I checked Han Ji-on's note.
- To Writer Lee.
I was deeply moved by
I hope you know that many young established writers are always curious about your journey and want to follow in your footsteps.
However, please understand that we cannot openly express our admiration, as many eyes are watching.
We cheer for you in our hearts.
Best regards, Han Ji-on.
…It was an unexpected moment of emotion.
Had I been more eager for the recognition of my peers than the approval of the literary elites?
Other writers had also sent me notes, filled with eloquent words expressing their sincerity.
Among them was a message from Kim Miso.
- To Professor Lee.
Your novel exceeded my expectations.
Would it be too rude to say that the name ‘Lee’ suits you perfectly?
I’ll see you as a student in class.
Yours truly, Kim Miso, a reader.
Her bold tone could be felt through the message.
I wrote each of them heartfelt replies, showing just enough warmth to not feel burdensome.
I was grateful to have this way of connecting with them.
This kind of culture, unimaginable back in the 1930s, had become indispensable to my career—thanks to the internet.
I spent the whole shift glued to social media, replying to their messages.
With
As the workday ended, Jihoon glanced at my monitor as he slung his bag over his shoulder.
“I told you I could handle the Stargram replies! You’re busy, hyung.”
“But they wrote these letters to me, so I should respond. Oh, by the way, Jihoon, are you free now?”
While packing my bag, I asked Jihoon.
“Tonight? Yeah, I’m free. Why?”
“Since the money from
Half of
He had gone all out with online promotions, not only mastering Korean SNS but also learning Japanese for cross-border outreach.
“Yes! What are we eating?”
“Wait, Mr. Geumhong, let me treat you too. Join us.”
Good. That felt natural.
Though it wasn’t just the two of us, this was still fine.
“Can I come along too?”
Geumhong’s eyes widened.
“Of course. We’re a team, aren’t we?”
“Then let’s make it a celebration party.”
I cheered inwardly.
The three of us left the campus together, accompanied by a gentle spring breeze that lifted our spirits.
“Doesn’t it feel like we’re the ‘Lee Team’ when it’s just the three of us?” Jihoon said.
“Haha… How about ‘Team Lee’? That sounds cooler, don’t you think?”
“Alright, let’s go with ‘Team Lee.’”
Jihoon’s easygoing nature had already brought the two of them closer.
We headed to a barbecue restaurant a short walk from the campus.
Jihoon took the lead, expertly ordering the meat.
Being from a wealthy family, he had a discerning taste for good food.
As soon as the beer was poured, the conversation flowed naturally.
We gossiped about school administration, professors, and quirky creative writing students, chatting endlessly.
But my reason for gathering them wasn’t just for socializing.
“I’ll be increasing both Jihoon’s part-time wage and Mr. Geumhong’s translation fee.”
“Are you serious, hyung?”
“Of course. Payments for
“It feels weird calculating my own pay, but sure. I’ll show everything transparently, so don’t worry.”
“Mr. Geumhong, the English page hasn’t gotten many views yet, and I haven’t even finished translating
Geumhong waved his hands in protest.
I had given him the
If he had finished the translation in under a week, that would’ve been more suspicious.
“Take your time. I know short stories usually take two to three weeks.”
“By the way, I showed Mr. Geumhong’s translation to our English Department's foreign professors, and they asked who translated it so well.”
Jihoon praised Geumhong as he flipped the meat.
“See? You deserve to be paid. And Jihoon, you’re not saying you won’t accept payment now, are you?”
“Why would I? I know exactly how much you earn, hyung. I’ll take it proudly.”
Jihoon laughed heartily.
Yeah, it’s better that he’s so straightforward.
After remaining silent, Geumhong finally spoke.
“I’ll work really hard, Mr. Hye-kyung.”
“You’re already doing a great job.”
Geumhong’s eyes sparkled.
A diligent, hardworking woman really is beautiful.
Why was I ever attracted to those overly dependent women in the past?
Maybe… I was a bit immature back then, too.
"You have to think long-term about the English page. If we break into the Japanese market, we can aim for the English-speaking world too. It’s a natural flow—starting from Asia and expanding through Japan."
Jihoon spoke fluently.
"Did you really study marketing seriously?"
"Me? Of course. Even if I become a published author, I’m still going to get a job. I can’t just sit in one place and write all day, even if the pay is good. I like writing, but I also want to engage with the world."
"Then the marketing job you’re doing right now fits perfectly. Team Lee Sang Marketing."
Geumhong commented.
Suddenly, Jihoon's eyes sparkled.
"Hyung, I’ve been meaning to tell you something."
"What is it?"
"I’m thinking about becoming your full-time manager."
…What on earth?
"You’re not going to pursue publishing?"
"I don’t know. The more I help you, the more it feels like this is what I was meant to do. It’s so satisfying to see the views and likes go up."
"Keep doing it as a side job, but it’d be a waste to let go of everything you’ve studied."
"I know. And you’ve got your hands full right now anyway."
"Of course, I’d feel more secure if you officially managed me."
There’s no one else as genuinely eager to help me as Jihoon.
He’s practical, with a solid understanding of business and economics.
If he weren’t a creative writing major, I’d have hired him as my personal assistant.
But Jihoon has more important dreams, doesn’t he?
"You still need to get published first. When’s your critique session for your novel?"
"…Next month."
"Have you written it yet?"
"…No. I can’t seem to write anything. All I think about is how to promote your work and what to post on Instagram."
