The Great Storyteller

Chapter 383: The Crow Never Dies (4)

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

“I could use a drink right about now. Go get me some, will ya?” Wol said out of nowhere.

After remaining quiet for a moment, Juho replied, “We can’t even get to the ground, and you want me to go bring you a drink? We could both fall at any given minute, you know.”

“Like I said earlier, I’ll tell you if you go in the water.”

At that moment, a gust of wind came along, and snowflakes started to flutter down from the sky. Upon touching the surface of the water, the snowflakes melted away without a trace. When Juho looked toward Wol, he saw the author pointing down at the water.

“Do you want me to die, Mr. Kang?”

Wol laughed frivolously instead of giving him an answer. However, Juho didn’t let up.

“Do you want to see someone die in front of you? Is that what you want?”

Suddenly, Wol rose to his feet swiftly, standing on the narrow safety rail. As his long hair blew in the wind, he also teetered precariously, making Juho nervous.

“You don’t have to beat around the bush like that. You know why? Because I’m gonna tell you how you can find satisfaction in the story you wrote.”

“... How?”

“You need to face it, young man.”

“Face what? Who?”

“Yourself.”

At that, Juho chuckled. There was something about Wol’s eyes that made the young author uncomfortable.

“I’m different from the protagonist. I don’t waste my time and energy trying to be someone I’m not,” Juho said.

“Think back to your old self,” Wol replied in a warm-but-dry tone of voice. The moon was the only thing keeping the darkness from swallowing the two authors.

“You’ve change,” Wol added.

“And how’s that a bad thing? I went from being homeless to being a decent author. Now, people call me great, and that idiot who used to brag over his so-called talent is no longer part of me. I believe this is what you’d call growth. I’m an adult now. I’ve matured,” Juho replied.

“You’re different.”

“Certainly not.”

“Then, why is it that you can’t read your own story?”

Juho furrowed his brow, clenching his teeth tightly as his patience started to fail him.

“I don’t see how this is relevant, Mr. Kang.”

“How is it that you can see the crow? How do you explain that?”

“That has nothing to do with what we were talking about.”

“Why did you separate yourself, and why the black beast of all things? Why can’t you just accept it? Why can’t you let your past be part of your writing?”

Looking away, Juho let out a sigh and said, “I should’ve known when that bird turned up. I should’ve just gone to bed.”

“You wish that none of your past had happened.”

It was impossible to get Wol to stop talking. Knowing that, Juho slapped himself on the cheek forcefully. However, he couldn’t feel a thing since he was in a world created by Wol, which was inherently different from Juho’s fantasy. At that moment, Wol raised his finger and poked Juho in the chest. Juho felt a slight pain.

“You talk down to yourself on purpose,” Wol said. As Juho moved his hand irritably, Wol kept on, “People calling you great doesn’t make you happy at all because you can never admit it.”

Then, Juho fessed up, saying, “C’mon, Mr. Kang! Think about it! Me? Great? Isn’t that ridiculous!? I lived like a total moron and I eventually became useless, losing my ability to write. When I came back, I just couldn’t understand what I had done to deserve such luck. Not only had I been an addict, but I had also been homeless, with NO money. I had stunk, and I had had no place to live. There are so many people in this world who are more deserving of being called great. Why me? Why was I given a second chance!?”

“Who knows?” Wol said nonchalantly, shrugging. Frustrated with Wol’s indifference, Juho cleared his throat.

“Seems like you grow more anxious the further your current life and your past grow apart. I wonder what kind of mess you’ll be in the future.”

“You mind explaining why you’re bringing this up, Mr. Kang?”

“It’s interesting. To see Yun Woo make that kind of face is a real treat.”

“Can we please stop messing around?” Juho replied.

“Why?” Wol asked.

“Enough with the questions already!” Juho shouted, covering his mouth in a hurry immediately after. However, his angry voice echoed throughout the area.

“If you’re dead, then stay dead! Do you have any idea of the kind of ruckus your writing is causing in my head? Do you know just how ON EDGE I’ve been since I’ve started working on your book!? All these people keep coming to me, asking about my progress, trying to give me advice! Just shut the hell up already and let me do my damn job!”

