Novelist Running Through Time - Chapter 62

TL: KSD

“The Korean publishing market is doomed.

It has been doomed for a while now.

But,

Japanese people read a lot of books,

And Koreans don’t read books.

-So, no matter how you think about it, our downfall is because of you guys!

…is a thought.

Anyone working in the Korean publishing industry might have thought this at least once.

EP 5-A Love Story

This is not because all those working in the publishing industry think ‘inferior Koreans have less desire to read than the noble Imperial subjects’, it’s not that this thought doesn’t exist at all.

It’s more of a grumble.

It’s the last struggle of humans facing an unavoidable disaster, the dark humor spat out by those enduring a life filled with pain.

It’s similar to how fans of a certain baseball team say, ‘Our team always loses because this rotten world is to blame’.

Of course, not everyone suddenly talks about the educational level of Koreans being the reason their industry is doomed.

However, the publishing industry just so happens to have Japan next door.

Doing the same job, on one side there’s a 5-star hotel restaurant, and on our side, a hole-in-the-wall.

To elaborate on this comparison is even more cruel.

In Korea, the top-performing publisher doesn’t even come close to making 50 billion won in annual sales,

While in Japan, there are multiple giant publishing houses with annual sales exceeding 1 trillion won.

So, publishers exceeding 100 billion won in sales are numerous.

To break down these numbers further is even more brutal.

A minor player over there easily crushes the big boss in our neighborhood,

With single publishers roaming around, matching or even surpassing the sales of major Korean corporations,

And there are consumers who buy the massive amount of books these monsters produce.

Japan.

Even more terrifying, the moment you lift the veil, you find that Japan’s Top 3 publishers are dominated by a single family…

-Keeyaaaah!

It’s truly cosmic horror.

So, it can’t be helped.

Korean publishing industry workers facing an insurmountable cosmic terror and going mad, screaming ‘This, this, all this is because Koreans don’t read books!’ is their last thrashing to maintain their ego.

Fixed book price policy, bookstore distribution rate, royalty rates, marketing, genre diversification, bringing all sorts of things to innovate and challenge Japan, but the moment they witness the immense scale and consumers of the Japanese publishing market, their legs give out, and their hands and feet tremble.

Of course, Japan experienced a reading boom around the 1910s, and thereafter, the government led the effort in distributing libraries, building a reading culture for nearly 100 years.

So, to catch up to such a climate overnight is practically wishing to have your life handed to you on a silver platter, but still, if you’re Korean, shouldn’t you at least try to beat Japan?

Thus, the ego that insists we must beat Japan clashes with the reality that Japan is unbeatable even in death, driving those in the Korean publishing industry slowly mad…

The scale of the publishing markets in Korea and Japan is vastly different to that degree.

The vested interests cartel in the Japanese publishing industry is incredibly solid.

So, Lim Yang-wook had to seek out connections from his old days at Baekhak Publishing, rub palms together, mix drinks, bow deeply with his smooth head.

And only after a proper bow in front of the high-ranking official from that publisher was he barely able to secure a chance at entering the Japanese market.

And it all fell apart in an instant.

“……”

“……”

“……”

The office of Baekhak Entertainment’s Publishing Management Department was filled with silence.

None of the employees, ignorant about publishing, didn’t know how to behave after their boss went through hell to secure an international buyer contract only for it to fall through for nothing. If they didn’t know, they would have been fired.

In the midst of all employees maintaining silence and watching Lim Yang-wook’s mood.

“Heh. Hehe.”

Lim Yang-wook laughed.

“Hehheh, Hehehe, Huhuhu, Hehehe.”

Department Head Lim Yang-wook smiled kindly and instructed the employees to relax.

“Why is everyone like this? Days like this happen sometimes. Don’t be too stiff. Won’t the sun rise again tomorrow? Isn’t it first-class to not lose your smile even in times like these? Huh? Right?”

With a silly smile, Lim Yang-wook went into the break room and gulped down hot coffee as if it were plain water.

Laughter could still be heard from the break room.

“Heh, Hehheh, Hehehe, Uhhehehehe.”

Baek Seol suddenly recalled an anecdote she had heard on the internet about Western missionaries in the late Joseon period.

