Novelist Running Through Time - Chapter 210

Novelist Running Through Time Episode 211

Even if I don’t know which stocks are rising or falling, I memorize all the literary news sweetly.

It’s not like I memorized it in preparation for time travel, it’s just that it’s part of my life.

Anju-hee felt the same way.

Her life also seemed to touch upon my turbulent and short youth.

EP 13 – Cheonbyeon Manhwa

“Wanna grab a drink?”

“What?”

Anju-hee came to me when I was starting to adapt to university life.

If we call this adaptation, it means adapting to the laziness of students who haven’t improved at all since “Ellele Inseob says his mother is missing.”

At that time, I was sighing about my bleak future after leaving the orphanage, and I was picked up by Professor Gu Hak-jun and entered the literary world for the first time.

It’s like saying, “Hello, world!”

But the outside world I first encountered was nothing special compared to what I had imagined.

People were generally lazy, the literary world was already in decline, and there was no beauty I was looking for.

And the joy of being recognized by Gu Hak-jun was short-lived, as people always criticized my writing, saying they were stuck in delusions to avoid it.

So, I continued to worry about whether I was really stuck in delusions while feeling a sense of victimhood towards those people.

Unfortunately, at that time, Gu Yu-na was causing a stir in various literary awards ceremonies, causing chaos, and my heart was troubled, and my body was busy.

At the same time, the harassment from two villains, Gu Yubin and Min Chaewon, began, making it too difficult for a fragile rookie to deal with.

But all the hardships eventually become memories.

Looking back now, the time when I first experienced the literary world outside the wells of the orphanage and school was a joyful and thrilling time.

Of course, back then, it was just a breathless daily life of looking ahead.

In such a hectic daily life, Anju-hee suddenly appeared.

“Let’s have a drink.”

“What…”

“Don’t want to?”

As usual, amidst studying, writing, eating, writing, attending classes, writing, dating, writing, being scolded, writing, working part-time at the library, Anju-hee showed up.

Let’s drink.

My brain froze.

In fact, if you unexpectedly meet someone you never thought about in a situation you never thought about, anyone would react the same way.

For me, it was Anju-hee.

I never thought we would meet again.

We weren’t close.

Even if the relationship during our student days was bad, meeting after graduation tends to bring a kind of nostalgia.

But it was hard to see Anju-hee as my ‘friend,’ no matter how nicely she packaged it.

Well, because all I had heard about Anju-hee was unpleasant gossip.

Moon In-seop? He’s in first place again?

[Translated text]
Moon In-seop? Is he in first place again?
Envy, jealousy, exclusion.

I can’t accept it!

I’m even more annoyed that I didn’t get an advance notice…!

How can I feel an affinity for a girl who would scold me every time we met at literary awards and poetry contests, asking why I was in first place?

Instead, I found myself feeling a bit of skewed superiority towards Anju-hee, who would always insult me as “not even an advance notice alum.”

Look here.

Not an advance notice alum, coming from an orphanage background, I was acknowledged by the esteemed Professor Gu Hak-jun, becoming his disciple, but what has Anju-hee been up to for the past four years?

Sometimes, when Anju-hee’s pretentious tone and face came to mind, I would find perverse pleasure in asking myself such questions.

But in front of Anju-hee whom I met in person, those questions didn’t arise.

“Ah…”

Anju-hee was, among the people I knew, the one who looked the most like a ‘rich girl.’

Of course, the real rich girl was always by my side, but Gu Yu-na was definitely a bit more like Gu Yu-na…

In that sense, Anju-hee always wore a pretty art school uniform, always had the latest iPhone, and aside from her somewhat fierce eyes, she was always neat and tidy.

Home, clothes, money, school, parents, care…

Perhaps the reason I particularly felt repulsed by Anju-hee was that she might have been the one who had everything I didn’t.

But when I met Anju-hee again, I couldn’t find the old image.

Messy hair, a broken phone screen, shabby clothes, dark circles and sadness on her face,

And even a messy scar on her wrist.

“Why on earth?”

Now, the question of ‘what have you been doing?’ didn’t come to mind.

Instead, what came to mind was…

Why, where, what did you do?

* * *

“I worked briefly under a known writer.”

Unable to resist curiosity, I went for drinks with Anju-hee.

She so naturally bit the cigarette and opened the cap of a bottle of soju.

