The next day, on the way back after lunch.
Ji-hoon, Geum-hong, and I were enjoying canned coffee in the hallway.
“By the way, I won the Emflix Drama Contest. Geum-hong, that counts toward your graduate school credits, right? Please update it for me.”
“…What?”
“Hyung, a drama?”
Both of them looked quite surprised.
Now that I think about it, I hadn’t properly told them that I had submitted a drama proposal.
“Yeah. I wrote a drama plan and submitted it.”
“What, what kind of award?”
“Grand Prize.”
“Ugh, I guess we have to hang another banner…”
Geum-hong, with wide eyes, managed to speak up.
“You really don’t have to. Why hang another one?”
“No way. We’re hanging it. The whole world needs to see.”
“Then don’t complicate things; just use the same design as the last banner.”
While I was talking about the banner with Geum-hong, Ji-hoon had a dazed expression on his face.
At that moment, Geum-hong’s phone rang.
He checked the caller ID and quickly answered.
“Oh, yes, Professor. Yes, yes. I’ll head to your office now.”
From the voice on the other end, it sounded like a professor of criticism.
Geum-hong signaled that he was leaving and hurried off.
“Hyung… I feel a bit disheartened…”
Ji-hoon slumped against the window sill.
Is he really that shaken?
I felt a little guilty for his reaction.
“Are you okay?”
“…I’m fine, but I’ve never thought of myself as good. Yet, somehow I understand the feelings of Salieri.”
Salieri was a contemporary composer of Mozart.
He suffered until his death from an inferiority complex due to his feelings toward Mozart.
But Ji-hoon isn’t Salieri.
There’s no way someone as hardworking and kind as he would ever be a Salieri.
I placed my hand on Ji-hoon’s shoulder, who was slouched over.
“You’re younger than me. You’ll do well too.”
Ji-hoon looked up at me, still somewhat blank.
“Hyung, I wasn’t going to tell you this, but…”
“What is it?”
“I submitted to the Shilla Literature New Writer Award.”
“To Shilla Literature?!”
Shilla Literature was a rival literary magazine to Garasa-dae.
No, rival is too mild—more like an adversary.
The two magazines had such a strained relationship that…
If you debut in Shilla Literature, it’s hard to get published in Garasa-dae, and vice versa.
The faculty at Insoo University were either on the editorial board of Garasa-dae or closely associated with it.
That’s why Insoo students generally avoided submitting to Shilla Literature for the sake of their future.
“Why that one? Submitting to Garasa-dae would be more convenient in many ways.”
“Well, it’s… not a novel.”
“What?”
“It’s a critique, not a story.”
“Are you serious? You wrote a critique?”
“Ugh… I’m embarrassed. It’s pretty obvious I’ll get rejected, so I shouldn’t have even tried.”
Not at all.
It feels wrong to say this, but you’d likely do better with critique than with a novel.
“What author did you write about?”
“…You.”
What?
“You don’t understand? I wrote it on your novel,
“…Why would you do that?”
My novel could certainly be critiqued.
But to write a critique, you need at least three works to analyze.
Did you write a critique based solely on
“Garasa-dae would never accept
“Then why not write about another work? Like Han Ji-on’s…”
“Your novel is the most interesting.”
“…”
“Well, it can’t be helped. I had to write about yours.”
Ji-hoon said this plainly.
Suddenly, I thought of Sun-ho.
He was the one who said, “I like your novels.”
His words gave me the strength to write novels for the rest of my life.
I said to Jihoon,
“I’m not sure about the results, but I really appreciate your honesty in your writing.”
Jihoon stared at me.
Then he chuckled and stood up again.
“It’s a bit annoying that you’re doing so well, but that really encourages me.”
Jihoon stretched and headed into the teaching team’s office.
Left alone, I sipped my canned coffee and thought.
Repeated failures gnaw at a person.
This is why the personalities of those from the creative writing department who failed to debut become sensitive.
The fundamental reason they tormented Hyekyung was their dissatisfaction with life, that is, their inferiority complex.
Jihoon was probably no exception.
Before his inferiority complex grew anymore... he needed to debut soon.
It was the day of the second special lecture at Korean University.
Since I had replaced Lee Hyun-gang’s class with the special lecture, I took a taxi early to Korean University.
Since I wasn’t attending class, Jihoon felt a bit lonely, but…
He said it was fine.
He didn’t plan to hide behind me forever.
I organized the lecture content in the university's cafeteria.
First, I would remind them of the concept of "modernity" I mentioned last week.
Next, I needed to explain "time."
In a novel, "time" is not merely a "temporal background."
The act of writing a novel itself is about trapping the flowing time within words.
And that time, trapped in words, remains forever.
Just like how the Little Prince in the book will still be the Little Prince even a hundred years later.
“Uh? Teacher Lee Sang?”
I turned my head at the sound calling my name.
Sitting right next to me was none other than author Kim Mi-so.
“Author Kim Mi-so?”
“It seems we meet everywhere. Are you preparing for your class?”
“Yes. What about you, author?”
“I’m writing a new piece.”
“A new piece, you say...”
“It’s labor literature,” she replied, a bit shy.
“I’m going to do my best to write what I can.”
Her expression looked much brighter than last week.
“Talking with you was really encouraging for me, Teacher Lee Sang.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I was worried that I might lose a good writer, so I called you that day.”
Author Kim Mi-so laughed heartily.
“You didn’t have to say nice things when there was nothing to offer.”
“Why wouldn’t you have anything to offer?”
“Do I have anything to offer you?”
“First, as a student, please attend my lectures diligently.”
“I’ve already registered for the course,” she said playfully.
