The Great Storyteller

Chapter 381: The Crow Never Dies (2)

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

“What did you say?” Juho asked, looking at the man’s face, which was flushing bright red. Whenever the man opened his mouth, a pungent stench of alcohol came wafting out.

“... What did I say?” the man said to himself in a slur. Seeing no point in carrying on the conversation, Juho turned away. However, the young author was stopped yet again by the drunkard.

“Didn’t you say you were writing that one book? Oh, yeah! I remember now.”

While the waiter was still rushing to get to them, the man said, “Tell me the truth. You’re paying someone to write for you, aren’t you? That’s what you’ve been doing this entire time, huh? You’re living a life that belongs to another person, aren’t you?”

“Seems like you’re not a big fan of Yun Woo.”

“Obviously!” the man said, pushing Juho against the wall. Then, when the man raised his hand as if getting ready to hit Juho, the young author grabbed him by his tie, which had been bothering Juho quite a bit. With the tie in Juho’s hand, the man stopped staggering.

“You clearly don’t like me. Why?” Juho asked.

Laughing exaggeratedly and spitting all over the place, the man replied, “I CANNOT stand spoiled brats like you who have it easy growing up. You think you’re better than everyone?”

“You make it sound like you know me.”

“I know what you think of homeless people. I’ve read your books. You made them seem like they don’t deserve to live, and I’m sure that’s exactly how you see me. You think you’re above failures? You think life will be peachy?”

“Just because I give my readers the freedom to interpret my books doesn’t mean that I’ll let you insult me.”

“Oh-ho-ho! Is that right? Prick! I can’t stand those fanboys and fangirls who are obsessed with you. What’s so special about being a good writer?”

Instead of responding to his insults, Juho chuckled. At that moment, the waiter arrived and interjected, “Sir, we’re gonna have to ask you to leave.”

At that, Juho let go of the man’s tie. Sensing commotion, the customers started looking in the young author’s direction. At which point, Juho looked away from them.

“You just wait. Life can’t always be good, and YOU of all people need to know what it’s like to hit rock bottom. Your time is coming.”

“No. You’re wrong. I’m doing this and I’m gonna do it well,” Juho replied, looking away from the drunkard to see Jang Mi and Dong Baek.

Glaring fiercely at the man, the editor said, “Mr. Woo’s new book will move the hearts of many. Except yours.”

Provoked by Jang Mi’s remark, the man opened his mouth to fire back. At that moment, Dong Baek stepped in to interject, “I am terribly sorry, sir. Please, forgive her. She can be quick to speak at times.”

“Sir...” Jang Mi let out.

“I’m sure you’ll love it too,” the president said, and Jang Mi’s face lit up almost instantly.

Chuckling, Juho said, “I thought I was the writer. Did you call me out here to pressure me, Mr. Lee?”

“Of course not! If anything, our job is to alleviate that pressure. Well, give us a call, Mr. Woo.”

“You’re very thorough. I’m impressed.”

“Hey! I’m not done with you, prick!” the drunkard shouted.

Quietly brushing his shoulders, Juho replied, “I won’t sue. Don’t worry.”

Leaving the infuriated drunkard behind, Juho left the restaurant with Dong Baek and Jang Mi, who offered to drive the young author back home. While Juho was getting out of the car, the president said, “Give us a call, Mr. Woo!”

“Will do,” Juho said, waving at the car until it faded into the distance completely. As soon as he stepped in through the front door, Juho realized how exhausted he was.

“Well, this isn’t good,” he said while looking at the screen of his computer, which was filled with news articles about what had happened at the restaurant the day before. Some even claimed that the young author had gotten into a fistfight. Seeing them, Juho sighed deeply.

—

“Uh-huh. OK,” Juho said to his agent on the phone. “I understand. I’ll do the interview. It’s gonna be short, right?”

Then, after answering a few more question, Juho hung up, sighed, and tossed the phone on the bed. Since the incident at the restaurant, delaying interview requests became no longer possible. Although Juho much preferred to wait until after he had finished writing the book, reality left him no choice.

“Sigh.”

Calming himself down, Juho started typing away on his laptop.

‘In order to see his true self, Destroyer wanted to see his own spirit, which could only be seen within death. Well aware of that, he decided to put an end to himself. Unfortunately, the realization that he had started on the wrong foot came to him a tad too late.’

