Great Novelist

“What's that supposed to mean? ”

“Kang Wool is a really great writer. I heard you didn't have a big attachment to your novel, but this is bad. I get excited when I imagine what you're doing. ”

She raises her hands and claps her shoulders.

“A blessing and a tragedy. I think he's making a deal with the devil. ”

The rains were just as dashing as the devil.

“Seems worth dying for as a writer. I envy you.”

Her dark clothes make this room look like a funeral. I saw lust in her eyes. The word "death" came out of her mouth was vivid. Death from the mouth of the living and death from the mouth of the dead have different meanings. I took a deep breath and laughed.

“Yes, it's worth it. ”

Journalist's joyful smile rang out in the waiting room. She got up from her seat to prepare. Her interview will begin shortly. She leaves a note before she leaves.

“Don't really die. ”

He shrugs.

“You were having dinner with Dongbaek Publishing Company officials? ”

“Yes.”

The journalist nods, graciously moving his words to the sentence. Your words become sentences. I stared at the journalist's fast moving finger on the laptop. The speaker also wrote down what Kang Wool said. I wonder how she felt. I wonder if they wrote the words of the river in that way. Kang Wool said, "Can you really use it?" I don't remember the death I wrote so far. Was it just a shell?

“Sir?"

“Yes?”

“Hey, so how did it go with the person you met at the restaurant? ”

I can see the butterfly sighing. Reflecting to myself, I quickly recovered from the situation.

“The publishers I was with worked out very well. ”

“Is this your first time meeting an anti-fan? ”

“Yeah, well. I see.”

“You must have been embarrassed. You handled it calmly.You didn't even use your fists. ”

“Punching is bad. They were more mature than me. ”

“I heard you were drunk. ”

“It was the middle of the day and something good happened. ”

The reporter nodded.

“Have you changed your mind about the work you're working on this time? to write better and make him look back. ”

He just said what came to mind.

“I just want to try as usual. ”

The reporter sat down. Finally, he puts up the topic he really wanted to ask.

“Did you succeed in the masterpiece of Kangwon? ”

“It's been an honor. ”

“I really like the writer Kang Wool. I'm proud that none of you who have read his writings will hate it. He was a great writer. ”

“Yes, I agree. ”

“Who do you think Kang Wool is? ”

He paused and said.

“I thought you were an excellent writer and wanted to be an example. I would love to meet you if you were alive. ”

“You're still writing, right? ”

“Yes, I'm working hard. ”

“How's the situation? Any blockages? ”

“I'm always hesitant. ”

The reporter smiled briefly and said.

“Coincidentally, you're famous for being fast, but wouldn't it usually be time to pass on the final manuscript? ”

“Hard. I've never followed someone's writing, and they're the writer of Kang, after all. ”

“It's not easy being a writer by any chance. ”

He seemed to feel good. Your nostrils flutter.

“That's a lot of pressure, isn't it? ”

“Yes, I can. ”

“What are the chances of you not completing it? You stop in the middle. You actually write things that haven't been signed over the years. ”

“There's a chance. ”

“I'm sure you'll like it. ”

“But you can't use what you can't. ”

When the journalist opened his mouth, he opened his mouth first.

“But I haven't stopped until now. ”

“I'd like to talk to you about Im Hyun and the writer. ”

Since then, reporters have been dragged away for about thirty minutes to talk about speeches, Hyundai and the River Crescent. The reporter was reluctant to give a sign that the butterflies are about to finish behind us.

“Last question. ”

He nods, not feeling tired.

“What do you think would happen if you faced the same situation as Kang Wool? ”

“What does that mean? ”

“What if you face a crisis while writing? ”

I looked around in reflection. All the staff were looking at themselves. I empowered my mouth.

“I'll do my best to die. ”

“You want me to finish? ”

I didn't want to close my eyes leaving whatever it was.

“I definitely want to die next time. ”

A round of applause came out after the interview. I got up from my seat. I was able to get out easily because I told myself I wouldn't participate in the ceremony in advance. I was waiting for a butterfly, and a reporter came to see me. He turns around, but he doesn't let himself go. I pushed my face in close and asked.

“So, what's the real deal? ”

“What?”

The journalist looked closely at his face and asked.

“Are you still early? ”

“You're persistent.”

“You're curious. If you know when you'll be out, you can prepare yourself. ”

He pushed him away, he said.

