Novelist Running Through Time - Chapter 68

TL: KSD

The Booker International Longlist nominee reading session had ended.

The limousine carrying Eisaku Siedehara and his entourage cautiously advanced through the rainy streets of London as they returned to their hotel.

“…….”

“…….”

The silence swirling inside the car was thick. The aftermath of the disaster that unfolded at the reading session was that bitter.

The Korean translator, who had been dismissed as insignificant, turned out to be a chaebol, and the Author Moon, whom they thought was a fabricated rising star, was actually a genius boy.

Of course, skilled Japanese socialites knew how to handle such situations. The situation was implicitly settled amidst the unspoken atmosphere.

1. Peace-loving Japanese people never inconvenience anyone.

2. However, some translators driven by their desire for honor (such as translator Yohei Iwamoto) unnecessarily picked fights with Koreans, leading to a dispute.

3. Unable to control their anger, Koreans lashed out in rage at Japan, but the peace-loving Japanese responded calmly and coldly, enduring the insult.

4. While Koreans were partly to blame for recklessly instigating the meaningless dispute, it was primarily fueled by the runaway actions of some translators (such as Yohei Iwamoto).

5. Therefore, Yohei Iwamoto should take responsibility and commit seppuku.

Perfect!

It was natural for the entourage to implicitly designate Yohei Iwamoto as the person responsible, as Japanese individuals who could not naturally follow this line of thinking were naturally weeded out through natural selection.

This was done not through words but through exchanges of glances. As the entourage unanimously pointed to a scapegoat, and Yohei Iwamoto was preparing to disembowel himself upon returning to his country.

Leaning against the window and watching the rain in London, Eisaku Siedehara spoke up.

“That young Author Moon… I was certain he was a product created by the media.”

“……!”

“Haha, truly feels like I was completely fooled. Isn’t that the case for everyone?”

Everyone in the entourage eagerly nodded in agreement. Indeed, the reputation of a great literary figure who left a significant mark on Japanese literature could impress everyone. (Definitely not because Siedehara is friends with the publishing group’s chairman and his adopted daughter is married to the chairman’s third son.)

“That’s right!”

“I was also greatly surprised!”

“To deceive even the discerning eyes of even Author Siedehara… How could we have known?”

With Siedehara’s casual remark, Yohei Iwamoto was granted absolution. Similarly, Japanese individuals who could not comprehend this were naturally selected against.

‘A true hero……!’

As Yohei Iwamoto fidgeted with the resignation letter in his pocket, deeply moved, Siedehara continued.

“That’s why… I’ve come to want to thoroughly read Author Moon’s work. Though young, he has insight and knows how to write his own stories.”

“……!!!”

“Well… it just occurred to me during our conversation.”

Siedehara said so, then leisurely smiled and turned his gaze back to the window.

As the elderly man admired the rainy streets of London, the entire entourage quickly interpreted his recent statement.

Of course, Japanese individuals who couldn’t interpret the statement were naturally selected against- (Omission)

And so.

Not long after, Japanese publishers decided to import Author Moon’s books again.

The fact that Author Siedehara and Author Moon were both on the same Longlist but Siedehara was clearly a strong contender for the award, while Moon was seen as a pacemaker likely to not even make the Shortlist, influenced the relatively lenient actions of the Japanese publishers.

Of course, had they known that both Siedehara and Moon would be eliminated in the first round, they might have thought twice.

Side EP–Automaton Murder Case

The future has changed.

This year’s Booker International Prize is definitely Eisaku Siedehara’s “Harvest and Decay.”

It’s certain.

I may get confused about which stocks will skyrocket this year, but I’m never confused about who the Booker International winner is.

Even refreshing the Booker Foundation’s website page keeps the list unchanged.

Eisaku Siedehara’s name is not among the four shortlisted.

This means only one thing.

“My God…”

The future has changed.

Or is it history that has changed? Or the past? I’m not sure. In any case, something that was supposed to happen didn’t happen. My actions have altered causality.

I’m well aware of the concept of the ‘Butterfly Effect.’ It’s mentioned in several novels. It’s the theory that the flap of a butterfly’s wings can cause a storm on the opposite side of the Earth.

If this theory holds true, then Eisaku Siedehara failing to win the Booker International could potentially lead to a global economic crisis due to the end of the dollar’s dominance, or even the end of the world!

Well…

Even if we let the Earth be destroyed, there’s something I just can’t accept.

