Chapter 68 – The Final Encounter (1)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
There were birds chirping on a tree nearby.
Juho had sat on the grass. He took out some papers and a clear plastic underlay and set them on the uneven surface of a boulder. It was the perfect workstation.
He felt the coldness travelling up from the ground. An ant crawled by, and he reached down to feel the dirt on his hand. He felt the particles underneath his nails. It was a familiar feeling, and he had a good feeling that time.
He sat still as he thought of the given topics: gratitude for your teachers, traveling, and fall. He took quite some time thinking about them as he didn't find any of them all that appealing.
To be frank, there was something else that he really wanted to write. He had been anxious to finish his next book, and that was what he had really wanted.
He relaxed his body as he put down his pen. He was about to fall backward, but he didn't resist.
The open sky met him, and he felt the cool, refreshing air throughout his body. It almost felt like he was in water. He felt the other contestants staring, but he paid no attention.
His next book had taken its shape now. There was a young mother with her young child. The narrator of the story was the son at eighteen years old. The story began with the mother confessing her pregnancy to her child. Her son was suddenly going to have a brother. The only thing certain to the child was that they didn't have the same father.
Eighteen years old, it was an age closer to being an adult than a child. The narrator was neither pure like a child or as experienced as an adult.
He asked his mother as he learned about her pregnancy, "Were you happy to find out?"
"As happy as when I had you," the young mother answered with a smile.
The more her stomach bulged out, the more mature her son became. He was growing into an adult, and he smoked and drank with her.
He came to meet different kinds of people. As he experienced life, her stomach grew in size until it couldn't get any bigger. That was the end.
A wind blew and ruffled Juho's hair. Light shone brightly in between the leaves.
'I should visit her and ask again,' he thought. Then, he slowly closed his eyes.
'Bricks, telephone pole, hills.'
The place where he met the woman was filled with silence. There was no sound of crying or any sound for that matter. As he looked down from the hill, he felt a presence. It was her.
"Hello," she said with a slightly awkward enunciation.
"How you doin'?"
She was beautiful, but quite skinny. Her breasts and belly were showing through her white dress.
"So, that's what you look like," Juho said as he made eye contact with her bloodshot eyes.
She had two moles under her eye, thin lips and frail arms. That time, she had a vivid shape. She smiled, but only her eyes and lips moved slightly.
"What do you want from me?" she asked. Her red tongue became visible as she opened her mouth.
"I see that you're growing impatient. Why don't we take this a little slower?"
"I want to see the baby."
Juho looked at her belly. There was nothing aside from a small bit of fat on her lower belly. Whenever she breathed, her chest moved up and down.
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"Should I call for your son?"
"No."
"Your son would be sad to hear your answer."
"It's OK. That kid is strong."
At those words, Juho nodded. She had never exercised self control in her life. Like a rock rolling down the hill, she couldn't stop herself. It had been the same way when she had become pregnant for the first time.
"My first drink was when I first made love to a man. My first smoke was when I first ditched a man."
"And you haven't stopped since."
"Yes. Still, my baby grew just fine. He was born into this world, and now, he's an adult. He's old enough to drink and smoke with me. He's a strong kid."
A breeze blew on her dress. Her short, stubby toes became visible.
"How come you came barefooted?"
"I didn't think I'd need to wear shoes."
"It's dangerous, you know."
"It's OK. I won't get hurt," she answered as she took a step forward. It all felt too dangerous. "Are you planning on killing me?"
Juho didn't answer. He hadn't decided yet. The end was before his eyes, and he had hesitated.
"I don't want you to die."
"Do you mean it?"
"Yes."
He had been sincere in his answer. He really didn't want her to die.
"I want to," she answered as she dropped her head. There was a cliff. They were standing from a height where the bottom was no longer visible. "My child died."
Juho became angry at her calm tone of voice.
"But you knew that all along!"
"I did."
"You killed him!"
She looked back at him, and their eyes met. They were blaming one another.
"You're the one who let go!"
"No one came to save him."
"You didn't go after your baby."
"There was a person at the bottom of the hill."
"You said you were sick of it all."
