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A genius writer who lives again

Chapter 46

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A short story to be added to an essay to be published in Japan.


I wrote it all at once.


I have no intention of writing something that only resonates with Korean readers or only with Japanese readers.


My story will resonate with humanity itself.


Three days later,


In the office of the Humanities College's Academic Affairs Team.


I finally completed .


The first reader of my story, Ji-hoon.


I handed Ji-hoon the printed copy of .


Ji-hoon looked at and said,


“You wrote this… in three days?”


“Yeah. That's how it happened.”


“You’re insane, seriously, hyung….”


Ji-hoon looked at again.


With a serious face, he chewed on his nails.


“How is it? What does a critic think?”


“…What do you mean?”


Ji-hoon laughed incredulously.


“It’s perfect. It’s a very smooth story. It feels like it’s been beautifully crafted and glazed to shine.”


“Maybe. None of the characters' personal information is revealed, and it’s all dialogue.”


“But at the same time, through this dialogue, readers can recall historical perspectives and life experiences.”


Ji-hoon handed me back the printed copy.


“You can send it to Domak Publishing. The Japanese are lucky to see such a story first.”


If we think about it that way, isn’t Ji-hoon the luckiest?


I almost said that but held back.


Having a reliable first reader is a stroke of luck for a writer.


Critic Song Ji-hoon is just as useful as manager Song Ji-hoon.


After buying a talisman at the Goma Shrine to become a jack-of-all-trades,


I’m now reaping the benefits of that wish.


Now, what remains is…


Translating into Japanese.


And sending it to Domak Publishing.


“Hey, Hye-kyung. You’ve got a package, right?”


As Geum-hong was sorting through the deliveries, he handed me something.


A thick envelope.


“For me?”


I took the envelope.


The sender's name was ‘Kim Mi-so.’


Could it be…?


I quickly tore open the envelope.


The smell of a freshly printed book.


I love this smell, whether in a past life or now.


And what emerged was,


As expected, a magazine.


The inaugural issue of the labor literature quarterly she mentioned creating.


The name was .


I glanced through the table of contents and the articles with delight.


The history of Korean labor literature and its generational significance.


The meaning of doing labor literature today.


Photographs capturing labor scenes.


…And so on.


“Here it is.”


Kim Mi-so's story, .


I read that story in one go.


A 60-year-old man who is a manual laborer and mentally unstable.


During the day, he sorts junk at a recycling center, and at night, he searches for food in a landfill.


And the strangely overlapping two actions.


The ‘eating’ through labor and the ‘goblin-like’ behavior of a mentally unstable person.


A story that precariously straddles that boundary.


…As expected, it’s wonderful.


Kim Mi-so.


This writer must shine someday.


I was standing in front of the headquarters of Silla Literature in Hapjeong-dong.


After publicly refusing commissions from the Korean literary scene,


I hadn’t formed any relationships with publishers.


I never thought I would come to a major publishing house like Silla Literature.


I quietly looked at the envelope I was holding.


Inside was Professor Jo In-chang's final manuscript.


I had already called editor Lee Joon-hwan.


When I told him I would personally bring the manuscript, he was very pleased.


I walked through the revolving door into the building.


In one corner of the lobby was a café operated by Silla Literature, and in the center was a wide staircase.


The Silla Literature office was on the second floor.


When I went up to the second floor and opened the frosted glass door,


“Excuse me—.”


At that moment.


Everyone in the office turned to look at me simultaneously.


…An enormous silence.


Eyes wide open.


Expressions mixed with tension and curiosity.


…Are they meerkats?


“…I came to deliver the manuscript. Is editor Lee Joon-hwan here?”


“P, please come this way. The editor is waiting for you.”


One staff member quickly guided me.


As I walked down the corridor,


Everyone’s gaze followed me.


“Why is everyone looking at me like that?”


“Isn’t that Lee Sang, the writer?”


The staff member grinned.


He led me into the office at the end of the corridor.


Editor Lee Joon-hwan and a man who looked to be around the same age were seated across from each other.


“Welcome, Teacher Lee Sang.”


“Good to see you again, Editor.”


We shook hands.


He pointed to the man and introduced him.


“This is editor Park Jo-woon. He is one of the founding members of Silla Literature along with me.”


The two seemed quite comfortable.


The editor and the editorial member were just titles.


They must have been colleagues who led this publishing house for a long time.


“…Park Jo-woon.”


“I’m Lee Sang.”


He had a prominent impression.


Short in stature with a stocky build.


A face that seemed to say ‘stubborn.’


I turned back to editor Lee Joon-hwan.


“Editor, as I mentioned, I’m here to deliver Professor Jo In-chang's manuscript.”


“Oh, thank you, Teacher Lee Sang.”


“I completed the last sentence according to the late professor's wishes. I’ve marked that part separately, so I hope Silla Literature records it well.”


“I understand perfectly. It’s a precious manuscript.”


He carefully placed the envelope in his drawer.


“Well, I’ve delivered the manuscript, so…”


“Oh, Teacher Lee Sang. Since you’re here, why don’t you have a cup of coffee before you leave?”


“Sure. There are some urgent matters I’d like to discuss as well.”


Editor Park Jo-woon also held me back.


Urgent matters?


Silla Literature wants to talk to me?






I sat down.


