Chapter 66 – A White Piece of Paper from the Sky (2)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
Another sheet of paper came down.
The sunlight shone between the pages. Once Juho opened his eyes after briefly closing them, all of the pages lay on the ground.
He picked the scattered pages up one by one. Every page had been filled with writing. There had been a character, a development, a background and a theme.
When he collected all of the pages, he saw there were enough to make up a medium- to full-length novel. Seeing how they had been neatly printed, it must have been a draft that had already been revised.
'Who'd toss something like this?' he thought as he brushed the dirt off.
He looked up in order to find out who the pages belonged to. There was a bridge and a pair of hands sticking out of it. The empty pair of hands was hanging loosely in the air.
"You could get fined for littering here," Juho said with emphasis.
The hands in the air flinched, then a sigh followed.
"This damn world... Everything's about money," the person sounded depressed.
"I was just kidding," Juho said to encourage him.
"... Who are you kid?"
"I'm a just a student who came out for a walk by the water. I've picked up all of your pages, so you won't have to worry about being fined."
"Why bother? It's all trash," the man said faintly. He was murmuring, but Juho couldn't hear from where he was.
"I'll bring it up to you. Don't go anywhere."
"Don't bother. I'm leaving."
Juho ignored him and went up to the bridge. Though the man could have left by the time Juho had made it up to the bridge, Juho still went after him. As he walked up the stairs, he saw the man on the bridge, looking just as depressed as he had sounded.
"Here ya go," Juho said as he pulled out the stack of papers.
"They're not mine," the man answered as he looked briefly at the pages in Juho's hand.
"Then, whose are they?"
"That's what I want to ask. I'd like to know who's responsible for writing a piece of crap like that," he said with a self-deprecating snicker.
'That's one way to say yes,' Juho thought.
"Are you a writer?" he asked.
"No," the man answered.
"Then, are you aspiring to be one?"
"... a rather promising one at that," the man said almost like an excuse.
"So, why the long face?"Juho asked as he nodded.
"Who's asking?"
"I'm part of a Literature Club. My teacher always tells me and the other members that we have to pay attention to our surroundings if we want to be better writers."
The man nodded as he looked down from the bridge.
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"That's right. You should stay alert at all times. My teacher said something similar, many times."
"Sounds like we have similar teachers."
"I don't know. My teacher's probably a lot more impressive," he said like a child showing off his parents.
"Is that so? There's a saying that a great pupil comes from a great teacher."
"... That's right. That's why I said 'promising.'"
'Dang it,' Juho thought. The man was back to his depressed state.
"I guess I might as well speak my mind while somebody's actually listening. I'm going to regret this later, but whatever," he said with a sigh as he quietly looked at Juho and, with that, he started sharing his story. "So, I competed in an essay contest, right?"
"Uh, huh."
"It was a huge contest hosted by a big publishing company. Oh, wait, you're in the Literature Club, so you should know. It was an opportunity to set my foot into the literary world."
"Right."
"That's what I had been part of. I had seriously worked my butt off," he emphasized. "I really worked hard. I wrote all day, everyday. Not only is my teacher a great person, but he's also an amazing writer. I wanted to be just like him. I thought I had what it took."
"And then?"
"Then, I didn't make it. Like the pages I threw off the bridge," he said as he looked down. His voice shook as if he were getting emotional.
'He's not crying, is he? He looks like he's at least thirty,' Juho chuckled.
"Are you crying?"
"No."
Juho put his arms up on the rail the man had been leaning on and felt its cold metal surface in his hand, piercing through his palm.
"You could always try again."
He sighed deeply and said, "You're right. It's such an obvious answer, even to a kid like you. So, that's what I did. When I didn't make it to the finals, I started writing again." His eyes turned to his pages. They had been proof of the challenge, and Juho followed his eyes to the stack of paper.
"Was it that bad?"
"... well, not THAT bad."