“Maybe the ocean,” Juho murmured.

‘Swallowed whole by the waves, even the simplest task, such as breathing, became the most laborious endeavor. The waves kept sweeping the sand under his feet, making it impossible for him to distinguish where he was.’

Juho’s hand came to an abrupt halt, but after relaxing his aching shoulders, he kept on.

“You can do this, Juho.”

Despite the crow cawing outside, Juho kept typing away, unhindered, exposing the characters’ faults and shortcomings. Although he had gone into the icy water, the protagonist came out alive, and Juho continued to write in order to keep him that way. Then, as Juho introduced another character, who would go into the water instead of the protagonist, darkness swallowed the young author.

“... The Crow.”

Its sharp claws dug into the back of Juho’s hand, scratching it. Although it was painful, there were no marks. Locking eyes with the crow, Juho wondered, ‘What if this is my spirit?’

“Not now,” Juho said, waving annoyedly.

—

“Are you OK, Mr. Woo?” Nabi asked while driving.

Looking out the window at the scenery rushing past, Juho replied, “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You seem pale.”

“I’m really OK. I probably just didn’t sleep well,” Juho said, almost as if making an excuse for his condition.

Unconvinced, Nabi asked the young author, “Do you have indigestion?”

“I haven’t eaten anything, so there is nothing to digest,” Juho said, waving his hand in denial.

“But, it’s way past lunchtime.”

“I’ve been busy.”

After a brief pause, she furrowed her brow and asked, “Are you gonna be OK during the interview?”

“Of course. I keep my promises,” Juho said, turning toward her and pouting. However, Nabi still didn’t seem convinced.

“Well, why don’t we get you a sandwich or something? There’s a bakery over there.”

“I’m not hungry, though.”

“You don’t know how embarrassing it is when your stomach growls in the middle of an interview. The more you talk, the hungrier you get, Mr. Woo.”

In the end, she went into the bakery and brought back two bagfuls of bread. Picking one at random, Juho forced himself to eat.

“This is good bread.”

“Good to hear.”

As Juho focused on eating the bread, Nabi asked, “It’s not easy to work with Mr. Kang’s writing, huh?”

Drinking from a carton of milk that Nabi had brought back along with the bread, Juho nodded.

“Definitely not.”

“That’s natural. If you were blazing through it, I would’ve thought that something was wrong. You’re picking up what another writer left behind, so you can take your time, Mr. Woo.”

“I’m almost at the end.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Nabi said. Then, glancing over at Juho, she asked, “Wait, when you say that you’re almost at the end...?”

“Exactly what it means. I’m almost at the end of the story.”

Counting how many days Juho had been working on the project, Nabi said, “No wonder you’re so tired. You’re not overexerting yourself, are you?”

Instead of giving her an answer, Juho crossed his legs, looked out the window and asked, “Do we have time?”

“Of course. We left early. Why do you ask?”

“Do you think you could stop the car?”

“I’m sorry?”

Nabi looked toward Juho and examined his face. He was covering his mouth.

“Could you stop the car?” Juho said, mumbling.

“Oh, no! It must be the milk!”

As the car came to a stop, Juho jumped out of it and rushed into a nearby cafe in order to use the restroom. Concerned, Nabi watched him go.

“What kind of story has he been writing?”

Feeling both anxious and excited for the new book, Nabi waited patiently for Juho’s return.

Upon arriving at the studio, Juho went into the waiting room in order to rest until the interview. At that moment, a reporter came knocking.

“Been a while, Mr. Woo. I didn’t think you’d actually accept my interview request. I suppose we are meant to see each other around,” the reporter said in a friendly manner

“I guess so. Good to see you,” Juho replied, nodding.

“Life has been eventful for you lately, huh, Mr. Woo?” the reporter asked. Seeing that Juho was chuckling, the reporter waved his hand in denial. However, the more he tried to sound serious, the more he sounded like he was joking to Juho’s ears.

“There’s even a rumor circulating that you knocked that guy out with a single punch. Some people seem to think that’s why you and Coin became friends. People are making all sorts of assumptions out there.”

“That’s troublesome.”