As Anju-hee, who had become a drunkard before the alcohol even came out, vomited out her story like all those intoxicated by sorrow.

Before graduating high school, Anju-hee ended up working as an assistant writer for a drama writer.

Thanks to her history of being recognized as a genius since her student days and introductions through her parents’ connections.

Anju-hee, a promising figure in the literary world, quickly showed her potential, successfully writing a pilot short drama for a broadcasting station at a young age.

She even made it to the newspapers.

And that was the extent of her success.

It wasn’t a complicated tragedy.

Jealousy, envy, and bullying.

In the end, An Ju-hee was kicked out of her studio after going through a messy public fight that even involved sexual harassment, leaving her with nothing but empty ideas.

That was when she came to find me.

If I had been a little more mature, I would have been able to figure out who people on the edge usually turn to and why An Ju-hee had been itching to confront me ever since our school days.

But at that time, I just thought that An Ju-hee must have been so desperate that she was reaching out to someone she barely knew.

That alone was embarrassing, so how much more so when she said this?

“Would you like to, um, have a drink at my place sometime?”

I knew what she meant, even if I pretended not to.

I knew she was a striker who wanted to at least kick the ball once, even though she knew there was a goalkeeper.

“Sorry, I don’t have time.”

“Ah.”

I didn’t even bother to make up an excuse for why I didn’t have time. It was quite a rude response.

But at the time, An Ju-hee was just some crazy woman asking a man she barely knew to have a drink, so I didn’t feel too bad about being blunt.

“I see…”

“…”

“Yeah, I understand. Sorry…”

I watched An Ju-hee lower her head, paid for my drink, and left.

But now that I look back on it, I feel a little sorry for An Ju-hee.

At the bottom of her messy life, she had thrown away all her pride and gone to her first love from school, only to be treated like a crazy ex-girlfriend and chased away.

What must she have thought as she lay face down on the greasy metal table of the pub?

I will never know the answer.

And so An Ju-hee exited my life.

However, she did not exit the path of literature.

I had forgotten about An Ju-hee, but she inevitably came back into my sight.

“Virus”

A 14-episode Netflix drama set against the backdrop of a large-scale pandemic.

Literature’s unique sense of delicate aesthetics, modern and smooth storytelling, a sense of Korean sentimentality and melodrama, and the dark and slimy shadows of modern society under the guise of responding to the virus…

An Ju-hee came back to me as a name engraved in the credits of that drama.

Even after losing everything and falling to the depths of despair, she started again from the bottom of the theater industry, succeeded in becoming a monodrama writer, and eventually won investment from an overseas OTT service company to achieve worldwide success.

Indeed, does pain truly refine an artist?

The drama that Anju-hee poured her heart into was truly captivating.

Ultimately, although she left the literary world, she became one of the most commercially successful writers of our generation.

Of course, commercial success and artistic success are two different things. I still believe that Gu Yu-na is a far superior artist to Anju-hee.

However, when life spiraled into a pit of despair, Anju-hee’s resilience in rising again to achieve success on her own strength…

It still remains vividly in my memory.

I believe in that very talent of Anju-hee.

“H-Honestly… I don’t think the character Do Kyung would do drugs from episode 1…”

“Ju-hee, what are you talking about?”

Even in her downtrodden state, watching Anju-hee steadfastly assert herself in front of Gu Yu-na and Im Song-yi,

I had that thought.

* * *

Im Song-yi is a specialized suspense thriller writer.

And in Korea, suspense thriller is another term for detective/crime dramas.

Therefore, it’s somewhat inevitable that Im Song-yi’s writing style leans towards the sweat-inducing tension between detectives and criminals.

When she started remaking the novel ‘Others,’ she somewhat hesitated, wondering, ‘Should I just sprinkle some drugs in there?’ as she injected drugs into the script, showing some room for compromise.

But upon hearing the story of a high school student named Anju-hee, it couldn’t help but trouble the heart.

“Why drugs?”

“Hmm?”

“Why does the character Hado Kyung, why, d-d, do…!”

‘Sex’ is such an embarrassing word for a high school student to say.

It’s odd how casually Gu Yu-na murmurs it.

Of course, among Munin, Gu Yu-na, and Im Song-yi, no one could empathize with Anju-hee’s sensibilities.

“Just say it like it is.”

“Are you insane?!”

“I’m in the middle of writing.”

