Chapter 24
Looking back on childhood memories, many moments washed over like a breaking dam.
Memories of having to wear long sleeves and pants even in midsummer because of marks from father's beatings.
Memories of studying desperately wanting to be like my brother, always trying but never quite able to surpass his shadow.
Memories of enduring children's ostracism and verbal abuse, holding back tears to remain a good child.
And,
"You really can't write."
I remembered hearing these words from my desk mate while filling white manuscript paper with black letters.
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"You use too many commas. The line breaks are weird, and in the end you're just saying things only you understand."
My first meeting with Seolhwa couldn't be called pleasant even as a courtesy.
She was the one who peeked at and evaluated what I was writing while I filled manuscript paper out of obligation during the school writing contest.
While anyone might feel bad having their work dismissed as a creator,
"Your problem is that your thinking is too extreme. Who would read something that's just constantly sad?"
She didn't know this fact at the time.
Her life trajectory as a granddaughter of a chaebol group had created a personality unafraid to evaluate others and point out their flaws.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
For reference, that's what I said then. Writing was my emotional garbage bin to begin with.
Breaking down and hurting the people I hated through text seemed to make me feel a little better.
"W-what? Are you talking to me like that?"
"Yeah, who are you to tear down someone else's writing?"
To be honest, I was very upset.
I hated how this lucky person who hadn't experienced even a part of my life was acting like she knew about the wounds I'd expressed through writing.
"I won gold at last year's writing contest and grand prize at the national writing competition!"
I remember Seolhwa's expression as she looked at me strangely, as if in disbelief.
A world that respects only results regardless of process. I really hated such a world, so I retorted to her:
"So you learned that winning awards gives you the right to tear down others' writing however you want?"
"......"
Normally I wouldn't have said such things. I should have pretended to be a good child.
I was upset feeling like the world and characters I had imagined and thought about my whole life were being denied.
They were friends who had shared my unfortunate childhood, existence like my only children in this world.
"Just as no finger doesn't hurt when bitten, every work is precious to its writer. Watch what you say."
"Yeah, thinking about it, you might be right..."
Only when my attitude changed did Seolhwa nod and acknowledge her mistake.
"Then, can you tell me why this protagonist needed to have such a past?"
She finally brought up the main point after stealing glances at the manuscript paper, unable to take her eyes off it. She used roundabout speech when she could have just said she was interested from the start.
What I was writing on the manuscript paper then was content that would become the prequel to the wuxia web novel "The King of the Vajra Fist."
"This child is like a monster. Born with the karma of the Heavenly Killing Star, a character who cannot live without killing."
I was writing the narrative of Bi Wol, who would appear as the final boss.
Perhaps Seolhwa approached me wondering if it was okay for a mere middle school student to write such dark scenes.
"Is that why you wrote about a famine-stricken village in the first scene? With locust swarms filling the sky as the root of all troubles?"
"Right, I think the Heavenly Demon is a character who punishes heaven for not hearing the people's wails. That's why I changed the sky to darkness."
"Hooh... The direction is quite good?"
Only after I explained did Seolhwa nod as if understanding.
She even showed signs of taking notes and organizing the settings and plot from my manuscript.
"Then, is it necessary to include content about suicide by poisonous mushrooms, or repeatedly boiling already dead human and animal corpses? I think it's too dark."
"People will do anything when cornered."
I was someone who had tried many methods, thinking countless times about wanting to die.
I couldn't endure my father's domestic violence after my brother's death, and often faced problems with rumors circulating among girls just because of my good looks.
"Harsh environments can transform even good people to take extreme actions. Though you probably wouldn't know."
I spoke while glancing at Seolhwa's possessions. From her wallet to schoolbag, even common writing tools - everything exuded class.
I had learned to read people's expressions and observe my surroundings to avoid getting beaten by my father.
"W-who says I don't know?"
Seolhwa fanned herself with her hand and played innocent, as if struck at a vital point. She began making excuses while opening her eyes wide like a cat.
"I know that much too! Despite appearances, I've thoroughly learned through countless case studies about how people change when falling into despair, having received successor training since childhood..."
"...So in the end, you've never experienced it yourself."
"......"
I slightly lowered the collar I had raised to show her the scars I had been hiding.
Red swollen handprints, traces of being strangled by the person called father and self-harm.
Normally I would have kept such pain tightly hidden, but perhaps my heart loosened in the empty classroom with everyone outside for the writing contest.
"I just... thought you had the talent to write better things, and felt sad seeing you write such negative things constantly. I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. Everyone makes mistakes."
Seolhwa let out a short sigh of "Ah..." seeing my scars, then hung her head and mumbled.
"And I didn't even know..."
She even shed tears, drop by drop. It was fortunate no one else was around - if someone had seen, they would have called me trash for making a girl cry.
"Hey, are you crying? Stop it. Stop."
"S-sorry... huaaang..."
Faced with this sudden incident, I patted Seolhwa's back to comfort her.
"I-I just wanted to become friends with you..."
As I learned later, Seolhwa had been such an enthusiastic fan of my writing that she would cut out and save what I wrote.
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After that, my distance with Seolhwa rapidly grew closer. Honestly speaking, what man would refuse a pretty girl who liked his writing?
"Why did you name her Bi Wol?"
"In my neighborhood, the moon hanging in the night sky is incredibly beautiful. It's the only light that shines on a place where even streetlights barely reach."
"So you used the characters for 'flying' (飛) and 'moon' (月) to name her Bi Wol. How romantic."
From then on, we began building two independent worldviews while sharing settings.
A chaebol third-generation girl and a boy living in a slum shantytown.
Light and darkness clearly defined - social classes that could never have met to talk if not for school.
"How about making this character the final boss instead of the protagonist? A story about defeating a dark past would be cooler."
