Novelist Running Through Time

TL: KSD

In the dimly lit room, the desk lamp was the only source of light. The atmosphere was like a thatched house in the dead of night, with just one oil lamp lit.

Lim Yang-wook enjoyed reading in this kind of atmosphere.

Like putting blinders on racehorses to keep them from looking to the side, he could erase the world with darkness and focus solely on his book.

This was a tip given to him by his old college friend, now deceased. That friend had taught him nothing but bad habits like drinking and smoking.

However, recently his vision had gotten worse, and he couldn’t do this often. To the point where he had to wear low-prescription glasses just to read.

But since reading was more important than his eyesight, Lim Yang-wook would turn off all the lights when reading truly important books,

and of course, that included Moon In’s books.

“It’s bittersweet….”

The aftertaste of the writing was not pleasant.

Is it right to eternally cling to fragments of a loved one in someone who is not the person you love anymore?

Of course, society praises those who care for long-term patients, erecting memorial arches for their moral virtues, but that can’t be considered a happy life.

It could be a path more difficult and painful than death.

“Maybe it would have been cleaner to just kill the protagonist….”

Lim Yang-wook couldn’t see Moon In’s happy ending as a compromise. Someone who fears backlash about their novel’s ending wouldn’t live like that.

Moon In was strangely unafraid of society’s waves, pressures, or reputation. It wasn’t that he was ignorant of these things because he was immature. He just had the guts.

So even the popular happy endings that went against pure literary grammar were his intentions….

‘Strange….’

Sometimes Moon In would be stubborn like this.

It felt as if there was a literary answer in Moon In’s mind.

Something more important than the completeness of the story….

“Agh.”

If at that moment a status window had appeared in front of Lim Yang-wook showing Moon In’s stats, with the word ‘regressor’ written on it, Lim Yang-wook might have grasped the clue to the mystery.

But such a miracle was not allowed.

It would be too much for an editor, who was exiled, came back with a cheat-novelist, and is enjoying his second life at Baekhak Publishing, to also gain a status window.

It would make PD Park Young-tae, who cries out for a status window every day, shed tears of blood.

Thus, Lim Yang-wook gave up on understanding Moon In’s literary world in detail and simply passed it off as him being a genius.

He didn’t pay much attention to Gu Yu-na, who was listed as a co-author of ‘Isomer’. It’s common sense in the literary world for a master to help build a student’s career. Anyone who denies this is a heretic.

In any case, Moon In was already a genius to the extent of nurturing a disciple.

It had become ‘common sense’ beyond needing ‘proof’.

This was evident in ‘Isomer.’

Considering he produced such high-quality writing stably every few months, Moon In had already reached a certain level.

“Ha….”

However, literary achievement and book sales do not correlate. If they did, literature would have already dominated the global cultural industry.

The sales of ‘Isomer’ did not meet the expected level of success expected by the Publishing Management Department.

Moon In’s popularity was gradually waning.

Side EP–Party

If popularity were to be expressed in temperature, nine times out of ten, people would say ‘hot’. There’s no saying like cold enthusiasm.

Therefore, popularity was like temperature, and naturally, it gradually cooled over time.

It was not strange that Moon In’s popularity was cooling.

It was rather surprising that his popularity had only risen in the years since his debut. After all, who wouldn’t be excited about a genius novelist boy who came out of an orphanage?

But even Moon In’s popularity couldn’t avoid a decline, not because there was a controversy that he was speaking without any manners.

(People actually kind of liked that about him.)

The public was simply tired of the character of ‘Moon In.’

They had seen him often in variety shows, and the setting of the unfortunate genius novelist boy was becoming too familiar to feel fresh.

It just happened that way.

There was no real reason for it.

It was the natural course of things.

Kim Byul had a hard time accepting this fact and suffered for ten years, but Moon In actually felt more comfortable as the annoying things decreased.

However, Lim Yang-wook felt a greater sense of crisis about this phenomenon than anyone else, because it was actually the time when Moon In’s popularity was most needed.

The reason flashed through Lim Yang-wook’s mind.

It was the voice of Baek Do-hyun, the uncle of Baek Seol, and the CEO.