“Well, anyway! I don’t understand why the character Hado Kyung would do drugs while in a r-relationship.”

Im Song-yi still didn’t grasp Anju-hee’s issue.

“Hmm…”

It’s the limit of an unavoidable veteran drama writer.

When you spend a long time in the drama scene, certain ‘formulas’ start to emerge.

The alley is a romantic space, and the blind date must take place at a tonkatsu restaurant.

A cup is not a utensil for drinking but a water sprinkler, and kimchi is not food but a weapon for slapping.

Couples must inevitably divorce, and the illness the female lead gets is always terminal.

This doesn’t need an explanation; it’s like a mathematical formula.

Within this mathematical worldview, the beauty of a drama is completed.

Therefore, it’s only natural for a ‘chaebol’ to do drugs.

Chaebol = drugs.

Isn’t that just common ‘sense’?

So when Anju-hee brought up her next argument, Im Song-yi felt a shocking sensation as if her mathematical worldview was shattering around her.

Therefore, when Anju-hee brought up the next argument, Im Song-yi felt as if her mathematical worldview was shattering into pieces.

“What’s this? Don’t you know the truth that the more love lines in a drama, the better?”

Im Song-yi sighed like a flat-earth theorist learning for the first time that the Earth is round.

“Yeah…! Right! Does a conglomerate villain really need to do drugs…?”

Anju-hee took it a step further.

“It’s true that a conglomerate villain doing drugs is cliché, but we can acknowledge and move on. However, the character of ‘Hado Kyung,’ who identifies as a perfectionist, doesn’t quite fit with occasionally showing impulsive behavior of using drugs due to the stress of upholding a perfectionist image…?”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s fine…”

Still reeling from the shock of learning that the Earth is not flat, Im Song-yi had not fully recovered.

Encouraged by Im Song-yi’s agreement, Anju-hee gathered more courage.

“And about drugs… the character ‘Kim Chaeyeon’ who loses her life due to a sexual encounter. Since there might be some critical public opinion if we consume the character too quickly from episode 1, how about slightly increasing her importance…?”

“In what way?”

“Loving the villain Hado Kyung so much… allowing her body to be used for drugs every time… being placed directly against the crush, somewhat archaic female image like Lana Del Rey?”

Another formula in Im Song-yi’s mind, , shattered.

Looking at the puzzled expression on Im Song-yi’s face, Anju-hee added.

“Well…! Then, even if Kim Chaeyeon goes astray later on, couldn’t Hado Kyung show a belated moment of regret, decay, obsession…?”

“Ah…!”

“Men who regret too late have always been in demand…!”

As Anju-hee’s conversation topic delved into a slightly more intricate area than the embarrassing words she had hesitated to say before, she continued her argument, oblivious to the fact that she was moving into a more delicate territory.

With each of Anju-hee’s suggestive desires slipping out, Im Song-yi nodded in admiration at the creativity of ‘modern kids’.

“Stop.”

It was Gu Yu-na who cut off the increasingly lewd conversation.

Gu Yu-na, exuding an authority like the president of the writers’ association, drove away the lewd demons embedded in the sacred script.

“Kim Chaeyeon should die. Even for the sake of a concise plot.”

As Gu Yu-na bluntly stated, Anju-hee, whose opinion was ignored, was not about to stay silent.

Anju-hee, abandoning the polite ‘-yo’ form she used in front of Im Song-yi the writer, revealed her anger to Gu Yu-na.

Anju-hee snapped at Gu Yu-na, abandoning her polite ‘-yo’ speech style in front of the writer Im Song-yi, revealing her frustration.

“So what! Don’t you consider the feelings of the viewers?”

“What’s wrong with having many love lines in a drama?”

“Excessive coupling can disrupt the story progression. Was Kim Chaeyeon the lead? Or was she involved with the lead? She was just a sacrificial lamb to highlight the main villain. Focusing on such extras shifts the story to the third zone, which is not ideal storytelling.”

“Ha! Can you tolerate regretful clingy chaebol men like you?”

“It doesn’t feel like an appealing character.”

Anju-hee retorted.

“Ah~ I see. What do you know about the latest genres, selling outdated classics from centuries ago like you?”

The pride of the 21st-century fanfic master, Gu Yu-na, was also not silent.

“…I bet I know better than you?”

