Chapter 93 – One Long, One Short (2)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
While the man's words were still fresh on his mind, Juho turned toward the woman. With a stutter, she answered the man timidly, "I'm... not g-going any-anywhere."
'That's a good answer too,' Juho thought. Though he accepted her answer, the man seemed rather displeased by the woman's attitude.
"What the hell is wrong with her?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What?"
"Why are you being so nitpicky?"
"Because I can't understand her. I can't stand her."
The wind blew violently on his shiny hair. He seemed to have a lot to complain about.
"What can't you stand about her?"
"Her behavior and attitude. She's wasting time."
His behavior and attitude hadn't been so great either. Chuckling, Juho fired back, "That's your point of view. Have you ever thought of it as her way of utilizing her time?"
"No," he answered without hesitation, storming past Juho toward the woman. "Hey, what's your name?"
She didn't respond. Suddenly, without introducing himself, the man put his face recklessly right up against the woman's.
"Hey!" he said intimidatingly. "Listen carefully, lady. Squatting like that not only makes you look pathetic, but it's terrible for your back."
"..."
"Hey, lady!"
He stared at her up and down as she sat quietly, not responding to him.
"Did you do something wrong?"
Her head turned toward him ever so slightly, glaring fiercely. Having a timid voice didn't necessarily mean that she wasn't capable of being angry. Though he saw the disapproval in her eyes, the man didn't back down.
"Then, why can't you be more confident?"
"I am... I'm just not in the mood to talk... You're treating me like a criminal. I know I should have said something..." she said timidly, not enunciating her words clearly.
Though it was hard to make out what she was saying, Juho still felt angry. When he looked in her direction, she was holding a handful of sand. Predicting what she would do next, Juho jumped in between them. At that moment, she swung her arms in his direction. He felt the sand grains on the back of his head, rolling down his neck into his shirt. The woman swallowed nervously. While Juho comforted her, the man smiled as if he welcomed her behavior. Juho had to stop them before things got too rough.
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"All right you two, cut it out."
"What the!?"
'I better separate them. They're affecting each other,' Juho thought. Too much of anything wasn't a good thing. Again, he stood between the man and the woman, creating a gap about as wide as the one between a train and the platform.
"Hey! You listen lady. I said I don't understand you. Why aren't you communicating with me? If you're pissed, then show me!" Despite the distance, the man shouted all the more. The woman, however, had returned to her silence.
"Haven't you had enough for one day?" Juho asked the man, who was infuriated, unlike the woman, who hid behind her silence.
"She's ignoring me!"
"You don't need to yell!" He was rather impolite, and Juho added as he covered the man's mouth with his hand, "That's enough. You're from another world, which means you should speak in another language."
By the time he had shook Juho's hands off, it was too late. He could no longer understand what the woman was saying. In order to get a better grasp on the situation, he took a step back. At that moment, Juho took the opportunity to talk to the woman.
"Tell me what you want."
He fully intended on realizing her deepest wishes. He wanted to write in a way that she would find desirable. In order to make that happen, he called out to her. After a brief moment of hesitation, she said, "Please, leave me alone."
"You got it."
'So be it.' If that was what she wanted, then Juho was more than prepared to write about her quiet everyday life, where nothing really happened. No danger. No climax. Simply as it was. Seeing Juho readily accepting her answer, she felt a little safer and opened up.
"It's fine, just... write the way you want to."
"Sounds good. I like that we're being considerate of each other."
She nodded quietly.
"You can say more, you know."
The wind blew on the sand,
"Then... please don't... write about me... too much..."
"I'll keep it short."
"I... am not fond... of talking to... people."
"I'll make sure you don't have to talk to anyone," Juho answered light-heartedly.
The woman asked timidly while studying his expression, "... Can I not... really?"
"Why not?"
A weak, barely noticeable smile spread across her face.
"I hope... you... don't try... to change... me. I d-don't want to... change."
"Sure."
"And..." She hesitated for a good while. When Juho started to see signs of her retreating to her silence, he gave her a gentle nudge.
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"And?"
"And..." She seemed embarrassed.
'What does she want?' thought Juho.
Her eyes were fixated on the water.
"I... want... to be b-back here..." She must have been fond of the beach.
"Of course. That's not hard at all."
"I... want to... come alone."
"Yeah, I don't blame ya. It was a little rowdy today," said Juho, glancing over at the man. At the sight of her nodding timidly, his face scrunched up all the more.
