while someone is being beaten?

Love came to that boy.

– I don’t have a diamond ring to give you. I have no money, no home, and my skin is yellow. But I can give you one promise: I swear I will risk my all and love only you forever.

– That’s enough. you.

That love is blooming.

– How on earth can someone do that! How can a person do that!

– Shut up, you piece of trash!

– We’re done now. get out of my house

That love is lost.

– That woman, no, my ex-wife, no, no, no!

-Father, please calm down…

– Don’t lie, please! My wife is dead?

It was finally crushed.

However, there are people who do not give up on love.

There is someone who is troubled by the remnants of crushed love until the end.

– ah.

– There were things that did not change.

He finally finds love.

– It was inside me.

The love that never changes is the love that is given, not the love that is received.

Only your own love can be eternal, not the love of others.

That brilliantly shining love, the love that parents give their children.

A love that shines so brightly.

It was a terrible curse to the person who abandoned that love.

The curse was truly harsh.

When the ‘guest’ read this book for the first time, he couldn’t hold back the nausea rising inside him and ran to the bathroom.

Literally speaking, it means that the soul cannot overcome the weight of sin, and medically speaking, it means that the brain is shaking and the internal organs are twisted due to extreme stress.

But this time, a new sentence was written beyond the last page.

Those are the ‘author’s words’.

– This paragraph is intended to summarize the writing intention, which became a hot topic after being discussed at the Booker International reading of the shortlisted work, without leaving any room for misunderstanding, and is also a message to the two people who motivated the writing of this work.

The guest read the author’s words slowly, as if reading a letter addressed to him.

– There was a woman who took care of me when I was young. She was wearing her school uniform, she gave me a bottle, and she smiled when I made a joke. I thought of her as her mother. However, she was Bang Jeong-ah, a volunteer who later became a daycare teacher at Saebit Heaven Orphanage. I’m sorry, Teacher Bang Jeong-ah, but the moment I realized that fact, I felt that my life was starting to turn into a complete mess.

– Being born without parents is not a conceptual problem such as losing one’s right to birth. It’s closer to the problem of being criticized at school for not having a mother or father. It could be said that I learned hatred by suffering from violence, poverty, and contempt that came from being ‘born without a mother.’ Hatred towards my parents.

– Instead of hating the kids who surrounded me and assaulted me, I hated my parents. Whenever I was discriminated against because I didn’t have parents, I hated my parents, not the person who discriminated against me. Whenever I couldn’t live the life I wanted because I didn’t have money, I hated my parents.

– The instigator of all my suffering was my parents, and they were my biggest sinners. However, if we look at the sin, it is so simple and clear that it is empty. It is the sin of failing in love.

– But it is really difficult for a person to love another person.

– My parents fell in love with each other at a very young age, mistakenly assuming that their love would last forever, and failing to love the wrinkly newborn that emerged from their fight.

– In the past, I couldn’t forgive this. Because I thought that parental love was extremely sacred and natural. I think a little differently now. Nothing a person does can always be perfect, and the same goes for love. You may fail.

– I was no exception. They failed in love and hurt someone just as much as they did. Only after causing irreparable harm to the person I love the most do I understand how they feel. Love is such a difficult thing.

– Recently, I met my parents again. They were ordinary people. They were ordinary people who were neither good nor evil, but were so foolish that they regretted their past.

– We failed to love each other there, hurt each other again, and broke up. This is a novel that I started writing immediately after that incident.

– So, I included in this book what I couldn’t say back then.

– I hope you don’t give up on love. I hope one day to remarry, find a new partner, have children, and love them.

– Even if I fail, I hope to pick up that love again and continue to love. I will do the same. So I’m looking for my love, and you’re looking for your love.

– Perhaps that is our most dignified farewell.

– Now, as always with this type of writing, I will try to name a few people for whom I am grateful. I am grateful to editors Yangwook Lim and Baekseol who edited, translated, and published this book, treating it as their own writing. I would also like to thank my friend Gu Yuna and her sisters for their help with the research. I would like to say thank you to the members of Saebit Elephant Orphanage, as well as seniors Kim Byeol and Min, who supported me every time I faced a difficult time while writing.

