Great Novelist

After a light stroll, he returned home. Nowadays, I haven't been able to go out for a full morning workout, so I wanted to move lightly. I took a shower and went into my room, and there was a manuscript waiting for translation on my desk.

Who it belongs to. He reads the visible title as it is. He will now try to pass it on to his readers.

I already knew the contents. A protagonist named Bill appears. The story takes place at this point in time. Bill was a thief. He was the leader of the Pickpocket. He was a fearless and ambitious figure who lived to steal from others.

The area where Kelly Coin's signature atmosphere was best seen was the background. Bill lives in a virtual space. It was divided into three areas.

The Slum is where Bill lives. Slum. Low quality of life and contaminated. Dark alleyways and gutter rats. Poverty and self-control. Poverty and deprivation. Criminals live.

Bill's food lives in a wealthy village. A lot of people live with what they have. Money, relaxation, happiness. Rich people spend most of their time with their pet cats gracefully drinking tea. They live in laziness or wary of thieves in the Slum.

Finally, the boundaries of two places. Utopia exists. That's where Bill's workshop is. It is the only place where the slums and the wealthy people mingle. No one stops a tourist attraction named Utopia. A dream full of beautiful scenery and rich music

and a place of hope.

There are people looking for relaxation and romance. Bill sneaks in between and steals their happiness and money.

He frequently read Kelly Coin's articles for recent translations. I looked through his interviews, articles, and broadcasts as much as I could. Coin said something about her own writing in an interview: A person who has never committed a sin will not be able to sympathize with my writing, and will not be hurt

People will be bored with my writing.

His writings say: We are both victims and perpetrators. So we can ask each other sins without mercy. We have every right to be wrong. It can hurt, it can hurt.

When I heard that, I knew a little bit. How Coin decided to write this article. He wanted to make Bill the perpetrator and the victim. I tried not to make that act a penance for sin. So Bill dies. He lived stealing from others.

Let's meet the end empty-handed.

He read the text as his head interpreted it. I explored, chose, and read dozens of meanings in a single word. I set different criteria for choice than usual. Closer to the original as possible, closer to the coin. Different criteria, different choices. It's a different choice.

Your results will be different.

Bill is fearless and ambitious. He wants to be on top of everyone. But it doesn't work.

At the same time, he is shy and brave. Don't forget it's that person's point of view.

Put your hands on the keyboard. I translated the sentence. The contents remained the same, even if they changed their appearance. I focused. I pass it on to my readers. It was a feeling that was hard to recognize because it was natural. Avoid difficult words, as they should be easy to read. Do not twist the sentence too much. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I had to make a sentence that flowed to coin's intent. A laughter came out in many different senses than when he wrote. I felt joy at the same time. You could write it like this. Kelly Coin solves this scene like this. The story of the journey has only just reached the skin.

It's touching.

Gradually I became familiar with his work. I recall the coin. I was conscious of it. I remembered that this post was his. You have no right to trespass in that area.

I did not take my eyes off the screen. I didn't need a dictionary. Read the word and choose the best one when you have a lot of meaning in mind. I did not miss what the sentence meant. I read and wrote more intensively than ever before Click. The device is moving.

Susan appears. Bill bids her farewell. I'm leaving you. Susan asks why. Bill doesn't answer. Susan, I don't know her that well. I paused.

“Susan.”

Susan appears very briefly. She was his lover before the story began, and soon after the story began she broke up with Bill. It doesn't appear until it hits its peak. It is not even mentioned. And then Bill shows up when he's on his last day.

I just watch him die. I don't save him or laugh at him. I don't blame him. He doesn't just leave. He watches his end. What does this mean? I wonder what kind of person she is.

There were many interpretations of Susan. I hesitated. Which one should I choose? I recalled the criteria for choice. I wrote down some information about Susan on the rolling paper on my desk.

Susan, the real writer's mother. Often appeared in Kelly Coin's work. Large majority of power. Guide. Objective. Painted with admiration, but in some works of terror and domination. In this piece, a new form. The most blurry and ambiguous work of Kelly Coin of all time. That explains a lot, John.

Ash.

In the end, there was no defined role. Coins have transformed Susan differently from piece to piece. How about here? It's hard to see that she has power. I didn't scare Bill. They were lovers. So what is she doing here?

W. What role did Coin play in her?

He looked around at the book. Suzanne shows herself early and late. There was no external depiction or internal depiction in the novel. I couldn't feel it well.

“Let's meet.”

He closed his eyes and paused on a writer who suddenly remembered. She had a lot of interest in her writing process. He asked me to tell him how, and I told him I didn't know how. He used to think it was a ghost.

