Great Novelist

“From the first moment I saw you, you were in danger. ”

The moment I gave up something, I met him. He has been on the edge of the cliff since he first met him. That's why you did this stupid thing. Coincidence, being hailed as a genius and self quitting the writer. Those who are cornered on the edge of a cliff will lose their footing.

“Yes."

He acknowledges. His voice is weak. I was overwhelmed.

“It didn't sell. I had to quit writing. ”

He explained his situation in an excuse.

“Everyone's looking for coincidences. Coincidence, coincidence. My book is pushed to the other end. Unlike your fancy book. It was covered in dust from the corner. That was the end of what I wrote. ”

A lot of books end that way. Most writings made by shaving bones and cutting flesh end up like that.

“You're young. You didn't write more than me. You didn't try any harder than I did. So these results are weird. It's weird.”

“So what happens when you steal a USB stick? ”

Nothing's gonna change. He mutters a little.

“At least I wanted to see your crooked face. I wanted to see your anxious face. I wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one. ”

However, the reality did not turn out as he wished. Just as ghosts and dogs that he had hoped for were not real.

He quit the writer and he's still a writer.

“You win. ”

“This could be a battle worth fighting for. ”

He said without a small smile.

“It's your choice. ”

Quitting the writer was his choice.

“No.”

He says no.

“Someone told me to. ”

He asked.

“The world.”

He said.

If he's telling the truth. It was an unwinnable opponent. So he'll only lose. Or is he bringing in an opponent he'll never win for, waiting for a reason for his choice?

It's like God.

Horses do not appear like gods, but make reasons for those who need them.

“Where are you? ”

He asked boldly. He understood without mentioning him.

“Nowhere. ”

“What did you do? ”

“Have you ever been to the backyard? ”

“No.”

“There are a lot of stones there. I found one.”

Pictures of him stoned.

“You broke it.”

“It's completely ruined. And I threw it away.”

“Where are you?”

“I flushed it down the toilet. ”

Cruel end, destruction of abduction and organics. The trail could be floating somewhere in the river by now.

“What if the toilet gets stuck? ”

“Too small to worry about. ”

The silence passes. The air is damp. The realization of what you did was irreversible.

He looked at the ceiling for a moment. It will be dark outside. Something smells delicious. It was exotic.

“I would have eaten dinner and stolen it. ”

“What?"

“That's the last time.”

“Last?”

He asked as if he didn't understand. My hair is shaking.

“You mean this delicious smell doesn't reach you? ”

He breathes mechanically into the word "odor." I was clumsy as if I was breathing for the first time. It's awkward and unfamiliar. He realizes that he was holding his breath. Enlightenment is coming. I can't breathe. There was a reality there I didn't want to face.

He looked at the coincidence before his eyes. Brutally, the young writer repeats the question.

“Where am I? ”

This is the teacher's house.

“What have you done? ”

Bang. We're going down. Pulse is racing. My hands are shaking.

“I · · · · · · · · · · ·. ”

What are you doing?

It opened my eyes to complaints. Black emotions flow in between. Force majeure. Where am I? What have you done?

“You're starting to notice things around here. You were a writer.”

He called him back in time. The voice came to me with violence. It's grim. His words are all over the place. I felt naked. I was helpless.

“Now think again. ”

“· · · · · · · · · What? ”

“About you. ”

I listened to him. I thought about myself. You're a writer. No, you're a writer. It was the path he chose. It's not a world. It's not that big.

“Humble.”

I noticed a smiling face. From the moment I met that face, I was humiliated. It gives me a chill. I wake up.

“I didn't want to use it anymore. ”

I didn't want to write anymore. I've become such a long-awaited writer. The joy is brief. The writing is overwhelming. You see only your shortcomings. I couldn't catch the ribs. I couldn't think of a way to win.

Then a coincidence appeared. I read his article. It was beautiful. It was glowing. His book seemed to be in the sun. I was blinded. Not at all like his ugly, humble writing. Younger than you and better than you. Even the children surpassed themselves. Limitations.

I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to stay.

“I haven't seen my surroundings for a long time. ”

I turned my eyes away from my humble self. I held my breath for a long time to avoid the stench. The world slowly narrowed down. There is no way you could write in this state. You give up as you are. You bring the reason you are caught and cover yourself on top of it.

Even in that narrow place where you escaped.

“You're so big there, too. ”

There was a great fluke in front of me.

“But you're at the teacher's house. ”

Even where he came to give up, he was writing.

“So I did. ”

He looks at himself. My eyes were blindfolded by hot hair. I came to give my last greetings to Master Morgolo so badly. It was miserable. It wasn't the world that made him miserable. It was no coincidence.

