The Great Storyteller

Chapter 3: Chapter 3 – Starting Again (2)

Translator: – – Editor: – –

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

Juho looked back to the day his hand hurt from writing for an extended period of time, particularly, to all of his failures. Something had to be done to prevent them from repeating themselves, even if it meant him being selfish.

Immediately, Juho called his editor.

“I have something to tell you. Are you busy?”

“... Is it bad news?”

“It depends... It’s nothing serious. I just wanted to ask you a favor.”

“What’s the favor?”

Juho camly explained his situation.

“I honestly don’t really understand what’s happening. I personally don’t think that my book is all that great. I can’t see it that way. I’m still a student, and the amount of attention I’m getting is quite overwhelming.”

“Hm,” the editor moaned faintly.

“I’m not sure about your views about your own work, but I do agree that all of this can be overwhelming. Most people who received a great deal of attention while young live unfortunate lives. Half of autobiographies out there are about failure.”

His words pricked Juho’s conscience, but he carried on, “So, if possible, I wanted to shy away from interviews. I don’t want my face to be known. I want a quiet school life.”

He had gone straight to the point without beating around the bush. There was a long pause. Juho was aware how powerful that could be as a means of promotion, but there was no way he wanted to live through that tiresome life again. There were even some authors who chose to remain anonymous. It was more than possible. The publishing company would need some explanation, but that would do.

He waited patiently, and the editor, concerned, let out another sigh and continued, “I’m an editor, and selling books is part of my job.”

“Of course.”

“It’s also my job to consider the author’s stance. I understand. It doesn’t seem like it’s a matter I can talk you out of.”

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t put up a picture on your profile and you’ve been using an alias, so everything should be fine.”

“OK.”

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“You’ve never made an official appearance at an event, so it wouldn’t be impossible if want to stay hidden. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to add a little mysticism to our strategy. Like you said, you are a student after all,” the editor thought out loud. Then, he continues playfully, “You know, you don’t look half bad. I’m sure the promotional team has been eyeing you for their promo video. That’s a shame. Well, the book has been doing well even without promotion, so there shouldn’t be any issues. I haven’t been home in days thanks to you.”

“Are you that busy?”

“Don’t even get me started,” he sighed.

“There’s a massive number of incoming orders from bookstores. The press called too. Shoot, I guess this means no signing events either. It came up at the meeting.”

“I don’t even have a signature.”

“Well, you’re a big shot now, so you should come up with one. I’ll call you with any updates.”

With those words, the editor hung up his phone. The reason for not putting up a profile picture was simple. It was because Juho wasn’t particularly fond of his pictures. He did consider taking a new picture at one point, but he found out there were many authors who intentionally skipped the profile picture, so he ended up simply writing an introduction. Who would’ve thought that would’ve been such a good move? It really was impossible to predict what followed after a choice.

As Juho daydreamed, Seo Kwang asked impatiently, “Hey, are you listening to me? How great of a book is this!?”

“I heard you, so enough of that.”

“If you’re longing to read it, I intend on lending you my practical uses copy.”

“I respectfully decline.”

As Juho and Seo Kwang argued, other students began to break out of their shells. Some were making quick, short conversations, while others approached Juho and Seo Kwang. A book was an easy topic to get plugged into.

“I know that book too!”

“Oh, did you read it?” Seo Kwang responded welcomely.

“It’s the first book I’ve read from cover to cover.”

Soon, others surrounding the two chimed in. They had been quietly listening to the conversation between Juho and Seo Kwang.

“My parents were nagging me so much, asking what I’ve been doing with my life when this guy’s been writing a book.”

“I was leveling up my character and helping out my friend with his. Doesn’t that count as volunteer work?”

“Hey, help me out too!”

“Who do you play?”

It didn’t take long for the subject to change. Juho was relieved that the attention wasn’t on him. Why hadn’t he appreciated that before?

Unhappy about the new subject, Seo Kwang added, “They should read if they have time for video games.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“You’re kind of geeky. You must be smart.”

“No. I found out reading and grades are two separate things.”

Seo Kwang began striking conversations with other students. He had to be a natural. There was not a bit of shyness in him. Seeing Juho sitting quietly, he tapped Juho and said, “See? These kids have no interest in reading, and they’re all here with ‘Trace of a Bird.’ This book has an incredible influence.”

Seo Kwang had to be trying to get Juho to read the book. There probably weren’t that many students who weren’t repulsed by books. The number of people reading had been on a steady decline at that age. It was not easy to run into a fellow literature aficionado.

Juho followed Seo Kwang’s finger pointing to the background of the book cover. A bird in a white background. The book didn’t have the flashiest cover, yet it found its way into the hands of those boys and girls. It was unusual, and students were reading the book of their own volition. It was not like it was porn either.

The student who was talking about video games earlier said, “I admit that it was a good read. I wanted to stay out of trouble with my mom, so I pretended to read it, but I actually finished it before I knew it.”

“Don’t you think it’s unfair the author is our age though? He must’ve made a lot of money. I’m jealous.”

“I wasted all that money, so you don’t have to be jealous,” Juho muttered silently and picked up Seo Kwang’s book. “Seems like it’s popular.”

“A book like this is bound to be a hit.”

Ignoring Seo Kwang urging him to read it, Juho took a brief look at the cover. The book wasn’t very thick, even thought it was a full-length novel. In the back, there were the summary and critics’ reviews:

“I decided to pick this book the first time I saw it.”

“I’m captivated by the author’s unique sensibilities. Reading his book is a once-in-an-eternity adventure.”

“Got me once with his seasoned writing, and then again with his age.”

They were all embarrassing. Those same critiques came back to haunt Juho two years later.