– Lastly, I don’t feel like it, but with a strange feeling, I would also like to say thank you to my parents who brought me into this world (even though things happened, anyway).

– Concluding a love story.

– with love.

– Moon In-seop.

* * *

The clerk looked at the clock on his phone for a moment and decided that he should leave work just 30 minutes late today.

It may be time for the bookstore to close, but the clerk is also a person who loves books.

For those who sit down and cry bitterly after reading a book, there is an understanding spirit that will wait for a while.

Isn’t there a magical moment when one book changes one’s life, as if it were fate, for all book lovers?

Side EP – Automaton Murder Case

The Booker International longlist candidate reading session has ended.

The limousine carrying Eisaku Shidehara and his entourage, returning to the hotel, made its way carefully through the rainy city of London.

“……”

“……”

The silence in the car is thick. The afterglow of the tragedy that occurred at the reading was that bitter.

The Korean translator who was dismissed as worthless was actually a chaebol, and the writer who was thought to be a fabricated rising star was a genius boy.

Of course, an experienced Japanese member of society knows well how to deal with situations like this. The situation was reorganized in a silent atmosphere.

1. Peace-loving Japanese people never cause trouble to anyone.

2, However, some collaborators (such as translator Yohei Iwamoto), who were drunk on fame, started a pointless argument against Joseon, or rather, Koreans, and a conflict arose.

3. Koreans, who have a personality that cannot control their anger, were very angry and rushed at Japan, but the peace-loving Japanese responded calmly and coolly and tolerated the insult.

4. This is partly the fault of the Koreans who attack without hesitation, but it is only the reckless behavior of some bandits (such as translator Yohei Iwamoto) who encouraged this meaningless dispute.

5. Therefore, Yohei Iwamoto can take responsibility and commit seppuku.

Perfect!

Japanese people whose way of thinking did not naturally extend to this point were eliminated through natural selection, so it was natural for the entourage to implicitly point to Yohei Iwamoto as the person in charge.

It was carried out not through words, but through eye contact. Everyone in the entourage points out a scapegoat, and Yohei Iwamoto prepares to ship out after returning home.

Eisaku Shidehara, who was leaning against the window and watching the rain fall in London, opened his mouth.

“A young writer called Moonin… I thought it was clearly a product created by the mass media.”

“···!”

“Hehe, I really feel like I was tricked. “Isn’t everyone like that?”

Everyone in the entourage hurriedly bowed and cheered. The reputation of a great writer who left a great mark on Japanese literary history is something that can amaze everyone. (It’s definitely not because Shidehara is a friend of the publishing group’s chairman and his adopted daughter is married to the chairman’s third son.)

“you’re right!”

“I was also very surprised!”

“How could we have known, even deceiving writer Shidehara’s insight?”

Yohei Iwamoto was exonerated due to Shidehara’s mild comment. Likewise, Japanese people who could not understand this were eliminated through natural selection.

‘A true hero…!’

While Yohei Iwamoto was feeling sincere gratitude as he touched the inside pocket where he had put his resignation letter, Shidehara continued speaking.

“So… I thought I wanted to read the writings of a literary writer. Although he is young, he is a writer with insight and knows how to write on his own.”

“···!!!”

“Well… as we were talking, a thought suddenly occurred to me.”

After saying that, Shidehara smiled leisurely and turned his gaze back to the window.

Everyone in the entourage quickly rolled their eyes and interpreted what he had just said, looking at the old man admiring the rainy city of London.

Of course, Japanese people who cannot interpret what I just said are subject to natural selection – (omitted below)

therefore.

Soon after, Japanese publishers again decided to import books by literary figures.

In fact, Shidehara and Munin were the same long-list candidates, but Shidehara was clearly a strong candidate for the award, and Munin was seen as a pacemaker who would not make it to the short list, which was the reason for the Japanese publisher’s relatively lenient behavior.

