Chapter 124: Chapter 124

Anyone working in the Korean publishing industry sometimes suffer from mental agony—

“Ugh, why don’t Koreans read books….”

—muttering such nonsense.

However, the real reason for the suffering of Korean publishing industry workers is not because of the ‘industry recession’.

If that were the case, all Koreans should have been suffering. Since 1997, the devastated economy of the common people has become a tradition in Korea.

Therefore, the ‘real reason’ Korean publishing industry workers are suffering is not because the industry is struggling,

We’re on the brink of death—

And I, too, felt grateful to him. It meant he highly valued the writing of a child he briefly met at the Booker International Prize reading.

When I belatedly expressed my gratitude to writer Siedehara, an unexpected answer came back.

It was also the reason for Siedehara’s aggressive investment.

As he savored the scent of tea, Eisaku Siedehara spoke calmly with a serene smile.

“I recently went to the hospital. They said it’s colorectal cancer.”

It was something even Director Kenji Matsumoto didn’t know. His tears were proof of that.

Death is a subject that, no matter how calmly spoken, can never be taken lightly, so that day’s meeting ended under a heavy weight.

But writer Siedehara tried his best to make us feel comfortable, and the many stories he shared still linger in my mind.

Lying in bed at the hotel, I thought about 3 billion won.

It’s enough to buy a house in Seoul.

And a pretty good house at that.

But Eisaku Siedehara used that money for a single film director and a novel by a boy from the neighboring country.

It was closer to charity than an investment, an act of goodwill extended by a veteran of the arts to his juniors.

And that goodwill, rolling down the hill like a snowball, ended up turning the entire country of Japan upside down.

And it birthed a masterpiece.

That masterpiece would remain forever, even after writer Siedehara passed away.

Perhaps, this is the final work left behind by novelist Eisaku Siedehara without picking up a pen.

Money, art, film, capital, popularity, the public, death.

Various words tumble around, tangled like a ball of thread.

They aren’t clear questions, nor clear answers, just a series of thoughts that persistently linger in my head.

At times , I turn to literature.

Fortunately, I have some talent for it.

I got out of bed and sat in front of the manuscript paper.

Director Kenji Matsumoto described ‘Guitar’ :

“A novel dealing with the darkness of society.”

But that’s not right.

‘Guitar’ is a novel about ‘me,’ not society.

When I was writing ‘Guitar’, everything was chaotic. I traveled back in time, faced success for the first time, and that initial taste of success was unpleasant.

The public that had ignored my writing now raved about the same work. Because I was a young orphan. So, what was the meaning of my efforts?

What was the meaning of a life begging for success, begging for awards, begging for popularity? All of it seemed meaningless in the face of the birth of a young genius.

The moment I was born, too many things had already been decided.

‘Guitar’ was a novel conceived from this realization.

Therefore, ‘Guitar’ was about my identity.

What is the meaning of a life born without purpose, meaning, or name? How does one fully own their life? What is the meaning of a journey without a destination? What completes a human being?

It is about giving oneself a name. Deciding by one’s own will what kind of person to become, what kind of life to lead. So humans who dream are beautiful…

I wrote such a piece.

Of course, this interpretation is not the only correct one.

The authority of creation lies with the author, but the authority of interpretation lies with the reader. So, it’s up to the reader’s free mind how to interpret it.

But the fact remains that I wrote ‘Guitar’ because of ‘me’.

Looking back, all my novels were like that.

‘Cause of Death’ determined the reason for my death, and ‘Guitar’ pondered the meaning of my life.

‘Demon Sword~nim! Please Control Me!’ taught me, who hated readers, how to entertain them, and ‘A Love Story’ washed away the hatred in ‘Red Hunter’.

And ‘The Show Must Go On’ told me that time is neither linear nor flat, but made up solely of memories.

So, I was able to let go of what I had lost by coming back in time, and finally faced Gu Yu-na in ‘Isomer’.

Therefore, my life progresses through literature.

I’ve staked my life on writing.

But in the end, is my literature progressing?

It’s a night of deep contemplation.

Korea and Japan are neighboring countries. There’s almost no time difference. When it’s night in Japan, it’s also night in Korea.

Therefore, when Moon In-seop in Japan, under the spell of dawn emotions, sent a text to Korea, the unfortunate victim had to wake up at dawn to check the message.

Today’s victim was Gu Hak-jun.

Writers are, by nature, sensitive people. It means they can be a bit prickly. Park Chang-woon is a walking example of that.

However, Gu Hak-jun, with his gentle character, had been correcting his innate prickliness, cultivating a profound and pure internal strength befitting a great literary figure.

But just as one born under a cursed star cannot escape their fate, humans cannot completely escape their inherent nature.

Gu Hak-jun, too, could not escape the curse of sensitivity, the fate of an artist.

Especially his hearing.

Gu Hak-jun was so sensitive to noise that Min Chae-won, who is accustomed to apartment living, moved to a detached house for her husband, who suffered from noise between floors.

Therefore, he woke up from a single text that arrived at dawn.

Gu Hak-jun’s refined internal strength prevented the word ‘damn’ from escaping his lips.

But he couldn’t help what he felt inside.

While inwardly cursing, Gu Hak-jun checked his phone.

And then he sheepishly smiled and took back the curse.

The text was from a beloved (soon to be) student, who was as dear to him as the apple of his eye.

“Ah, it’s our In-seop…”

Half-asleep, Gu Hak-jun smiled warmly and read the text.

He squinted slightly because he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

「What is literature?」

It seemed that Author Moon was once again under the magical spell of dawn.

At that age, it can happen.

After agonizing over literature for a long time while intoxicated by night and sleep, he finally throws a desperate question to his most trusted mentor, despite the rudeness.

Gu Hak-jun, understanding this sentiment, sent a sincere reply.

After a short consultation, sacrificing some of his sleep, he went back to bed.

Of course, it would take quite some time for the sensitive Gu Hak-jun to fall back asleep, but his face on the pillow was full of satisfaction from teaching his junior.

However, if he had known about the terrible disaster that was to come, he would not have been able to smile so peacefully.