“I’m getting curious. Who could this high school student be? Hope it’s a she.”

“A person who writes like this has to be pretty. Pretty sure she has a good heart too.”

A girl? Juho struggled to hold back his laughter hearing what the other students were talking about. It was refreshing. That moment, Seo Kwang raised his hand to stop the conversation.

“That would be nice, but it’s still early to jump to conclusions. There were some touches of masculinity in places.”

“That makes sense. It was written from the perspective of a first-person male protagonist.”

Juho agreed half-heartedly and expressed approval to their reasoning. The surrounding became livelier than before. He was satisfied with the new environment,

He reminisced about his school life. It had been flashy. Everybody had wanted to talk to him, his classmates, students from another class, even the teachers.

He had even been called by the half-balf prince as a random moniker of encouragement. Within a few days, there had been a banner at the front gate. Juho had enjoyed his chaotic, daily life. Of course, it had all been gone in a flash, and it hadn’t been long before people changed. It had been his fault for being rash.

“The teacher’s here!” a student shouted.

The bell was already ringing. Everyone placed their new textbooks on the desk. The classroom was filled with tension for meeting the new teacher. They were silent, as if nobody had been talking the entire time.

The teacher walked in through the front door, and all eyes were on him. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties.

“Sigh.”

‘Sigh?’

It was their first official meeting, and the teacher is sighing as if he was already sick of it all. Juho felt slightly upset.

‘Had there ever been a teacher like that?’

He tried to retrace his memory, but there weren’t many he could remember clearly. The teacher half-heartedly reached for a chair and placed it in front of the podium.

“My name is Song Hak Moon, and I’m going to be teaching you literature. Call me Mr. Moon.”

The kids were silent. As if he knew they would be, Mr. Moon continued, “It’s the first day, so we’ll be doing independent study. I, as a literature teacher, will be spending this time reading. You may all do as you wish, as long as it doesn’t bother anyone.”

Mr. Moon sat on the chair and opened a book. It was a famous detective novel. Juho was acquainted with the book. The students were thrown off by the sudden freedom, but soon celebrated the fact that there was no class.

Juho looked at Mr. Moon. There were wrinkles on his forehead. He was completely immersed in his book, even within such a short time. He had a very serious look as he turned the pages. Without moving a muscle, he kept on reading.

Juho took his eyes off from Mr. Moon and took out his study guide. He had bought it to celebrate being a student again. It had already been a few days since the purchased it, but the progress had been slow. He smiled weakly. Studying was still just as undesirable as ever, even after having traveled back in time.

“May I go to the restroom?” a student asked cautiously. Once combined with school, the restroom transformed into a word that caused conflict between teachers and students.

While there were teachers who let their student go to the restroom during class, there were teachers also teachers who did not. Teachers who were particularly strict would become angry or incredibly offended. Not wanting to be a target for such a teacher, the student who brought up the word restroom kept a watchful eye to the teacher’s reaction.

“Sure,” Mr. Moon responded carelessly, as if there were no point in being nervous about asking.

Other students who’d been observing began to ask the same question one after another. Mr. Moon responded with the same dull answer to each and every one of them.

He had seemed like he’d be rough around the edges by how he’d sighed soon after seeing his new students, but that might not be true.

When the bell rang, Mr. Moon gathered his belongings and left the classroom without saying a word.

“That teacher’s kind of different. He takes no interest in his students.”

“Good for him, and good for us.”

By nature, that teacher seemed unmotivated to do his job. Mr. ‘Moon was it?’

Juho became curious of how he would teach in the future.

The bell rang after a short recess. This time, the teacher was an older lady in her fifties. Her subject was English. She wrote her name on the chalkboard. Like an English teacher, it was in English. Juho read the Roman alphabet letters written on the board. It read Myung Ja Kang.

“You’re fortunate that you have me as your teacher,” she said abruptly, without any introduction.

There was silence in the classroom, but it was apparent that they were at loss of words. Who was that?

“Among your seniors, there are five people who have gone onto study English education at Seoul University. I’ve taught all of them.”

Juho desperately held back his desire to sigh like Mr. Moon. The word ‘university’ made him realize that he really was a student.

“Everyone, you have to do well in English. Why? Because otherwise, you won’t be able to get into a university. Isn’t that your goal? If you want to reach your goal, you have to speak English. Unless your parents are rich, English is a must. We live in a meritocracy. I will grant the right to contradict my words only to those who can speak better than I can.”

There was no way that anybody would raise their hand in a classroom filled with silence. Juho felt bitterness toward the reality in which he had to listen to all of that. He turned his eyes to the window. There was no one in the yard, and the front gate made of iron was shut tight.

‘I could use a drink right about now,’ thought Juho.

“You may have a hard time understanding what I’m saying. You may want to say that university isn’t everything there is to life and that there are many other paths. Everyone, that’s the foolishness of a child. Mark the words of this veteran who’s lived far more than you. You’ll be able to live a life with no regrets. I will not accept complaints. I will be only accept your gratitude for getting you into a university with my English training.”

‘A life with no regrets she said? Wasn’t this an English class? Those are some lofty words.’ Juho thought.

He looked around. There were a lot of hardened faces. Some were terrified. This was a time when things like university or society appeared monstrous, and Juho felt sorry for them.

“My class will be based on SAT materials. When I point to you, I expect you to stand up, and give a clear answer. If you’re unable to answer or act immaturely, I will deduct points.”

‘Immature, that meant a fruit was not ripe yet. What sense does it make to deduct points for being immature when she’s already called her students young? This teacher is going to be trouble.’

Juho couldn’t resist his desire to sigh that time.

<Starting Again (2)> The End