Of course, if I had known that both Shidehara and Munin would be eliminated in the first round, I would have thought a little more about it.

Side EP – Automaton Murder Case

The future has changed.

This year’s Booker International Prize goes to Eisaku Shidehara’s ‘Harvest and Corruption’.

It is certainly.

Even though I’m confused about the stocks that will win this year, I’m never confused about the winners of the Booker International.

Even if you refresh the Booker Foundation website, the list remains the same.

Shidehara Eisaku’s name is not on the shortlist of 4 people.

This fact means one thing.

“oh my god···”

The future has changed.

No, has history changed? Has the past changed? I don’t know. Somehow, what wasn’t supposed to happen didn’t happen. My actions changed cause and effect.

I am familiar with the concept of the ‘butterfly effect’. That’s because it appears in several novels. The theory is that the flapping of a butterfly’s wings can cause a storm on the other side of the world.

If that theory goes, Eisaku Shidehara’s failure to win the Booker International Prize could lead to a global economic crisis and the destruction of the planet due to the end of the dollar’s hegemony!

what···

In fact, even if we let the Earth perish, there are some parts that I just can’t understand.

No, how can even the artistic insight of the judges of the literary award, which is said to be one of the top three in the world, go back and forth like this?

Is it really true that there is no objective and measurable perspective on art?

Is there no way to determine what is better art?

So, is there any way to know if what I wrote is good?

Should I be trapped in the vast maze of ‘immeasurable art’, forever producing books that cannot be distinguished as good or bad, and wandering around relying on uncertain inner evaluations?

iced coffee!

afraid!

I’m afraid of the aesthetic uncertainty of not being able to tell whether what I’ve written is good or bad! What kind of writing is good writing? What kind of art is good art? Who can answer this question if not even the Booker Prize can answer it!

I was caught up in such cosmic horror that I clutched my blanket and shivered.

* * *

“I guess it’s a big shock…”

Baek Seol looked at the writer with concern.

There’s no way I wouldn’t be worried as I’m twisting my body in a bizarre position and muttering something in front of the Booker Prize shortlist announcement screen.

“I didn’t know I was going to fall…”

This is a result that anyone who is familiar with the field like Lim Yang-wook can roughly guess.

The Booker Prize has such authority at a global level that political circumstances must also be taken into consideration.

You can’t give points to art anyway.

In the works of novelists who have reached their peak, the winner is decided by a single point.

In such a situation, there is no reason to select one of the works that has emerged as a political dispute between Korea and Japan as the winner.

That was an act of completely turning one country into an enemy.

Of course, ‘So what are you going to do?’ France’s Goncourt, armed with a level of pride, could do such a crazy thing.

And, if the Nobel Prize for Literature is completely influenced by the Swedish government’s political judgment, it may give one side depending on the diplomatic situation.

However, the Booker Prize, which is run by a private foundation and receives reader votes, has no choice but to take a conservative stance to avoid conflict as much as possible.

That’s the world of adults…!

Yangwook Lim placed his hand on the head of the boy who was frustrated (no) after hitting the wall of reality.

“Don’t cry… If you give up, the moment is the end of the game.”

However, instead of saying, ‘Manager Lim… I want to ride the Booker Prize…’, Moon-in slapped the hand on his head like a sensitive adolescent boy.

The writer suddenly stood up from his seat with an expression that seemed to have darkened somewhere.

“Ah… I understand now. Booker Prize level…”

“What…!”

The writer (who was rolling around on the floor during the nomination) got up hurriedly and disappeared somewhere in Baekhak Entertainment, like someone who wanted to die because the Booker Prize was so trivial.

Director So Tae-woong, who was waiting for Moon-in in the hallway, watched Moon-in reject for the third time his request to attend the ‘Communist Hunt’ after-party, and Lim Yang-wook and Baek-seol spoke with concern.

