Chapter 112: Chapter 112

In the dimly lit room, the desk lamp was the only source of light. The atmosphere was like a thatched house in the dead of night, with just one oil lamp lit.

Lim Yang-wook enjoyed reading in this kind of atmosphere.

Like putting blinders on racehorses to keep them from looking to the side, he could erase the world with darkness and focus solely on his book.

This was a tip given to him by his old college friend, now deceased. That friend had taught him nothing but bad habits like drinking and smoking.

However, recently his vision had gotten worse, and he couldn’t do this often. To the point where he had to wear low-prescription glasses just to read.

But since reading was more important than his eyesight, Lim Yang-wook would turn off all the lights when reading truly important books,

and of course, that included Moon In’s books.

And in a society where educational background and wealth somewhat replace social class, such places are dark, tough, and lowly.

Of course, there are industries where one can make a lot of money without any qualifications. Instead, they need to sell a bit of their morality, status, body, or soul.

Violent organizations and the entertainment industry always welcome orphans.

Orphanage kids realize these realities to some extent as they come of age.

They evade reality with a mindset similar to ‘the country will be unified by the time I go to the army’.

But as high school senior year approaches, their hearts tighten more and more.

Finally, as the college entrance exams approach, even delinquents voluntarily enter the study room.

This was what happened every winter at New Light Spring Orphanage.

Many orphanages classify seniors as the ‘graduating class’ and separate them from the other kids for a reason.

I know the pain because I’ve been through that process.

During that time, Professor Gu Hak-jun’s goodwill, extending a helping hand to me, filled the emptiness in my heart so much….

Of course, the end wasn’t good, but still.

I shook my head to shake off the bitter past.

Even though I couldn’t really shake it off, I forced myself to ignore it and continued my original thoughts.

In any case, this year’s situation at New Light Spring Orphanage was relatively better.

In fact, it was significantly better.

Although the kids didn’t know the details yet, it had improved enough that children were no longer ‘exiled’ from the orphanage but ‘graduated’.

This was because I had poured so many donations into Director Moon Chung-jae’s lap that honey practically dripped from his eyes all year.

Just before bed after dinner at the orphanage where I had returned after a long time, Director Moon Chung-jae called me to his office and sat me down.

Since I had never been particularly close to him, I sat awkwardly on the sofa, fidgeting.

Director Moon Chung-jae spoke to me.

“I am more grateful to the Lord for giving you a blessed talent, and for giving you a heart to use it for others. To the Lord, and to you.”

I had never felt gratitude to God.

Because I had endured so much pain simply for being born.

But I couldn’t say something blasphemous in front of a devout believer who had spent decades begging between Catholicism and Protestantism to feed orphanage kids.

It’s nothing. Don’t mention it. It’s alright.

These were the habitual words I would say whenever Director Moon Chung-jae expressed his gratitude to me.

And it was the truth.

The wealth and fame I possess are fundamentally no different from a lottery ticket that fell into my lap one day.

If I hadn’t traveled back in time, could I be enjoying this level of wealth and glory?

Now that I understand the workings of the entertainment and publishing industries, I can say with certainty: the answer is ‘No’.

Talent is not the most important thing. Had I not been young, I wouldn’t have succeeded in the entertainment industry; had I not been famous, I wouldn’t have succeeded in the publishing industry.

Regrettably, just as a failed life seemed reserved for me from the moment I was born, so too is success often determined at birth.

‘So many things are decided the moment you are born.’

That line is from my novel ‘Cause of Death’, and it is also my own cause of death.

Life is as light as a feather.

Moreover, having realized that everything could vanish the moment God snaps His fingers,

That is, from the moment God snapped His fingers and I traveled back in time, wealth and fame no longer held great meaning for me.

The only thing I perceive as real is literature. Wealth exists as material, fame as reputation, but literature exists within my heart.

Therefore, only literature is my life.

I stake my life on writing.

I always have, and I always will.

Thus, my donations to New Light Spring Orphanage are simply a kind of… ‘relocation.’

As long as I have enough to maintain my studio, buy writing supplies, and live on, I give the money to those who can use it immediately.

Moving something meaningless to a meaningful place.

This is a rational choice.

The path from the director’s office to the bedroom was already darkening. As winter approached, the days grew shorter.

But it wasn’t fully dark yet; a soft glow shimmered on the horizon, tinting the night sky.

This is commonly called twilight.

The chinese character ‘黃’ (huáng) in twilight means yellow, and the character ‘昏’ (hūn) means dark, but 昏 (hūn) also has connotations of confusion and fascination.

Now I understand why.

Just like the point where river water and sea water mix, at the celestial boundary where darkness and light mix, the yellow color spread out in thousands of strands and fluctuats in a thousand directions.

It was as if the entire sky was mesmerizing me. I willingly allowed myself to be captivated by the twilight.

Nature has always been a companion to literature. It is also the most beautiful art. It blends into daily life so deeply that it’s hard to focus on it.