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She kept quiet. She looked down as she stood barefooted at the edge of the cliff.
"I miss my baby."
That time, a gust of wind blew her hair relentlessly.
"You won't be able to see him again."
"I made him wait too long."
"You won't find the baby down there."
She took another step forward. She was almost there.
"Will he forgive me?"
"He won't be able to. There's no ground for either of you to stand on."
Nothing could have stopped her. That was the kind of person she was. Finally, Juho called for her.
"You're going to regret your decision!"
She stopped in her tracks.
"He'll forgive me." She knew the outcome. After all, it was regret she'd been after.
The wind blew all the harder. Everything became fuzzy. The world started shaking. The wind blowing from below kept pulling her down as if it wanted to swallow her whole. Debris fell from the sky. The cliff started to crumble away. A streak of blood flowed down her legs, and her dress became soaked by the rain.
"He's a strong kid. He'll be fine."
Then, she threw herself down the cliff. Juho ran to grab her, but it was too late. He looked down from the cliff to see that she was nowhere to be found, and he was alone in a world that was falling apart.
"No, I'm not!" a voice came from behind him. "I'm not strong. You're a poor excuse of a mother."
Juho turned around. It was her son. He had been standing at a place not too far from the cliff. He didn't move a muscle.
"Are you crying?" Juho asked.
Instead of an answer, he looked up, his skinny face becoming visible.
"Are you going to?"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm alone. There's no one left to listen to me crying."
Juho imitated the woman by standing at the edge of the cliff.
"I'll go too."
"Wait."
Before there was time to answer, Juho fell from the cliff. The son remained in his place until the end.
'That's all I wanted to see,' Juho thought as he closed his eyes.
"Wah, wah!"
He sat up at the sound of a crying baby in the distance. Over a big boulder, he saw a woman walking with her stroller. As he watched them walking away, he slowly picked up his pen.
He started writing. It had nothing to do with gratitude for your teachers, traveling, or the fall.
'I think I'll be able to finish this after all,' he thought as he smiled happily.
*
The contestants in the park each focused on their composition. While being mindful of the time and content, they were all writing busily.
From time to time, some kids took their eyes off of their papers to look at something else. Though it was on one of the many trails in the park, there wasn't anyone around. Perhaps it had to do with the boulders that surrounded the trail. Or, it could've been the boy who had been writing frantically on his paper on the boulder.
The kids were staring at him.
He was writing at an incredibly fast pace with a scowl on his face. It almost looked like he was writing out what he had memorized. Nothing seemed to get in his way. There was no wind either.
'What could he be writing?' one of the kids approached him from curiosity. As he walked toward him on the grass, the sound of the pen tapping restlessly on the surface of the boulder became more audible. It almost sounded like a fight. Maybe it was a game.
He stood behind the boy, but the boy showed no response. He was completely focused, and the kid felt his curiosity slowly turning into something different.
'I wish I could do that.'
He couldn't dare to imitate the boy. He was easily distracted by people approaching him, and he couldn't stand the curious look on people's faces as they walked past them.
None of the ideas in his head were substantial. Even they further lost their color as he wrote them out on paper.
But, the boy was different. He hadn't even realized that somebody was standing behind him. His paper was visible over his shoulders.
"Huh?"
It was strange. It didn't look like something that was suited for an essay contest. The story. The content. To stop him, he involuntarily walked toward the boy who was writing frantically and tried to grab his hand.
"You shouldn't do that, kid."
He jumped at the sound of a voice. Long, black hair. Graceful voice. Wrinkles around her eyes that reflected the time she had lived. She was in a white dress, and had a portable parasol in her hand and she opened her mouth slowly to say, "How about you go on writing your own paper?"
He thought the moment his eyes met with the woman's, 'She caught me! I got caught red-handed.'
Without saying anything, he walked away in a hurry.
She remained the only person standing next to Juho.
*
Juho didn't bother to think about anything else. His mind was filled with thoughts about the woman. It was all within his reach. The sound of the baby crying lingered in his ears. Nothing could have gotten in his way, even the ant crawling over his shoes, or the sound of leaves rustling.