At that moment, Juho realized that he couldn’t see or feel anything under his feet. He couldn’t distinguish where he was standing.

“You didn’t know how you wanted to end that story either. What did I expected from someone who’s dead? You couldn’t even finish your own damn book! You’ve been lying to me all along, haven’t you? You couldn’t finish that book because you didn’t know how. You didn’t know what would happen after you died back then.”

“That’s right,” Wol replied, looking fiercely at the young author.

At which point, Juho was struck by the unmistakable realization that...

“... You’re dead.”

“That’s right.”

“You can’t do a thing, even when I’m speaking so harshly.”

“It’s a damn shame, isn’t it? But don’t you go and wish you were in my shoes,” Wol said, clicking his tongue, his chest puffing up.

“So, this is my story now.”

The air felt hot, burning the young author’s throat whenever he breathed in. When Juho brushed his hair up, a smiling moon came into view.

(TL’s Note: The name ‘Wol’ is the Korean pronunciation of the Chinese word for the moon.)

“This was my story all along. It never was your story to begin with,” Juho said.

“Aren’t you a rude one,” Wol replied.

“I’m sorry.”

“I like you, kid.”

Before Juho realized it, Wol’s voice came from behind him. When Juho turned back, he fell from the safety rail, locking eyes with Wol, who seemed to be mouthing words as if trying to tell Juho something one last time. Then, feeling a strong impact against his back, Juho screamed.

“What the...?!”

The legs of his swivel chair were spinning on the ground, reminding him that he was back in his room. Feeling drained, Juho stayed lying on the floor, staring dazedly at the ceiling.

“Ugh... My back.”

At that moment, Juho felt something on the tips of his finger, which turned out to be a pen. He chuckled, remembering what Wol had told him to do: to write his own story. That was what Wol had been trying to tell the young author all along, and Juho had been slow to catch on.

“This was my story all along.”

Then, Juho picked up the chair, sat down and started reading through the manuscript. At which point, he realized the areas he needed to improve almost immediately. ‘And I was telling Mr. Kang that it was his story.’ Biting down on his lower lip, Juho started typing away, writing a story about a lunatic who came back from the dead.

—

“So, this is the final draft,” Nam Kyung said, pushing his glasses up and organizing the stack of paper with reverence. Seeing as though the editor was shaking, Juho asked, “Are you cold?”

“No, the contrary,” Nam Kyung replied in a suppressed voice, struggling to contain his excitement. “We have to release this as soon as possible. It needs to be read by every single person on this planet.”

While remaining quiet, Juho listened to the editor’s thoughts on the story. After raving for some time, Nam Kyung tilted his head and asked, “You’re oddly quiet today, Mr. Woo.”

“Am I?”

“You agree that it’s good, don’t you!? I knew it. I knew this was good enough to make you proud as an author.”

As Juho tried to chuckle it off, Nam Kyung sprung up from his seat and said, “I’ll get this story made into a book as soon as I can. Things are about to get a whole lot busier around here.”

Then, just as he was about to leave the apartment, Nam Kyung turned around and bowed to the young author, saying, “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this, Mr. Woo.”

“Of course. I’m counting on you, Mr. Park.”

As Nam Kyung left the apartment with the manuscript in his hands, Juho sank into his chair, let out a long sigh and dialed a certain number. The person answered almost immediately.

“Yes?” Hyun Do replied in a calm tone of voice.

“I did it, Mr. Lim,” Juho said.

“And the manuscript?”

“I handed it over to my editor.”

“So, is it done?”

“Well, it still needs to be revised. Where are you, Mr. Lim?” Juho asked.

“I’m at my office, writing.”

“Huh?! I thought you’d be at home.”

For some reason, the young author had been assuming that Hyun Do would be writing peacefully at his home when the time came to deliver the news to him.

“Well, even if you had been home, I wouldn’t have hesitated to go down there to show you the manuscript. Even if it had been snowing out.”