Whether it’s true or not, it seems like the right saying.

‘A Korean smiling broadly is not a good sign’

* * *

Novelist Seo Woon-pil is a generous and peaceful person who loves serene nature.

Critic Seo Woon-pil is ruthlessly strict, jabbing at juniors and seniors alike without discrimination.

And Munye magazine CEO Seo Woon-pil is a skilled politician who has successfully walked the tightrope for decades, confronting the terrifying military regime when necessary and bowing when appropriate.

Thus, he was well aware that even if Koreans start making a fuss about something, it never lasts more than a week.

This time was no exception.

The nationwide criticism calling him a cruel and narrow-minded old fool for not awarding a literary prize to a deserving writer didn’t last a week.

Politicians who misspeak, heinous serial killers, celebrities caught in romantic scandals, overseas accidents involving loss of life, billionaires who suspiciously love cryptocurrencies, etc.

In a world full of countless things that can enthuse the public, whether positively or negatively, it’s hard for any issue to dominate Korean public opinion for more than a week.

Thus, Seo Woon-pil knows that in the long run, it’s more beneficial to have the favor of a specific minority than an undefined majority.

The public that criticized him will forget what happened in a week, but the literary magazine workers he protected will remember his grace forever.

‘Seo Woon-pil, that old man, at least he knows how to take care of his people.’

‘The only person worthy of leading the Korean literary magazine scene is Seo Woon-pil.’

‘Don’t you remember? Seo Woon-pil saved our face back then.’

And so on.

In the end, people are the most important.

However, having learned the lesson that resentment held in people’s hearts is eternal while taking flute lessons from Park Chang-woon in modernized Hanbok, Seo Woon-pil visited Baekhak Arts Middle School to resolve such grievances.

Not because he succumbed to Gu Hak-jun’s pressure, but to generously nurture his successors as a leader in the literary world, comforting himself with this thought.

Thus, Seo Woon-pil stood on the stage of the auditorium at Baekhak Arts Middle School.

“…I hope all the talented individuals gathered here become the stars that illuminate the path of our country’s literary world. That is all.”

As he stepped down from the podium, applause poured out as usual.

Seo Woon-pil knows that this applause doesn’t stem from genuine respect.

Most students are probably happy they got to skip studying for an hour thanks to the boring old man, and many arrogant youngsters think his writings aren’t even worth studying.

And even if they like him, half of them probably envy the literary power he holds, while the other half likes not the person Seo Woon-pil, but the novelist Seo Woon-pil.

The same goes for Seo Woon-pil.

The overly aged novelist could not feel any thrill from the sincere gazes of admiration he saw everywhere.

Seo Woon-pil was a writer who had spent his life being praised, criticized, expected, disappointed, and hurt by the ‘undefined majority’, gradually wearing down.

He had become too accustomed to not feeling any particular emotion towards the undefined majority. He had turned into the so-called pessimistic and disagreeable old man.

And this disagreeable old man, after having stolen a literary award from a boy to protect his own people, ended up being physically and mentally beaten by the boy’s friends and came to apologize.

The lecture was just an excuse; the real purpose was to apologize.

Therefore, Seo Woon-pil, after the lecture and through Park Chang-woon’s introduction, naturally met the author Moon.

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you for the first time.”

Small.

Smaller than expected.

That was Seo Woon-pil’s first impression of Moon. The boy, covered with a blanket, was much smaller than Seo Woon-pil, whose height had decreased due to aging.

Taking the literary prize away from this child. He had thought that it was a sacrifice necessary to protect the pride of everyone involved in publishing the literary magazine.

Facing the karma of his own actions was indeed a painful ordeal, especially when the one unjustly criticized by him was a child.

“…Nice to meet you, kid. I am-”

However, Seo Woon-pil didn’t need to continue introducing himself through his pain.

“You’re Author Seo Woon-pil, right?”

The boy interrupted at an unexpected moment.

Having heard that he was sharp-tongued, Seo Woon-pil braced himself internally, thinking the boy was about to reproach the unworthy old man who had tormented him.

But what followed was a greeting so perfunctorily polite it was almost disheartening.