As everything seemed to be going smoothly, his hand suddenly came to a halt.
"I'm out."
He had run out of space. He had used every bit of what he was given. There was still much more that he wanted to write, so he grew anxious from the seemingly unquenchable thirst.
'What did I have to do to get more paper? Oh yeah, I have to go to the headquarters with my student ID.' He got up in a hurry as he thought of his student ID in his pocket. Just as he was about to run, a person suddenly struck up a conversation.
"You seem like you need more paper."
"'Scuse me?"
"Would you like to use mine?"
After turning around, the first thing he saw was a white dress and her white parasol. She was smiling. The wrinkles around her eyes gave off a welcoming impression. In contrast to her age, she had her black hair tied into a ponytail. She'd been standing alone on the other side of the boulder while he'd kept writing, looking at his direction.
Juho realized that she had been looking at his composition. He hadn't caught it.
She waved, and the sheets in her hand waved along with her. An old lady with a stack of paper. Juho couldn't help but remember who that was.
"Yun Seo Baek. Mrs. Baek."Chapter 69 – The Final Encounter (2)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
"Did you call my name?"
Writing several masterpieces of her own, Yun Seo Baek had been the teacher of many authors, including Joon Soo Bong, and Geun Woo Yoo, who Juho had met recently.
Juho became flustered. He had met someone he hadn't expected to meet in a completely unexpected place. 'Why was she there?'
She opened her mouth before he had a chance to ask and said, "I live nearby. I heard about the contest, so I thought I'd come out for a walk."
"With paper in your hand?"
"I was itching to see the future authors," she said, smiling like a girl. Even the wrinkles around her eyes couldn't take away from her innocent smile.
"Seeing you're not planning on submitting that for the contest, I'm sure it won't matter what kind of paper you use."
"... You got me."
"I couldn't have missed it. You were writing quite fiercely there," she answered as she spun the parasol in her hand. Now, you should get back to writing."
Juho approached her slowly. After taking the paper from her hand, he went back to his seat. As he sat, Yun Seo too sat by the trail, spinning her parasol in her hand.
Juho kept on writing. Somehow, it felt like the paper was smoother to the touch. Perhaps the paper took after its owner in some way. He felt more at ease.
At that moment, an announcement came from the speakers. It was time. Everyone got up from their seats and headed toward the headquarters to submit their work.
While everyone moved busily, Juho didn't move a muscle. Yun Seo was the same way.
By the time all of the contestants had left the park, Juho finally stopped writing. He had a satisfied smile on his face.
"You must have finished."
"Yes, ma'am."
The park had been quiet now. He had finally finished his next book and felt overwhelmed by a sudden urge to shout with joy and sprint until his heart was about to explode. He couldn't help but smile.
"Haha!" he leaned back as he laughed happily, lying on the grass while at it. The sky came into view. It felt high and open. The clouds calmly floated by, creating quite a beautiful sight.
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There was silence. No one would be able to understand the joy he was feeling at that moment. It belonged solely to him. Then, he felt something move in the dirt.
As he indulged himself in his satisfaction, a voice came from above, "You must be Yun Woo," said Yun Seo. She had his composition in her hand. To be precise, they were the pages that had been written on her sheets of paper.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered calmly. It was probably obvious to her. Though it was the first draft, and it still needed trimming in places, the pages embodied Yun Woo's distinct style. For a seasoned author like Yun Seo Baek, she would've recognized it with a glance.
"I'd love to read more of it, but I'll give it back to you for now," she said with a smile as she set the pages down next to Juho' face.
He sat up slowly to face her and said, "You can read it."
"No," she said sternly. "I'd like to take my time savoring it when it comes out."
It was quite a compliment, and at the same time, her words provoked joy. Writing another book had always come with a stench of failure. Her warm words masked that stench, and although his second book hadn't done well in the past, Juho gained confidence with Yun Seo's affirmation.
"Do you think I'll be able to become an author?" he asked.
"You already are, kiddo."
"Oh, that's not what I meant..." He didn't want to be a mere author. Deep inside, he wanted much more, so he added with a smile to hide his excitement, "I want to be a great storyteller."