How can the artistic judgment of the literary award jury, considered one of the top three in the world, be so inconsistent?

Is there truly no objective and measurable way to view art?

Is there no method to determine what constitutes better art?

Then, is there no way to know if the writing I produce is good?

Am I trapped in the vast maze of ‘immeasurable art,’ forever producing books without knowing if they’re good or bad, wandering and relying on the uncertain evaluations of my inner self?

Ah!

It’s terrifying!

The aesthetic uncertainty of not being able to distinguish between good and bad writing frightens me! What is good writing? What is good art? If even the Booker Prize cannot answer this, then who can?!

Wrapped in this cosmic fear, I grabbed the blanket and shivered uncontrollably.

* * *

“He seems to be taking it pretty hard…”

Baek Seol looked at Moon In-seop with concern.

Standing in front of the Booker Prize shortlist announcement screen, twisting his body into strange poses and mumbling, it was impossible not to worry.

“Didn’t see it coming, huh…”

To someone as deeply immersed in this field as Lim Yang-wook, the outcome could have been somewhat predictable.

With something as prestigious as the Booker Prize, global political situations have to be taken into account, given its international authority.

After all, it’s impossible to score art.

The works of highly skilled novelists are decided by the narrowest of margins.

In such a scenario, there’s no reason to choose one work over another, especially if it’s become a political issue between countries like Korea and Japan.

Doing so would completely alienate one of the countries.

Of course, France’s Goncourt Prize, armed with a ‘what are you going to do about it?’ level of pride, could engage in such madness.

And the Nobel Prize in Literature, which is openly influenced by the political decisions of the Swedish government, might favor one side depending on diplomatic situations.

However, the Booker Prize, run by a private foundation and involving public voting, must adopt a cautious stance to avoid conflict as much as possible.

Such is the adult world…!

Lim Yang-wook placed his hand on the head of the boy, who was facing the harsh reality and getting frustrated (not really).

“Don’t cry… The moment you give up is the moment the game ends.”

However, instead of saying, ‘Department Head Lim… I want to win the Booker Prize,’ Moon In-seop, like a sensitive teenager, knocked away the hand placed on his head.

Moon In-seop got up from his seat, looking as if he had turned somewhat dark.

“Ah… Now I understand. The level of the Booker Prize…”

“What…!”

Moon In-seop, who had rolled around on the floor when nominated, got up as if he was so bored with the Booker Prize that he wanted to die, and silently disappeared somewhere within Baekhak Entertainment.

Watching Moon In-seop reject Director So Tae-woong’s invitation to the ‘Red Hunter’ after-party for the third time, Lim Yang-wook and Baek Seol expressed their concern.

“He needs to get over the shock quickly…”

“What do we do… His expectations must have been really high…”

* * *

When a new school year begins, the classrooms are filled with fresh air. That’s the nature of youth.

Meeting new classmates, new teachers, new friends, naturally forming new cliques, sometimes falling into the fever of love, unexpectedly joining new clubs to create lifelong memories, and even selecting a new target for bullying.

However, at Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Creative Writing Department, such things don’t happen. Since there’s only one class, everyone simply moves up together, so it’s the same old crowd.

A problematic teacher like Park Chang-woon could give a special lecture for about 3 hours and 30 minutes on the topic, “Gathering kids who want to do literature in Korea and can’t even fill a single class shows the current state of the Korean literary world.”

He actually does this every year. The figure of 3 hours and 30 minutes is not an estimate but an empirical figure.

But this year was different.

The new semester for the second year at Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Creative Writing class was filled with a new air.

It wasn’t because the composition of the class had changed or because there was a new teacher.

It was because the status of one student had changed.

“There is no god but Moon In-seop, and Gu Yu-na is his apostle. There is no god but Moon In-seop, and Gu Yu-na is his apostle…”

“The Creative Writing class at Baekhak Arts Middle School is the best in Korea, and this can be scientifically proven!”

“Ah, an author comparable to ‘Moon In-seop’… That would be ‘Eisaku Siedehara,’ right?”

If last year’s Moon In-seop was coffee, this year’s Moon In-seop is TOP.

Last year’s Moon In-seop was a rising star not yet free from skeptical gazes,

But this year’s Moon In-seop is a universally recognized genius boy who has ascended to the throne of ‘Booker International Prize for Fiction – Longlist Nominee.’

The ‘trickle-down effect’ from “Him” is proven by the skyrocketing competition rate to get into Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Creative Writing class.