“You need to get over the shock quickly…”

“What should I do… I guess my expectations were really high…”

* * *

As the new semester of the new school year begins, a new air comes into the classroom. That is the law of youth.

You meet a new class, a new teacher, new friends, you naturally get to know each other and form new groups, sometimes you fall into love fever, you unexpectedly join a new club and build lifelong memories, and you pick a new bully. It is also said to be ijime.

However, that does not happen in the Department of Creative Writing at Baekhak Arts Middle School. Since there is only one class anyway, he gets promoted as is, so he is that guy.

Seeing this situation, a vicious teacher like Park Chang-woon could give a special lecture for about 3 hours and 30 minutes on the topic, “I gathered young children who wanted to study literature in Korea, but they ended up not being able to fill even one half of the books, so this is what the Korean literary world looks like these days.” That’s about it.

Actually, it happens like that every year. The figure of 3 hours and 30 minutes is not a guess but an empirical figure.

But this year was different.

The new semester for the second year students at Baekhak Arts Middle School was filled with a fresh air.

It is not because the faces of the children in the class have changed, nor because the teacher has changed.

This is because the status of one student has changed.

“There is no god except the man of letters, and Gu Yuna is his apostle. There is no god except the man of letters, and Gu Yuna is his apostle…”

“Baekhak Arts Middle School’s literary and creative arts department is the best literary and singing department in Korea, and this can be scientifically proven!”

“iced coffee. “He is a writer who can be compared to a ‘literary person,’ so it must be ‘Eisaku Shidehara,’ right?”

If last year’s writer was coffee, this year’s writer is TOP.

Last year’s writer was a rising star whose doubts did not disappear, but

This year’s writer is a self-proclaimed genius boy who has won the ‘Booker International Prize for Fiction – Long List Nomination’…

The trickle-down effect of ‘him’ is proven by the competition rate with Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Munchang soaring through the clouds.

The only people who know this joy are the students who originally attended Baekhak Arts Middle School, and those who one day found a subway station and a large shopping complex in front of their houses.

Therefore, the students of Munchang treated writers as if they were ‘a subway station and a large shopping complex that arrived in front of their houses one day.’

It means that just looking at it makes you smile.

“hi! Inseop! “Did you go to school well today?”

The female student at the top of the school caste, the leader of a group of the most sociable and friendly girls in the class, smiled brightly and welcomed the writer who entered the class in a Korean language tone.

Her friends, who are in charge of her Left Blue Dragon and Right Baekho, would laugh and say, ‘You’re being so pretentious, so please stop!’ or they themselves would say in a Korean language book tone, ‘Hello! Inseop! ‘Do you know my name?’ she said, greeting the writer in a friendly way.

However, the writer had never had a conversation like this in his entire life, and he had an underlying condition that caused him to naturally lower his gaze and bend his back when he saw a group of girls in school uniforms, so he awkwardly nodded his head in silence and returned to his seat to sit down.

While the female students were laughing at the writer, the boy who was the best boy in the class sat down at the writer’s desk.

A middle school boy who appeared to have a six-pack spoke to the writer with an awkward but refreshing smile.

“Well… congratulations!”

“Uh… huh? uh···”

Likewise, the writer, who has an underlying condition that causes him to automatically wrap himself in a blanket and take a defensive stance when he sees male students who seem to like soccer, responded awkwardly, but the male student expressed his sincere congratulations to the literary student with whom he had no previous acquaintance.

“I watched the Booker Prize broadcast this time. “I don’t know if it’s okay to say that, but it was cool.”

“Uh… thank you.”

“My mother really liked it too? She originally really hated the idea of ​​me going to a literary school to study literature. But when I told you I was in the same class as you, their eyes changed and they started pushing me to become friends, right? Wow… he likes you more than me? “In fact, her mother is a poet.”

As the student leading the group of male students sat down on the writer’s desk and started talking, other students following him also flocked to him, flirting.

As a result, the writer was surrounded by male students and mixed in with the conversation. To be precise, the male students surrounding the writer who was saying ‘Uh… Yes… Uh…’ were talking as usual.