"How lofty."
The great storyteller, not many authors were referred as such – not even Yun Seo, or her friend, Hyun Do Lim. It was an honor that couldn't be earned even by the greatest of authors.
Juho wanted just that. It was heavy and eternal and it was inherently different from who he was at that moment.
That's how he wanted to be remembered. He wanted to reach something that many people had worked towards and failed.
"I long for that title."
Her eyes sparkled as they fixated on him. They were slightly murky, but they didn't waver. He looked back at her.
"If that's what your heart desires, than so be it. That's what the creatures so-called authors do, right?"
'Creatures so-called authors.'
"We don't believe anything until we see, hear, and touch it. We have to write if we want to, even if it means giving something up. I've seen countless authors like that," she added as she folded her parasol. Then, she said, smiling in the sunlight, "But I've yet to meet anyone as young as you."
"Come visit me sometime. I'd prefer it now, but I'm sure you're dying to finish what you started, am I right?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then, come visit me when you're finished. I'll cook. What do you like?"
"I'm not picky," he answered after a quick thought.
From then on, Juho skipped school from time to time in order to work on his book. After seeing the piles of paper in his room, his mother gave him permission immediately. Before he knew it, he had already developed a reputation for being sickly, but he paid no attention to that.
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He had been sitting in front of his computer, editing and changing things according to the developments and characters he had created. Whenever something wasn't to his liking, he didn't hesitate to rewrite it several times, but it hadn't been all that physically demanding. It would have been much more difficult before computers, but thankfully, that was no longer an issue.
Without the restriction of the lack of technology, it was natural for authors to be more critical in their editing processes. Because they had the resource to do so, they pursued perfection.
Whenever Juho pressed a key on the keyboard, new characters appeared on the screen.
"Sigh."
What hadn't changed was that writing had remained mentally demanding, even with computers.
Repeating something was quite a daunting task. It was tedious and tiresome. On top of that, he was editing the story he had written himself. Secretly, the word 'editing' accrued a negative meaning. It denied what already existed. It involved making various changes, but there was no way to be certain of one being better than the other.
Because all words in a composition were interwoven with others, the overall feel was also prone to subtle changes. There was no situation that called for one, single edit. No matter how subtle, there was no end once changes occurred. If a person had told an author to edit his work for all eternity, it would have been possible.
However, in reality, there was only so much time.
Though authors might sought after a perfect sentence, there was no such a thing. An author's job was to write out a person's life, and there was no such a thing as a perfect life.
Juho read what he'd written. The mother smoked her cigarette while holding her baby. No one stopped her.
She wasn't a perfect person in any way.
He took a deep breath. After calming his mind, he continued reading.
It was the last scene. She threw herself off the roof of her own volition. Her only surviving son watched everything unfold.
They had a conversation with one another for one last time. They made eye contact and listened to each other breathing for the last time.
"You're going to regret your decision," the son said.
"Probably," the mother answered. A wind blew and revealed her stomach. Its hopelessly stretched out skin hung loosely.
Juho wanted them to regret.
Things weren't as vivid as they once were. The mother had hid herself behind the sentences. Because of that, Juho had been able to imagine her end, which he couldn't bear to see. They weren't at the edge of a cliff.
She had thrown herself from the roof. Her lifeless body was probably sprawled across the floor, and her son could've seen his mother's end if he just looked down.
Juho had portrayed the scene as explicitly as possible.
'Broken joints, blood. She no longer made any sound. There was never beauty in a dead body. It was hideous and foolish. Everyone criticized her, but things could only be heard by those still living. At the sound of other people screaming and cursing heading to the rooftop, the son took out a cigarette.'
Then, Juho placed the last period.
He slowly stood up from his chair, very slowly.
Birds were chirping outside the window. His hands had become hideously veiny.
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Chrissy Metz Is So Skinny Now And She Looks Like A Model
*
There was a quiet storm in Zelkova Publishing Company. Yun Woo, the author of his critically acclaimed debut title, had suddenly appeared with his new book. There had been no warning, and no one had expected him to write another book in such a short time.