Juho smiled at his timid objection. In the way he had tossed his composition away, that he complained to a high school whom he had never met before, and was now getting teary eyed, Juho saw his old self in that man.
He had been exactly the same way. He had been in a rut without knowing where to go. He had trembled without knowing what he should go toward.
"I need a drink," the man said.
"That doesn't sound wise."
The man snickered at Juho's answer.
"I'm an adult you know."
"If you drink now, your legs will feel even weaker."
"Legs?" He asked as he looked at his legs and then the bridge he was on. "Is this bridge shaking?" Then, he sighed deeply and said, "Don't be like me when you grow up."
"Why not? You have a promising talent."
"That's not everything."
"Then?"
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"It's time."
"Time? What time?"
"Do you know how many years I've spent as an aspiring writer with 'promising talent?'"
"No."
'How would I know that? We've just met,' Juho thought.
"Ten years."
Ten years, it had been a long time.
"I've wanted to be an author ever since I was twenty. I came up to Seoul after getting into a university, and then I went to my teacher to become his pupil. I'm thirty now," he said as he rubbed the handrail.
"Of course, I've tried a bunch of different jobs. I had to make a living, you know? I've even got myself a corporate job at one point with my friend's recommendation. There wasn't a whole lot of time to write, but it wasn't half bad. The stable income really helped, but in the end, I came back to being an aspiring writer because I wanted to write. My teacher accepted me without any criticism."
"But I guess I don't have what it takes. It took me thirty years to realize that. I should've stayed at that company," he added as he looked down.
"Do you regret your past?"
"There are plenty of people like me – people who don't get past their aspiring stage. There are plenty of people who don't realize that that's not their path. Everyone who studied with my teacher around the same time as me gave up. They're all busy trying to get all these licenses," he gave Juho what sounded more like an excuse than an answer.
"It's too late for me. There's no hope for somebody like me," he murmured and then added in a self-deprecating manner, "Well, how do you feel now? You really don't want to be like me when you grow up, right?"
"I inherently can't become someone I'm not."
"Yeah, I'm sure. I don't see why you'd want to be like me."
It was as if he hadn't even been listening to Juho. He was too exhausted to listen, to keep his ears open.
"Then who would YOU like to be?" Juho asked.
"Yun Woo," he answered like a sigh.
'Yun Woo?'
"Who?"
"Yun Woo? The author?"
'How friendly of him,' Juho thought as he remained quiet.
"Bookworms or not, I'm sure kids nowadays know who that is. He's your age."
"... I know who that is. Yun Woo, he's famous."
"Yep."
'Famous, huh?'
"Are you telling me to be famous?" Juho asked after a quick thought.
"It's better than being a no-name, aspiring writer."
"Is that right?"
He looked away at Juho's bland answer. His expression had grown darker.
"You don't seem all that excited. Oh, wait! Maybe it has something to do with your age. In that case, I understand."
"What do you mean?"
"Jealousy, the sense of inferiority, and the sense that he's different from you. The closer you are in age and field, the more you tend to be affected by emotions like those. Do you know when he debuted?" the man asked as he looked at Juho.
"He won a contest when he was sixteen."
"That's right, an essay contest. I was in that same contest."
'Huh. What are the odds?' Juho thought.
Yun Woo had surpassed him. As a result, he had become a bestselling author while the man had remained an aspiring writer.
Juho scratched his head. Though he had initially come out for a break, he somehow ended up conversing with someone who had been made victim by his book. Of course, that man would never know.
After some brief contemplation, Juho looked at the man. 'What's his opinion of Yun Woo?'
Now was a good time, so Juho slowly opened his mouth, and said, "It must've been tough. He's much younger."
"That's right. It burned quite a bit. I've probably written twice as much as that punk. I was confident too. I thought things would be different that time."
"And then it didn't work out."
"This kid came out of nowhere and became a star. It must be nice being young. He's got skills on top of that. He's got it all."
