Novelist Running Through Time - Chapter 69

TL: KSD

Spring passes, and summer comes.

The season is approaching when the blue of the sky, far above the cozy white clouds, seems deeper.

From the bus window, the sky feels especially blue today.

Maybe it’s because I’m seeing this after the gloomy skies of London, or maybe I’m just in a good mood; I’m not sure.

Gu Yu-na, sitting next to me on the bus, peeks over and asks me.

“What are you looking at?”

“The sky.”

Gu Yu-na’s gaze, which had been fixed on me, slowly shifts to the sky.

After staring out the bus window at the sky for a while, Gu Yu-na suddenly shares her thoughts.

“It’s clear.”

Soon, with the heavy sound of the engine, the bus speeds along the highway. The lush mountains under the blue sky swiftly pass by like the wind.

Summer was approaching.

Side EP–Automaton Murder Case

It would have been nice if everyone could enjoy art as art, but people needed to attach numbers to art to feel satisfied.

This terrible habit is the same for the public and artists alike. The public has a Nolbu-like mentality, wanting to sift through and only glance at the best art, while artists have a bad temperament that isn’t satisfied until they suppress another artist’s work. (TL: Nolbu is a character from a Korean Story ‘Heungbu and Nolbu’ in which Heungbu and Nolbu were brothers who were the son of a very rich man. Nolbu, the older brother, was very greedy and coldhearted, but his younger brother, Heungbu, was kind and empathetic. )

Thus, the art world always has a kind of PvP mode wherever you go.

And if musicians have concours, writers have essay contests.

Despite the era where terms like literary awards, competitions, and essay contests are mixed up so much that the meaning of essay contests becomes blurred,

An essay contest is an event where people write essays on a prompt received on the spot, competing to see whose essay is the best.

Originally, this was a custom among scholars during the Joseon Dynasty, kind of an impromptu freestyle writing battle.

Just as in Joseon, where officials were appointed through writing competitions, in Korea, winning writing competitions can lead to admission to good schools.

So, parents wealthy enough to fund competitions for their child often did, but eventually, schools collaborated to create a peculiar list of <Recognized Essay Contest Awards>, sponsored by famous literary magazines or those with deep history and credibility.

After all, the issue, then and now, is always the entrance exam.

Thus, aspiring novelist students who want to get into good art schools become wandering fighters, traveling the country to match the schedule of <Recognized Essay Contest Awards>.

And that was exactly me.

And, I think, I did quite well.

After all, being a regular high school student who consistently beat arts middle and high school students in competitions was something.

Looking back, that was the source of my self-esteem.

Kind of a gloomy and modest happiness, like being a mysterious master who instills fear in arts middle and high school students at essay contests, even though I was an outsider and a sandbag in school?!

It’s a bit funny, but humans are creatures that slowly die without experiencing such happiness.

Even wandering through essay contests, I met my (short-lived) best friend, so the role essay contests played in my life was undeniably significant.

“You look happy.”

Gu Yu-na, sitting next to me on the bus, noticed my mood. Seeing her face makes me smile. It’s the first time I’m going to an essay contest with Gu Yu-na, who I’ve always met at essay contests.

However, that’s the sorrow of this second life; I can’t openly share such feelings.

So, I dodged the question like this.

“I’m happy because it’s been a while since I’ve been to an essay contest.”

Gu Yu-na tilts her head in curiosity.

“Did you go to essay contests often?”

“Yeah.”

“How often?”

“A lot. I’ve written many pieces with the hope that ‘Please, choose my writing as the best. Please, look kindly upon my writing…’”

“You did?”

“I wasn’t always good at writing from the start. Writing improves the more you write, so I wrote a lot. And I think you’re the same case.”

“Hmm. Thanks.”

The fact that she didn’t respond with something like ‘Who are you to judge me?’ but with a ‘Thanks’ shows that Gu Yu-na was indeed very gentle when she was younger.

Feeling proud of Gu Yu-na, I unwrap a snack and give it to her, when the teacher sitting in the front seat of the bus (a minion of Park Chang-woon) noticed us and announced,

“Kids! We’ll be arriving soon! Get your things ready!”

Only the kids from Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Literature and Writing department who were kind enough to respond to the teacher’s words replied.

“Yes-”

Since I wasn’t noble and pure-hearted enough to respond to everything said to the general public by a teacher, I silently observed the faces of the students from Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Literature and Writing department.

I was really surprised.

At Baekhak Arts Middle, the teacher checks the <Recognized Essay Contest Awards> schedule one by one, gathering the kids on weekends and driving them to the essay contest venues by bus.

Feeling somewhat wronged, as I had to check dozens of essay contest committee websites one by one, jot down schedules in my calendar, and beg Teacher Bang Jeong-ah for transportation money to get to the contest venues, it seemed unfair.