“I’ve read a lot of your books.”

Ah. I see.

It was a greeting he had heard countless times since becoming a distinguished author.

Sometimes, when feeling mischievous, he would ask, “Then, which books have you read?” and most would blush and stutter.

And now was one of those times.

“Really? Which book did you like the most?”

Park Chang-woon, standing behind the boy, shot a look that seemed to say, ‘Even here to apologize, do you still act this way, old man?’ But, novelists aren’t known for their nice personalities.

“……”

As expected, the boy fell silent.

Just as Seo Woon-pil thought it was about time to stop the teasing and continue,

The boy wrapped in a blanket spoke.

“Hats, sewers, people hanging from utility poles.”

For a moment, these were such old novels that Seo Woon-pil was almost confused about which ones they were.

They were works not well known to the public.

As Seo Woon-pil couldn’t hide his surprise, the boy continued.

“I think these three works are like business cards that best explain who Novelist Seo Woon-pil was in the 1970s. They reveal the blood-scented history with a wild writing style. And they show the populist aspect that our nation should never forget the lessons learned from that history. You actually harbored such political thoughts and acted upon them. Probably because of the horrors you witnessed in your childhood. Of course, there are unpolished parts, but there’s a precarious appeal, as if you burned all the firm beliefs you held and wrote with their ashes.”

Seo Woon-pil was unable to continue speaking while listening to the boy.

A shock that shook the roots of his soul.

The feeling that there was someone who remembered him, even aspects he himself had forgotten from decades ago, gave him such a sensation.

But he had received such praise from more than one or two people in his life, so why did this resonate so profoundly?

Seo Woon-pil’s heart began to waver involuntarily, but the boy didn’t allow him to steady himself.

“However, in the late 1980s, was it because of the unexpected election of President Roh Tae-woo? Or because he became a parent? Or because he became the CEO responsible for a company? Or was it due to changes over time… The novelist Seo Woon-pil, who used to wield his sharp writings like a sword, now promotes the beauty of rural society. People say his blade has dulled, or his political inclinations have changed, or he stopped social activities because of a personal relationship with President Roh Tae-woo, but…”

“…”

“I see it as novelist Seo Woon-pil, who used to only criticize and condemn, now beginning to contemplate creating something. The most Korean thing, the most Korean literature, the most Korean art. While the writing may seem simple on the surface, it’s filled with intense contemplation. I might be bold to say this, but it shows the growth of the human Seo Woon-pil. After ending the trauma of the Korean War and the long struggle with the military regime, it shows a person contemplating living his own life. But why rural life? I’ve thought about this, and it seems the answer is ‘purity.’ Korean purity. Korean beauty. The old destroyed to make something new. The purity lost by society…”

“…”

“The work that most vividly represents this direction is, of course, if I had to pick one piece from novelist Seo Woon-pil’s career, it would be-”

Then, the voices of the boy and the old man overlapped.

“‘Hometown.’”

Suddenly, Seo Woon-pil was looking at the boy as if bewitched.

The boy seemed a bit burdened by such a gaze but continued his answer firmly without faltering.

“…Yes. Well. If I had to pick my favorite book, it’s definitely ‘Hometown.’”

“…”

Novelist Seo Woon-pil, no, the human Seo Woon-pil, faced the ugly desires hidden deep in his heart at that moment.

The essence of that desire was his belief that readers have ‘levels.’

He had spent his life at the center of the Korean literary world since his youth, achieving fame.

He had enjoyed immense power, unthinkable for a mere writer, with military regime figures trembling and opposition figures resolving conflicts through his writings.

There was a time like that.

The human Seo Woon-pil, who believes he has played many roles in this country’s tumultuous history and has made significant contributions.

The glory enjoyed by “human Seo Woon-pil” made the heart of “novelist Seo Woon-pil” weary, instilling arrogance that took the readers’ praise and admiration for granted.

But Moon In.

This boy is not just any ‘ordinary’ reader.