"Do you feel bitter about that?"
There was silence.
He smiled dejectedly as he looked down.
"If I did, I would be throwing pages of his book instead of my own."
Juho looked at the stack of paper in his hand that had fallen on him.
"You should have. Why didn't you? Why did you throw away your own work?"
"I may have been 'aspiring' for a while, but I'm still looking to be an author. I respect my books."
"That's admirable."
"If I were in your shoes, I would have ripped up 'The Trace of a Bird' as I shouted from the top of my lungs, cursing out the judges. I probably would've ranted about them making poor choices too," Juho said honestly. "
He chuckled.
"I felt confident. I even got a good feedback from my teacher. I thought I was finally going to make it, but the reality was different. There was some kid who had just graduated from middle school in front of me. I couldn't accept it."
"But then?"
"But then it all made sense when I read his novel. He had something I didn't. Themes and perspectives that I'd never even thought of. He wrote so calmly. I gave up as soon as I read it," he said as he threw his hands into the air.
Juho kept his eyes fixed on those hands. That hadn't been true. Yun Woo hadn't been as great of a character as the man had described. Juho couldn't bring himself to read through the book that he had written. It had been crude and foul. It had been no more than a mass of emotional remnants.
The difference in their perspective weighed on Juho's shoulders.
"After that, I wasn't happy with anything I wrote. This is it for me, throwing away my own composition off the bridge. You know what's even more lame? Some student brought it back to me."
"I'm sorry about that. That does sound kind of lame."
"I'm regretting it now as we speak. I should have turned back when you still thought I was 'admirable.' I would have been able to live knowing that at least one person thought I was a somewhat decent human being," he said with sad eyes.
Contrary to his sadness, Juho was smiling.
The man was funny. He seemed like a person who would throw himself at regrets.
If he hadn't gone on, he would've been remembered as someone admirable. If he had been content with his corporate job, he would have remained happy. If he had stopped at his first attempt, he wouldn't be in front of Juho, throwing away his work like trash.
Juho walked toward him. He had nothing to say as Yun Woo. Besides the man, there had been many others who had submitted their work. Among them, only one had received the award and debuted as an author. Everyone had pursued after such opportunity.
For that reason, as Juho, he had nothing to say.
However...
"Mister, if you really want to be admirable, you should respect your own writing too."
As a student who had picked up his work from the ground, he did have something to say.
White Piece of Paper from the Sky (3)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
Juho handed over the pages he had picked up one by one. They were all dirty and out of order. The man just stared at what was once his composition.
"It's trash."
"I went out of my way to pick it up."
"You can keep it then. I want nothing to do with it. I'm not writing anymore," he said
"I really gotta pull myself together. I'm getting older and I'm without a job. I should at least have some sort of license if I want to put food on the table... It's getting embarrassing to see my teacher now," he added as he teared up. The reality of giving up writing was causing him a great deal of pain.
"When you hang onto something for a decade, you eventually start to feel numb. You feel anxious and excited at first, but when it gets repeated, you start losing your confidence and your health. All you are left with is your mouth, making empty promises," he said with a sigh.
"An author can't afford to grow numb. I've been done with all along. I just couldn't accept it because I've been so attached to it... Are you listening?"
When the man looked up after he had finished complaining, he saw Juho was distracted by something.
Juho snatched the stack of paper from the man, leaving him behind at a loss for words.
"Hey!"
"Give me one moment," Juho answered half-heartedly as he focused on reading a sheet of paper.
"... Aren't you a weirdo? I can't even complain now. Keeping your ears open, huh? That's fine, I didn't even expect you to anyway. You're not even a counselor or anything, so I guess the fact that you even stuck around means something. In the end, I don't have any stories to tell, and my writing's just depressing," he murmured, but Juho paid no attention.
He had turned the page, and then the next. After some time, the overall plot started to make sense.