“This is confidential. ”

He kicked his tongue. I put my hand in my pocket and said,

“Well, play while you can. He's a young man. Go to clubs, watch baseball, play on the playground with friends. ”

“What are you talking about? ”

"I just want to interview you," he said, "because I have a different feeling. The vocabulary of your age is different. I always feel like I'm doing it with a serious writer. Especially today. ”

He smiled and said.

“I can't digest what I ate. ”

“You pretended?”

You shake your head. You see a butterfly coming from afar and greet him.

“I'll see you again someday, then. ”

“Please work hard. as soon as possible.”

It's been a while since I told you to relax. He turns away smiling.

“This isn't it. ”

You bash your head in. There is a finished manuscript before your eyes. This is a copy.

“This is not it. ”

I didn't like it. I bite my nails. The protagonist kills the client. Face his soul. I've never experienced it while repairing leather. He cannot forget his soul. It was so beautiful, the moment he saw a white smoke as white as an adult's fist, he realized. He committed a sin. Another desire fills the void of impulse fulfilled by the client. I want to see the soul. I want to see my soul. The reason I could see his soul was because he was alive. He inevitably walks around looking for a way to see the soul alive. Create and check various hypotheses

“Out-of-body, cult. Photographs or images. Mirrors. Can I see the soul with my ears? How much the soul retains its form. How to store? Does it affect the form of death? Can you eat it? Can you stitch it up? Can repair. The end of the soul? Why do people die? Why there is an end. ”

I handed over the manuscript. I wiped my eyes.

“I wonder if the soul of the child looks like the soul of the parent. ”

Find the subject with tension. What caught his eye was a coworker who was repairing leather together. He has a son. We were good and have never been apart since birth. Both souls were beautiful. He was desperate. He has no parents and cannot make children. In the end, there is only one way he could find out.

“If it's not me. ”

Just get away from me. The moment you reach that conclusion, you will be executed. I handed over the manuscript and read any sentence.

“He repaired the hide. I moved my hand a long time ago. ”

Failure. The hand that's used to killing people has no talent. Changed.

“Honestly, spirits can be a good thing when we get to this point. ”

He twitches his chin and mutters. I used him who had changed. Now that you have completed the most important task, it will flow on its own. He who sees the soul, or does not, cannot escape from the present. It's a timeline.

“Will you like the writer Kang Wool? ”

I forcibly endured yawning. Is this what it's come to? The more I read my own articles, the more I liked it. A novel with countless deaths. Is it well written? Unknown. You turn your head back. The consciousness grew further and further away. I feel weak in my hands. You close your eyes. You hear a crow cry outside the window.

“I almost fell asleep. ”

The raven used evil. You sound angry. I couldn't have had a good dream hearing that sound. I didn't want to meet Kang Wool yet.

“Hello?”

“Oops.”

He realized he was on a handrail. As I turn my head, there is a river lying comfortably in narrow breadth. It was a dangerous posture that seemed to fall as if only the wind were blowing from behind.

“I knew it. ”

A nightmare. A river flows beneath it. A single clean shot will bring you down. It's close. The river is flowing.

“What are you doing here? That's dangerous.”

“I'm enjoying the tension. ”

“Then they die quickly. ”

“Not really. ”

He sighed and said seriously. My heart trembles just by looking down.

“Let's get down there. ”

“No.”

“Writer.”

“There are sights that can only be seen here. Well, that was when he was alive, too. ”

“So let's go down. Excuse me? Shall I go down first? ”

He said, looking at the rapid currents. Kang Wall snorted.

“I guess I haven't slept. Your face is a mess.”

“· · · · · · · Thanks to whom. ”

“It's not your fault. ”

To the silent Lord, he said with a sniffle.

“You shouted so loudly. ”

“But I did. ”

“Just the beginning. ”

“I'm the only one who's written about you. ”

He chuckles and says.

“I feel sorry for you. ”

“Leave it alone.”

“Not bad. ”

“Yes?”

He straightened his throat for no reason. He said calmly, saying that he didn't care at all.

“The part where he became more and more similar to the client wasn't bad. ”

He twitches his ankle. I'm not sure if it's a compliment. You haven't opened your eyes. You realize there's still something left to get from him.

“He became an executioner. Society didn't collapse. If he had not been punished, the world would have been filled with death, and he would have ended it. It's a good thing you're not really dead anyway. Even death row inmates have stopped executing practically forever. ”

He asked in a bad posture.

“What kind of spirit do you think he has? ”

“I don't know.”

“The client showed me such a beautiful soul that I could shake his life. ”

“That's right."

I looked up at him, stumbling and answering.

“You were going to bring him face to face with his client's death. ”

Crows Don't Die (3) End

lim Han-baek