“Please remain a colleague I can respect.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Having a respectable colleague is a valuable experience.”
She looked at me intently.
Then she reached out her hand.
“Let’s shake hands. As colleagues.”
It was a cool suggestion.
I took her hand and shook it.
“Let’s do something fun together someday. Of course, in literature.”
At my words, author Kim Mi-so nodded vigorously.
“Sounds good. Until that day, I’ll hang in there with my writing.”
Not only is it a strength to pioneer and overturn the table like I do, but enduring and surviving, like her, is also a strength.
I believe that author Kim Mi-so can endure in this fragmented literary world until the end.
I arrived at the large auditorium in the Humanities College of Korean University earlier than expected.
Since teaching assistant Cha Han-seung hadn’t arrived yet, I perched on the podium and flipped through my lecture notes.
“Teacher Lee Sang.”
Someone called me as they descended the stairs.
It was the head of the Korean Literature Department, Kim Jin-ha, along with Professor Park.
Next to Professor Park was a young man I had never seen before.
“Professor Kim, how are you? What brings you here...”
I stepped down from the podium to greet them.
The department head shook my hand with a noticeably relaxed expression.
“I was just about to go for dinner when I remembered Professor Lee Sang's special lecture.”
“I see. How have you been, Professor Park? And…”
I glanced at the man standing next to Professor Park.
Who could he be?
This man, looking at me with a disconcerting smile.
“He's my junior. He came to check out the school. Haha…”
Professor Park said, patting the man’s back.
He nodded slightly toward me.
“Hello. I’m Jeong Han-soo, a PhD candidate at Korean University.”
“I’m Lee Sang.”
We exchanged a brief handshake.
He gripped my hand very firmly before letting go.
The department head placed a hand on my shoulder, encouragingly.
“Professor Lee's special lecture this week filled all the seats. I was worried, but thank you for doing such a great job. You’ve lifted a big burden off my shoulders.”
All the seats were filled.
Since Chae, my assistant hadn’t mentioned anything, I had only known that the lecture would take place.
“I look forward to the rest of the semester.”
The department head seemed pleased.
Professor Park, who had been smiling wryly, teased the department head.
“Let’s go, department head. We’ll be late for our reservation.”
“Right. Well then, Professor Lee, see you next time. Make sure to eat well while teaching.”
“Thank you. Goodbye.”
The two turned back toward the auditorium door.
However, Jeong Han-soo lingered beside me, wearing that unpleasant smile.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I wanted to have a chat with the genius, Professor Lee Sang, whom I’ve only heard rumors about.”
…Oh really?
“What is it that you’re curious about regarding the genius, Professor Lee Sang?”
I retorted lightly.
He only smiled, not laughing.
“I’ve heard your novel is quite remarkable. The title ‘genius’ suits you well.”
“Thank you.”
“But academia is a bit different, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The world of papers and lectures, as you know, can be rather conservative, right? Since you’re also a PhD candidate, you know what I’m talking about. Which university did you attend… was it Insu University?”
Mentioning someone’s academic background so casually in academia is considered extremely rude.
What could be the source of this aggression?
This man is a junior of Professor Park.
And Professor Park had opposed my lecture more than necessary.
…I think I understand.
Jeong Han-soo was envious of this special lecture spot.
Professor Park probably tried to place Jeong Han-soo in this position but failed because of me.
I opened my mouth.
“At least in this special lecture, I seem to be showcasing my abilities. The students really enjoyed it.”
“Glad to hear that. It’s a very important position that you stand in, Professor Lee.”
“Where do you teach, Jeong Han-soo?”
“…I’m in charge of the general Korean literature courses at Korean University.”
Jeong Han-soo tried hard not to sound displeased.
It seems the position Professor Park had proposed went to him.
“Anyway, you were very lucky, Professor Lee. Of course, if you had the support of Professor Jo In-chang, you might have been able to reach the glass ceiling.”
He said, not that he could surpass it but that he could ‘look at it.’
In other words, it means he would never be able to surpass it.
“Haha…”
I managed to laugh.
It would be a lie if I said I didn’t feel provoked.
“There are many who can’t even stand properly on top of the glass ceiling. Like you.”
“What did you say? Are you looking for a fight?”
The anger and inferiority complex he had been hiding flared up in Jeong Han-soo’s eyes.
“Fight? There’s a glass ceiling in between us, so how could I even reach you with my fists?”
“I’m just stating the facts. Enjoy your place, which is the best spot a third-rate university graduate can have.”
“Yes. I also suggest that top university graduates prepare their lectures diligently. Even if they can’t reach the best position, they should do their best where they stand.”
“Hey, what do you mean—!”
Jeong Han-soo shouted.
The few students scattered around looked our way.
“Enough!”
I turned to see Professor Jo In-chang in a wheelchair.
Jeong Han-soo turned pale and stepped back.
“I-I’m sorry, Professor.”
“You should apologize to the students sitting here.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
Jeong Han-soo slowly backed away, heading toward the auditorium door.
What a coward.
Yet, for some reason, I felt ashamed to meet Professor Jo In-chang's eyes.
Since I possessed Kim Hye-kyung’s body, I had been living without caring about anyone’s opinions.
But with Professor Jo In-chang, it was different.
“…I’m sorry for being noisy, Professor.”
He stared at me intently.
“No, I just came to audit your lecture. I’ll quietly listen to the class. Chae, please find me a seat.”
Chae, who had been watching quietly, secured a spot for the wheelchair in the front row.
I wondered what Professor Jo In-chang was thinking.
I began preparing for the lecture, feeling a little nervous.