Like a clash between a dragon and a tiger, Gu Yu-na and Anju-hee collided head-on.

The unattractive adult, Im Song-yi, watched without intervening to get ideas, while the even more unattractive adult, Mun In, brought Anju-hee here to start a fight from the beginning, smiling contentedly as the plan succeeded.

“Hey! Are you really going to give up, regretful clingy chaebol man?”

“Giving too much backstory to extras diminishes the focus on the mainstream.”

“Hey, why are you using English? Are you showing off because you live in a nice house? Is it because your father is Gu Hak-jun?”

“I won an award in the U.S.”

“Profit…! The Hugo Award? There was a scandal about that being a complete fabrication, right? I knew it.”

“I didn’t write to win an award, so it doesn’t matter.”

“So what! Regardless of awards, shouldn’t we prioritize ratings first? The more love lines, the better! Don’t you know?”

“You said to break away from clichés, but now you’re saying we should follow clichés to maintain ratings, huh?”

“What…!”

“Yeah. In the end, pushing for a brief escape from clichés is just a hollow bluff to make it look like you’re trying to cater to people like you. You don’t care about the coherence of the story. Eventually, it’s just sensational themes or cheap storytelling like sprinkling MSG.”

“Are you an idiot? MSG isn’t bad, you know? Aren’t you the one who doesn’t care about public reactions? Dramas are about who ends up with whom! People enjoy this online and with friends in reality!”

“I have no intention of flattering readers.”

“Wow, these kids are really funny. I’m going to flatter them a lot! To be honest, does it make sense to send female characters into drug addiction from the first episode of a drama nowadays? Well, even if it does, will viewers just sit still and watch it? It’s better not to do it!”

“What’s wrong with placing characters strategically?”

“Why is it wrong to place characters strategically?”
As evening approached, the sky was tinted with crimson hues as the clouds.

“So! It’s not about considering the viewers’ feelings!”

“If you start thinking about every little thing, you won’t be able to write a good story.”

Gu Yu-na glanced at the writer.

And Anju-hee glanced at Im Song-yi.

In a momentary lull in the debate, the writer glanced at Im Song-yi and handed over the gavel.

“Well…”

Upon which, Im Song-yi pondered for a moment…

“After all, we have to maintain the ratings, right?”

She reached out her hand to Anju-hee.

* * *

If one were to look past the petty personal attacks, the debate between Gu Yu-na and Anju-hee was akin to a model debate between literary and commercial ideals.

And the fact that literary and commercial ideals are not concepts placed at opposite ends but rather among the many perspectives through which stories are viewed.

The relationship between Gu Yu-na and Anju-hee followed suit.

Both of them, in the end, were not mere high schoolers of universal sentiment.

As much as they argued and fought, it was a kind of proof that both of them could become so serious in front of literature.

Therefore, Gu Yu-na and Anju-hee can be summarized to have more similarities than differences.

Whether they both inwardly realized this fact, they ended up sitting side by side, chatting away while enjoying the various delicacies Im Song-yi had ordered from a steak restaurant.

“Hey, Gu Yu-na, have you seen ‘Ee-eol’?”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t know ‘Ee-eol’? You have to watch it. Otherwise, later together…”

The writer, watching the two children chatter away, smiled contentedly, then rose from his seat for a moment.

In addition to Im Song-yi’s house and studio, there was a balcony in the second house.

Looking at the rather spacious balcony, which could even be called a ‘terrace,’ the writer briefly speculated about Im Song-yi’s wealth.

However, unable to enter Im Song-yi’s family home or the studio where the assistant writers were, he recalled the fact that Im Song-yi resided in the second house and brushed off his faint envy.

In the end, Im Song-yi, too, seemed to be nothing more than a struggling writer unable to escape the pains of creation, shifting from one place to another.

So, there was no need to needlessly worry about the treatment differences between novelists and drama writers.

After all, they were all walking the same path.

“Oh…”

Naturally leaning against the balcony, the writer was taken aback by the fact that he had no cigarettes in his pocket.

And soon after, he chuckled self-deprecatingly, pondering if he still hadn’t adapted to the fact that he was not in his twenties but in his teens.

Unable to smoke, he focused his mind on a better stimulus than cigarettes.

And that was the world unfolding before his eyes.

Evening had already arrived, and the sky was filled with crimson sunset clouds.

