Novelist Running Through Time

“You……! You uneducated……!”

The parent, drenched in coffee, writhed as if about to hit me.

Both the homeroom teacher and the other parents united to stop it.

But I approached the writhing parent without any hesitation, arms wide open.

“Ah, go ahead. Try hitting me.”

“In-seop!”

Bang Jeong-ah was really worried I might get hit, but when I actually approached, the parent stopped writhing.

I looked up at the six parents and the homeroom teacher with a smile.

“You can’t hit me, can you?”

“What is this……!”

“Why do you think?”

I suddenly quiz them, they all fell silent.

I didn’t drag it on and gave the answer.

“Because if an adult hits a minor, the situation becomes very serious, right? Legally, it’s a more severe punishment. It might be different if we were alone, but in such a public place, you can’t hide it.”

“Ha…….”

“You seem quite angry, but you know what I’m saying. If you hit me now, your life could be ruined in an instant.”

Everyone fell silent.

“This is the law, which prevents people from hitting each other. But your children hit me, and our orphanage high school students retaliated. That’s why things have escalated to this point.”

“…….”

“Look. We’ve both broken the law, and legally, both sides should be punished. It’s a loss for both. That’s why we’ve gathered here, to pretend it never happened. Because if it gets recorded that your kids hit me, it will affect their middle and high school admissions, right?”

“…….”

“What I’m saying isn’t anything remarkable, just a more refined version of what we all know. Isn’t that right?”

The adults nodded, looking dumbfounded.

I too nodded, satisfied with my own smile.

“So, we just pretend it never happened and part ways. But if you make a scene like this, cursing and screaming, throwing paper cups at our orphanage teachers…… Then I don’t feel like agreeing to it.”

The homeroom teacher, having already experienced a smooth settlement with me, quickly intervened to rectify the situation, sensing that things were going south.

“Now, everyone here, we’re too agitated to have a proper conversation…”

“Teacher, it’s 7 years.”

“Just keep quiet, will you……!”

“I’ll be a year older next week, so in 7 years, I’ll be an adult. Do you think you can continue your job if I start filing complaints and meeting with the educational office officials? Do you think I’ll forget about this incident? You seem too young to retire in 7 years, so make your decision wisely.”

The homeroom teacher sat down, lamenting the decline of teachers’ authority in South Korea.

“No, I can file a complaint even now. There are six of you parents here, so you could probably hire a decent lawyer, but do you think we have no backing because we’re orphans? Our director, Mun Chung-jae, is an elder at a mega-church and also has a baptismal name. Do you think he’s been living his social life in vain? And if I start stirring things up with the Children’s Rights Center, the Education Office, a congressman’s office, local broadcasting stations, and all around the neighborhood, who do you think will be screwed? I won’t be. It’s your kids and your social reputation that will be screwed.”

After finishing my tirade, my throat was dry. So, I gulped down the cold coffee left by the teacher.

“Whew……”

Now, everyone in the room was looking at me as if they were seeing a real monster.

If I were them, I’d probably scream and run away if a fifth grader in primary school did this.

“If you all understand the situation, let’s part ways without any further discussion. I’d like to tell you to apologize to Teacher Bang Jeong-ah for throwing a paper cup at her, but since you probably won’t, I’ll just leave. I won’t apologize for pouring coffee either, so don’t bother with any petty complaints.”

I dragged Teacher Bang Jeong-ah, whose focus had already faded from her eyes, out of the room.

Thus, the incident was resolved through a mutual agreement between both parties.

EP 1 – The Cause of Death

I’m reminded of the past.

It was a given for students from arts middle and high schools to win literary awards at writing competitions.

For a general humanities student from a regular school to win at such competitions was something special.

I was that special middle school student.

I traveled around the country, collecting youth literary awards as if I were breaking records.

But every time I received such ‘special’ treatment, I wondered what the point was of attending an arts middle school.