The composition was about cannibalism. A person ate another person. The story unfolded amid the atrocity. It was depressing, colorless and unsettling. He saw the lack of confidence in the writing. It had been provocative and terrifying, but it wasn't bad.
"This is good."
"What?" he asked weakly.
"This composition. I like how depressing it is. It almost feels like it's digging into the depths."
The man didn't say anything.
"It is gruesome and terrifying, but it comes to me as shocking more so than offensive. That's why I can keep on reading," Juho added as he kept reading.
The man couldn't take Juho's words seriously, thinking that he was just a kid. Yet, Juho shared his honest opinion.
"It's almost refreshing how depressing it is. You're not holding back on the cruel side of human nature. There's weight to the story, and it lingers in my mind," he said. "When it comes out, I'd like to savor it from cover to cover."
The man stayed silent for some time. Eventually, he opened his mouth and asked, "Did you like it?"
"Yes, I did," Juho said as he nodded. It had been a good read.
"You were going to submit this, right?"
"... Yeah."
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"But then you found yourself losing confidence and feeling depressed, so that's why you threw it off the bridge."
"... Yes, you sassy brat."
"You're not numb," Juho said with a smile.
It had been true. Despite the lifeless look on his face, the man hadn't grown numb. He had misunderstood. He had simply overlooked the remnants of his emotions that had sunk down to the bottom.
Juho looked at the composition. Though it was colorless, the emotions were definitely there. He was able to feel them.
"If you're not submitting this, can I keep it?"
"What?"
"You said you're quitting. You won't need it then. Man, this must be my lucky day. Thanks, take care."
Juho turned around, leaving the man dumbfounded. Without delay, he started walking away. There were still no signs of movement, so he kept on.
Soon, there was quite a distance between the two, but when he saw the end of the bridge, a voice boomed from behind him.
"Wait!"
Juho looked back.
"Yes?"
That time, the man approached him. He had run and was now gasping for his breath. The dark circles around his eyes had gotten slightly red.
"I never said that. Give it back," he shouted shamelessly.
"I thought you said you were quitting?" Juho smiled and asked.
"What are you talking about? This is a masterpiece. You might not know, but things like this happen to artists all the time," he said as he snatched the pages from Juho's hands. The sheets crumpled up from his forceful grasp.
"Careful."
"It doesn't matter. I'm going to print it again anyway. I'll clean it up and send it over to a publishing company."
With that, he rushed past Juho, who watched the man from behind. Suddenly, the man stopped in his tracks.
"Thanks. It had been a while since I was complimented."
"I was only speaking my mind. I'll buy the book when it comes out," Juho answered with a shrug.
"Haha! OK, you hang in there till then."
A new emotion had appeared on the once lifeless face. When he couldn't see the man anymore, Juho started walking.
"Now that I think about it, I didn't even ask his name."
'Would I be able to find his book?' he thought as he scratched his head.
A few months later, Juho would find a book titled 'Sad Face' at the bookstore.
"Writer: Geun Woo Yoo"
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After finishing the book, Juho found a special thanks at the end of the book.
"Special thanks to a sassy brat I met on the bridge."
The sighing echoed throughout the science room. Unlike usual, there were no comic books or snacks on the desk. Instead, things had been replaced by a depressing silence.
"What's gotten into you guys?" Juho asked as he closed the book he had been reading.
Nobody answered. There was not a trace of happiness in the club members' faces. Baron was the same way.
"The weather is so nice. Look outside."
"I guess so..."
"I see birds."
"Yeah..." Bom said lifelessly. Everyone with the exception of Juho was burying their heads in their arms. Things in the science room had been the complete opposite of the weather outside.
Juho scratched his cheek. There had to be a reason for why the club members were so lifeless when they'd always been full of life.
"It's OK if you didn't get the award," Juho said in order to encourage them.
"It's NOT OK! None of us got an award!" Sun Hwa snapped as she turned teary eyed. She was used to getting good grades, so she was having a hard time accepting the situation.
