Great Novelist

“It's done!”

Seogwang shouts. Everyone's gaze is focused on him. He also saw him with his own eyes reading his writings. He's holding his hands overhead.

“Anyway, I'm late. ”

“The more thorough the retreat, the better. ”

“You know who gets it done sooner than you? ”

“You finished yesterday, too, and you shouted loudly. ”

“Guys, calm down. ”

I heard the children talking. Seonhwa and Seonggwang were in a frenzy, but their voices were excited. With this, all the members of the Moon & '92; s book completed their own work.

“Then it's time to decide. ”

Teacher Moon stood up and said. The time to decide was about the exhibition. Whether or not to display his work. It belonged to the writer, who was solely the owner of the writing.

“Anyone who wants to show up can come to the office. With his writings. Then print and go to the library. ”

“Ha.”

A sigh came from their mouths.

“How long do I have to decide? ”

“The sooner the better. Let's close next week. ”

“Ex, next week? ”

“It's the weekend. You can just think about it and bring it. I'll take some more if it's a little late. ”

It was the children who ended up spending the weekend as an option.

He thought, and decided. I'm going to show it to the school, and I'm going to publish a piece that I wrote in the name of the spaceship in the name of the spaceship. Although it was a small stage, it was the perfect stage for a 17-year-old student spacecraft.

If he hadn't announced the traces of birds to the world, he would have written and published a single wealth of books in the school library like this. I think I jumped up and down without stepping in this order. He lies at ease and relaxes himself.

“Good.”

Weekends are good. He has been laid low for a long time. While looking at the ceiling without thinking for a moment, he suddenly wanted to read a book.

He leaned to the front of the bookshelf and looked through his books. It was Kafka's book. He liked his writing. His book, which had not seen the light in his life, was made known to the world by his friend Max. We did not follow his will to burn his manuscript, but thanks to that, we were able to read Kafka's great writings.

How would Kafka feel if he saw this? He wondered, would he be happy to see it now, when he chose an artistic ego and wrote with solitude to the end? Or is he blaming his best friend for not keeping his will? I opened his book thinking about it. It was a book written in German.

I wonder how much time has passed since the disturbing vibrations of reading rang out. He picked up the machine on his desk, feeling a little annoyed that the quiet time of the weekend had been broken. I didn't know the number.

Unknown number. If it were normal, I would have pressed the Exit button immediately. At that moment, he felt a possibility in his mind. I answered the phone carefully.

“Hello?"

I heard some breathing sounds over the phone.

“Are you the writer forever? ”

“Yes, that's right. ”

“I'm the editor of Dongbaek Publishing's Roses. How long have you been struggling? ”

“Yes.”

“My publisher has contacted me because they would like to run a publication. ”

Laughter has already bloomed on his face. He passes stage one. Even if you don't write the name of coincidence, your writing moves people's minds. At least the publishers' minds.

"· · · Are you sure you want a good time?"

He asked me to visit the publisher over the phone. She replied okay to her question. After that, I spoke a few more words and hung up. You stand dumbfounded for a moment, feeling the temperature of the machine.

Then the phone rang again. It was a different number than the one I just saw. He answered the phone right away.

“Hello?"

“Hello. Are you the writer forever? ”

“Yes, that's right. ”

“Nice to meet you, Writer. Literature Town Publisher. You've been struggling. ”

Since then, I've received three calls, two e-mails, and two written letters. It was all a publication proposition. A positive call came from everywhere except one place.

“Haha.”

He felt it when he first reflected on the writing. I feel like I've been told that my writing is made out of books. I was overwhelmed and happy. It's been a long time since I tasted it. The writer of eternity will be quite a newcomer.

I took a small breath.

Now, where do you want to go? It was a pleasant time of choice.

*

Dongbaek Publisher was having a busier day than usual.

“Is it time for One to come in? Leave the conference room empty.”

“We're ready with the contract. ”

“Yes."

The president prepared a position for the contract with the writer. He's on his way to the publisher now. I looked at the clock. I'll meet the writer in 30 minutes.

“I'm strangely nervous. ”

“Is that what you're saying? Me, too."

Rose agreed with him. It was not the first time I had signed with a writer, but I felt a strange tension. Rose raises the piercing up with a simple gesture of hand. You will no longer see the piercing.

“Don't you think we know each other? ”

“Maybe so. Who is there?”

I thought of a writer who belonged to the young axis.

“I'm a little relieved I feel a little bit like you. ”

“That's not true. Too much glamour in the book. ”

Rose's words shook her head.