“Oh right. “Has anyone seen the communist hunt?”

“Wow, I saw the English version of the poster and it was fucking awesome. Resistance – Red Purge? “Why don’t you press this?”

“Is Wenchang gone crazy? what? Does King Sejong look like a dick?”

“okay. “I’ll just use kanji.”

“Kanji, but isn’t it Japanese?”

“Ah, Cheval, then don’t use foreign words.”

“Noona Kim Byeol was pretty…”

“It’s a miscast. “It’s a serious scene, but all you see is your face.”

“Isn’t that because you guys are crazy about actress faces and not because of your work?”

“Stop fact violence!”

“stop!”

“Oh right. There is senior Kim Byeol in Inseop’s club. Are you close by any chance?”

“Didn’t we also appear on a variety show last time?”

“Uh…yeah…”

For a writer to blend in naturally with male peers was more difficult than being nominated for the Booker International Prize.

The person who rescued the writer who was being terrorized by male students of the same age was an unexpected person.

“hey. “Literature.”

Pink hair.

A dancer’s unique street gait.

Earrings worn at school with permission.

Idol-like appearance (Jin).

Min Hyo-chan, the main rapper of ‘Rapid Boys’ who has everything, appeared in Moonchang and the second grade classroom.

Min Hyo-chan’s aura instantly took over Munchang and the classroom.

Students have senses that adults do not understand. That is the sense of distinguishing the ‘hierarchy’ of school and caste. Children without it are naturally eliminated.

(It feels similar to how children cannot distinguish the nuances of the phrase ‘So-and-so is nice~’ used among adults.)

This synesthetic radar made Moon Chang and the children close their eyes in front of Min Hyo-chan.

That’s right, Moonchang and the kids are basically introverts.

That is the limitation of the liberal arts department.

If you throw the most friendly and sociable child from the literary arts department between the children from the practical dance department, he will quickly become wrinkled like a freshwater fish thrown into sea water.

If a child who knows how to dance confidently on stage appears in front of children whose basic hobby is reading, they will inevitably be pushed out…

Min Hyo-chan even dyed her hair pink and wore earrings.

When Min Hyo-chan walks with a rash street sensibility and raises one hand and says this, Moon Chang and the kids have no choice but to run away.

“Uh, sorry guys. “I’ll talk to him.”

Min Hyo-chan walked over to the empty seat of the students who had been swept away like fallen leaves in the wind and took a seat.

“hey. Inseop Moon. “Look into my eyes.”

Moon In-seop looked into Min Hyo-chan’s eyes.

Then Min Hyo-chan covered his school uniform name tag.

“You say my name.”

“min···”

The writer answered.

“Min… Min Min…”

“······”

“min······”

A writer who had been thinking for a long time.

Carefully spit out the next letter.

“white···?”

Wrong.

“Hyo-chan! You bastard! Hyo-chan!”

“Gyaaagh!”

Min Hyo-chan grabbed the writer by the collar. A sudden violence strikes the writer.

“What did you write in the review of this bastard’s work as Senior Min?”

“Now, I don’t remember for a moment…”

“Then ask me!”

Min Hyo-chan shouted with the force of spitting fire from his mouth. Of course, I haven’t let go of the writer’s collar yet.

While Moon Chang and the children were whispering at the shocking scene of school violence, the anger of someone whose name was not remembered poured out.

“you! “Why do you always remember Senior Kim Byeol’s name, but forget my own name?”

“Kim Sunvan’s name is one letter…”

“Don’t be damned!”

As it seemed that Min Hyo-chan’s anger would not cool down easily, Gu Yu-na, the cold-hearted military leader of Moon Chang-gwa and a ‘blood demon’ whose madness was comparable to that of ‘him’ Park Chang-woon, stepped forward.

The merciless pinch twisted Min Hyo-chan’s side.

“Aaaah!”

To Min Hyo-chan, who stumbled while holding his side, Gu Yuna gave a cruel notice.