And every time I saw some fucking asshole, obviously less talented than me, winning the grand prize just because they attended an arts middle or high school-

(I admit, I was a bit rough in my middle school days.)

-I gradually began to understand the answer to this strange question.

The students from arts schools were not necessarily more creative or immensely talented than others.

They simply knew the style, format, and thematic consciousness that the literary world demanded (and favored).

This was taught by professionals currently active in the literary world. The judges of these literary awards were also from the literary field.

From these few facts, certain conclusions emerged.

-After all, there’s the face of Writer Kim to consider. Can’t not give the award to his disciple. They clearly know I’m judging this competition.

-Just by the writing, you can tell which school they attend. There’s a fundamental quality in the writing. It’s not messy. What about this one? They should stick to writing web s, why crawl into this arena?

-Shouldn’t the awards go to those who will be active in the literary field, not just humanities students who treat writing competitions as a hobby?

Of course, no one openly discussed these things.

But the significant glances exchanged between the judges and students, the gradually awkward atmosphere when it was revealed I didn’t attend an arts middle school, and the atmosphere of the competition halls filled with arts school uniforms spoke volumes.

They were already a group unto themselves in the literary world.

So, me, a mere humanities student trying to become a writer by frequenting writing competitions, was a clear outsider.

That was why I said I wanted to go to an arts high school.

“No.”

That was Teacher Bang Jeong-ah’s response.

“I do feel sorry that I can’t fully support your dream. But it’s impossible to pay millions of won in tuition per semester just for you. It’s not fair to the other kids.”

I said I would attend on a scholarship.

“What about the tuition?”

I said I would save up by doing part-time jobs.

“In-seop… Let’s not make things so complicated. Everyone lives like this. Not just our orphanage, but ordinary kids also don’t usually go to arts middle or high schools. It’s because of the money.”

Still, I said I wanted to go to an arts high school.

“…Why are you being so selfish? I didn’t expect this from you. Do you think the other kids don’t want ample tuition? Why do you want special treatment? Our orphanage might not have provided you with an abundant environment, but we did what we could. Wanting to go to an arts high school is just excessive greed. I don’t want to discuss this anymore. Go back and reflect on your behavior.”

Money. Money. Money.

That damned money. Money. Money.

Is it my fault for being born without money and without parents?

Unable to contain my rising anger, I retorted sharply.

I insulted her in a literary manner, befitting someone aspiring to be a ist.

Teacher Bang Jeong-ah used to call the children by their future dreams during pre-school classes. So, in our classroom, there were six ‘doctors’ and countless ‘celebrities’. Naturally, I was ‘Writer Moon’ from that time.

I sharply criticized that this was wrong.

I told her it was wrong to plant dreams in children.

You don’t have parents or wealth, so you probably won’t go to college. So prepare to enter a factory when you turn 18 – this is how you should have educated them.

That’s what I said.

And the woman who had lovingly cared for me since my very young days, whom I once mistook for my mother, burst into tears.

She cried sorrowfully and apologized to me.

I can’t forget that expression.

And now. That scene was being replayed before my eyes.

“I’m sorry, In-seop…”

Right after leaving the primary school, Bang Jeong-ah grabbed my hand and burst into tears. She kept apologizing to me in a muffled voice.

“I’m sorry, teacher…”

“For what?”

“For everything…… just everything……”

It seemed that the recent events at the school had shattered the mental state of this 25-year-old woman.

Anyway, because of the extreme parents, good orphanage teachers suffer.

Could she be thinking that it’s her fault I’ve become so hardened, for not being able to protect a fifth-grader who just poured hot coffee on an adult? Ah, surely not.

It’s all the parents’ fault. Fifth-grade primary student Moon In-seop is completely innocent.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you…! Uh-huh-huh!”

It’s one thing for a child to hold an adult woman’s hand and cry, but for an adult woman to hold a child’s hand and cry, passersby all took a look as they went by.