「Make my niece the CEO.」

Currently, the Publishing Management Department was moving solely to achieve this goal.

And to do that, they needed a very large performance, which in a company translates to money.

That’s right.

What could make Baek Seol the president of Baekhak Publishing was not Moon In’s literary achievements.

It was money.

Lim Yang-wook needed to make a lot of money.

In the midst of this, as Moon In’s popularity was starting to decline, Lim Yang-wook felt like his blood was drying up.

Of course, there were still many ways to make money from Moon In. Moon In was more than just a walking golden piggy bank.

Initially, the group of ‘the public’ who were enthusiastic about Moon In but now were a bit lukewarm had almost never bought Moon In’s books!

It’s just that there were so many of these ‘almost none’ book buyers that their absence was painful, but Moon In still had countless fandoms.

They were people who had been reading books from the beginning, were very interested in the future of Korean literature, and were ready to open their wallets just at the mention of ‘Moon’ from ‘Moon In’.

Baekhak Publishing was drooling over such people.

Moon In’s ‘commercial value’ was not limited to the publishing industry.

Usually, after selling books, novelists make money through lectures, but Moon In had never gone around giving lectures due to his young age.

So if Moon In were to be released into the lecture market, he would quickly rake in money, even if he faced some criticism for a young person teaching others.

Is that all? No, Moon In had dozens of CF offers, numerous variety show appearances requests, and even if they held a signing event or sold Moon In figures, it would work.

In fact, there had been numerous money-making plans proposed within the company, including the idea of selling books with Moon In’s autograph and photo cards at premium prices.

But would Moon In agree to that?

No sane person would suggest such things to Moon In.

Therefore, Lim Yang-wook took on the role of the brake to stop the ideas of some of Baekhak Publishing’s crazy folks, rather than pushing for such insane ideas.

It wasn’t because he was the living conscience of Baekhak Publishing, but because he knew they wouldn’t work.

Thus, Lim Yang-wook was left with only one choice!

To venture into a place where they could rake in money with books!

“…….”

That day, Lim Yang-wook quietly lowered the Taegukgi fluttering in his heart. (TL: The South Korean flag is called Taegukgi or Taegeukgi.)

And he raised the Star-Spangled Banner.

It was towards the end of autumn.

* * *

While Baek Seol, the ultra-genius Booker International nominated Department head of Baekhak Publishing Management Department, was screaming ‘Kyaaaaak-‘ in agony over the sudden avalanche of English translation work thrown at her.

Moon In was enjoying nature despite being caught off guard by the suddenly cold weather.

“Hoo… Hoo….”

He cooled the mix coffee in his hands with his breath. The coffee, now at a suitable temperature, slid down his throat, providing a pleasant warmth.

The weather had suddenly become one that required such warmth.

There is a joke that global warming has changed Korea’s seasons from ‘spring, summer, fall, winter’ to ‘summer, winter, summer, winter.’

This year, it didn’t feel like a mere joke. Autumn had truly passed in a flash.

By the time ‘Isomer’ was polished and ready for publication, winter was already at the doorstep.

Naturally, the autumn leaves had fallen as soon as they had turned colors.

This year, it really felt like he hadn’t seen the autumn leaves at all.

Suddenly, he thought that the autumn leaves were like springtime of youth.

Not the springtime of the seasons, but the springtime of human life.

Now, the sight of fresh-faced teenagers in school uniforms experiencing emotions and creating sparkling memories was exceedingly rare.

Because the ‘winter of college entrance exams’ had come too early.

The values recommended to students were no longer growth and love, but competition and victory.

As a world where it’s difficult to live ordinarily even if you work hard enough to die has arrived, the wise and wealthy began educating their children from as early as possible.

It’s not something that weak individuals can judge as right or wrong, it’s just the way the world has become.

Just like how winter has come early.

Most people who lacked the power to change the world had no choice but to adapt to such changes.

But wouldn’t it be okay to miss the old things that disappeared as the world changed?

A song came to mind, so he tried humming it.

“I hope that, to you – I will become a perfect piece of memory like a sunset –” (TL: this song –> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOIH9_RCzVk&list=RDeOIH9_RCzVk&start_radio=1&rv=SZkkZLSCv44)

“Oh, this bastard is singing.”