Gu Yuna’s finger points towards the classroom door.

“get out.”

“you···! “What is this to you?”

Min Hyo-chan protested until the end, talking about the strict discipline of Baekhak Yejung, but for those who walk the path of apostolic evil, the rules of political factions are just children’s play.

The moment the merciless pinching in his hand exploded once more, Min Hyo-chan could not bear the bloody martial arts attack and ended up running away.

Even today, with blood on her hands, Gu Yuna naturally sat down next to the writer.

Moonin’s original partner, as always, sneaked over to Gu Yuna’s seat.

“······”

Gu Yuna is silent and stares at the writer.

Most children would look away, saying that a strange kid was doing strange things, but the writer, who had already become a little crazy after 10 years of gaslighting, responded calmly.

“Uh, why, what’s going on?”

“······”

“hungry? cold? What are you curious about? I want to go home? Are you sick?”

Gu Yuna shook her head.

If you were wondering, ‘What should I do?’ here, you lack consideration for Gu Yuna.

Because the writer was very considerate, he noticed that Gu Yuna had brought him a matter that was difficult to discuss.

“Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

That’s correct. Gu Yuna nods.

Gu Yuna finally opened her mouth.

“Teach me how to write.”

“okay.”

“Then let’s go to a hundred games together this weekend.”

“It’s good.”

For the writer, going to the Baekiljang with Gu Yuna is like everyday life. So there was no hesitation in the answer.

However, Gu Yuna’s first request with courage was easily accepted, and the corners of her mouth rose slightly.

“What? “Go back to your seat.”

When Park Chang-woon, who entered the classroom, hit Gu Yu-na on the head with a sword, Gu Yu-na quickly got up and returned to her seat.

Meanwhile, the corners of her mouth are turning up ever so slightly.

The poor child who was taking Gu Yu-na’s seat also noticed Gu Yu-na’s notice and returned to the seat next to Moon In-seop.

Park Chang-woon attracts attention by banging on the lectern with his Danso.

“Ego! From the Son of Man on, let’s support each other! Today is also a fun review time!”

And just like that, daily life begins again.

However, after listening to the conversation between Munin and Gu Yuna from beginning to end, the students sitting behind them could not believe what had just happened.

The two students who were staring at each other glance at each other and whisper.

“Hey… did you hear?”

“······uh.”

“No way…”

like that.

A catastrophe occurred when a writer nominated for the Booker International Prize had to attend a national youth contest.

Side EP – Automaton Murder Case

Spring days pass and summer comes.

The season was approaching when the blue color of the high sky seemed darker than the white color of the warm cumulus clouds.

The sky seen from the bus window feels particularly blue today.

I’m not sure if it’s because I saw the gloomy sky over London or because I was in a good mood.

Gu Yuna, who was sitting next to me on the bus, poked her head in and asked me.

“What are you looking at?”

“sky.”

Gu Yuna’s eyes, which were looking at me, slowly turn to the sky.

Gu Yuna, who had been looking at the sky through the bus window for a while, suddenly expressed her feelings.

“It’s clear.”

Soon, the bus speeds down the highway with a heavy engine sound. Under the blue sky, the lush mountainside passed by like the wind.

Summer was approaching.

Side EP – Automata Murder Case

It would have been nice if everyone could see art as art and enjoy it, but people are only satisfied with art if they put a number on it.

This bad habit applies to both the public and artists. There is a nolbu mentality that wants to ignore all the public and only the best art, and artists have a bad temper that only gets out of hand when they suppress other artists’ art.

So, in the art world, a type of PvP mode exists everywhere.

And while there are competitions for musicians, there are contests for writers.

Although we live in an era where the meaning of literary awards, contests, and essay writing is becoming blurred because these words are used so often, the meaning of essay writing is becoming blurred.

The entire event of writing in the given tense and competing to see whose writing is best is called a contest.

This is a custom of scholars that has existed since the Joseon Dynasty, and can be said to be a kind of impromptu freestyle writing battle.