"This is unheard of. I thought we were good writers? How come we didn't get the award?"
"Enough with the awards. I'm hurting as it is."
"I want the award! It should've been us!" Sun Hwa raised her voice all the more at Seo Kwang's response. He let out a deep sigh and turned his head toward Juho.
"Actually, what really doesn't make sense is that you didn't get an award. Shouldn't you have won?"
"Well, what can I do? They wouldn't give it to me," Juho answered light-heartedly.
"This is serious! There might be some sort of conspiracy behind it, like lobbying, or bribes," Seo Kwang cried out as he lost his temper.
A conspiracy theory, they must have been really disappointed.
"You didn't get your award either huh, Baron?" Sun Hwa asked weakly.
"It's unfortunate, but wouldn't it be odd for the Literature Club to celebrate a member winning an award at an Art Contest?"
"Oh, you don't have to be so modest. You were very much included when I said that none of us got an award."
"Well, what can I do? They wouldn't give it to me," Baron answered like Juho.
Soon, the science room grew silent once again. The birds were chirping outside, and the kids were playing in the schoolyard. The hallway was quiet.
Though Juho did prefer a quiet environment over a busy one, the silence in the room was rather uncomfortable.
'I was going to wait, but I guess there's no other way,' Juho thought as he stood up from his seat.
'Drag,' went the chair across the floor, and everyone turned their eyes in the direction of the source.
"Where are you going?"
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"I need to find something."
"What are you looking for?"
Instead an answer, Juho walked toward the chalkboard where there were still flyers for various contests.
"You want an award?" Juho asked as he looked at the flyers.
"... Duh. Not that we're writing strictly for awards, but yeah."
"Then, you come find it too."
"Find what?"
Juho turned around as he took off one of the flyers from the chalkboard.
"Your next contest."
He sat back down and looked through the flyer he'd taken. It was going to take place at a park, and it was the second time it was happening, so it wasn't one with history and tradition. Still, it would be perfect for a casual competition.
The club members stared at him as he carefully examined the flyer. Soon, everyone rose from their seats.
"You're kind of annoying at times. You know that?" Sun Hwa said.
"You too? I thought it was just me," Seo Kwang agreed with her.
Bom smiled quietly. The three walked briskly toward the chalkboard like they were racing.
"Move, I can't see."
"You move! There's the special recognition you like so much."
"I'm going to apply somewhere else this time!"
"Guys, calm down."
Juho looked at the freshmen standing next to one another. As usual, Seo Kwang and Sun Hwa were quarreling, which seemed unnecessary considering the available space.
"They're so rowdy," Baron said with his chin resting on his hand.
"What about you?"
Baron took out a leaf of paper from his sketchbook. In thick letters, it read "Sketching Contest."
"I found it a while ago."
"Man, aren't you a man of action?!"
"Of course!"
In the end, everyone found a new contest to compete in.
'How do I encourage these kids?' Mr. Moon was thinking when he walked into the science room, but he soon found out that he no longer had to worry about encouraging those students. The club members were driven by the prospect of their next contest.
'Maybe teaching is what I was meant to do all this time,' he thought as he looked at them proudly.
"OK, please submit your work by noon! If you need more paper, please come to us with your paper and student ID," the host explained.
Juho yawned as he listened. After a brief announcement, the host continued as he turned the page, "The topics for the 2nd Literature Contest are gratitude for your teachers, traveling, and fall."
'Gratitude for your teachers, traveling, and fall.' As the host finished speaking, the contestants each took a seat throughout the park. The current time was nine in the morning, so there was plenty of time.
Juho looked around in search for a place to write, but all of the benches had already been taken. There were people who had come to the park with their children, and they looked at the contestants with curiosity.
He went further into the park and found a shade under a tree. The trail was surrounded by big boulders, so there was no one around.
'This seems like a good spot.'