“Well, fret not! For the most part, the press seems to take a positive stance on the matter. Besides, this is Yun Woo we’re talking about! I understand that I might be overstepping my bounds here by saying this, but I think you could be a little quicker to act, Mr. Woo. Why aren’t you doing anything about it this time? You spoke up almost immediately when the news got out that you had made a billion-dollar donation. Are you just gonna let these people walk all over you?”

Instead of giving the reporter an answer, Juho shrugged indifferently. Baffled, the reporter asked, “Do you... like being insulted, Mr. Woo?”

“Who likes being insulted?”

Smacking his lips, the reporter said, “There are only two types of people in this world: Those who deserve to be insulted, and those who don’t.”

“... Is everything OK?” Juho asked, blinking awkwardly.

Scratching his eyebrows, the reporter replied, “You see, I recently caught up with a friend who works in the government beat and let me tell you, he had A LOT to say. BUT, we can save that for dinner later.”

“I don’t know.”

“Really, Mr. Woo? You’re not gonna be there!? You’re gonna miss out.”

“I’ve been busy. Still am.”

Although reluctant to move on, the reporter nodded and said, “Well, everyone in this country knows how busy you are, but something tells me that you don’t wanna take too long. Unfortunately, I’m one of those readers waiting anxiously. So, as a fan, I ask that you finish that book as soon as you can.”

“Not a problem,” Juho replied with a smile.

At that moment, a voice came out of nowhere, “There you are!”

At the sound of a person walking into the room, both Juho and the reporter looked toward the door. It was San Jung, who was going to be joining Juho on the interview, dressed in black from head to toe as usual. Greeting her gladly, Juho remarked, “You look a little tan.”

“Yeah. I guess I stayed a little longer than I expected in Taiwan. You know how hot the Sun gets lately,” she said, pulling up her sleeve to show Juho her wrist, which was a different shade from the rest of her arm due to having worn a wristwatch while in the Sun.

“My ankles are the same way. You wanna see them?”

“I’m OK.”

“I want to! Why don’t we take some pictures later? These are badges that you should be proud of!”

At the reporter’s remark, a vivid smile appeared on San Jung’s face.

“So, how’s the new book coming along?” Juho asked cautiously.

“I think it’ll turn out well. Really well.”

“Wow! You sound confident!” the reporter interjected frivolously. However, Juho was able to relate to the reporter’s response.

“You’re not gonna go out and win some major award, are you?”

“And do another interview with us on a similar topic?” the reporter asked. The interview that day was about authors who were internationally famous. Although rare, both Juho and San Jung were popular overseas, and San Jung, in particular, had been making a name for herself in the global market after winning a prestigious literary award.

“I’m not gonna lie, Ms. Youn. Waiting for your new book is really hard, especially when I have to wait years at a time. Of course, it’s natural for authors to take their time, especially when it comes to literature, but with Mr. Woo’s existence, I can’t help but wish that I didn’t have to wait so long for your books.”

At the reporter’s remark, San Jung nodded, smiling. Meanwhile, Juho rubbed his thighs.

“I tend to focus on full-length novels, so it makes sense that you would feel that way. Besides, I am a really slow writer.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Ms. Youn. That’s hardly an issue when you write nothing but gold.”

Although San Jung tended to invest a lot of time into writing, every single one of her books evoked deep emotional experiences. Darting back and forth between Juho and San Jung, the reporter smiled cheerfully and asked, “How did you feel when you heard that Mr. Woo was finishing Mr. Kang’s unfinished book? By the way, this is off the record, so you can just be honest.” He was clearly asking out of personal curiosity.

However, San Jung replied nonchalantly, “I mean, I doubt my answer would be any different in front of a camera. I’m sure there are a bunch of questions similar to that one, am I right? Particularly about Yun Woo’s achievements?”

“Of course.”

“You know, I’m envious of Yun Woo,” San Jung said.

“I’m sorry?” Juho let out while looking at San Jung, who crossed her arms and added in her distinctly dry tone of voice, “I wish that I could be working on Mr. Kang’s book too. From the moment I found out about the unfinished book, I haven’t stopped asking myself about the story, the subject, what kind of emotions are contained within it, what kind of novel it will be, and how it will change me after I read it,” San Jung said. Turning toward Juho, which made him nervous, she added,”... Wondering if I could be like you.”

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