The TS Memoir of a Misogynistic Novelist

It was a day when a heavy rain poured.

I thought I was already used to Professor Seo’s eccentricities, but I still couldn’t understand why he would call me on such a rainy day. He probably checked the weather forecast and chose this day on purpose.

Even with an umbrella, the hems of my pants were soaked. It wasn’t until I stepped into the building where Professor Seo’s office was located that I could finally catch my breath. I shook off the umbrella and headed towards the office. It had been a while since I last visited, but I hadn’t forgotten the way.

Arriving at the door of the office on the third floor, I knocked. However, there was no response. I knocked a few more times, but it remained quiet. I took out my smartphone, but there were no messages. Letting out a deep sigh, I started to look for a place to kill some time.

There was a lounge in another building, but I really didn’t want to go out in this torrential rain to find it. I wandered around looking for a suitable place to rest but had difficulty finding one.

It was in the midst of walking round and round inside the building that I heard a voice.

“…Senior?”

Turning my head towards the sound, I saw a woman with a squirrel-like impression. Even without the voice, I could tell who she was from the way she called me ‘Senior.’

“Senior, it’s really you? What brings you here?”

She was Muk Ha-neul, my junior who was the only person from this school who ever called me ‘Senior.’

“Oh… it’s you. I just came to see Professor Seo. I heard he wanted to talk.”

Of course, we weren’t really on terms to be greeting each other like this. It had been a long time since we had a proper conversation after things became awkward due to a previous incident. Even I couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered.

“I just saw Professor Seo leave a little while ago,” she said.

“…Oh.”

Surprisingly, Ha-neul still didn’t dislike me. She was quirky.

“I don’t know where he went, but I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“If you need a place to rest, how about we go to the café downstairs?”

“A café?”

Did she forget about what happened before? And was there really a café in this building? I couldn’t recall it no matter how hard I tried. Thankfully, Ha-neul’s words proved that my memory was intact.

“It opened this year. It’s on the first floor. It’s small, but you can sit and rest.”

“Well, I guess I should go there then.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Ha-neul turned and began to head down the stairs. The café was located quite hidden away. I could easily see how I didn’t notice it when I entered.

I ordered a chocolate latte, while Ha-neul got an iced Americano, colloquially called ‘Aah.’ I paid for both drinks without hesitation. Ha-neul didn’t say anything about it.

It wasn’t that I paid for everything just because I was a man. I simply thought there was no need for her to pay. Plus, Ha-neul was still a university student, while I was already a working adult, so it wasn’t particularly odd.

“You still like sweet things, huh?”

“I just can’t understand how anyone would drink something like Aah. It’s just bitter water.”

“That’s why you’ll always be a kid.”

“Very funny.”

It was a ridiculous conversation. What could she have meant by that, looking at someone with sparse facial hair? Regardless, it was a rather friendly exchange. It had been several years since that incident, which I thought was quite significant, but she treated me as if she had completely forgotten about it. Well, it had been three years, so maybe it was something one could easily forget…?

There was silence until the drinks came. It was only natural, as we didn’t particularly have anything to talk about.

Once the Aah arrived, Ha-neul slowly sipped it through a straw. The pace at which the drink went down was slow. I couldn’t understand it. When my chocolate latte came, I drained it in one go. The Aah still had more than 80% left, but my chocolate latte was already half gone after just one sip.

“What’s the point of drinking so fast?”

“It’s chocolate flavor, after all.”

It was a pointless exchange.

Women were always like this. She was no different. Ordering a coffee at a café, drinking it at a snail’s pace while chattering loudly about nothing, revealing the emptiness of their conversations. It was nothing particularly surprising.

While I was stuck in such meaningless thoughts, Ha-neul suddenly spoke up, chewing on a paper straw as she drank her coffee.

“Senior, I heard you won an award?”

“Yeah. Just a small literary magazine.”

“That’s impressive.”

“It’s nothing special.”