Just as in the Joseon Dynasty, people were appointed to government positions based on their writing skills, in Korea too, if you win a lot of awards for your writing skills, you can go to a good school.

So, parents who were rich enough to win awards used to create competitions for their children and give them prizes. Eventually, schools consulted and found competitions sponsored by famous literary magazines or competitions with a long history and public trust, and created a novel called . A list was selected.

Anyway, past and present, that damn entrance exam is a problem.

So prospective novelists who want to go to a good art school become itinerant fighters who travel around the country according to the schedule of .

That was me.

And I think I did pretty well.

That’s because a guy who went to a regular high school would always fight and win against kids from arts and elementary schools.

Looking back, that was the source of my self-esteem.

What can I say, I’m a badass punching bag at school, but I’m a mysterious reclusive master who is polite at the daily exam and makes even the kids at the arts high school tremble with fear?!

-I used to feel this kind of dark, simple happiness. It’s a bit funny, but humans are creatures that slowly die if they don’t feel that kind of happiness.

I even met my best friend for the rest of my (short) life while going around the Baekiljang, so I can’t say that the Hakiljang event has a small stake in my life.

“You look in a good mood.”

Gu Yuna, who was sitting next to me on the bus, noticed my mood. When she looks at his face, she smiles. It was the first time she and I, who we used to meet at the daily contest, went to the daily contest together.

However, the sadness of this second life was that I could not honestly reveal my true feelings.

So I went around like this.

“I’m in a good mood because it’s the first time I’ve been to a festival in a long time.”

Gu Yuna tilts her head.

“Did you go to Baekiljang often?”

“huh.”

“how much?”

“I went around a lot. Please select my article as first place. Please view my writing favorably… I wrote a lot with this feeling.”

“you?”

“I wasn’t a good writer from the beginning. The more I write, the better I become at writing, so I wrote a lot. And I think this is the case for you too.”

“Hmm… thank you.”

‘How dare you judge me?’ Seeing that the words ‘thank you’ are being said instead of the same reaction make me think that Gu Yuna was really gentle when she was young.

As I was handing over a cookie to the wonderful Guy Yuna, the teacher at the front of the bus (Park Chang-woon’s minion) looked at us and announced.

“Guys! Arriving soon! “Pack your bags!”

Among Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Munchang and other children, only those who were kind enough to respond to the teacher’s words responded.

“yes-”

Since I was a rotten adult who did not have a good and pure heart enough to answer in detail what the teacher said to an unspecified number of people, I watched the faces of Munchang and the children at Baekhakje Middle School in silence.

I was really surprised.

At Baekhak Arts Middle School, the teacher checks the schedule for the and gathers the children on the weekend and takes them by bus to the contest venue.

I even felt that it was unfair to me, who had checked dozens of Baekiljang Steering Committee sites one by one, jotted down the schedule on the calendar, and saved money for transportation to teacher Bang Jeong-ah to get to the Baekiljang event venue.

Back in my day, I never dreamed of being able to get to the top 100 so easily…

Even if there is a hundred days held in Chungcheong Province like today, that day is hell. There were many instances where I had to take an express bus from the terminal to a local area, transfer to a village bus there, and then walk a long distance to the event venue.

As I grumbled inwardly, the children got off the bus one after another. Gu Yuna grabbed my hand.

“come out.”

“Just a little…”

“hurry.”

The moment I went down the stairs of the bus, the bright mountain air, not the air conditioner, brushed my forehead and blew my bangs.

You can see the entrance to the gym in the outskirts of the city located at the foot of the mountain, a banner announcing the opening of the Baekiljang competition, and people huddled together in the park next to it.

And the subtle gaze of parents cheering on their children with anxious feelings and the children keeping each other in check with very nervous eyes.

The moment that familiar feeling approached, I realized that I had arrived at the Baekiljang.

* * *

Round eyes.

White eyes and black pupils.

An unknown child is looking at me with wide eyes.