"How should I dress you? It's a gift. Tell me whatever you'd like to wear."
"I... like pants."
"It'll get cold at night."
"I'll... bring my blanket... from my... my place."
"I'm guessing you're not in the habit of wearing makeup?
"No... I just... want to... come as I am."
The wind picked up, blowing the hair that covered her face aside. Then, the wind blew again, but over the sand this time. Juho closed his eyes from the sudden sandstorm.
"Bye... now..."
With those faint words, she vanished from the beach. Staring at the place where she had been, Juho turned toward the man. He stood quietly, still looking displeased. Then, he opened his mouth and asked, "You have something for me too, right?"
Juho grinned and said, "You understood, didn't you?"
The man answered proudly, "You just gotta listen."
"You're sensitive to languages, like me."
"Don't you give me that crap," the man snapped at Juho, and his face scrunched up even more into a scowl.
"How about you work on some anger management?"
"People don't change."
"Nothing lasts forever."
Looking puzzled, he raised an eyebrow.
"That's not what you said to that lady earlier."
"What is?"
"You said you'll keep her from changing."
"That, I did."
She had asked Juho not to change her in his writing, and Juho had granted her wishes, so the man looked even more puzzled.
"Are you contradicting yourself? Were you lying to her?"
"Nonsense. I intend on keeping every word I said to her." Juho added as the man stayed hopelessly confused, "People don't change. Nothing lasts forever. They're both right. They're both what people want to hear."
There was no right or wrong in neither statement. In this case, one's belief became the truth.
"That's why I called for you both," Juho said to the man. "I'm writing about you both."
One who longed for the present to last for an eternity. One who realized nothing lasts forever. He wanted to write about both of those people. One short. One full-length. A peaceful daily life on one book, and a perilous adventure on the other. Together. Alone.
"The story is part of her life, and not wanting to change is what she wants. Everyone longs for something to last forever."
In the end, the man and the woman crossed paths eventually. Everybody longed for something to remain unchanged.
"... But everyone grows old. We all die eventually," he snapped.
"Are you contradicting yourself?"
The man didn't give him an answer. He started aging slowly, growing slightly shorter, his voice sinking. His once luxurious clothes became somewhat old and ragged. Though his eyes remained sharp and fierce, his glare lost its edge. He seemed disappointed by something. He had changed.
"Nothing lasts forever," he said calmly.
"You think so?"
"Time's ticking as we speak. Before you know it, death draws near."
Juho felt the air the surrounding the man changing with the wind.
"When will I stop being human?" he had to be talking about changing.
"Are you afraid?" Juho asked. Time flowed by mercilessly.
Wearing an ambiguous look, the man answered, "Not really."
Although it was hard to tell if he really meant it, Juho decided to play along.
"I wonder what I should be doing then?"
Irritated, the man threw his head back and said, "Pray to God or something!"
He was no longer irritable or raging uncontrollably or taking somebody by their collar. He had grown more mature, but his temper still remained intact deep within. Juho felt the wave on his shoes as it were rushing toward him. Though it couldn't reach him earlier, it started to rush past his ankle now, making his feet cold. He moved away from the wave to where it wouldn't be able to reach him. Before he knew it, he was alone. The woman and the man were nowhere to be found. The sun started to set, and the dark approached. The wave grew taller, wetting the sand. Juho sat there and watched the scenery quietly.
The door opened and closed. With that, the train started off again.
"Mom, what's he doing?"
"Ah, he's doing homework. Let's be quiet now."
Being completely oblivious to the conversation between the mother and her young son sitting next to him, Juho kept writing away. He had been carrying his notepad and manuscript paper in his bag at all times, as well as writing tools, so he didn't have to worry about running out of paper. First, he started writing about the woman at the beach.
'Another day of longing for things to remain unchanged forever. It was the monologue of a woman who had made an impulsive trip to the beach, wearing a dress given to her as a gift. She didn't talk to anyone. On her way to there, when she bought herself a bottle of water, during the day, at night, whenever hot or cold, she had always been alone, even as she longed for something that would last forever. Though she crossed paths with countless people, she kept to herself, going about her way, alone.'