He picked up his cell phone and called on faith. I ended the call a few times later.

“Hello."

It was a very low note I must have woken up.

“What are you doing here? ”

“It's lunchtime. ”

“It's my bedtime. ”

“I'm going to see the ghost. ”

“Huh?"

“You asked me to talk to you when I went to see you. ”

When she found out that she was a coincidence and that she was immortal, she was excited and asked for it. Even though the conversation didn't take place because I was so excited.

“Now, wait a minute! ”

“I'm in a hurry, too. I think he's waking up. Get some sleep. Sure."

“You woke me up! ”

He hung up. I set it to silence and focused immediately. Kelly Coins, Bill. Susan, vanity and ambition. Prude. Victims and perpetrators. Slum and rich country. Utopia. Thief.

I close my eyes. I imagine slowly. Maybe if I met her, I wouldn't even have a proper conversation. Then Bill is better off. They were not the people they created. It was a figure of coin crest. I will never stop trying to fix him. Everything.

The coin must flow according to its will.

A place that smells. Darkness where no light comes in. A gathering of people who have nothing to take. He drew the place according to the description of the coin. There is an ugly tree. Beneath it is a lost little mouse trembling.

“I've never seen you before. ”

I look back. There is a dirty man. Every time he spoke, it smelled. He has yellow teeth.

“There's nothing wrong with that. There's always new people around here. ”

“What. I've seen that expression before. ”

He thought about it for a moment and said.

“I'm an experienced man. ”

He looks at his face and nods as if it's worth it. It was a very offensive gesture, but I just handed it over because I had something to get. Soon, he sank to the ground. Bill was alone, messy and trembling. He looked nothing like a rat.

C. I smell familiar with the smell.

“You've been drinking. ”

Bill chuckles.

“That's why he's looking at you. You're a hallucination, you're very old. Old and dirty. And smelly. Every time I talk, my empty teeth are very annoying. ”

That's what he looks like in his eyes.

“That's it?”

Bill raises his head. Eyes meet.

“You're still alive on that subject. ”

“Excellent work. ”

He grabs the boat and laughs. He allowed him to act freely. And I asked.

“What do you want? ”

Then Bill stopped laughing. I glanced up and down, then I snorted. The behavior resembled the coin that created him.

“You can't. ”

He was right, in fact. He couldn't give him anything. He wasn't the one who created him.

“I didn't say I'd give it to you. ”

“Then what are you going to steal? Are you a thief too?”

“No way.”

He took out his notebook from his arms. There were numbers and letters.

“It's the number of the person who can give it to you. You can talk to him. ”

Bill understands Lord's words at once.

“You're gonna be nice to me? ”

“It's up to you. It's a deal."

Bill's eyes go wild. He laughs.

“You don't have to force it. I'm not the only one who's sorry. ”

“Damn kid. ”

His body falls over. It was completely unexpected. Lie on the floor. I saw glorious skin under the thin clothes that were lifted up. Every time he scratches his stomach, something falls out.

“Why don't you wash up? ”

“You need water to wash. Water is precious here. On the contrary, there were lots of fires. I want to burn the world to the ground, so there's a lot of bad guys out there. ”

He emphasized that all the water has evaporated. He also said that he was confused whether the water had disappeared because of the lack of water or because of this shape. This time he asked.

“I said deal. What do you want from me? ”

He opened his mouth to the question he had been waiting for.

“Susan.”

Bill shudders. He mutters in his mouth several times over her name.

“Susan. Susan. I miss that name.”

“Where is she now? ”

“I don't know. We broke up. ”

He goes through his arms and then he quits. He was well aware of the movement. I'm looking for booze. I drink alcohol to get out of my misery

“Why did you say goodbye first? ”

“I'm a thief. ”

The rat's tail moves. Long tail.

“Have you ever been to Utopia? ”

“Tourist attractions? Not yet."

“It's full of happiness. Exciting music and cozy aromas. There is no tribe. No deficiencies, no illnesses. ”

“There's a thief. ”

He laughs. His body trembles.

“There's a thief. Utopia doesn't care about people. ”

I don't care about people. A free utopia.

“I usually steal money, but it's the only thing I can steal. I can't carry music or scents. ”

I knew that he was a terrible question. Even the smallest things should not be judged by their own judgment.

“How does it feel to steal from someone else? ”

“That's the dumbest question I've ever heard. ”

“I'm sorry to hear that. But I need to know. ”

He rumbles again. Nothing was caught.

“That, of course, gives me a sense of superiority. ”

Bill wipes his face with his bare hands.

No Accidents (2) End

lim Han-baek