How could I not feel grateful?
But I can’t let myself get swayed just because of that.
"Never give up on your novel. Got it? Promise me right here."
"But hyung—"
"Come on."
"…Alright. I’ll go write it starting today."
"Let’s not argue. It’s a good day, isn’t it?"
Geumhong quickly eased the atmosphere.
Now that I think about it, how is Geumhong’s barista training coming along?
With Jihoon looking so down, I hadn’t found the right moment to ask.
We continued bonding over grilled beef.
Jihoon, feeling frustrated, drank heavily.
Given his size and high tolerance, I didn’t think it was a problem, but maybe that was a mistake.
"Hyuuung… You have to succeed, okay?"
He slurred his words and then—
Thud!!
"…Whoa."
He slammed his head straight onto the table.
Geumhong and I exchanged wide-eyed looks.
…What just happened?
It was now just me and Geumhong.
The grilled beef was overcooked to the point of being dry.
Meanwhile, Jihoon was fast asleep.
And… I was sitting across from Geumhong.
With Jihoon quiet, the atmosphere suddenly turned awkward.
I liked Geumhong, so that made sense. But why had she fallen silent all of a sudden?
"How’s your barista training going these days, Ms. Geumhong?" I gently broke the silence.
"Not bad. I got my Level 3 certificate a while ago and am now preparing for Level 2. I’m also working part-time at a café."
"You’re translating and working part-time? That’s impressive. And you’re good at English, too."
"My English is just average compared to other departments. As for novels..."
Novels?
Geumhong hesitated for a moment, then took a sip of her beer.
"…I wanted to write, but I don’t have the talent."
"Who said that? Who told you you’re not talented?"
"Kim Han."
That jerk.
What did he say to her?
"I dated him during my first year. Even back then, Kim Han was already being recognized, making it to the final rounds of competitions. He reviewed my writing a lot, you know, as my boyfriend. Then one day, he just declared it—he said I didn’t have what it takes to write and that I should change my career path."
"What a bastard."
I swore without even realizing it.
But what else could I say?
Kim Han had basically gaslighted her.
"In hindsight, I think he didn’t want me to see how shallow his writing was. That’s probably why he subtly pushed me away from literature. He even discouraged me from reading books, saying I should spend that time studying English instead. I guess… in the end, it did help."
"Help?"
“Yeah. I’ve stopped dreaming useless dreams. I’m quite the realist, you know.”
“Useless dreams? What do you mean by that?”
I filled Geumhong’s glass with beer.
Geumhong may seem strong, but he lacks confidence.
The life of a job seeker in 2021… is bitter.
“I hope you open a fantastic café—a sanctuary for artists.”
Suddenly, I recalled the time I opened Swallow.
Not just Swallow.
I had also opened cafés like Crane and 69, but they all failed.
No wonder.
I’ve always been hopeless at managing anything.
But I figured Geumhong would do well.
“Haha… Well, just being a manager at a Starbucks would feel like a success, wouldn’t it?”
A Starbucks manager? What kind of talk is that?
Someone like Geumhong should at least aim to own the building.
“I’ll set you up with a Starbucks later.”
I said it jokingly.
Geumhong laughed heartily.
It could have been an offensive remark, but perhaps due to the alcohol, he seemed in good spirits.
“Is that a promise?”
“A promise.”
I raised my pinky slightly.
A promise?
Do I have to deliver when I become the building owner of a Starbucks?
A building owner with a Starbucks.
I know that unless you’re born with a silver spoon, achieving even one of those is tough.
But if you’re going to dream, dream big.
I found yet another reason to earn a lot of money.
The judging room for the Emflix drama division.
In the first meeting room of Emflix’s headquarters, piles of printed drama proposals and synopses were stacked everywhere.
The first round of judging was to review the proposals and synopses, and the second round involved the scripts.
In other words, if you didn’t pass the first round, your script wouldn’t even be considered.
The judges consisted of the drama PD who would handle the new project, the head of the Emflix planning team, a scriptwriter, and Professor Song, who held a doctorate in broadcasting literature.
PD Kang In-chun spoke first.
“Let’s not waste time; each of us should pick just three works.”
Scriptwriter Song Ye-na responded.
“Let’s do that, PD. After all, we’ll need to review the scripts later anyway.”
Planning team leader Lee Sol nodded.
“That would save time. However, please consider our position when selecting; let’s stick to what’s feasible for production. Haha…”
“Oh, come on, isn’t Emflix thriving? No need for false modesty. Heh heh heh…”
The last comment was from Professor Song.
“Alright, then let’s begin.”
At PD Kang In-chun’s words, everyone started picking up the proposals laid before them.
Only Professor Song seemed to be searching carefully among the proposals.
“Damn… where is that one?”
Finding a specific document among hundreds of proposals wasn’t easy.
But his hand moved persistently.
Rustle, rustle…
“Ah, found it!”
The title of the proposal he discovered was The Day It Falls Apart.
Professor Song brought The Day It Falls Apart along with a handful of other proposals.
“Ahem…”
He first examined the The Day It Falls Apart proposal.
No, he pretended to examine it.
Flap—
Professor Song let the The Day It Falls Apart proposal fall to the floor.
That was a sign of disqualification.
Flap, flap—
The other judges followed suit, letting their disqualified proposals drop to the floor.
The Day It Falls Apart was thus buried beneath the other rejected works.