The only people who know this joy are the students who were originally attending Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Creative Writing class and those who one day found a subway station and a large shopping mall built near their homes.

Therefore, the Creative Writing class students treated Moon In-seop like they would treat a subway station and a large shopping mall that suddenly appeared near their homes.

Just looking at him brought a warm smile to their faces.

“Hi! In-seop! Did you come to school well today?”

The leader of the group of the most sociable and amiable girls in class, a girl at the top of the school caste, greeted Moon In-seop with a bright smile as he entered the class in the tone of a Korean language textbook.

Her friends, acting as her left and right hands, laughed and playfully said, “Stop it, it’s so cringey!”, or greeted Moon In-seop in a similarly textbook tone, “Hi! In-seop! Do you by any chance know my name?”

However, Moon In-seop, who had never engaged in such conversations in his life and who instinctively looked down and hunched his back at the sight of a group of girls in uniforms due to a fundamental condition, silently nodded awkwardly and returned to his seat to sit down.

As the girls laughed at Moon In-seop’s reaction, the leader of the most popular group of boys in class plopped down on Moon In-seop’s desk.

A middle school boy who seemed to have a six-pack awkwardly but refreshingly smiled and spoke to Moon In-seop.

“Uh… congratulations!”

“Uh… huh? Oh…”

Moon In-seop, who instinctively wraps himself in a blanket and assumes a defensive posture at the sight of boys who look like they enjoy soccer due to a fundamental condition, responded awkwardly, but the boy sincerely offered his congratulations to Moon In-seop, with whom he had not been very close.

“I saw the Booker Prize broadcast. I wonder if it’s okay to say this… but it was cool.”

“Oh… thanks.”

“My mom really liked it too. She really hated the idea of me going to arts middle school to study literature. But when she found out I was in the same class as you, her eyes lit up, and she kept pushing me to befriend you. Wow. She likes you more than me? Actually, my mom is a poet.”

As the student leading the group of boys sat down at Moon In-seop’s desk and started a conversation, the other boys crowded around, chattering excitedly.

As a result, Moon In-seop found himself surrounded by boys, drawn into their conversation. More accurately, the boys encircled Moon In-seop, who contributed with his “Uh. Yeah. Uh,” as they exchanged their usual banter.

“Hey, has anyone seen ‘Red Hunter’?”

“Man, I saw the poster in English, and it was freaking cool. Resistance-Red Purge? How could you not click on that?”

“Creative Writing is freaking cool? What? Does King Sejong look like a joke to you?”

“Okay. I’ll just say it’s cool.”

“But isn’t ‘cool’ also a loanword from Japanese?”

“Ah, shit, then should we stop using all loanwords?”

“Kim Byul noona was pretty…”

“It was miscasting. In serious scenes, all you could see was her face.”

“Isn’t that because you guys are obsessed with the actress’s face, not the work?”

“Stop the factual violence!”

“Stop!”

“Hey, isn’t Kim Byul sunbae in the same club as In-seop? You guys close?”

“Didn’t you appear on a variety show together last time?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Blending in with boys his own age was more challenging for Moon In-seop than getting nominated for the Booker International Prize.

An unexpected figure came to rescue Moon In-seop from his anxious state among his male peers.

“Hey. Moon In-seop.”

Pink hair.

The unique streetwise walk of a dancer.

Earrings allowed by the school.

An idol-level appearance (genuine).

Min Hyo-chan, the main rapper of ‘Rapid Boys’, equipped with all these qualities, made an appearance in the 2nd-year Creative Writing class.

Min Hyo-chan’s aura instantly dominated the Creative Writing classroom.

Students possess a sense that adults don’t understand. It’s the ability to discern the ‘hierarchy’ of school-caste. Those who lack it are naturally weeded out.

(It’s similar to how children can’t discern the nuances in adults’ comments like ‘So-and-so is nice~’)

This synesthetic radar made the Creative Writing students look down in front of Min Hyo-chan.

And for good reason, as students in the Creative Writing class are inherently introverted.

That’s the limit of the arts.

If you were to throw the most sociable and friendly student from the Creative Writing class among the students of the Practical Dance department, they’d shrivel up like a freshwater fish thrown into seawater.

Naturally, in front of students who take pride in confidently dancing on stage, those whose hobby is reading would inevitably be overshadowed…

Even more so when Min Hyo-chan had dyed his hair pink and wore earrings.