“The writer of faith is busy writing a series of copper professors. Oh, so you're a Bonjour writer, then? It's not very popular, but I like it. ”

“I know, but he's got a weird sentence. I'd be pissed right now. ”

“Yes, it is. You're not going to be a writer, are you? ”

“Absolutely not. ”

Rose tilts her head. Maybe he's really a writer. Maybe he is. His writing was that good.

“Maybe someone with more experience? With that much writing. ”

“I had a young voice. ”

“I'm young, too. ”

“Oh, yes. ”

There was a gentle conversation going on and on, and the junior said outside.

“Ms. Grant, Mr. Editor, the writer has arrived. ”

“Yes.”

Rose went out to greet him with a strangely trembling heart. There was a man who appeared to be a writer at the publisher's entrance.

Young. This was my first thought. In his voice, a boy who looked like a high school student stood there. The eyes met. The face of the adult reminded me. A relaxing smile. At that moment, Rose felt her thoughts shake. A child? He was a strange man. At that moment, a possibility passed through my mind. I wonder if it's him. These trembling breasts may be the result of a surprise encounter with him.

“Hello."

He opened his mouth. Rose was also greeted with a cowardly greeting.

“Yes, hello. You're the writer, right?”

“Yes.”

They greeted each other lightly and rose led him to the conference room. He boldly entered the publishing house. It didn't look like the first person to sign a contract. There was no tension, no excitement. He was calm and mature.

“Ms. Grant, the writer is here forever. ”

“Come in.”

A very different voice came out of the conference room a moment ago. Roses opened the door of the conference room without shaking. Leaning away, Circle led the writer inside first.

*

“Hello, I'm a travel bag. ”

He shared greetings with Dongbaek, president of Dongbaek Publishing, in the conference room. The first time I saw him in his middle-aged life was that he looked quite threatening. It was far from a good impression Nevertheless, the cool smile he made was his own charm.

“You're the writer. ”

“Yes.”

“I've read your work well. Thank you so much for your patience with our publisher. ”

He bows. He bowed his head as well.

“Thank you so much for getting in touch with me. ”

He said, looking at the rose facing Dongbaek. I put the rectangular desk between the two and talked, and it felt like a door frame. There was green tea on the desk. Before getting to the point, the boss talked about his work.

“Your writing was really impressive. ”

“Yes.”

“Especially the language tables you sent me. Did you invent all this? ”

“Yes.”

“Can you really interpret the sentence in the manuscript by learning this character mark? ”

He nods.

“It's a language. Of course it can be interpreted. ”

“May I explain how it's made? ”

He replied with a few moments of excitement.

“I mean, it's basically alphabetical, Hanmun and Hangul. I studied a lot of ancient and medieval English. We have created a variety of languages, which will be divided into missing languages and surviving languages. ”

“What · · · · · · · · · · is to be shared? ”

“Just like the Manchurians. The ancestors' words were so difficult that they disappeared. They had to create a new language, and it appeared in a form that did not completely deviate from the Mongol script that they were borrowing. It was written in official text, but now it's in jeopardy. I'm going to let you study this language in novels. ”

“I see.”

So, Dongbaek, who looks at it with the expression, decided to describe his creation process as it is.

“Make arrows, for example. ”

“Arrows.”

“The aim of a weapon is to hunt. Then you have to be sharp. Find the right ingredients for it. Glass, iron, shattered ice. And if you mix them in various ratios, you can see what goes where, what goes where. I was particularly interested in language systems and vocabulary. I wanted to create a lot of unique words around the world. It's more fun that way. It's also effective for representing the ecology of the site. ”

“· · · · · · Right. Excuse me, how old are you?”

“I'm 17.”

Dongbaek's eyes sparkled. Roses were the same. Genius. A genius shows up, and they feel like they're face-to-face with a tribe that only talks about. 17. Genius. This adds up to something that comes to mind. A newcomer who made the publishing industry buzz. A writer who has succeeded in his debut and his next book.

Dongbaek opened his mouth.

“You wrote a brief introduction to the author. ”

“Does it matter? ”

“No, no. What would be the problem with this yard? ”

His writing was too good to be a problem that his personal profile was brief. It was a jewel. It was a shiny jewel that was retrieved from a myriad of letters. No matter what happens to the blind man, he needs to get his hands on it. Dongbaek was willing to close this contract no matter what. I was inflating myself in front of him. Dongbaek quit searching and asked directly.

“Have you ever written in the name of coincidence? ”

Dongbaek said, feeling my heart beating with anticipation or anxiety, he saw a young writer in front of him. He doesn't say anything for a moment.

I just laughed.

“Does it matter? ”

By your side, you hear the sound of roses inhaling. Dongbaek drank green tea on his desk to hydrate his thirsty neck.

And I said,

“No, what's wrong with this yard? ”

Rose's Contract (1) End

lim Han-baek