The staff gathered in the meeting room. Each with a cup from the coffee machine, they were discussing something rather seriously. Everyone looked exhausted.
Nam Kyung was the same.
"OK. Next, Mr.Woo's manuscript."
"Yes, sir," Nam Kyung answered the editor-in-chief.
"Have you all read it?"
"I couldn't keep myself from reading it even when I was busy."
"I was dying from anticipation."
"Although, I had no idea that we'd be looking at his new book so soon."
"Title: Mother. This is a working title, right?" An editor asked after hearing the opinions of their fellow editors.
Title: Mother, a working title at the moment.
Yun Woo, the youngest author to debut in the history of literature. Less than a year from the time he wrote the 'The Trace of a Bird,' which was selling at an incredible rate, Yun Woo had written a new book.
"Yes. How was it?" Nam Kyung asked. It was a way to get others to agree in some way.
"It was great," for example.
Nam Kyung had also read the manuscript. After all, he'd been the first to receive it. It was about eight hundred pages, yet he read it in a burst.
He had read it as he delayed his other work. He had read even on his subway ride home and as he'd gotten off the subway. It hadn't been intentional. He had had a feeling that his day would've been ruined from the potency of the emotions embodied in the manuscript and he'd longed for a beautiful conclusion.
Unfortunately, he had had to swim in the sea of depression for an entire week after reading through the manuscript.
The destructive life portrayed by Yun Woo's colorful, yet pure style had been rather immersive.
It had been almost like a swamp. Slowly, Nam Kyung had felt himself sinking from his own weight.
"It was fantastic," the editor-in-chief emphasized.
'I knew it,' Nam Kyung thought. It really had been fantastic. Despite the damp, depressing tone, the story had been pure, and colorful. The contrast between the two contradicting characteristics had given it shape. Readers were bound to get sucked in.
"Except,"
Except.
"It's a tad bit too dark."
"Right."
It was a rather dark story. Although it wouldn't have been an issue for an ordinary author, there was no telling how it would reflect on Yun Woo when he was known to be a teenager.
"Nothing happened to Mr. Woo, right?" the editor-in-chief asked. Nam Kyung shook his head.
The last time they'd met, Juho had been like a textbook example of calmness.Chapter 70 – Summer Break
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
"Mr. Woo is turning... seventeen this year?"
"Yes, sir."
When the editors read Yun Woo's manuscript for his second book for the first time, they had had trouble imagining that it had been written by a seventeen year old. It had depth, but it was dark at the same time.
"I thought that even 'The Trace of a Bird' was a little dark.'
"I agree. This time, his book isn't just dark. It's also rather strong," said Mr. Maeng, an editor who had recently changed jobs.
"On top of that, there's a clown character that's seemingly irrelevant. Every bit of that book is charming," Ms. Song. She had been working as an editor for three years now, but she was the baby of the editing department.
"When that clown first came out, it was rather humorous."
Yun Woo's next book hadn't been strictly 'dark.' The clown and his sole audience toward the middle of the book were the two characters who were the most distant from the overall atmosphere of the book. At the same time, the transition hadn't been jarring at all. That was how the readers were able to enjoy the conversation between the two seemingly random characters.
"It'll do very well. 'The Trace of a Bird' is still going strong. I think it'd be a good idea to keep pushing forward," Mr. Seo said. He was the sales manager.
While Mr. Maeng agreed, Ms.Song expressed his concern.
"I'm sure it'll do well, but I'm concerned about the content. I wonder if it'd be too provocative."
"That's a good point."
Everyone nodded at Ms. Song's opinion. Yun Woo's books were rather immersive and addictive. It would be sold well as long as his name was on the book. High sales also meant that a lot of people were reading his books.
"It's too heavy for something written by a seventeen year old teenager. It might be controversial. Even now, there's a handful of people suspecting a ghostwriter," Ms.Song's said.