Back in my day, getting to an essay contest this easily was unthinkable…

Especially if there was an essay contest in Chungcheong Province like today, it was hellish. The journey involved taking an intercity bus from the terminal to the province, switching to a local bus, and then walking a long distance to the event venue.

Grumbling to myself, the kids began to disembark from the bus one by one. Gu Yu-na grabbed my hand and pulled me.

“Let’s go.”

“Just a bit…”

“Hurry.”

The moment I stepped down the bus stairs, it wasn’t the air conditioning but the fresh mountain air that brushed against my forehead and fluttered my bangs.

At the entrance of a gym located at the foothills of an outlying city, a banner announcing the essay contest, and the people gathered cozily in the adjacent park were visible.

And there were the anxious glances of parents cheering for their children, and the children’s eyes, filled with tension, sizing each other up.

At that moment, when the familiar feeling approached, I finally realized that I had arrived at the essay contest.

* * *

Round eyes.

White sclera and black pupils.

An unknown child is staring at me with wide-open eyes.

If I were to analyze that look, it could be interpreted as ‘Why are you here?’

After looking at me, the child rubbed his eyes for a moment, took off his glasses, and looked at me with a half-squinted face.

“Are you… Moon In-seop?”

“Hello.”

“!!!”

The unknown child covered his mouth with his hand in shock. Then, he carefully extended his hand that had been covering his mouth towards me.

“I really enjoyed your novel.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you here for this essay contest too?”

“Yes.”

“Really?! Could I, by any chance, have your phone number…”

At that moment, Gu Yu-na, who had swiftly run over like lightning, wedged herself between the unknown student and me.

“Number. It’s difficult.”

“Ah… Ah…”

Leaving behind the disappointed child, I was dragged away by Gu Yu-na’s pull.

Gu Yu-na took me to a corner of the park next to the gymnasium. It wasn’t the best spot, but it was certainly secluded. It also didn’t receive sunlight due to the shadow of the gymnasium building.

“Shall we write here?”

“Let’s do that.”

We spread out our manuscript paper and pens on a park bench.

As the essay contest events gradually morph into a certification exam for college admissions,

there’s a trend of essay contests being conducted with a strict atmosphere and procedure similar to civil service exams,

but in line with the original intent of essay contests as a literary festival (or Joseon scholar-freestyle battle),

many essay contests still liberally allow students to write in the great outdoors, surrounded by nature’s beauty.

Of course, there’s the possibility of ghostwriting and cheating, but that’s not really important in this field. If adults’ ghostwriting is hushed up, who’s going to strictly catch kids doing it?

Besides, in literature, success achieved through dishonest means is meaningless. It’s the art world, after all. Though college admissions are a different story… Anyway.

Anyway, I liked these free-spirited essay contests.

Rather than being stuck in a classroom like a school exam, silently writing for two hours, I prefer the method of wandering around a park or café with good air for two hours, writing, and then returning to the exam venue.

But it’s not because I hate control and love freedom.

The reason I came to like the free-spirited essay contests is that it allowed me to discuss with Gu Yu-na.

“Yu-na, what do you think about this prompt?”

The prompt given by the judges in the gymnasium auditorium, looking at us uncomfortably, was ‘clock, notebook, waiting’.

Depending on who writes the better essay with this prompt in two hours, the awards are decided, and receiving an award means getting into a better university than others.

“It’s static.”

However, Gu Yu-na answered without a hint of hesitation.

To her, what mattered was not the awards but the writing.

Always.

“A clock is a tool for telling time, a notebook is a tool for recording, and waiting is an act of stopping action, all giving a passive impression. The writing will probably be the same.”

“So, there’ll be many writings about looking at a clock, looking at a notebook, and waiting?”

“Yes. Writing something dynamic would be advantageous in this essay contest. After all, we need to catch the judges’ eyes.”

“What kind of essay are you going to write?”

“Hmm… A story about finding a notebook with a clock design and waiting for its owner? A story about waiting for a portrait painting beside a painter who draws a clock tower in a notebook? No. This doesn’t feel dynamic… The prompt ‘waiting’ is the problem. Of all things, an action became the prompt, restricting the content of the novel.”

Gu Yu-na, unable to hide her anxious feelings, bites her nails, then glares at me fiercely and snaps.

“What about you?”

It means don’t just watch, contribute something.

Then, I have a lot to say.

“Don’t be swayed by the word ‘waiting’; just write what you want. The protagonist doesn’t necessarily have to wait for something.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Change the order. How about a protagonist who gets tired of waiting and runs out, but doesn’t know what they were waiting for, so they look at the notebook and it says they lose their memory every hour?”

“…Memento?”

“Quiet. Anyway, the protagonist panics after finding out they have anterograde amnesia and pulls out a clock.”

