Who are You? (3)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
Juho too, wanted to experience the characters behind the screen coming alive. He wanted to be one of the audience members Sang Young had described. He wanted to walk out of the theater with excitement. For that reason, he wanted to feel anger, the desire to write, and a small amount of happiness. In order for that to happen, the film adaptation had to surpass its original counterpart. After all, he had created the original.
Because that was what he had wanted, he hadn't attached any conditions for directors wanting to make his book into a film. Maybe the young Juho in the past would have wanted the same thing. For that reason, he had felt angry and disappointed.
"Are you confident that you can make something that surpasses my work?"
Sang Young looked at him with surprise, and Juho heard Nam Kyung taking a deep breath.
"You mean more so than the original?"
"That's right."
There was silence. As he waited quietly, Juho felt certain that Sang Young would be the perfect director. He had come looking for Yun Woo at Nam Kyung's publishing company multiple times and, after many failures, he had finally succeeded. Now, they were sitting across from each other.
Sang Young had been reaching his limits in his conversation with Juho. He had been fiercely determined to make it happen. The fire had been apparent in his eyes, and he had been responding to Juho's provocations.
'I'm sure it won't be that difficult for him, but he has more than what it takes,' Juho thought.
Sang Young's lips trembled ever so slightly.
"Very well," he answered with his distinctively husky voice. "I'll do whatever it takes to make an adaptation that surpasses the original."
If he were to overcome the difference between novel and movie, or words and images, and captivate the author with its result, there could be something for Juho to write about in his next book.
"Haha," Juho laughed as a gesture of consent.
That day, the three remained together and spent a long time talking over a meal. Juho still hadn't read the scenario, and he hadn't attached any conditions to the project. He had given Sang Young full creative authority and freedom.
Everything had gone smoothly, and it didn't take long for the news to spread.
Countless articles poured out. It had become widely known that Yun Woo had been turning down directors wanting to make a film adaption of his book. Sang Young had been in several interviews since then, and without fail, every one of them had asked about Yun Woo.
"I'm sure you've met with Yun Woo by now. What was that like?"
"How did you manage to convince him?"
"Could you describe his appearance?"
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"What was it like having a conversation with him?"
No matter the question, Sang Young gave the same answer, "I prefer to keep that to myself." Although the internet exploded with complaints, Sang Young hardly read any of the articles online.
His sole interest was in the production of his movie, and soon, the process began to breed questions for Juho. Because Sang Young had been looking for some sort of influence in direction, he started pouring out questions for Juho. However, Juho gave him no answers. Unlike Sang Young, what he had been looking for was the interpretation of the readers. They had constantly clashed, and that had continued to that day.
One day, they had made plans to meet for dinner at a barbecue restaurant. When Sang Young arrived, he was still in his worn out jeans, but he opened his mouth as soon he sat down.
"So, about the personalities."
"It's up to you. It's up to the reader how he interprets the book."
Whenever the two met, they exchanged the same conversation dozens of times. Neither of them gave way.
"Really? Not even a hint?"
"I'm giving you creative freedom instead."
"C'mon, just a tiny one?"
"You already have the scenario written. You'd know by now."
"I'm just trying to make a good movie here."
"Your interpretation is enough for me," he answered as he brought a cooked piece of meat into his mouth. Sang Young grumbled, but Juho paid no attention.
"It's a gamble, but what about romance?"
At that, the scenes from the past film adaptation rushed past Juho's head. It had been smothered with romance that hadn't been in the book. Though he hesitated for a brief moment, he brushed it off as soon as he saw the person sitting in front of him.
"Whatever your heart desires," he answered with a shrug as he chewed on his food.
'This director is different from the one I worked with in the past. He's not going to settle for some romance movie.'
"You're not going to visit the set even after we start filming, are you?"
"What would I do there?"
"Aren't you curious about how movies are made?"
'Not really...' Juho thought.
"It'd shatter my fantasy of movies. I'll just wait till it comes out in the theaters."
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"If you say so. You know, you're nothing like other high school students. Maybe it's 'cause you're a writer or something," Sang Young answered as he rolled his eyes.