"Not many people actually take that suspicion very seriously. I do agree that Mr. Woo's age is an issue. Some readers will definitely hold a negative view," Mr. Maeng answered as he shook his head. It made sense considering how mature his style was for his age. Aside from that suspicion, some readers were bound to have a negative view. Being too talented had presented an issue in and and of itself.
"Right, especially towards the end of the book," the editor-in-chief added.
At his words, Nam Kyung immediately thought of the body. There was a detailed description of the mother's body toward the end of the book. The perspective was from none other than the narrator himself.
The son ran toward the mother to grab her, but he was too late. Her body had already hit the ground, and the son was left all alone. Yet, the son didn't jump after his mother. Instead, he stayed at the rooftop. That had been the biggest difference between the two characters – a mother who took her own life after the death of her baby, and a son who'd sent her away. The ending portrayed the relationship between the two characters in a rather gruesome manner.
"Are you thinking about revising the ending, by any chance?" the editor-in-chief asked Nam Kyung. Revisions were a sensitive matter in many aspects. Nam Kyung wasn't quite willing to change the ending, and there was only one reason. He had been content with Yun Woo's ending.
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There was no doubt that it was gruesome and provocative, but the intensity of emotions it conveyed would definitely be lessened.
"Does Mr. Woo tend to be sensitive about getting his book revised?"
"No, not quite. He's actually rather skilled in exchanging opinions."
"Huh. He's really not like his peers, isn't he?" said the editor-in-chief.
"I firmly believe that we should publish the book as is," said Nam Kyung.
"Why is that?" Asked the editor-in-chief. Nam Kyung organized his thoughts for a brief time before explaining. "I think that the ending is the scene where the regret of the mother is maximized."
Regret. The destructive life of two individuals and their end. Regret tended to be at the height of its intensity when it was too late to look back. Much like a glass of water that had broken, the past was impossible to undo. It was just like rash, careless words.
The mother's death represented regret.
"The narrator carefully examines her body. This means that he didn't try to neglect her death. It's a scene where they face reality for the first time after having been running away from their faults."
Nam Kyung too had been somewhat concerned about Yun Woo's age, however...
"If we change the ending and leave it to the interpretation to the readers, I'm certain that they'll criticize the characters rather than relating to their regrets."
The editor-in-chief nodded. Mr. Seo opened his mouth after a brief time thought to say, "That might actually be beneficial for marketing. Books that are more provocative tend to sell more. We can ask for testimonials from other authors also. Besides, 'The Trace of a Bird' didn't read like it had been written by a seventeen year old anyway."
After contemplating for a brief moment, the editor-in-chief nodded.
"Very well. I'll leave it up to you Nam Kyung."
"Yes, sir."
After that and after everyone presented their concerns, the meeting came to an end.
*
The classroom was filled with excitement. The kids seemed like they couldn't contain themselves as they clamored. Some hadn't even brought their backpacks. Because they were carrying less weight, they seemed all the more lively.
"I noticed that you haven't been sleeping as of late."
For some time, Juho had been spending about half of his time in his classes in slumber. Now, he was looking straight into Seo Kwang's eyes. He nodded slowly.
"It's summer break. It's exciting."
"You've been fine for about month now."
"Well then, I guess I've been excited for a whole month."
After finishing his manuscript, Juho felt a bit more relieved. He'd been writing at night while sleeping during the day, and it'd been rather exhausting. Although he believed that good writing came from a clear mind, there was no way around the schedule.
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Juho thought about the ending of the book that Nam Kyung had mentioned. He had said that he wasn't sure how the readers would respond to something so raw and direct.
It had never crossed his mind while he'd been writing. He'd been focused on writing alone. He'd thought that he should be writing what was in his head.
He had expressed to Nam Kyung that he didn't want to change the ending, and Nam Kyung had agreed. From then on, they'd been mostly communicating through emails regarding changes to the vocabulary, removing certain sentences, and tightening up places where it dragged on.
While they edited when their opinions agreed with one another, they exchanged opinions and ideas with one another when their opinions differed. Nam Kyung had been relentless in his editing. Thanks to him, Juho had been quite nervous as of late.
In this stage of publishing, the editor played the role of the critic with its presence alone. His sigh was enough to make Juho rewrite his manuscript voluntarily. It had been better to get less sleep.