"Hmm... What should I do? I'm not really sure."
"I'll give you one kiss later. Please do it."
My negative colors were being dyed by her, changing like how the world turns pink through the eyes of a boy in love.
Looking back now, many elements shown by my disciples in this world were taken from her.
I described Bi Wol's beautiful black hair thinking of Seolhwa's hair, wrote Verdandi's pure and innocent personality recalling her sunny smile, and.
"Isn't this girl's name too similar to mine?"
Azazel's often bewitching behavior was based on characteristics from Seolhwa's frequent actions toward me.
"So, do you dislike it? I'm specially featuring you in my novel."
"No, I like it...!"
Moreover, making Bing Seolhwa - that is, Bing Yeon's half-sister who appears in my first web novel "The King of the Vajra Fist" - the heroine connected to the protagonist was all heavily influenced by her.
"The protagonist Kim Hyul originally fights alone until the end, right? Even after killing the Heavenly Demon, his revenge isn't fulfilled."
"Yeah, that's how I was planning to write it."
"Then let's make it about you and me dating. The heroine comforts the protagonist's wounds."
As her round, pretty handwriting was added to my notebook, she was creating hope in the sad ending I had predetermined.
"I think all stories should end happily. So the writer writing the story, the readers reading it, and the characters in the novel can all be happy."
"Yeah, I'll remember that."
Even now, my efforts to find and save the final bosses were all because of Seolhwa's values.
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It was a nostalgic dream.
It felt like going back to childhood, tasting again the moment when I first met Seolhwa and dreamed of becoming a writer.
"......"
I pulled out a worn notebook with frayed corners from the bookshelf. Though it had the somewhat childish title "Han Do-hyeon and Yu Seolhwa's Dream",
It contained all traces of my efforts to write better despite failing again and again,
From middle school through high school, college, and even military service.
"1. Write stories that make both writers and readers happy.
Become a writer who can be proud of their pen name.
Han Do-hyeon and Yu Seolhwa must marry in the future!
(We wrote this together! No taking it back later!)"
It was more precious than my life, containing untainted childhood purity.
The reason I started writing until now.
The reason I tried not to give up despite being told I had no talent.
The reason I wrote novels even while wearing wrist guards for pain, dozing at the computer, and destroying my health.
"...It was all thanks to you."
It was all thanks to my first love, Yu Seolhwa.
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I couldn't help but smile bitterly while flipping through the old notebook and reading its contents.
Unlike my crooked, rough handwriting that could only be called bad,
- Do-hyeon, why do you always write such passionate love stories?
There was Seolhwa's round, pretty, cute handwriting.
- No, I do like romance novels, especially pure love ones. But this heroine talks exactly like me...
Actually, Seolhwa deserved great credit for my continuing to write the novels I started in childhood. Back then, I had secretly liked her.
A girl's intuition is sharp like this.
- Do you perhaps like me?
Because it was an emotion that couldn't be expressed in words,
A love that couldn't be written down,
- Yeah, I like you very much.
I had written an embarrassing answer in red pen. I couldn't help but smile seeing the small "Me too...!" written below.
We wrote such trivial love notes in the notebook and talked about the happy future that would someday come.
- Are you on team sugar in egg rolls, or team sugar in egg rolls?
- Salt.
- I'll keep that in mind, noting it here?
- What if others see this...
After this note, during home economics class, Seolhwa secretly made and fed me egg rolls.
The taste of love in middle school was salty and savory egg rolls.
- It's okay. If this notebook becomes known, we can just tell our classmates we're dating.
- Aren't we too different? Like social status, money... You even bought lunch again today.
- Think of it as payment for seeing Do-hyeon's face up close.
- ???
Then around when we entered high school, a big change came to us who had been continuing our written conversations.
- Do-hyeon, even if I die, you'll keep writing, right?
That's when tear stains appeared in the notebook, and her handwriting became increasingly difficult to read.
"......"
A great misfortune called a traffic accident.
The truck that hit her was still an uncaught hit-and-run vehicle, and spinal infarction from the accident gradually stiffened her body.
- Don't say such things. I'm here with you. What are you worried about?
- But... now I can't even move my arms enough to write in this notebook.
- It's okay. If you tell me the sentences, I'll write them for you.
Toward the latter part of the notebook, her handwriting disappeared, leaving only my writing.
- Do-hyeon, actually I'm more scared of being forgotten in this world than dying.
By the time I entered university, her body had stiffened to the point where she couldn't walk without a splint.
- I hate that I might die without publishing any of my books when a writer should speak through writing.
Slowly dying, Seolhwa was telling me depressing sentences opposite to her usual positive self.
- Do-hyeon, your writing is fun, so you have to keep writing, okay?
Around when I had to join the military and couldn't take care of Seolhwa anymore, she made an extreme choice.
- I love you. So much.
Leaving just those two words as her last.
In barely legible handwriting, perhaps written with her mouth instead of her barely moving arms, she spoke of love.
So all the love written in this notebook came to an end.
From then on, I kept writing without giving up.
I wrote to fulfill Seolhwa's unfulfilled dream, to make her remembered in this world.
Even after finishing military service and graduating university, I kept trying to write better despite failing again and again.
But I couldn't succeed.
Even though I wrote while wearing wrist guards for pain, dozing at the computer, and destroying my health.
Should I call it childhood first love, or an adult's lingering attachment refusing to accept reality?
No.
It would be right to say I sold my life to love.
I twisted my dream of becoming a novelist toward web novels, believing without doubt that I would succeed someday.
[Author, you can't discontinue the series. I've read all three of your works, if this disappears too, what am I supposed to read to live!]
And so,
[In that case, I have no choice but to show my 'true heart'.]
I saw one avid reader's comment, and stepped into this strange yet beautiful world of novels.