Great Novelist

Hiccup.

The bus shifts. He sits in the back and opens his eyes to the violent shimmy.

“Yawn.”

I yawned small.

He was on a bus to the publisher. It's because I have lunch plans with Nam-Kyung. It was the restaurant I always went to. Station confirmed. Two stops ahead.

He looked at the fast-paced landscape and recalled the western lights. The day he digested all the pizza, he asked his parents to send it to the institute. It was an English institute, and my parents gladly agreed. There aren't many parents who would hate their children to study.

Since that day, Seongwang has changed a bit. Now I was memorizing English words instead of books in class. It doesn't change the fact that you're not focused on the class.

And I started writing harder.

Since Seogwang performed a hundred school books, he has gradually drifted away from writing. More days of unfinished writing, less time for serious concern. He had a lot of paper-based sentences, but was weak in his creativity. He no longer tried to overcome his weaknesses.

It was not that I didn't know that I was confident in the cause.

He asked me to write it seriously. He also wanted to read his own articles. So he wrote with all his heart. As a result, Seongbang lost interest in writing.

But now he was writing again. No, harder than ever.

The reason why Seogwang worked hard to write was simple. There is a goal. His new goal.

He recalled the day he heard the new objective of the West. It was just when I was climbing the stairs to the broken room.

“Hey."

Seogwang called out to himself who was ahead. I paused for a moment and looked back.

“You called?”

Following about three steps back, Seogwang looked up at himself for a moment. He pushes to open his mouth.

“I'll be a translator. ”

That's what I said. I'm going to be a translator. It was determination and also the wind. It's high school grade one. He experienced it and something he wanted to do happened.

He has decided that a part of the long years ahead must be translated. Let's be translators to help someone read more books.

I looked down at him.

It was the serious face of a friend I had never seen before.

“So you're a novelist. ”

I remained still and asked why.

“Why?”

“Your writing moves people. Look at me. Here we go. ”

“Isn't that the effect of your first love more than mine? ”

“Don't touch the wounds that haven't healed yet. ”

Seogwang insisted. And I caught myself trying to get out.

“Write. I want you to. You don't want to do anything. ”

“I don't know. Just because you don't want to do anything doesn't make you a novelist. ”

Seogwang asked.

“So you won't use it? ”

“I don't think so. ”

He was already a novelist. I debuted in paragraphs. I wrote a book. But it didn't end there. There was a limit to the word "novelist" in the future of hope. It wasn't what he wanted.

I opened my mouth slowly. In return, he was honest about his goals.

“I want to be great. ”

“What?"

“I want to have a little childish, and a little grandiose modifier. ”

Seogwang, who was embarrassed for a moment, smiled and said.

“Then be a great novelist. ”

“Haha.”

In the name of the familiar occupation, he smiled and asked why. Why do you want to make yourself a novelist so bad? He replied.

“That way I won't translate your book. That's my goal. ”

After a while, he said,

“That's a ridiculous goal. ”

“What? Did you just ignore my goal? ”

“Let's go. We're going to be late. ”

“Ignore it? Hey, hey! ”

I was late that day, and I got the hots for Mr. Moon.

He stopped and remembered the landscape. Soon the bus moved again and headed toward the next.

Now the light will be even more different. It's not about success. You can't ignore the difference between someone with a goal and someone without one.

He has only just learned English sincerely, but he will probably learn it soon. I have a good sense of language.

I remembered becoming a translator. Fits. He thought vaguely. What if he translates his own writing? The book he translates spreads to a wider area. People who speak other languages read their stories, give their emotions away, and smile happily.

Well, it could be in the distant future.

After clearing his mind and looking out the window, he pressed the drop button urgently.

“We're past the stop. ”

The rushed stop was in front of the publisher. The restaurant was already long gone. Fortunately, there was no time to keep him waiting until the promised time.

He had no choice but to text South Korea. I'll meet you at the publisher.

At that time, Nam-Kyung was just hearing from his subordinate about a man who appeared in front of the publisher.

I don't even know if the phone on the desk is vibrating.

He walked the path to the publisher. There were cars parked everywhere.

I looked at my phone while walking, and there was no reply from Nam-Kyung. You're busy. But you'll be back at the appointment. I went to the publisher, thinking calmly.