“Well, good thing it’s summer,” Hyun Do said, chuckling. Then, he asked, “Question is: do you even have the energy to go out?”

“Honestly, I’m so tired that I can’t move a muscle.”

“Seems like you need to work on your stamina, young man.”

“C’mon, Mr. Lim. You have to cut me some slack. This wasn’t just some ordinary story. It was tricky to say the least.”

“Right.”

The conversation came to an abrupt halt, and Juho waited for Hyun Do patiently.

“Wol...” Hyun Do said.

“Uh-huh?”

“... will probably never bother you again.”

“... What makes you say that, Mr. Lim?”

“You learned everything you needed to.”

“But, I still have so many questions I wanted to ask him!”

“So did I,” Hyun Do said calmly. Juho clenched his hand into a fist. Being left in the dark all over again was not something Juho was willing to accept.

“I’ll force him to, if that’s what it takes.”

“Is that what he told you to do?”

“Yes. Mr. Kang told me the same thing you did: to write my own story. Then, he flipped everything upside down. His standards, the order, everything. Even if you were to have something to say, there would be nothing I could do about it now,” Juho said.

“Is that so? Well, I’m looking forward to it,” Hyun Do replied. As he hung up, Juho sat in place for a little while, exhaled, and chuckled.

“I guess that’s it, then,” he murmured, looking down at his empty hands. Yawning, he lay down on the couch while feeling as if he’d fall into a deep sleep, with no idea that he would be having another dream...

“Mr. Kang??”

... A shocking one, at that. Noticing a white mound in front of him, Juho realized that it was Wol lying still under the white sheet, completely silent. The sheet was even covering his face.

“Never seen a dead body before.”

At that moment, Juho remembered something he had been forgetting. Wol had passed away in a snowy winter.

“Mr. Kang?”

Wol remained still. When Juho pulled the sheet off, the dust on it tickled the inside of his nose. Being the only source of sound in the environment, Juho sat down next to Wol.

“So, what is death?” Juho asked. He had been afraid to hear the answer when Wol had promised to tell him what death meant if Juho were to go in the water.

“Why does death exist?” Juho asked Wol, who lay almost lifelessly, but peacefully.

“I’m not telling you a thing,” Wol said. Juho was still looking down at him.

“Why not?” Juho asked.

“Because I’m dead?” Wol replied in his usual, light-hearted voice. His black, unkempt hair reminded Juho that Wol had died much too young.

“Lucky bastard,” Wol said playfully.

“I’m sorry,” Juho said by reflex.

“You don’t have to act like you’ve committed a crime, you know. Don’t be like that. Nobody’s a victim here.”

“But...”

“If you don’t accept that soon, you’ll die.”

Juho clenched his lips.

“I never accepted that I was sick. At least, for a long time.”

“Can we stay on track here?”

“If an alcoholic denies that they’re addicted to alcohol, they can never stop drinking.”

Juho listened quietly, his trembling hands still holding on to the white cloth.

“Since you came back from the dead, you have to experience death all over again,” Wol said, rubbing his stomach.

“I don’t wanna die,” Juho said, terrified by the author’s stiff movement.

“Me neither,” Wol said like a child. Soon, returning to his adult voice, he added, “Think about how you got so lucky.”

“I was trying to write,” Juho replied.

“That, you did.”

“... At the cost of selling myself.”

“You mean your shameful past?”

“Yes. I was trying to write.”

“You did the right thing,” Wol said, his lips parched. The air was quite dry. “Maybe there is no such a thing as coincidence after all.”

“What do you mean?” Juho asked.

“I wonder if God gave you a second chance because of your name.”

“But, my name isn’t actually Yun Woo.”

“What did I just tell you? To look away from the truth is to die.”

Feeling pricked in the heart, Juho dropped his head and asked, “What must I do?”

There was a concern that Juho had been living with ever since he’d come back from the dead. It had been like a ticking time bomb hidden deep within him, and there was no way for him to free himself from it.

“Do you think I’ll die on the same day as the first time?”

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