Great Novelist

Essential.

He will later become a popular writer by the name of Sung Pill. It was a flower that had not yet bloomed, and an ability that had not yet bloomed.

He had hoped that many books would be written in the future. The flower, which is still a peak, I really expected that moment to bloom without being afraid of the world.

You can see the back of the scroll.

The seat next to it and the seat next to it. Everyone bows and looks at the paper. Only someone with a crooked back can get out of here and get to the high ground.

When will the scroll unfold?

I was thinking about it, and at that moment, the pencil lifted its head. And look behind you. The eyes met. He was surprised. He says something. I looked carefully at the shape of my mouth.

“Hurry up and write. ”

The worrying words made him smile carelessly. Thick eyebrows twitch and look back.

He didn't fit in with this desperate atmosphere. I stopped floating among the impatient and impatient. Maybe so he could fly.

I want to use him. The girl who filled her head disappeared and left thick eyebrows. I wanted to see him meet the storm. I wanted to know how to deal with the storm.

He looked at the time. There was only one hour left. I drew a story in my head. I was a little busy writing all the stories I wanted to write. It was not in the form of a competition like this. It was not something I could write for about two hours.

But...

“Write what you want. ”

He picked up a pen.

I was writing for a long time, and I bumped my hand once again with the child next to me. The child only gave a slight glance this time, but he didn't say anything. He stops his hand and looks at her and opens his mouth.

“Sorry.”

I gave him an apology first. She shrugs and lowers her head slightly. He smiled slightly. I felt refreshed.

He made fun of his hands like any other child. It was a bit of a rush. He was conscious of his urgency and wrote down. No wonder we're in a hurry. It's not weird.

The important thing here is to stay rational. We can't leave everything in hand just because it's urgent. Writing is rational. Writing any sentence is meaningless because you are in a hurry.

A hand that does not smell of alcohol. I could write enough. The Lord empowered his hand with a pen.

“Please submit in the future. ”

You hear a voice telling you the end. He just raised his head. There was a professor on the rig.

“Is it over?”

I put the pen down with my red bitten hand. I hear the sound of falling away gradually. It was a clumsy atmosphere. It had a nice face and a sad face.

He slowly got up from his seat and headed forward.

As I took out the paper and walked out the door, there was a scroll. As soon as he saw him, he pushed his eyebrows in and asked.

“Did you write well? ”

“Well, moderately. ”

“I'm pretty confident. What was it about? ”

“The beach.”

“I see. I said two days. ”

It was a scroll that I could answer without asking. He nods. Two days. I wondered what the story would be like. You won't be able to read it once you've submitted it.

He looked at the participants outside and said,

“From now on, I told you about the school. I'm just gonna go. What are you gonna do? ”

“You're not going to listen? Is that okay with you? ”

“If I go, I go. ”

The scroll was troubled.

“Well, it's a schedule. I'd rather hear it. ”

I knew it. As a matter of fact, he said he was going to finish the program. He nods.

“Then I'll see you in the morning. ”

“I'll buy you ice cream tomorrow. ”

The Bible reminds me of a bet I forgot. He smiled. You can just walk by.

Without saying anything, the two of them broke up.

I go back on my own the way they came. He thought, walking down a slightly darker path.

What did he say to his question? Moderately.

“A little sad. ”

He walked the path with a bitter smile.

*

Bonjour was looking at the manuscript piled up in front of him. Professor Han and Professor Choi included as the judging committee. And the professors were also reading something.

“I knew coincidences weren't easy. ”

The professor mumbled and dropped the manuscript. It was a similar tone. Obedience said.

“If he comes out like that a lot, I can't do my job. ”

“Haha, don't worry, he's a peacemaker. Everyone knows what you're good at. ”

Obeying the professor's words, he said with a sigh of laughter.

“I really hope so. ”

“But I have a well-written child. Look at this."

The professor handed Junsu a manuscript. It was a two-day topic. Essential.

Junsu read his article and nodded his head.

“Well written. The repeated times were well represented in a space called Convenience Store. It's fresh. The sentences are fine. He's young and already weighs a ton. I think I'll see you in paragraph soon. ”

“Who's longer? ”

“Let's see.”

Junsu turned over the paper to the professor. I was tired, I evaluated other people's articles Reading to classify things was not pleasant. The writing with their dreams was also excellent.

By the way, I wonder what kind of writing a friend of mine wrote during the day. I couldn't find him because I didn't know his name. Junsu recalled the lecture. I didn't see his face.