"I'm a high school student AND a writer."
"Working two jobs, huh? Must be tough."
"My sleep suffers a bit, but eh... What can I do?"
"It's gotten harder for teenagers to find part-time work, huh?"
"Not if you have your parents' consent."
"It's better not to work at that age."
Then he began to share his experiences of his past jobs. Apparently, he had worked at a barbecue restaurant like the one they were in, a car wash, a gas station, and even in a prop management team.
"It was tough. There's a saying that there are great lessons to be learned from suffering early. I hated that crap. Look at me. If you suffer when you're young, you'll suffer when you're older."
At that, Juho reminisced about his past.
After repeating all kinds of failures for the span of thirty years, he had found himself accustomed to failing. He no longer had the desire to do anything. He had been like a dead plant with its leaves hanging lifelessly. That had been what it looked like to be familiar with failure.
'I'm sure it's the same for suffering,' he thought. Once a person had grown accustomed to suffering, growing out of it would have been more suffering in and of itself.
"Because I've gone through so much, I do whatever it takes to stay away from suffering."
"That's not necessarily a bad thing."
"Who said anything about it being bad? I've led a good life. I'm just saying that I'd been forgetting things."
"What have you been forgetting?"
"When I was young, I'd always been the kid who ran straight for the net," he said as he chuckled.
"I'm sure your teammates had a lot to say about that."
"If there was a ball before me, I kicked it. I didn't think twice. I was just so desperate to score a goal. I kept kicking until it made it into the net. I thought of one thing as I stood in front of the goal post. 'I want to be successful,'" he continued without paying attention to Juho's answer.
Apparently, his longing for success had been greater than his fear of failure at one point in his life.
"I'd been forgetting that this entire time. I was busy suffering and dating my wife. I'm confident that I've led a happy life. But after reading your book and connecting emotionally with Yun, I realized that I've been living in darkness all along. I've been wanting something all along, but I was too afraid. I'm not saying giving up is a bad thing, but I was taken aback that my decision was something that took place in between my stream of consciousness. It all happened so naturally, without anyone knowing. I didn't bother to kick the ball any more. I gave up on trying new things," he said as he put a piece of meat into his mouth, chewing.
"Before I knew it, my eyes had already adapted to darkness. Now, I can see what's before me even with the tiniest of lights. It all happened before I even became aware," he said as he looked at Juho.
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"Even if I hadn't read your book, I would've been content still. I feel burdened just from avoiding failure, but there was something about the book that kept urging me. It kept asking me if I wanted to see what was on the other side of darkness," he said as he took a sip of water.
"So, I decided to make a movie with the book that shook me at the core. It had been a big decision for me, but the answer had been a "no." It would have been embarrassing to give up on my first try, so I went looking for you. After I met you, I finally earned the copyright. I'd finally done it. But you know what? The real doozy is that this is just a beginning."
He had resolved himself to making a film adaptation that surpassed the original. It had just begun.
"On that note, do you have anything to tell me about the brother?" he asked impatiently as he brought another piece of meat to his mouth.
'I'm sure he didn't say all that just so he could ask me that,' Juho thought as he chuckled.
"I almost gave you an answer there."
Sang Young had been referring to Yun's older brother in 'The Trace of a Bird.' He was much older and he didn't have a job. He hadn't been around much either. He was hardly a decent human being.
Sang Young didn't let up.
"He's got a girl pregnant, hasn't he? He becomes a dad in the end, right?" He asked watchfully. It had been quite a sensitive question.
Yun's brother had a charm that drew people to him. Among those who liked and followed him, there were also girls. He had gotten one of them pregnant in fact.
When he found out, he visited his younger brother for the first time in several years.
"The brother is afraid of birds too, isn't he?"
Juho nodded. Both Yun and his brother had the same fear, but there was a difference in the way they manifested. The older brother ran outward while Yun inward.
"Is he going to make his girlfriend get an abortion?" Sang Young asked like he was trying to pry out an answer from Juho, who just kept smiling. The book didn't clarify what the brother had decided to do. After leaving Yun's house, his name never came up again.