“Ah.”

In the New Light Spring Orphanage, ‘singing’ was on par with going to the bathroom to take a dump in elementary school.

It wasn’t particularly bad, but it was a subject of teasing.

And since these customs took precedence over the actual laws, the ruthless orphanage kids quickly swarmed around me like piranhas, biting and mocking.

“Hey! Moon In-seop is singing! Bring the microphone!”

“What? The genius who defies even the gods of literature is singing?”

“Teacher Bang Jeong-ah! Moon In-seop is singing!”

“What’s with the voice….”

It’s like in a zombie movie where you walk through sleeping zombies and your phone suddenly rings, turning it into a hellish game of tag.

It was the same when caught humming a song in New Light Spring Orphanage.

I threw the blanket I was wrapped in over my head and fled swiftly like a flying squirrel.

The protectors of faith in New Light Spring Orphanage, who didn’t permit any heretical songs other than hymns, chased after me,

Of course, it wasn’t because they were genuinely devout. There were just a lot of brainless people in the orphanage who would run whenever someone started a game of tag, regardless of who was chasing or being chased.

Thus, I inadvertently started being chased.

Maybe because I hadn’t been back to the orphanage in a while, I made a mistake and headed towards the new building’s study room. As I turned the corner, a disaster struck.

“Oh, shit….”

The new building’s study room was naturally the best study room in New Light Spring Orphanage.

Therefore, it was assigned to the high school seniors.

And now it was one month before the college entrance exams.

“Which bastard is running in the hallway?!”

Delinquents with the faces of demons and evil spirits burst out of the study room.

While the kids caught running in the hallway froze in fear, I, unlike the naïve minors, handled the situation maturely.

I ran away faster than the kids next to me.

Calmly apologizing is something only childish kids do.

Only the strong survive in New Light Spring Orphanage.

Speed is power.

Even a liberal arts student knows that.

* * *

Fish-shaped buns don’t contain fish.

Melon bread doesn’t contain melon.

Similarly, you wouldn’t expect delinquents to emerge from a study room.

But why did the delinquents come out of the study room?

One might wonder about this, but anyone familiar with the dynamics of New Light Spring Orphanage knows the answer.

When orphanage kids graduate from high school, they are thrown into society. For children who know nothing of the world beyond the orphanage and school, this is almost like ‘exile’.

And throughout human history, ‘exile’ has been a historic method of execution, and it’s not much different in modern times.

Therefore, up until high school senior year, is the last period when orphanage kids can receive protection from both the orphanage and the school.

Luckily, those who can get into a good college receive a four-year reprieve.

Although they are not as protected in college as they were before, they still get some time to adapt to society.

They might even achieve the ‘miracle’ of adapting to society by building networks at university, making friends or finding partners, and securing jobs.

But if they can’t do that, they immediately face the threat of survival.

So they go to <places where high school graduates with no qualifications can find immediate employment>.

And in a society where educational background and wealth somewhat replace social class, such places are dark, tough, and lowly.

Of course, there are industries where one can make a lot of money without any qualifications. Instead, they need to sell a bit of their morality, status, body, or soul.

Violent organizations and the entertainment industry always welcome orphans.

Orphanage kids realize these realities to some extent as they come of age.

They evade reality with a mindset similar to ‘the country will be unified by the time I go to the army’.

But as high school senior year approaches, their hearts tighten more and more.

Finally, as the college entrance exams approach, even delinquents voluntarily enter the study room.

This was what happened every winter at New Light Spring Orphanage.

Many orphanages classify seniors as the ‘graduating class’ and separate them from the other kids for a reason.

I know the pain because I’ve been through that process.

During that time, Professor Gu Hak-jun’s goodwill, extending a helping hand to me, filled the emptiness in my heart so much….

“…….”

Of course, the end wasn’t good, but still.

I shook my head to shake off the bitter past.

Even though I couldn’t really shake it off, I forced myself to ignore it and continued my original thoughts.

In any case, this year’s situation at New Light Spring Orphanage was relatively better.

In fact, it was significantly better.

Although the kids didn’t know the details yet, it had improved enough that children were no longer ‘exiled’ from the orphanage but ‘graduated’.