I opened my mouth to console Teacher Bang Jeong-ah.

“Teacher, stop it. Just stop.”

“Uh-huh…”

“That’s right. Good.”

She cried for a while longer and finally stopped after blowing her nose with the tissue I gave her.

Teacher Bang Jeong-ah. 25 years old.

Old enough to feel thoroughly embarrassed about crying and clinging to an primary student.

Her face turned bright red with embarrassment, and she pleaded with me to save her social dignity.

“…In-seop. Can you keep it a secret that I cried, from the other orphanage teachers and friends?”

“If you buy me manuscript paper.”

“Oh! Yes! Sure!”

Fortunately, there was a stationery store near the primary school. Bang Jeong-ah hurriedly ran to buy manuscript paper and handed it to me.

“Here! Take this!”

“Thank you, teacher.”

Teacher Bang Jeong-ah, still with puffy eyes, smiled awkwardly.

“Now that I think about it, I forgot to buy manuscript paper for you this week. I must have been too busy preparing for the Christmas party.”

I carefully stored the manuscript paper she gave me and said,

“From now on, you don’t have to buy manuscript paper every week. I’ll use the back of used paper from now on.”

“What? No! No! Don’t tell me it’s because of money? It’s okay! It doesn’t cost much. I can keep buying it for you…”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks to the manuscript paper you’ve bought so far, I’ve practiced enough. Now, I can almost tell how many words I’ve written just by writing.”

Teacher Bang Jeong-ah looked like she was about to cry again.

I quickly added,

“But! When there’s a competition that requires manuscript paper, could I still get manuscript paper and postage from you? I’ll do the rest by email.”

“Ah…”

She smiled brightly and patted my head.

“Of course!”

That smile was as pure as a child’s.

Indeed. 25 is too young to be considered an adult.

* * *

Recently, having faced a few minor troubles, I realized something.

Clearly, the world is too harsh and frightening for a fifth-grade primary student like Moon In-seop to handle alone.

Whether it’s passing the GED, earning money, or quickly improving my environment, something needed to be done.

Even residing in a 4-person room with two bunk beds was challenging.

Aren’t my three roommates crowded around the TV right now, making a racket?

-So! What will become of the politicians surrounded by a horde of zombies?! If the country is going to fall apart on the first day of their term, why did they get elected in the first place! A movie that makes you want to vote after watching it! It was ‘Zombies on Inauguration Day’!

“Ah shit, Kyung-sik hyung! Show us a bit more!”

“Kyung-sik hyung! Damn it! How can you stop it here!”

I yelled at my three roommates who were going wild in front of the TV.

“Hey you guys! If you want to watch movies so badly, go to the cinema! Stop being ridiculous with the movie review channel on!”

“We don’t have money for movie tickets.”

“Hey, four-eyes. Are you insulting Kyung-sik hyung right now?”

“I can tolerate insults to our parents…… but insulting Kyung-sik hyung is unforgivable!”

“Huh? Something’s off here.”

“What is?”

“Ugh…”

While they continued their self-deprecating banter, I covered myself with a blanket and gathered my thoughts.

Let’s see. The damn issue of money follows me in both my past life and now.

Since a fifth-grader can’t work part-time jobs, I ultimately have to earn money through writing s.

To make money from writing, the only solution is publishing…

Web s? If I want to earn money from writing, that’s the fastest way. But as a proud, legitimate literary writer, I can’t walk such a non-traditional path.

It’s definitely not because of a trauma from my past life where, despite publishing nearly 100 episodes, I didn’t receive a single comment after throwing away my pride and everything for money…

Anyway.

To turn a manuscript scribbled on manuscript paper into a book placed in bookstores, there are two ways.

First, participating in literary auditions hosted by various newspapers – winning a literary award at New Year’s Literary Contest and making a dazzling debut.

However, submissions for major literary awards usually close in early December, so that opportunity has already passed.

That leaves only the second option.

The second method is.