Editor Lee Jun-hwan began brewing coffee at the capsule machine.


Editor Park Jo-woon was staring intently at me.


“So, you’re the famous Yi Sang—this is it,” he said.


“Yes, that’s me,” I replied.


“You and Jun-hwan… have been arguing for about half a year, right?”


Editor Park asked Editor Lee.


As Lee Jun-hwan brewed the coffee, he said, “That sounds about right. And you lost.”


“Hmph.”


Editor Park grumbled.


I turned to him and said, “So you’re the head of the Half Yi Sang faction.”


He widened his eyes at my comment.


Editor Lee placed the coffee cup on the table.


“That’s right. My stubbornness is like iron sinew.”


That’s well-known.


The stubbornness of a veteran who has dedicated his life to a field.


There are two types of veterans.


One like Editor Lee Jun-hwan, who is flexible and progressive.


The other like Editor Park Jo-woon, who is rigid and conservative.


The former adapts well to the rhythm of the world,


While the latter excels at preserving valuable traditions.


“…Iron sinew, you say? I admit it. After a long debate, I lost.”


“But you lost?”


“Many, led by Editor Lee, have said it’s time for the literary world to change. The commission and quarterly magazine system… only burdens the writers,” he said.


“I agree.”


“And I’ve decided to accept that you, Yi Sang, are the… role model for Korean literature.”


…Well, it sounds nice to hear.


Role model.


But what kind of ‘role’ do they have in mind?


Editor Lee spoke up.


“We’re trying to follow your example as a writer.”


“Excuse me?”


“We’re planning to operate a web magazine run by Shinla Literature as a platform where writers can freely publish and sell their work.”


This was a welcome piece of news.


Large publishing houses have one web magazine each.


However, they are not fully commercialized yet.


“You’ve benchmarked my website, haven’t you? But you might incur a lot of losses initially, right? Will you be taking any fees?”


“We plan to charge very little from the writers. Right now, it’s more of an experimental phase. The quarterly magazines will also be posted in the web magazine format.”


“That makes sense. To attempt such an experiment, a company like Shinla Literature is certainly required.”


Smaller publishing houses would find it difficult to attempt such an experiment.


These veterans are squeezing out their last bits of strength.


“For us, it’s an adventure. Of course, we might hear that the publishing house is losing its status,” Editor Park said.


“But… we’re thinking long-term. If we can put the brakes on the downward spiral of Korean literature, we’ll do whatever it takes.”


He was right.


The Korean literary scene needs a new system.


A channel through which writers can sell their work regardless of commissions.


At the same time, a channel through which publishers can sell the work.


This is not a bad experiment that fulfills both requirements.


“That’s a good idea. I support it.”


“Still, the conversation isn’t over yet.”


Editor Park leaned toward me.


“Editor Lee said he would include the minutes of the meetings from the past six months in the summer issue of the quarterly magazine, right?”


“I’ve heard about that. It’s about supporting my journey, correct?”


“That’s right. It’s connected to creating the platform. That article will also be published in the web magazine format.”


He raised his index finger.


I looked into his sharp eyes and asked, “Are you… really, truly supporting me?”


Can people’s hearts change so easily?


He has dedicated his life to Korean literature.


I must have been a thorn in his side as a newcomer.


He bent his index finger and clenched his fist.


“I might be a bit eccentric and stubborn… but I’m a person who understands reality. Your judgment of the Korean literary scene… as painful as it is, you are right.”


His gaze trembled.


“So, I have to ask… could you give us a piece of writing?”


You’re asking for a piece?


“Are you making a request now?”


“That’s not it,” Editor Lee Jun-hwan interjected.


“It’s not a request… We’d like you to publish a story on our new platform.”


“Excuse me?”


"There’s plenty of time. The opening is still over a month away."


It was a proposal similar to a request for submission, yet strangely different.


I would showcase my writing through the publishing company Silla Literature...


But instead of receiving a manuscript fee, I would earn through the readers' payment system.


"If Silla Literature creates a platform, many writers will upload their work. The reason it must be me..."


Editorial board member Lee Joon-hwan shook his head.


"It's different. The fact that Mr. Lee Sang is contributing his writing holds special significance. Both symbolically and commercially."


A platform where Lee Sang's work is featured.


It signifies novelty while also possessing commercial value that attracts public interest.


Indeed, publishing is ultimately a business.


I fell into thought for a moment.


No matter how online it is, partnering with a major publishing company…


There would certainly be those who would scrutinize this.


For example, they might say something disparaging.


But I also wanted to support their efforts.


Additionally, I was curious about what changes would occur in this community when I offered my support.


And above all…


There was something I had wanted to do for a long time.


"Alright. I will submit my writing."


"Really?"


A smile spread across Lee Joon-hwan’s face.


"But there is a condition."


"What is it?"


"I’d like to have my work posted on my website at the same time."


"Do as you wish. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you are submitting your work."


Editorial director Park Jo-woon tapped his finger on the table.


I told them, "And I plan to upload at least eight and at most ten pieces."


Silence enveloped the office.


"One piece each day, consecutively."


Lee Joon-hwan’s eyes widened.


Park Jo-woon stammered, as if he couldn’t believe what he had heard.


"W-What did you just say?"


"I’ve wanted to write a long novel for a long time."





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