Great Novelist

“Now let's talk about you. ”

I drank a cup of warm, cold coffee, and my comrade told me. It was sudden but not surprising. This meeting was a success for him in the first place.

He knew how peculiar it was to have a strict path. Now it's his turn. He asked lightly.

“Weren't you curious about your face? ”

“Until we met. I wanted to hear what a genius looked like. ”

“I'm not sure I'm a genius. By the way, you wrote a novel called Genius, right? ”

“I did. A tale of a genius who fell unwelcome in an age. ”

“Starving to death. ”

A novel titled "Genius" takes place at the first person. The main character who plays the piano is from a poor family. And he's a genius, and he gets recognized for his skills and enters the vocabulary as an extracurricular student. But it was a place that wouldn't even give you a chance to play if you didn't have connections and money.

Eventually, the protagonist comes out and plays in the street and ends up living a lively life, but not getting much attention.

He died blaming himself for being a genius in his last play.

“Did you read it?”

“I read it.”

Comrade Gil showed the back of the note in his short answer. It said:

“A list I clearly dislike. ”

It was a dislike version of 'My Clearly Favorite List’ that I thought there might be. Unlike the good version that started earlier, I was starting from the back.

“It says genius at the top. ”

You don't have to show me. He pushes the note over here and shows the evidence. The two letters "genius" are clearly written. Below it is written, "Fur of the Beast."

“I'm not a genius, so I feel bad about the people who believe in talent and install it. You don't even want to make a sound. That's why he starved himself to death. ”

Comrade Gil said as he recalled the protagonist walking the path of collapse. When I think of the word genius, all I think of is negativity. I want to reject them physiologically. As a novelist, I couldn't help but express these feelings in writing.

“Genius or killer, we're equals in front of hunger. ”

“Yes, it is. After all, it's people. ”

“Seeing geniuses facing tragic deaths, I wonder if the gods are like me. ”

I say it with a expressionless face. Then he looked at him and said,

“Well, if a guy like me is a god, I don't think your genius ending would be so good. ”

It was a dry tone. He thought. Maybe so. If God really hates geniuses, I can understand what happened to him.

I lived that life because I was hated by God. I was intoxicated by my natural talents and hesitated to try. I was trapped inside myself, thinking of myself as a king. If God resembled the same path, he would surely have bought anger.

But he came back. I got another chance. It's still alive.

In that case.

“I'll quit genius. ”

I have to quit.

In response, he opened his mouth slightly. It was unthinkable. Shortly after, a laughter passed in between.

“You're a strange one. ”

“I see.”

“That's very strange. ”

You mutter like that and write something on the note. I didn't think I'd say that.

Genius. He called the character he painted a genius. Is that so?

“I didn't think the main character was a genius. ”

“What?"

I heard what I wanted to say earlier.

“Genius has a gift for disregarding time and place and seducing people. In any environment, when it comes to death, talent shines. Talent has no mercy on those who hold it. If the protagonist was a genius, he wouldn't have let people starve to death listening to his music. ”

Talent is unfair and cruel to everyone. He was talented. Those who have it are called geniuses. People called themselves geniuses. I thought it would last forever.

He failed, and no one called him a genius anymore.

He who was praised as a genius left the paragraph and denied his talents continued writing for a long time. I read his words at the bottom of my life. I laughed.

His success was not his fault. He thought, and so did failure.

His own failures were also not because he lacked talent. So is the protagonist of the novel Genius.

“The protagonist is not a genius. The protagonist was a person who envied talent and was ashamed of effort. Is that why you starved to death? ”

I was jealous. He didn't try. I didn't struggle with my talents. I just sank to the ground. I didn't resist.

I didn't want to live. I didn't want to eat. So I have to starve to death.

He opens his mouth, listening silently.

“I'm pretty sure. There are people like you who hide behind their backs. ”

Those who reveal no hidden treasure.

Comrades know how talented they are. Talent is like a jewel that shines even without sunlight. It seduces people by itself.

I knew I didn't have that wonderful talent. A friend with a pen later than me wrote a text that exceeded my expectations. I remember my heart beating violently the whole time I read it. I started it first. I wrote more. His talents were unfair.

Comrades were weak in the investigation. I couldn't write anything fancy or grand. Comrade Gil ponders. He meets Hemingway and gets his help.