It really wasn’t anything special. It was a small award I received merely because an old piece I had written got some attention. Of course, to someone like Ha-neul, who still hadn’t had a publishing debut, it might seem significant.

“I’m currently preparing a piece for a contest, and the reason I came here was to show it to Professor Seo.”

“Oh, is that so?”

I wasn’t particularly interested, but I answered accordingly. I had a feeling something troublesome was going to happen.

“Would you like to read it?”

And that feeling was right. Was that what she had planned from the start? Even after getting that critique back then, did she still want my feedback? Honestly, I wanted to refuse, but since she had been the one to inform me about the café, and there was still time left, I whimsically nodded and agreed.

Ha-neul pulled out a printed manuscript from her bag. I took the manuscript and began to read through it quickly.

The title was “Fall,” a story about a novelist’s downfall.

Unlike how I had casually started reading, I soon became engrossed in the story. It captured the torment of an arrogant novelist who suddenly became unable to write. The theme alone made it impossible for me not to be drawn in.

That didn’t mean it was fun. Objectively, it was a well-written piece, yet it had no entertainment value. But I couldn’t help but feel an uneasy sensation from the story.

It took quite a bit of time to read through the entire manuscript.

Once I had finished reading the printed pages and put them down on the table, Ha-neul looked at me anxiously.

“What do you think?”

“It’s well written.”

At that, Ha-neul’s face darkened. In the Creative Writing department, the phrase ‘well written’ didn’t genuinely mean it was good. Of course, that wasn’t what I meant, but I didn’t feel the need to correct her misunderstanding. There were definitely issues with it.

“What specifically was wrong?”

“The theme is clichéd, and the writing is dull. The writing itself is good, but it lacks the power to engage the reader. It’s hard to call it a well-written story. The style is too feminine and lacks substance.”

“I see.”

Ha-neul responded with a noticeably disappointed expression. She knew that calling it feminine wasn’t necessarily a compliment, so it was only natural for her to feel that way.

“But it’s much better than your previous work. You’ve grown a lot. Personally, I liked the story itself. However, I don’t think it would win any award in the contest.”

At my unexpected compliment, Ha-neul’s eyes widened, and she asked again.

“You really liked it? What did you like?”

“The novelist who can’t write anymore, yet simultaneously received the chance to gain everything else instead of writing. I liked the portrayal of his determination to choose writing over everything else. Had he chosen otherwise, he would have become happy. He must be aware of that too. Still, despite knowing his choice would lead to unhappiness, he chose writing, meaning even his own misery couldn’t stop him from wanting to write. I like characters like that.”

“Is that so? Actually, this story is based on you, Senior…”

Ah, is that why?

Was that the reason I couldn’t help but get immersed in the story?

Did Ha-neul see my expression harden slightly? Suddenly, she appeared restless.

I liked the content of the writing, and I appreciated the protagonist’s determination, but the fact that she modeled it after me made me a bit uncomfortable. It wasn’t that I was angry because it didn’t resemble me. To be honest, it resembled me quite a bit. However, writing something like this without permission and without saying anything is not respectful to others.

Perhaps she felt the need to tell me that because I complimented the protagonist. Nevertheless, she didn’t think it through.

“Yeah, if it was a woman, making that choice would have been impossible.”

Ha-neul fell silent.

She realized I was being sarcastic.

That was something unavoidable. After all, she was a woman too.

Believing in ‘women’ was the most foolish thing.

“I’m… sorry.”

Still, the only reason I could have this exchange with Ha-neul was that she at least knew some decency. After all, it was Ha-neul who had messed up here.

“If you submit to the contest, it would be better to change the protagonist to a woman. It would be easier to write and easier to receive good feedback.”

I offered slightly harsh but genuinely meaningless advice. If she changed the protagonist to a woman, it could indeed become a more straightforward story. It would likely receive better evaluations and be more popular.

“But that kind of story…”

“Yeah, it would be soft porn.”

In the end, it would turn into a piece of writing that exploits women. I wasn’t sure if Ha-neul would agree with that thought, but I certainly did. Writing that exploits women is a kind of pornography. I didn’t intend to denigrate pornography, but I didn’t want to place it in places such as literature either.