“Look at this. Fox.”

“I prefer rabbits. ”

I saw my family coming to play with the children from afar. In the hands of the boy and the girl, there was a picture book. It's a picture book with foxes and rabbits.

“Don't run! I fall.”

I didn't keep my feet still because of what my mom said. The child's laughter is heard here. My sister is cute following the way my brother went.

Seeing that for a moment, he remembered his promise and turned back. It was right in front of us, so we wouldn't have crossed paths with the penis.

“Hey.”

I should go to the publisher and try calling him this time.

“Hey.”

Now that we're here, let's just go to a nearby restaurant. Nam-Kyung must know.

“Hey!"

A loud voice in my ears made me turn around. The opponent he was calling out to seems to be himself.

The first thing he saw was an old pair of jeans he was wearing. He looks like a man with a bit of a house.

“Me?”

“Yes. Students. ”

I speak respectfully in my own voice. Somehow it didn't fit.

“Where are you going? ”

“The publisher.”

I was a little suspicious, but I replied first.

“Why would a student go to a publisher? ”

Not a word. I was really asking why. The purpose of your visit to the publisher.

What is this guy? Why are you suddenly doing a survey? Do you know your way around here? But the man did not talk about the road, nor about the goods.

I thought he was a journalist, but there were no cameras. So you're a publisher. I don't think that's why.

Without an answer, he ran to the question.

“Where are you going to publish? ”

“The publisher of the nettle tree. There.”

He pointed to the publisher by hand. The man followed his hand to the publisher and looked at him again.

I can't feel a thing. He also looked at me and asked.

“Who are you? ”

He opened his eyes to his questions. He was sure of something. Are you sure?

He opens his mouth before he even notices something.

“Let's be the filmmakers you refused. ”

Oh, dear.

His head rushed back.

“I don't know what you're talking about. I'm busy.”

“What a coincidence. ”

“Haha. I prefer inevitability to coincidence. ”

He started talking nonsense and started walking backwards. It's because they didn't decide whether to talk to him or run away.

Why is there a movie director in front of the publisher? Did he come to see himself? Well, then I guess we should talk.

He was in conflict.

I came to spit out a curse word, grumbling at his face. He was not angry. I was looking at the face of certainty consistently. Confidence that you are a coincidence.

How do you know? It doesn't even say "coincidence."

“You saw your family earlier, right? ”

He didn't even ask, but explained why he thought he was a coincidence. It meant don't run away.

“High school students don't usually look at their families that way. Not just high school students, but ordinary people. Not unless it's a job like yours or mine. You're a writer, right? ”

A job like that, it's probably about what needs observation. There are some jobs where observation is important, regardless of the previous question. One of them is a writer. Maybe the director does, too. This director must have known it was a coincidence, too, by observing himself.

He finally stopped walking. I came here by accident. How did you meet her?

He has made his choice. Let's talk.

“Here's another coincidence. ”

It was a poet's mark. The man smiled and said.

“This is inevitable. More like your taste. I come here every day. To see the writer.”

“I went to work every day. ”

“I waited here for rain or snow. ”

That's touching. He soon clears his joking little mouth and opens his mouth.

“I'm sorry if I startled you. It's not nice to have someone you've already turned down. But just give me a minute. I also brought the scenario. ”

A clumsy hand shifts into the air. Excessive gestures tell us that he is nervous.

“I really want to make your work into a movie. I've read the bird trail 20 more times. I have to.”

I felt the will of a man. Though I found myself in front of the publisher every day looking for someone who might not be coming, I was particularly impressed by his intense eyes. I'm desperate. I can't see my eyes easily.

He looked into those eyes for a moment and said,

“How about a cup of tea? ”

The man showed his face and told me to go to a nearby cafe immediately, but I could see the penis coming from a distance. I couldn't hear very well when I shouted.

“The editor is here. Come with me, but it looks pretty urgent. What's going on? ”

Unlike the curious Ahjussi, he seemed to have a hunch.

“You've heard of a suspicious man. I didn't notice the way my new staff looked at me the last few days. ”

Say it nicely. Later, Nam-Kyung came forward, breathing heavily. He looked at him once and was surprised at him again.

“Why did you come here? The nowadays, I mean, what's the matter with Joo Young? ”

That was his name.