At that point, the publishing company would set a release date and proceed to putting the book together.
Juho asked Seo Kwang as he enjoyed his sense of freedom, "How's your English lesson going?"
"Not well," Seo Kwang answered with a sad face. "It would be a lot easier if the word order was similar to Korean at least."
Word order. Juho thought of the Old English he had learned from James.
"I feel like word order isn't as important in Old English. There wasn't really a rule. I saw different examples, like subject-verb-object, or object-verb-subject."
"Old English?"
"Yeah, like German."
"German??" Seo Kwang asked as he couldn't relate to Juho at all. "How do you even know that?"
"It's fun."
"Fun??" He said as his face scrunched up. He didn't get Juho.
"Once you get better and start having conversations, it'll be a lot more fun."
"I'm sure it will be, but I have a long way to go... When do you ever speak something like German anyway?"
It had been useful in some occasions. It had been of great use when Juho was experimenting with the limits of his language acquisition device in his head.
He'd been learning as many languages as he possibly could. English, French, Japanese, Chinese, German, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Swedish, Danish, Norwegian, Dutch. He'd also learned unusual languages like Medieval and Old English, Lombardic, and Old Nordic.
It had all been possible. He'd been able to read, speak, and understand just about anything.
However, it wasn't perfect everywhere.
Overtime, he noticed that he couldn't think of certain words. He knew enough for basic conversations, but he'd been hesitating more and more while writing or thinking of a word. Language tended to get lost if one didn't utilize it in a regular basis.
"The key to learning a language is repetition."
Mistaking that he had been talking to him, Seo Kwang gave him an annoyed look.
"You should work hard if you're still planning on visiting your first love," Juho added as he smiled.
"Punk," Seo Kwang said. At that moment, the front door slid open.
"OK, everyone, settle down," the homeroom teacher said as he walked in.
"Let's do some cleaning before we go."
Sounds of groaning filled the classroom.
*
"I guess things will start picking up again soon."
Mr. Seo grumbled with a sigh in the lounge. The sales department was the busiest department right before and after the book release. It had to do with the fact that they often had to meet and interact with people in person.
"I'm glad it's Yun Woo's book though."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah, I really love it. No matter how hard I try to judge every book with fairness, I'm a still a person. Some books tend to speak to me more than others. You know what I mean... like the kind that makes you want to recommend it to others."
"I know what you mean."
"Yeah, exactly. His book really motivates me to sell more."
"I appreciate that."
"The revision weren't easy, I'm assuming?" asked Mr. Seo.
Nam Kyung sighed before answering him.
"No, they weren't. Mr. Woo has such a distinct style, so I had to be really careful not to take away from it."
"My, that's impressive."
"On top of that, Mr.Woo is no ordinary high school student."
It had been a challenging process. Yun Woo was someone who had become famous at a young age. On top of that, his style of writing tended to have a lot of character. Nam Kyung liked that character. He wanted to leave as much of it as intact as possible. In order to make that happen, he had to respect Yun Woo's creative boundaries while pushing him as close as possible to it. While Yun Woo was understanding of Nam Kyung's opinions in general, he had brought up every sentence that he hadn't agreed with.
It had been a difficult process, but the outcome made it worthwhile.
"You need to start getting the testimonials, right?"
"Yep."
"OK, break a leg."
Mr. Seo poured his last sip of coffee into his mouth and went back to his office on the third floor. Nam Kyung, too, made his way back to his desk.
'Who do I go to? This is Yun Woo's book we're talking about,' he thought. He wanted to give his very best for the book. Like Mr. Seo, he too had been quite fond of the book.
"Mr. Uhm is a good candidate," he murmured. He had arranged a meeting for him and Yun Woo in the past. Dong Gil would write an honest testimonial. It seemed to be in line with the tone of the his new book.
'Maybe I should ask him.'
As he thought about Dong Gil, another person naturally came up in his head, Seo Joong Ahn. He was unpredictable, but he had recently made a comeback with his new book, 'One Room.' It didn't seem like a bad idea.