“…That’s plagiarism of Memento.”

“Ta-da. But the clock is broken.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s twist the story here. Since the clock is broken, now they don’t know when their memory will reset. To even roughly know, they have to start counting the time, waiting by counting seconds for an hour, trembling in fear of when their memory will reset. How many seconds have passed now? Am I counting the numbers correctly? They suffer like this, waiting for their memory to reset.

Then, the protagonist realizes something. If being is defined by memory, and I only have an hour of life left, what’s the point of suffering and counting numbers like this?

Realizing this, the protagonist stops the agonizing wait, kicks off their seat, and heads out with the broken clock to explore the beautiful landscapes of the world. And the novel ends with them writing in the notebook, ‘Enjoy life before fixing the clock!’”

Gu Yu-na looked at me with admiration and started writing something hastily on her manuscript paper.

Pleased, I watched over Gu Yu-na’s head, then looked around the park, where a fierce battle was continuing.

I can see our classmates from the Literature and Writing department, who have been walking around with their shoulders puffed up since this morning, saying ‘Who are we? The school with writers’.

Parents pointing smartphones at me to take pictures from afar, and children sneaking glances at me while writing, were not few.

The unknown child who greeted me earlier waves at me from a distance. I wave back, and excitedly, he jumps around, making a fuss to his friends. I feel like a celebrity.

But, somehow, I often feel like I’m still deceiving others. I know better than anyone that I’m not that great of a person.

“……”

Whenever I have such thoughts, I suddenly feel cold. Even wrapping myself in a blanket doesn’t ward off the chill. It’s the cold seeping in from my youth rental apartment that’s gone cold due to the lack of heating. Somewhere in my soul is always in the past.

What snaps me out of these unpleasant memories is Gu Yu-na, who has tossed aside her manuscript paper.

“I can’t write anything good.”

“….What’s wrong?”

“It’s because of you. You’ve contaminated my brain. Because of that Memento plagiarism you mentioned earlier, I can’t think of anything.”

Gu Yu-na turned her head away with a sullen face, meaning that the story I made up on the spot must have been pretty good.

I tidy up the manuscript paper and help Gu Yu-na to her feet, coaxing her gently.

“Do you want to have banana milk at the convenience store?”

“Yeah. Buy me one.”

“Professor Gu isn’t giving you much allowance these days?”

“Recently, dad has indeed cut back on his spending.”

Gu Yu-na, whose comments would make Professor G weep, nonchalantly led me to the convenience store.

Watching Gu Yu-na sip her banana milk, the examiner announced to the participants that half of the exam time had passed.

Gu Yu-na, having finished half her banana milk, asks me.

“Aren’t you going to write?”

“You, Yu-na?”

“I told you. My brain’s contaminated. After seeing such a story, how can I write my novel? It’ll all just be plagiarizing bits of your story.”

Gu Yu-na pointed to my empty manuscript paper.

“But why aren’t you writing?”

“Well…”

Thinking about it, I stopped participating in essay contests after I was admitted to college with Professor Gu Hak-jun’s help.

Even if I considered essay contests a source of my pride, or a literary festival, deep down, I regarded them as a means to accumulate specs and get into a good university for a better life.

After realizing this, it became impossible to attend essay contests with the same pure and joyful heart I had in my childhood.

But now, after a long time and with a weakened body, coming to the essay contest with Gu Yu-na, I felt nothing but joy, as if the purity of those days was returning.

Even if I were to write now, impress the judges, and take away someone else’s award,

it wouldn’t bring me more happiness than this moment, sitting on a convenience store bench with Gu Yu-na, eating banana milk and looking up at the clear sky.

So, I chose not to submit any writing for this essay contest.

However, not being able to honestly express such feelings is the sorrow of this second life.

So, I quietly smiled and said to Gu Yu-na.

“Just… the weather is too nice.”

Gu Yu-na stared at me and then sighed deeply.

“I really can’t figure out what you’re thinking…”

It’s ridiculous to be told by Gu Yu-na that she can’t figure me out.

I must have been looking at her with a perplexed expression.

Gu Yu-na then asked me.

“How do you write so well?”

Ah, come to think of it, coming to today’s essay contest was also because Gu Yu-na asked me to teach her how to write.

In our previous life, we were each other’s mentors, but this time, I thought it wouldn’t be bad to be Gu Yu-na’s mentor.

What I’m curious about, though, is why Gu Yu-na, who I thought would decide to pursue a novelist’s path in high school, is already so passionate about writing.

“Do you want to write well? Can’t you just write your own stories?”

“Yeah. I want many people to read my writing. I want to become a popular novelist.”

“Uh-huh. I see. How did you come to think like that?”

“My sister said she’s going to cease writing.”

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me earlier-”

*****

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