Let's keep it simple. Get rid of the unnecessary and write something concise. Like my savior Hemingway.

“Everyone wants to be a genius. So did I.”

The young man who wanted to be a genius was himself. So I starved to death. It's a shame to think about it now. I didn't want to turn away. So I hid it so that only I would know. The questions of several critics were consistent with Morse.

I can't believe the kid just quit being a genius. I remembered the face of a friend like this one. I was furious and strangely smiled.

“Give me your phone number. ”

Comrade Gil said, holding out his cell phone in his arms.

“Hello."

You hear a split voice as if you just woke up over your phone. This pathetic fellow was sleeping until this time when the sun was setting. It's because I've been watching dramas that I haven't seen all night while writing.

Comrade told me.

“Come out.”

“Where are you coming from? I just woke up. I'm still awake. I'll sleep better. ”

“I came across a writer by chance. ”

There was a sound of falling objects. I can see the room that hasn't been tidied up. I don't like this friend from one to ten. I hear his excited voice.

“Shall we go to the restaurant? ”

“Yes."

Dongil drove out of the car and drove to the restaurant that he often went to. Tastes and prices were medium, but I often use it because of the proximity.

The man who was relieved hated going far away. It was a fact that I was comfortable living in a neighborhood, so I naturally used more water.

I parked my car nearby and went inside, and the man in black reasoning sat down. I narrowed my brow on the back head floating in Dongdong, proving the fact that I just slept. The man finds the path and waves his hands high and to the left and to the right.

“Here, here. ”

“Put your hands down. You'll see."

The two sat down side by side to have a banquet noodle.

“Gah, you met Gear. I applaud your movements. So what was it, a girl? Do you have a picture? ”

A joyous reaction. The companion opens his mouth slowly on purpose.

“Boy. No pictures. ”

“Why didn't you take a picture? ”

“It's my mind whether I take pictures or not. ”

The food you ordered took over the table. He shook his noodles, sniffed, and asked.

“So, did you put pressure on the young genius's nose? ”

“No. I took a punch instead. ”

“What? The Grand General took a punch? ”

“Who's the General? ”

When I was annoyed by the absurd nickname, the court greeted me. It was the attitude that was not important.

“Let's get this over with. I'm curious.”

My comrade told me about my work with him because he seemed to be called a flock of four-year-olds if I said no.

Space Hose. He seemed to be eating cake peacefully, even when lightning strikes dry skies.

“Stop what? A 17-year-old really said that? ”

“I know. So I wrote it down without thinking. ”

I unfolded the front of the note. It had three letters, "Space Shuttle."

Looking at that ridiculous list, he said with a serious face.

“You mean he was worth writing about? ”

The companion nods. Before the book of Australia came out, rumors had already spread in the publishing industry. There's a writer in the paragraphs at the age of 16 this time.

To be honest, I was ignoring my comradeship. I still remember picking a book with a lot of cynicism.

But it's different. After reading the book, you realize you were underestimating the opponent behind the number 16.

The book "Trace of Birds" is the story of a boy who is afraid of birds. I leave the house only at night when the birds are blind and wander the streets.

It was pure, literary. He thought his emotions would be understated.

I couldn't believe it was written by a 16-year-old.

“It's been a while since I cried in a book. ”

There are no sad scenes. No one dies or gets into an accident. It was just that the boy was facing the rising sun at the last moment.

I cried over that simple scene.

“It was ridiculous how you two were crying with books. ”

He laughed and said.

“So why did you come to my house? ”

“I can't believe my mom asked me to bring her some food. I was trying to get some food while I was gone. ”

Standing in front of the door with a bag with a book in one hand and a box full of side dishes in the other. At that time, he was wearing blue reasoning.

“Then I shouldn't have worried. ”

“What?”

Seongjun chewed on Kim Chi.

“I'd like to see the next one with that much character. Honestly, it's such a mess around here, can't you feel the pressure? I'd run to the island if I were you. ”

“Weak.”

Even though he said this, he didn't think that way either. I might not get to see the next piece by a writer called Coincidence. I had a feeling from the beginning that I was too young to succeed. The fragile leaves that just came out are in jeopardy. It was until we actually met.

“I can see that. ”

“You should be nervous. ”

The snow in the west echoes calmly. It was very rare to hear the word "tension" come out of his mouth. But I couldn't disagree with him.

“You need to be nervous.”