With Min Hyo-chan approaching with his streetwise swagger, lifting a hand and saying, “Hey, sorry guys, I need to talk to him for a sec,” the Creative Writing students had no choice but to scatter like leaves in the wind.

Like leaves blown away by the wind, the students cleared a path for Min Hyo-chan to stride over and take his place.

“Hey. Moon In-seop. Look into my eyes.”

Moon In-seop looked into Min Hyo-chan’s eyes.

Then Min Hyo-chan covered his school uniform name tag.

“Tell me my name.”

“Min…”

Moon In-seop answered.

“Min… Minmin…”

“…”

“Min…”

Moon In-seop hesitated for a long time.

He cautiously ventured the next syllable.

“Hee…?”

Wrong.

“Hyo-chan! You idiot! Hyo-chan!”

“Aaaah!”

Min Hyo-chan grabbed Moon In-seop by the collar. Sudden violence overwhelmed Moon In-seop.

“What the hell was that about writing ‘Min something sunbae’ in the work review!”

“I… I just couldn’t remember…”

“Then you should’ve asked!”

Min Hyo-chan screamed as if he was about to breathe fire, still not letting go of Moon In-seop’s collar.

Amidst the shocking scene of school violence, the Creative Writing students murmured, and the rage of one whose name was forgotten poured out.

“You! You remember Kim Byul sunbae’s name perfectly, but why do you always forget mine!”

“Because Kim sunbae’s name is one syllable…”

“Don’t give me that bullshit!”

Seeing Min Hyo-chan’s anger not subsiding easily, the cold-hearted disciplinarian of the Creative Writing class, who could be compared to the madness of ‘him’, Park Chang-woon, ‘The Blood Demon’ Gu Yu-na stepped in.

A merciless pinch twisted Min Hyo-chan’s side.

“Kyaa!”

As Min Hyo-chan grabbed his side, reeling from the pinch, Gu Yu-na coldly notified him.

Gu Yu-na’s finger pointed sharply towards the classroom door.

“Get out.”

“You…! To a sunbae, how dare you…!”

Min Hyo-chan protested until the end, invoking the solemn discipline of Baekhak Arts Middle School, but to someone walking the path of the heretic, the rules of the orthodox were mere child’s play.

A second merciless pinch, not sparing any mercy, erupted, and Min Hyo-chan, unable to endure the bloody martial arts, fled.

Today, Gu Yu-na, having once again stained her hands with blood, naturally took the seat next to Moon In-seop.

As always, Moon In-seop’s original desk mate wisely moved to Gu Yu-na’s spot.

“…….”

Gu Yu-na silently stared at Moon In-seop.

Most kids would avert their eyes, thinking it strange for a strange person to do strange things, but Moon In-seop, already somewhat addled by a decade of gaslighting, responded calmly.

“Uh, why, what’s up?”

“Are you hungry? Cold? Curious about something? Want to go home? Are you in pain somewhere?”

Gu Yu-na shook her head no.

If you were wondering what she wanted, then you’d be lacking in consideration for Gu Yu-na.

Overflowing with empathy, Moon In-seop noticed that Gu Yu-na had something difficult to say.

“Do you need a favor?”

Correct. Gu Yu-na nodded.

Finally, Gu Yu-na spoke.

“Teach me writing.”

“Sure.”

“Then let’s go to a writing contest this weekend together.”

“Sounds good.”

For Moon In-seop, going to a writing contest with Gu Yu-na was as routine as daily life, so his response was without hesitation.

However, Gu Yu-na, having mustered the courage to make her first request, had the corners of her mouth slightly rise when it was easily accepted.

“What are you doing? Go back to your seat.”

Park Chang-woon, who had entered the classroom, tapped Gu Yu-na’s head with his bamboo flute, prompting her to smoothly stand up and return to her seat.

Even then, the corners of her mouth were slightly raised.

The poor student filling in for Gu Yu-na, also noticing her cue, moved back to Moon In-seop’s side.

Park Chang-woon attracted attention by banging his bamboo flute on the desk.

“Alright! Its time to kill each other! Today is another enjoyable critique session!”

And so, normalcy resumed.

However, the students sitting behind Moon In-seop and Gu Yu-na, who had listened to their entire conversation from start to finish, couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Two students, glancing around furtively, whispered to each other.

“Hey… Did you hear that?”

“…Yeah.”

“Did that just happen…?”

Thus.

A catastrophe occurred where an author nominated for the Booker International Prize ended up attending a local youth writing competition.

*****

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