This boy is the future of Korean literature, a genius leading the next generation. If one were to name an era after someone in the literary world, Moonin would be fitting for the next era. (TL: Moon In/Mun In means literati)

The child whom Seo Woon-pil, recognized as Korea’s best novelist, whom Gu Hak-jun cherishes like a beloved disciple, and whom Park Chang-woon, with whom he has a decades-long relationship, has such high expectations that he would lunge at him in anger.

This child talked about him.

Studied him, read his novels, and was influenced by his literature.

This soothed the unease in the heart of “old man Seo Woon-pil,” whose days are numbered.

What you have done was not meaningless.

Your life was not so light to be forgotten without significance.

Your literature has become the soil for the next generation…

“…Ah.”

At that moment.

Seo Woon-pil was utterly moved.

His wrinkled hand moved on its own to stroke the boy’s head.

Looking down at Moon In, Seo Woon-pil smiled quietly, filled with a sense of apology.

“…Thank you.”

The boy, slightly uncomfortable with the sudden touch, pulled his head back a bit but still nodded lightly with a hint of shyness.

Yes.

Such a lovely child couldn’t have concocted such a sinister scheme.

-‘Why not give it a try?’

The noise marketing caused by exposing the practice of debut fees. Such cunning trickery must have been instigated by someone named Lim Yang-wook or whatever.

Wasn’t it obvious? Yet, blinded by stubbornness, he had troubled an innocent child. Never before had he felt such a disgraceful old fool.

Seo Woon-pil gathered his courage to speak. Pushing aside the hardened pride of being someone’s superior for decades, his voice struggled up from deep within his throat.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’ve made a big mistake. I have no face to show you as an adult. Can you forgive this old man?”

“Ah, no, it’s okay. I was at fault too…”

“How is it your fault! You just did what the publishing house told you to do!”

-‘If you buy one literary award, it’s a shortcut, but if you buy sixteen, it’s art.’

Everyone knows the practice of debut fees is wrong. But it was also for everyone’s livelihood.

The old hands at the publishing house surely knew what would happen if this were exposed.

Seo Woon-pil wanted to see who the cowardly and wicked editor was that put all the blame on this young and lovely child and hid behind him.

It was easy to find him. The public enemy of the literary world was famously bald.

The suited man sweating and avoiding eye contact over there must be, without doubt, ‘the archenemy’ Lim Yang-wook.

Seo Woon-pil strode over to Lim Yang-wook.

“Are you the person called Lim Yang-wook?”

Then Lim Yang-wook folded up like a flip phone.

“I’m sorry! Elder!”

It was an unexpected response.

While Seo Woon-pil hesitated for a moment, Lim Yang-wook apologized with sincere intensity.

No, the fervor was so strong it was more like he was forcefully slamming an apology.

“I should have come to apologize sooner, but I was ashamed and kept putting it off, causing trouble for many people!”

“Well, you didn’t have to go that far.”

“I’m really sorry, Elder!”

“Cough! Don’t embarrass an old man like this and lift your head! What’s this nonsense among people involved in the literary world?”

“Do you forgive me?”

Seo Woon-pil patted Lim Yang-wook’s shoulder kindly.

“What’s there to forgive? Aren’t we all in the same literary circle? We should be able to criticize and question each other to make a better literary world. Isn’t that how progress is made?”

“Elder…!”

Seo Woon-pil listened to Lim Yang-wook’s effusive praise with a pleased smile.

This Lim Yang-wook fellow, rumored to be a crazy person in the publishing world, turned out to be quite decent after meeting him.

Of course, those who left Baekhak Publishing wouldn’t speak well of him.

It seemed like he was being ostracized, but it appeared he could be turned into an ally if taken under wing.

And an hour later.

Seo Woon-pil changed his mind.

* * *

This guy’s a nutcase.

Seo Woon-pil wanted to storm out right then and there.

But he couldn’t get up, oddly persuaded by the lunatic’s somewhat compelling argument.

“So, what you’re saying is…”

In a private room of a Japanese restaurant near Baekhak Arts Middle School.

As Seo Woon-pil and Lim Yang-wook sat facing each other.

Seo Woon-pil’s fingers, beginning to tremble slightly, pointed accusingly at the smiling face of Lim Yang-wook.

“Attack… Japan?”

“Yes!”

*****

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