"Why do you ask? How did you want to portray him?" he asked back.
"Hm..." Sang Young groaned as he thought for quite some time. "I think he'll do it."
"He'll do what?"
"Commit murder."
'Murder.' Juho looked at the pieces of meat that had been sizzling on the grill. They were no longer alive.
Yun slowly spiraled down into darkness. Boringly, and awkwardly. Deep inside, he couldn't hate himself. No matter what anyone said, his priority had been himself. He hated pain to a fault and, because of that, he didn't leave his house.
On the contrary, his brother had been destructive. He had led a reckless life with no regards for those around him. He didn't care one bit for himself and had let go of his life in a way that almost felt refreshing. Perhaps, that was what made him so charming.
The reason why Juho hadn't written about the brother in more detail was because he simply couldn't describe him in writing. It hadn't been because he had wanted to leave room for interpretation. He just couldn't dare to write in detail about his destructive life. He couldn't pull himself together to write the scene where the brother was telling his girlfriend to kill the baby.
"Get rid of it. Kill it." He would've said things to that effect. After all, he had already been at a place where he couldn't help himself. Sang Young had interpreted things accurately. The brother was more than capable of killing someone.
"If he's capable of killing a bird the way he did, he wouldn't have much trouble killing a person."
His way of overcoming his fear was to remove the very thing that he was afraid of.
Juho started to look forward to Sang Young's movie. He had been following Juho's thought process to a tee.
'How would this turn out? What would 'The Trace of a Bird' look like as a movie?' he thought as he put a piece of meat into his mouth.Chapter 65 – A White Piece of Paper from the Sky (1)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
"If that's what the brother's thinking, then that's gotta be it."
"Still no answer, huh? I can't say I didn't expect that," Sang Young said. "He's a charming person, that one. If anybody, I really want to be intentional about picking the right person for that role."
"I'll be looking forward to it."
"You too?!? It's already nerve-racking as is!"
"C'mon, where's your confidence?"
"A person's heart tends to be fickle like that. What's important is that you keep going."
Sang Young was not going to let anything hold him back. The expectations were through the roof, and the fans of the original would be judging his movie with strict standards. It would be natural for anyone to be anxious. Still, he had to make it happen.
"You'll do great. It's time for you to spread your wings, Mr. Joo."
"You're dang right about that. It's about time. After all, what is there to be afraid of when I've convinced an author like you?" he said drily.
"I didn't mean for you to shift the burdens onto my shoulders."
"Burdens are supposed to be shared. I haven't said a word to the reporters, so think of it as compensation," he said as he picked up the pieces of meat on the verge of burning and put them on top of Juho's rice. Juho ate without saying much. It was uncertain when the movie was going to come out, but he had something to look forward to.
"Thank you for dinner."
"Of course."
Juho thanked Sang Young while he stood in front of the register to pay for their meal.
It was already dark by the time they walked out. They had lost track of time eating and talking to each other. Juho stepped out of the restaurant first.
"Sigh," he let out. He had been having some trouble with his next book. The overall storyline had already been defined and he had been happy with the characters and the developments throughout the story. Only, there was one thing lacking. There was nothing driving the protagonist.
'What would be the best thing to bring her to regret?' he thought. Although he had had some ideas, none of them had been what he was looking for. He wanted an image that represented something bigger.
The mother in the story shared many similarities with the older brother in 'The Trace of a Bird.' She was destructive and twisted. This time, however, Juho didn't want to avoid the challenge. He wanted to bring this dark, disturbing character to life in his next book. After all, he was different from his old self and he wanted to prove that to himself.
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'After having gotten pregnant, the lady gave birth to a son. Then, she regretted the decisions she'd made.' The more Juho wrote and gave the character a shape, the more he realized that something crucial was missing.
"Do you mind if we hang around for a few minutes? I want a smoke," Sang Young asked after paying for their dinner.
"Sure," Juho replied as he snapped out of his thoughts.