It was just me.

“I'm sorry.”

It wasn't from his mouth.

“Master.”

She was behind you. He knew. It smells delicious. So I confessed. I bowed my head. The rookie next to the book adds a word.

“I was not a writer, nor was Junsu a seller. Junsu is still giving a talk. I once abandoned my manuscript. But we didn't take what was ours and get angry. I wanted to be a writer. We were writers, even though it didn't sell, even though we weren't popular. ”

“· · · · · · · Yes. Yeah, I just used it as a shell. ”

It was only because he couldn't give up proudly. I see coincidence, and I realize who I am in front of with clear eyes. He doesn't blame me. He did not shine himself in his eyes. He didn't even care about himself.

Ah, what did you do by yourself.

He came back to reality.

“I'm sorry."

You hear a murky, split voice. I'm sorry. He apologized to everyone in front of his teacher, in front of his colleagues, in front of coincidence.

“· · · · · · Really, sorry. ”

It's a trembling voice. Only he is shoulders back there.

“It's okay. You don't have to ask. ”

It was a light tone.

He didn't want to make things big. Besides, I got something.

Someone who steals from others. War. Death. God.

The form of a giant epic slowly takes hold.

He eventually left without eating his teacher's last supper.

“I've been back.”

“You said you had dinner, right? ”

“Yes.”

He returned home and greeted his mother in the living room and entered the room.

I changed my clothes and lay in bed. I slowly lowered my eyelid as I lay down to see if I was tired. He lets out a small sigh with his eyes closed.

Then the door opened.

"What can I do for you if you're hungry? ”

She opens the door like this and asks her doctor.

“I've eaten enough. ”

“Thank God. Are you sure you're okay? ”

“Yes.”

With a good night's sleep, she closes the door and leaves. He got up and sat down in a chair. You see the computer. Inside, the contents of the USB stick were never to be seen again.

Warm hair.A writer who didn't even think of hearing his name. It's not popular. It's not for sale. So I quit writing.

So I broke something else.

In the process of slowly returning to him, I remembered a conversation with her before leaving the house of the speaker.

“Do you think she'll stay? ”

The speaker asked, after just eating dinner, Lord Turra sweeps his belly in a reflexive manner.

“Meat?”

She smiled as if she was relieved.

“Can you handle it? ”

The speaker asked again. She was worried.

“If you can't do it, I'll take it. ”

“You sound like an item. ”

“It's no different. If you keep it, it'll rot away someday. ”

“I have to digest it before it rots. ”

He smiles and says, but she does not back off.

“Are you upset?”

“I wasn't happy. ”

“Don't you hate the world? ”

“Fortunately, that's not all. What happened was that I was too good to be true. ”

The speaker looks at him and nods. Then I shoved him on his back.

“Then go write. Don't hold back.”

She already knows how he deals with emotions. He asked before leaving her house.

“Are you all right?"

She was her apprentice. She won't be comfortable to see that. She laughed at the concern of such a lord.

“I've seen it a lot. It always breaks my heart. But I know this pain won't last forever. So it's okay."

I got up slowly. I turned the computer on. The screen lit up. It contained all the writings he had written.

It's intact.

Nothing is broken. It was he who stoned him and flushed him down the toilet. He was a writer.

A war. A war that steals from others. We make weapons and scrape together anger in order to take it away from ourselves and from others. You know how unhappy that can be. And you know how miserable that can be.

If there is a God.

“If I were a god, ”

I'm going crazy wanting to turn my back on Humans.

Don't hold back.

Someone said so. He follows his words and moves his hand. I have found a place in the history of fiction. The protagonist in a luxurious cloth lives in an age without God. The war is over and God is gone. A world where stories only exist. It's as if there was a God in the past.

The start is where he was born and raised. He has parents, too. He was born as a human being in this world. He thought of a warm head. A person who could not accept giving up.

The protagonist's father is wearing good clothes. Lots of money.

His father could not bear to be alone. I've been with a lot of people, I've made love to a lot of people.

He had many families, many children.

“I'll give you some allowance. ”

That's what my father always said.

“You don't have the courage. ”

He replied: That's what his father saw. I don't have the courage to give up something, to ruin my life, to ruin someone else's.

The protagonist was left alone. He was sensitive to language. I listened to the stories around me and listened to my father's stories. I had a clear understanding of the situation. He wears clothes, eats food and is educated with his money.

He expressed his anger to everyone except his father. More unacceptable things have happened. Angry and outward.

And he changes.

End of Face (5)

lim Han-baek