The small city on the outskirts of Seoul, where Lim Song-yi’s second home was located, boasted a quaint landscape.

Despite the exorbitant housing prices, trees lined the streets between the sparsely built buildings.

The dark part of a writer’s heart, which was born from poverty and could never be erased, despised the affluence emanating from such a landscape…

However, if one could set aside that darkness and focus on what was in front of them, one could witness the most beautiful art.

Yes, the world is beautiful in itself.

The sunset colors the clouds, the wind tickles the trees, the angular buildings cast shadows, the moist scent of trees lingers in the air, and countless colors that cannot be expressed in words such as crimson, navy, teal, and beige adorn the world.

What color are the clouds that are tinged between the crimson of sunset and the navy of night?

What shape is the tree that changes tens of thousands of times per second as it sways in the wind?

And what lies in the smiles of the family strolling leisurely through this beautiful world?

This beauty is something that the rich and the poor can enjoy equally, and children with and without parents can enjoy equally.

That’s why writers love this beauty.

However, even with this beauty right before their eyes, it is impossible to express it in mere lines of text.

So the question comes back to the beginning: what exactly is beauty?

Even after traveling back in time, the writer still had not found the answer.

Therefore, when he turned away from the scenery,

The writer could understand the feelings of author Lim Song-yi, who was looking at him with a pitiful expression.

“Thank you.”

“……What part are you referring to?”

“The part where you didn’t curse at the hack who plagiarized your novel, and the part where you came all this way to introduce me to such good friends.”

Drama writer Lim Song-yi sat down on the veranda chair with a bitter laugh.

It was clear that she wanted to talk, so the writer sat down opposite her.

Lim Song-yi sighed deeply and asked in a voice that seemed to have let something go.

“Did you find it a bit awkward?”

“What part?”

“Just, you know. A veteran writer like me calling over children and asking them questions one by one…”

Lim Song-yi brought up a topic that she couldn’t discuss in front of her family and assistant writers.

“But I can’t help it. I don’t even know if my writing is interesting anymore…”

“……”

“I have no choice but to cling to it like this.”

Lim Song-yi looked up at the sky where the sunset and night were battling, with the relieved expression of someone who had confided a secret.

Im Song-yi wore a distinctive expression typical of someone who had spilled a secret as she gazed up at the sky where dusk and night were battling it out.

Novelist Racing Against Time Episode 212

“Ah- I feel like I should just retire. It seems like my talent has run dry…”

“…”

“I mean, if I’ve made it this far, I must have made quite a bit…”

“…”

“I’ve earned enough, so maybe it’s time to call it quits…”

“…”

“Even though I have that thought dozens of times a day, I can’t give up. Not on this.”

For the first time, Munin echoed Im Song-yi’s words.

“That’s right.”

“Haha.”

Im Song-yi found it amusing to hear such words from a child in a school uniform, yet for some reason, she couldn’t dismiss Munin’s words as mere childish nonsense.

Munin seemed to genuinely empathize with Im Song-yi’s words.

That’s why Im Song-yi continued her story.

“So what can you do? Even if you make a fool of yourself, you have to make a scene.”

“…”

“Gather younger kids than me, even if it means peeking at their talents, you have to write somehow, right…”

“…”

“It’s certain that I used to be a princess when I was young, but now I feel like an old hag devouring children…”

Munin watched Im Song-yi reminiscing about the past for decades and remained silent.

He was in a similar position himself.

Still unable to find the answer to what beauty is, he continued to leech off others’ talents.

Imitating Im Song-yi seeking advice from Gu Yu-na and Anju-hee, and Munin gathering Im Song-yi, Gu Yu-na, and Anju-hee in one place are fundamentally the same.

A cowardly act of peeking at another artist’s talent.

A desperate cheating move befitting artists whose creativity has run dry and hearts have withered.

But beauty is something worth following even to that extent.

That’s why they simply couldn’t stop this behavior.

“But what else can we do.”

After pondering for a while, Munin replied to Im Song-yi.

“We have to continue.”

“…”

The conversation between the two writers did not continue.

Before they knew it, the sun had set, the dark night covered the sky, the chilly wind blew, and even when such scenes had their own beauty, they sat quietly.

And then, both of them stood up from their seats.

“Yes, we have to continue.”

Once you’ve started, you simply can’t let go of the pen.

And so, the two cowards once again entered the house to peek at the talents of the young.