There was a small smoking area next to a store nearby, so Sang Young took cigarette from his pocket. As Juho watched him lighting it, Sang Young said, "This stuff isn't good for ya. Don't ever pick up smoking."
"Haha," Juho laughed. He had already had experience with smoking. In fact, he had been a heavy smoker in the past and done just about anything that was harmful to his health. Even if he hadn't drowned in the river, he would have eventually ended up in the hospital.
"Then, what's your reason for smoking when you know it's bad for you?"
"Good question."
"I value my lungs, so I'll keep my distance for now," he said as he turned around and heard Sang Young grumbling behind him.
Just as he was about to walk away, he smelled a faint whiff of burning cigarette. It had been a smell that accompanied a grey, murky smoke. He stopped in place as he saw the smoke from Sang Young's cigarette lingering around the corner his eye. At the sight of the smoke slowly drifting away, he had felt a tingling sensation in his hand.
"What's the matter?" Sang Young asked, and Juho turned around.
'That's it!' Inspiration had struck him at the least expected moment. He looked at the cigarette in Sang Young's hand that was burning ember. It was a fleeting spark.
"Huh? What is it?" Sang Young asked as he realized Juho was looking at him. Juho approached him with a serious expression, and Sang Young blinked, looking confused.
"So..."
"Yeah, what is it? Do you have an upset stomach?" he asked as the cigarette in his hand burned away, slowly being reduced to white ash.
"I think I need to go."
"Huh?" Sang Young asked as he looked at Juho. His cigarette kept burning in his hand. Their eyes met. No, to be precise, Juho studied the way Sang Young looked at his cigarette.
"If you'll excuse me."
"Did you remember something urgent?"
"I need to write!"
"What?"
'What did this kid just say?' he asked himself dumbfoundedly. As if not seeing the confusion in Sang Young's face, Juho bowed and started running. Sang Young stared at him in the distance.
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'He's fast.'
He took a drag of his cigarette, and a thick cloud of smoke came out of his mouth and nose. He thought about what he had just seen in Juho's eyes. Dry. Calm. Longing for something.
"What was that about?" Those eyes had lacked something. He had been thirsting for something. 'Why would he have such look on his face when he's already a bestselling author in his teens?' he asked himself with his cigarette in his hand still. At that moment, he remembered. Those had been Yun's eyes – a character who hid himself in the darkness and held his breath in fear, yet, longed for light.
Sang Young put his cigarette out in his portable ashtray. Its gray ash scattered about.
'That's it!' He had thought of a way to maximize Yun's character, Juho's eyes, his dry, desolate, yet desperate eyes. Sang Young started running with his curly, untidy hair waving in the wind.
*
Juho had been running while writing in his notepad. He hadn't been doing a good job with either writing or running. Yet, he kept scribbling on his notepad as he ran. He didn't want to forget. He didn't want to lose what had finally come to him after desperately longing for it.
To some, he might have looked ridiculous, but he kept running. He couldn't afford to think about how others were looking at him.
"Damn it! Hills!?" He started to run out of breath as he ran uphill. Though he had been running for some time, there was still a long way to go.
Many scenes were coming in and out of his mind, and he didn't want to miss a single one. He felt like they would evaporate if he didn't take hold of them. Fighting for his breath, he kept running.
A cigarette, there had been a cigarette burning in Sang Young's hand. There was no turning back the moment it was lit. There was nothing that could be done other than it being reduced to mere ashes. That was just the image Juho had been looking for.
"Hey, you're home."
"Hi!" he answered loudly.
After greeting his mother in a hurry, he rushed into his room and picked up his pen. 'Cigarette, baby, mom, the protagonist, perspective, development, story, pregnancy. Carrying a new life. A state of bearing a child or a baby. A sign of birth. All covered in gray ash.'
The story quickly moved forward in his head, so he had to write down the scenes that were playing in his head like a movie. The screen came on as he turned on his computer, and he took a deep breath. 'Let's calm down. I have to write pragmatically. I can't be too excited and let go of this stream of consciousness. If I'm led by what I write, it won't come out right."