But as I stood there appreciating the colors of the sky, it felt like some poetic inspiration was coming to me.

It was like the feeling of a sound lingering in my ears….

But something felt off.

I could actually hear a sound.

I looked around and saw Teacher Bang Jeong-ah peeking out from around the corner of the hallway.

In the dim hallway, her face with long hair emerging from the corner.

It could have been startling, but Teacher Bang’s face was so gentle that it wasn’t scary at all.

Teacher Bang Jeong-ah quietly motioned for me to come over.

Hearing her whispering, I went to Teacher Bang Jeong-ah, and she immediately stroked my head.

In my life, I have been patted on the head fewer than ten times.

I was so surprised I tried to pull away, but Teacher Bang mischievously continued to stroke my head.

“Argh! You little rascal! You brat!”

Eventually, I gave up my bodily freedom and let Teacher Bang Jeong-ah stroke my head to her heart’s content.

Soon, she knelt down on one knee to make eye contact with me.

“Haven’t you Read the latest chapters on NovelHub - completely free! That much will come in next month. I have a lot of money saved up too….”

“Wow… really?! How many of me would it take to save up your monthly salary…?”

It’s not just a few people. It’s several dozen. Depending on the timing and calculations, it could be ‘100 Bang Jeong-ahs.’

There was already that much of an economic gap between a late 20s low-educated childcare teacher and me.

If human worth is determined by productivity, she would be a trivial existence I need not concern myself with.

But why do I hold her in such high regard?

Perhaps it’s because the sight of her secretly buying me manuscript paper was one of the few lights and warmth in my childhood.

As long as I carry those memories, I am forever indebted to Bang Jeong-ah.

And the weight of that debt is like an anchor that ties a person not to the escape of death, but to the suffering of life.

Carrying that pleasant weight in my heart, I responded to Teacher Bang Jeong-ah.

“Even so, you’ve worked your fingers to the bone… well, it’s not physical labor, so maybe not your bones….”

“Anyway, you’ve squeezed your brain to earn this money, and if you just give it away … I feel bad….”

“Why do you feel bad? It’s not like I gave the money to you, Teacher Bang.”

“You cheeky rascal, still making jokes in this situation?”

We had such predictable conversations. But they weren’t meaningless. There’s a reason why people have predictable conversations in predictable situations.

After listening to Teacher Bang Jeong-ah’s thanks and giving the appropriate humble responses, I headed back to my dormitory.

But Teacher Bang was following me to the dorm.

“…? Aren’t you going back?”

Teacher Bang Jeong-ah startled and hesitated.

“Oh, no! I’ll just see you go in, that’s all!”

The survival instinct and sharp intuition honed through high school sent out warning signals.

But before I could ponder it, I found out what it was.

As soon as I entered the darkened dorm late at night, the lights turned on.

And the sound of fireworks popping filled in the rest.

The dormitory was bustling with people. Orphanage residents, classmates from Baekhak Arts Middle School, Park Chang-woon, Min Hyo-chan, Kim Byul, Lim Yang-wook, Gu Hak-jun, Gu Yu-na, Baek Seung-won….

Familiar faces came into view one after another.

There were so many that it was impossible to count them all.

Everyone was smiling, and as the fireworks confetti settled, they sang in unison.

“Happy- Birthday- to- you-!”

It’s not my birthday.

Even though it’s called a ‘birthday,’ it’s just an arbitrary date made up by the orphanage because it felt wrong for someone to have no birthday.

Naturally, I never celebrated it specially. So, I didn’t know. Why would I care about that meaningless date?

Even though I met my parents while living and found out my real birthday, I still didn’t celebrate it. Why celebrate the day I was abandoned rather than a day of joy?

It all seemed meaningless….

But for such reasons, I couldn’t stop the tears streaming from my eyes.

I cried miserably, sobbing.

Losing the strength to stand, I collapsed to my knees.

As I crumpled to the ground, people stopped singing and rushed towards me.

Even though it felt like something had gone terribly wrong, I tried to compose myself and, with a voice as steady as possible, said,

“What did you say, In-seop…?”

“Keep singing, please!”

Then, Park Chang-woon burst into laughter and clapped his hands rhythmically like a seal, prompting people to awkwardly resume the song.

Gu Yu-na, having continued singing from the moment I asked, was slightly off-beat, but she didn’t bother to correct herself and just kept singing at her own pace.

Kim Byul ran to me, asking if I was alright, tears in her eyes. People with tender hearts like Gu Hak-jun were already sobbing at the sight of me. Gu Yu-bin crying was a bit surprising.

Lim Yang-wook, however, wore an expression of resolute understanding as if he understood my feelings, though he didn’t look particularly cool with Baek Seol beside him, tears and snot streaming down her face.

I continued to observe the reactions of the people surrounding me, crying until I finally laughed.

And as I tried to savor the warmth enveloping me, a sudden chill struck me.