This was because I had poured so many donations into Director Moon Chung-jae’s lap that honey practically dripped from his eyes all year.

“In-seop.”

Just before bed after dinner at the orphanage where I had returned after a long time, Director Moon Chung-jae called me to his office and sat me down.

Since I had never been particularly close to him, I sat awkwardly on the sofa, fidgeting.

Director Moon Chung-jae spoke to me.

“Thank you.”

“…….”

“I am more grateful to the Lord for giving you a blessed talent, and for giving you a heart to use it for others. To the Lord, and to you.”

Well.

I had never felt gratitude to God.

Because I had endured so much pain simply for being born.

But I couldn’t say something blasphemous in front of a devout believer who had spent decades begging between Catholicism and Protestantism to feed orphanage kids.

“It’s nothing.”

It’s nothing. Don’t mention it. It’s alright.

These were the habitual words I would say whenever Director Moon Chung-jae expressed his gratitude to me.

And it was the truth.

The wealth and fame I possess are fundamentally no different from a lottery ticket that fell into my lap one day.

If I hadn’t traveled back in time, could I be enjoying this level of wealth and glory?

Now that I understand the workings of the entertainment and publishing industries, I can say with certainty: the answer is ‘No’.

Talent is not the most important thing. Had I not been young, I wouldn’t have succeeded in the entertainment industry; had I not been famous, I wouldn’t have succeeded in the publishing industry.

Regrettably, just as a failed life seemed reserved for me from the moment I was born, so too is success often determined at birth.

‘So many things are decided the moment you are born.’

That line is from my novel ‘Cause of Death’, and it is also my own cause of death.

Life is as light as a feather.

Moreover, having realized that everything could vanish the moment God snaps His fingers,

That is, from the moment God snapped His fingers and I traveled back in time, wealth and fame no longer held great meaning for me.

The only thing I perceive as real is literature. Wealth exists as material, fame as reputation, but literature exists within my heart.

Therefore, only literature is my life.

I stake my life on writing.

I always have, and I always will.

Thus, my donations to New Light Spring Orphanage are simply a kind of… ‘relocation.’

As long as I have enough to maintain my studio, buy writing supplies, and live on, I give the money to those who can use it immediately.

Moving something meaningless to a meaningful place.

This is a rational choice.

That’s all.

* * *

The path from the director’s office to the bedroom was already darkening. As winter approached, the days grew shorter.

But it wasn’t fully dark yet; a soft glow shimmered on the horizon, tinting the night sky.

This is commonly called twilight.

The chinese character ‘黃’ (huáng) in twilight means yellow, and the character ‘昏’ (hūn) means dark, but 昏 (hūn) also has connotations of confusion and fascination.

Now I understand why.

Just like the point where river water and sea water mix, at the celestial boundary where darkness and light mix, the yellow color spread out in thousands of strands and fluctuats in a thousand directions.

It was as if the entire sky was mesmerizing me. I willingly allowed myself to be captivated by the twilight.

Nature has always been a companion to literature. It is also the most beautiful art. It blends into daily life so deeply that it’s hard to focus on it.

But as I stood there appreciating the colors of the sky, it felt like some poetic inspiration was coming to me.

It was like the feeling of a sound lingering in my ears….

“…!”

But something felt off.

I could actually hear a sound.

I looked around and saw Teacher Bang Jeong-ah peeking out from around the corner of the hallway.

“In-seop…!”

In the dim hallway, her face with long hair emerging from the corner.

It could have been startling, but Teacher Bang’s face was so gentle that it wasn’t scary at all.

Teacher Bang Jeong-ah quietly motioned for me to come over.

“Come here…!”

“?”

“Quickly…!”

Hearing her whispering, I went to Teacher Bang Jeong-ah, and she immediately stroked my head.

“Ah!”

In my life, I have been patted on the head fewer than ten times.

I was so surprised I tried to pull away, but Teacher Bang mischievously continued to stroke my head.

“Argh! You little rascal! You brat!”

Eventually, I gave up my bodily freedom and let Teacher Bang Jeong-ah stroke my head to her heart’s content.

Soon, she knelt down on one knee to make eye contact with me.