By the time he couldn't hear his breathing anymore, a scene revealed itself to him.
There was a woman lying on the bed. Her face was buried in the blanket, and she never looked up. Juho quietly approached her. The fabric rustled as he sat on the bed beside her. Despite his presence, the woman didn't bother to look up.
He quietly reached over to her and brushed her long hair to the side. Her thin, white neck became visible. With his eyes closed, he put his face against it and inhaled. She smelled like flesh. It was her somewhat suffocating scent. He felt like his lungs would rot from deep within. Her body had been bearing that stench.
He slowly opened his eyes. Everything was fuzzy. He was blinded by a white cloud of smoke. Yet, they didn't call for one another. They communicated with one another in silence.
He saw her silhouette moving in the smoke, and she looked in his direction. He tried to get a better look at her, but he couldn't see her eyes through the smoke. Still, it had been apparent, she was filled with regret. She was sinking to the depths of it.
He closed his eyes again.
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Now, there was a puddle of water reflecting various emotions, words, objects, and stories. As he dipped his hand into it, he felt its coldness traveling up from the tip of his fingers. Suddenly, he came to his senses.
'Not bad. Now is the time.'
He had set aside anything that disrupted his mind. He had put down any concerns or obsessions for change and future.
Juho focused his attention to his fingertips as he remembered the sensation of his hand dipping into the cold puddle, and the screen filled up with words as his hands moved.
He saw a river flowing peacefully.
"Yawn," he loosened as he looked at the water.
He had been writing late into night for the past two days. His new book had been flowing toward its finale like the river, and it had been a very smooth process. He wrote whenever he had a chance. At his mother's urges, he had decided to go out for a walk by the river. His mind had been quite tired from writing all day, so he didn't try to object.
He sat under a bridge, not finding it repulsive to sit on the ground, and stared quietly at the water. The more he saw the wavelets break, the more he wanted to get near them. As impulsive as he tended to be, it would've been dangerous to be closer to the water.
The color of the water was closer to black than blue. It hadn't been all that pretty. It had been deep and dark and seemingly dangerous, even at a glance. Maybe his experience with the river had something to do with it.
He reminisced to the day when he drowned in the water. Water that flowed in from various sources mixed into one river. There was no 'individual' in there. He reminisced to his experience while he had been in the water. He hadn't been able to make anything out. He hadn't been able to hear his own breathing. Everything had been dark. Everything had been white, so perhaps, he had been blind. It had been kind of quiet but noisy at the same time.
In the end, nothing was accurate.
A memory tended to fade over time. Juho knew that he would forget all of those memories within a year. He wouldn't be able to remember them even if he tried. He would probably try to find bits and pieces of his memories and move them around until they fit.
He took out a pen and a small notebook. That was why he needed them.
Letters, if he were to leave records of his memories, he would be able to hold onto them a little longer.
He thought about his next book. He had come out to take a break, but his mind was already back at it before he realized. It kept itself busy even when he wanted to clear his head. He didn't resist.
He had written his next book in Yun Woo's style. It was his next book, so it would have been natural to do so. For an author, his style was a direct translation of his personality. Like fingerprint, it was something that defined him as that author. One would truly become an author only when they had a style of their own. Now, Juho had two – his flashy, yet controlled style in 'The Trace of a Bird,' and another style that'd been shaped by thirty years of experience as an author.
That had been the proof. It had been the proof of time and the fact that he had gone back to the past. A boy who was once pure had become arrogant and, eventually, met his downfall. As he was about to soar into the sky once again after having fallen into the icy river, his wings were soaked. He couldn't do anything but to look up at the sky.
So, he looked up at the blue sky. It was high. There was no wind or cloud. In the midst of the peaceful sky, he saw something white falling.
"What's this?"
The object moved busily in the air and, soon, fell onto the ground. He reached over and read it.
"It's a manuscript."
There were even letters. Two quotation marks, somebody was talking.
'Rustle.'
Another sheet of paper fell from the sky, and then another. He looked up.
"Whoa!"
Dozens of pages were flying in the sky.