“…I’ll think about it.”

Though Ha-neul said she would think about it, I knew she wouldn’t really change it. Because Ha-neul was just a bit ‘less’ feminine.

Even if she felt offended by my words, there was no way she could be unaware that it was the easier and more comfortable path.

So, she wouldn’t choose that easy route. If she did, it would just mean she turned out to be an ordinary woman.

Anyway, I decided to let this incident offset the previous harsh critique. I thought to myself that both sides were at fault (though I still didn’t think my critique was wrong), and it felt like a good idea to move on.

Receiving my advice, Ha-neul began to skim through her manuscript again, rereading the parts I pointed out. I sat there chewing on the ice left in my already finished chocolate latte, daydreaming.

It was then.

“Why is that guy here?”

I heard a voice directed at me from beside me.

There, was Yoon Sua, a fellow Creative Writing student, who probably wouldn’t think so, and I didn’t want to think so either, but she was nonetheless my junior.

“Ha-neul, why are you with this guy?”

“Sua, it’s just that we ran into each other, and she asked me to read her writing.”

“I bet he was just spewing nonsense pretending to critique again, acting all high and mighty.”

Yoon Sua unleashed her sharp words at me without hiding anything. My relationship with her turned sour due to the fight from the previous critique session, but it had never been good even before that.

It was my first critique session. What did I say then?

I remember saying something that could only be written by pathetic and foolish women who believe that the world exists solely to oppress women.

I probably gave similar critiques for most of the works that came after that, until we ended up in a verbal spat during Ha-neul’s critique. Since then, we hadn’t read each other’s works.

Yoon Sua responded to me with the same pathetic and clueless critique every time. To be honest, it seemed she had more talent in that area than in writing itself. I didn’t know where one would use the talent for sharp criticism. A SM club?

Women seemed to think that they were oppressed while never realizing they could get hurt in discussions. I didn’t mean to say I wanted to smash Yoon Sua’s head.

I carelessly dug my ear. It was a gesture that indicated I didn’t even feel like listening.

Seeing this, Yoon Sua got angrier and opened her mouth again.

“You’re charming the innocent girl over to gaslight her, aren’t you? You don’t deserve someone like Ha-neul to critique your work.”

“And you think you deserve it, being someone who hasn’t even published anything?”

Yoon Sua appeared unable to contain her anger, and it was pathetic to see.

“You’ve become more shameless while I wasn’t looking. You’re just like your friend. Birds of a feather flock together, so, of course, you’d hang out with someone like him. I don’t know what kind of motive you’ve got for continually mixing with Ha-neul, but even if I have dirt in my eye, that won’t happen.”

“There’s no need to worry about it.”

Yoon Sua’s expression soured when I interrupted her. Meanwhile, Ha-neul looked a bit more tense next to her.

“Come here. Don’t hang out with the likes of him.”

Yoon Sua grabbed Ha-neul’s hand and started to pull her up. I didn’t particularly respond. I didn’t want to open my mouth and have a conversation with someone like that.

Ha-neul was taken out of the café, led by Yoon Sua. Before leaving, she said to me in a small voice.

“Um, I’ll contact you later.”

After that, I could hear things like ‘Contact my foot!’ but that wasn’t something I needed to worry about.

By the way, it had already been just under an hour. Professor Seo might be back soon.

I stood up and packed my things. It was right after the two had left. As I exited the café, I saw Ha-neul and Yoon Sua walking away at the end of the hallway. It seemed Yoon Sua was showering her with a lot of nagging. There was nothing I could do about it.

I figured it was a message for me to cut ties. Perhaps Ha-neul might eventually sever ties with me as well this time.

But as I said, I didn’t have any expectations of Ha-neul. So even if she did cut ties with me, it wasn’t particularly a betrayal.

It was just a very natural course of events.

Expecting anything from women was certainly a luxury.

And I wasn’t a wealthy man enough to indulge in luxuries.

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