Junsu stopped thinking and looked at the manuscript.

“Next is · · · · · · · · ·. ”

It was about the beach. Space Shuttle. It was an unusual name.

“So what do we do after dinner? ”

“Have a drink nearby. ”

“I still have a lot of manuscripts piled up in front of me. ”

The professor who was still said politely. The two professors laughed and looked at the manuscript again.

“What are you reading so seriously? ”

He looked at adherence for a moment and asked. Even as he asked, Obedience did not raise his head. The professor next to me called to adhere again.

“Carpenter, it's Professor Han. ”

“· · · · · · · Yes. ”

Nevertheless, Junsu raised his head late at a pace. Then the professor took the manuscript in Junsu's hand.

“What are you so fascinated by? ”

After receiving the manuscript, Choi frowned and said.

“I can see it's incomplete. These are disqualifications. ”

He put down the manuscript without reading it in detail.

“· · · · · · · Yes. It's a competition.”

Compliance looked at the manuscript and said. This was a contest. If you don't finish it, you don't get a prize. But...

“There's nothing here that I like more than this. ”

*

He stares at the ceiling dazed. Leaning against the bed. Regretting the past.

“I was running out of time. ”

I was a little greedy. I knew it was close. It's not that I didn't think that I might not be able to finish the story.

“I never thought I'd finish it. ”

I really couldn't complete it. I thought I could make it.

I wasn't angry. It wasn't sad. However, the sadness of that day stayed at my fingertips.

“The scroll did it. ”

He remembered that day. It was about a week after I finished my book on juvenile literature. I met with the pen for morning exercises, as always. Thick eyebrows seemed to have risen a little higher that day.

“I won a prize. ”

He says, a little stiff. As he was warming up, he raised his head and looked at the scroll. He looked at himself with a face of anticipation and concern in half.

“Hahaha.”

I smiled before congratulating him on that weird and honest face. The scroll was a little embarrassed and asked seriously.

“Why are you smiling? ”

“What's that look on your face? ”

“I can't confirm without a mirror. ”

He was not so surprised. I was so confused that he was going to ride.

“Congratulations."

After laughing for a long time, he truly celebrated his award. The pen made a joyful smile. He received a gold medal from the first pertussis. I can see the bud.

“That day, I even ran. ”

He got out of bed. Fluffy. Dozens of papers spread out on the bed as they make their move. It was not written there.

The man gets stronger with a hurricane.

“Would it have made a difference if I'd done it? ”

Or is the prize still won by the scroll?

“I'm not greedy for prizes. ”

It was only a pity that he was unable to compete with him. I wonder if he and any of his own works could make the judges' minds go a little louder.

“I said it before. I fell out. ”

The unfinished work cannot be placed on the judging panel. It's a contest, not since he wrote the manuscript. I knew from the moment I heard the end of the bell.

“Rarely was I confident. ”

Rarely liked it I want to write. I want to win the bible. I want to write him down.

“Well, I can't help it. ”

He decided to take a mood swing and a walk. I stepped out onto the floor. There were scattered sheets of paper.

He stepped on the papers and walked out the door.

“The sun is burning. ”

I blindfolded my eyes with a sudden flash of light. The light gradually heats up where it touches. He just walked away.

When did you start taking walks? I stuffed my memory. I didn't really like to wander around outside. Maybe it was after writing. I grabbed a pen and naturally walked out of the door whenever I had time.

It's probably because the writer is looking for something and it's a job.

The hilly landscape led to residential streets and saw a section of the mountain.

He went up and down the hill, up and down, and over and over again. I was sweating a little. You can see the hills in front of you. He did not hesitate to climb the hill.

“That's quite a slope. ”

He moved slowly. The end of the hill covers the sky. I see someone. It was the stroller, the baby in it, and the baby's mother.

“Are they taking walks, too? ”

He looked at the house facing the hills. I don't really remember when. It's a very old memory. I think it was very hot or very cold.

There was the only remaining voice in that faded memory.

“I heard it here. ”

A residential street. A mother's voice pierces through the wall. The baby's cry was also with him. The child cried horribly. She screamed. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of it.

“Is that what you're saying to the baby? ”

I still don't know what bored her. However, her voice, which rang the hillside, was still clear.

He climbs up the hill, wondering if she might hear her voice again. I looked at the houses lined up and looked straight ahead. There was a stroller coming down the hill.

“Raagh!”

It was someone's cry.