“In-seop.”

“…Yes.”

“Haven’t you donated too much?”

“No. That much will come in next month. I have a lot of money saved up too….”

“Wow… really?! How many of me would it take to save up your monthly salary…?”

It’s not just a few people. It’s several dozen. Depending on the timing and calculations, it could be ‘100 Bang Jeong-ahs.’

There was already that much of an economic gap between a late 20s low-educated childcare teacher and me.

If human worth is determined by productivity, she would be a trivial existence I need not concern myself with.

But why do I hold her in such high regard?

Perhaps it’s because the sight of her secretly buying me manuscript paper was one of the few lights and warmth in my childhood.

As long as I carry those memories, I am forever indebted to Bang Jeong-ah.

And the weight of that debt is like an anchor that ties a person not to the escape of death, but to the suffering of life.

Carrying that pleasant weight in my heart, I responded to Teacher Bang Jeong-ah.

“It’s really okay.”

“Even so, you’ve worked your fingers to the bone… well, it’s not physical labor, so maybe not your bones….”

“?”

“Anyway, you’ve squeezed your brain to earn this money, and if you just give it away like this… I feel bad….”

“Why do you feel bad? It’s not like I gave the money to you, Teacher Bang.”

“You cheeky rascal, still making jokes in this situation?”

We had such predictable conversations. But they weren’t meaningless. There’s a reason why people have predictable conversations in predictable situations.

After listening to Teacher Bang Jeong-ah’s thanks and giving the appropriate humble responses, I headed back to my dormitory.

But Teacher Bang was following me to the dorm.

“…? Aren’t you going back?”

Teacher Bang Jeong-ah startled and hesitated.

“Oh, no! I’ll just see you go in, that’s all!”

“Oh, okay….”

The survival instinct and sharp intuition honed through high school sent out warning signals.

Something was up.

But before I could ponder it, I found out what it was.

As soon as I entered the darkened dorm late at night, the lights turned on.

“Ahh!”

And the sound of fireworks popping filled in the rest.

The dormitory was bustling with people. Orphanage residents, classmates from Baekhak Arts Middle School, Park Chang-woon, Min Hyo-chan, Kim Byul, Lim Yang-wook, Gu Hak-jun, Gu Yu-na, Baek Seung-won….

Familiar faces came into view one after another.

There were so many that it was impossible to count them all.

They surrounded me.

Everyone was smiling, and as the fireworks confetti settled, they sang in unison.

“Happy- Birthday- to- you-!”

It’s not my birthday.

Even though it’s called a ‘birthday,’ it’s just an arbitrary date made up by the orphanage because it felt wrong for someone to have no birthday.

Naturally, I never celebrated it specially. So, I didn’t know. Why would I care about that meaningless date?

Even though I met my parents while living and found out my real birthday, I still didn’t celebrate it. Why celebrate the day I was abandoned rather than a day of joy?

It all seemed meaningless….

But for such reasons, I couldn’t stop the tears streaming from my eyes.

I cried miserably, sobbing.

Losing the strength to stand, I collapsed to my knees.

As I crumpled to the ground, people stopped singing and rushed towards me.

Even though it felt like something had gone terribly wrong, I tried to compose myself and, with a voice as steady as possible, said,

“Keep singing….”

“What did you say, In-seop…?”

“Keep singing, please!”

Then, Park Chang-woon burst into laughter and clapped his hands rhythmically like a seal, prompting people to awkwardly resume the song.

Gu Yu-na, having continued singing from the moment I asked, was slightly off-beat, but she didn’t bother to correct herself and just kept singing at her own pace.

Kim Byul ran to me, asking if I was alright, tears in her eyes. People with tender hearts like Gu Hak-jun were already sobbing at the sight of me. Gu Yu-bin crying was a bit surprising.

Lim Yang-wook, however, wore an expression of resolute understanding as if he understood my feelings, though he didn’t look particularly cool with Baek Seol beside him, tears and snot streaming down her face.

I continued to observe the reactions of the people surrounding me, crying until I finally laughed.

And as I tried to savor the warmth enveloping me, a sudden chill struck me.

“Ah….”

I had staked my life on writing.

But is even this ultimately meaningless?

*****

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