The train stopped; the doors opened and closed, and it started off again. It took in people while sending them away simultaneously. Juho felt his feet growing colder. The wet spot on his shoes was disappearing while the water evaporated. He thought back to the scenery he last saw. Everything came alive again. The salty air. Waves breaking. The boundless horizon. It had all been intact, and it would be an everlasting memory.
He moved his pen busily, writing about what he wanted to write about as well as what needed to be written. 'Is this new? Will I get used to this?' There was no need to ask such questions anymore. Writing was his greatest joy. 'It's time to let go of my greed. I need to focus on writing.' He fully intended on putting his heart and soul into it. The corners of his mouth turned. When something unclear began to take shape, that was when joy came rushing into his heart.
By the time Juho stopped writing, his stop was long gone.Chapter 94 – Parents, Creator, Myself
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
Mr.Moon examined the plots the club members had come up with and their structures. Seo Kwang wanted to write about the history of books while Sun Hwa wanted to write about the life of a celebrity. Bom had decided to write about a child who had just begun to stand on his own two feet, and Juho had decided on the daily life of a woman who made a trip to the beach.
"So, I'm guessing you all thought of the characters for your story?" Mr. Moon asked the club members sitting in front of him.
Everyone answered, "Yes."
"Today, we're going to give them as much shape as possible."
Everyone looked at him with excitement and anticipation. They would be giving their characters a personality. Creating a character was a fun process, but there were exceptions.
"Characters are important. Sometimes, they even affect the direction of the development of the plot. Think about what you want to express in your respective stories and think of a character who would best represent that."
"That sounds hard," grumbled Seo Kwang.
After a brief, momentary thought, Mr. Moon gave a simpler explanation, "You're all parents."
"Huh?"
"Your characters would be your children."
"... Eh?"
Author, parents. Characters, children. Mr. Moon continued with his explanation, "Think about your parents. What do they for you?"
"Uh... Lot's of things," said Sun Hwa, looking puzzled. She had to have received a lot from her parents in her upbringing.
"That's right. You guys, need to treat your characters the same way."
Juho thought about what he had received from his parents. 'Everything.' From his uniform to the slippers he was wearing, everything had come from his parents. The hand he wrote with, the brain he used to think, everything had come from them.
"Parents."
The club members still seemed to be at a loss. After all, they were all children of their parents. Though grateful toward them, they didn't quite understand what it meant to be a son or a daughter. Their confusion was natural. Examining the look on everyone's face, Mr. Moon took some time to think before giving them an even simpler explanation.
"How about this? If it's hard for you think from your parents' perspective, be the creator. That's kind of cool, isn't it? You guys, are making a person. A creator gives different talents and characteristics to his creation."
"The creator..."
"It does sound cooler, but it doesn't make it easier."
In fact, it had made it harder for them to understand, so Mr. Moon thought some more and said, "That's it! Think 'me.'"
"As in you, Mr. Moon?"
"Yourselves. The writer."
As Seo Kwang was about to ask another question, Mr. Moon raised his hand, indicating that he wasn't finished.
"What would it feel like to hold hands with my character? How would they answer my questions? How would they respond to a certain situation? How detailed or vocal your characters are would depend on the writer. Since you guys are beginners, you won't be able to get much further than getting really ambiguous answers. So, just think from 'my' perspective. You all know how your hand feels, right?"
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"That's because the writer isn't skilled enough. I'd be frustrated," complained Sun Hwa.
"You're still a beginner," answered Seo Kwang. It sounded like an answer Mr. Moon would give, but for some reason, he waved his hand in denial.
"Treating your character as your own self is a very author-like way of thinking. At the end of the day, a novel can't escape the limits of exploring the existence that is 'me.' You're writing about a person and their life. As a parent, creator or an author, you are distinctively you."
Juho nodded quietly.
"..."
"Uh... Hm, right," said Bom, chuckling awkwardly. The club members seemed all the more lost, and Juho smiled internally. There really was no way to get around the matter. The more the author thought about and dug into his novel, the more they tended to tread into the territory of identity and metaphysics.
'Clap! Clap!'
Suddenly, Mr. Moon clapped twice while sitting quietly. He was probably having trouble with his explanations.
"Anyway, today, you're going to create your own characters," he changed the subject, emphasizing on characters alone while setting everything he had said very far aside. "Every single one of your characters is alive," he emphasized.
The club members listened intently, telling themselves that they were writing about a live person in their minds.
"As long as a character is alive, that means that there's a reason behind the things they do or say in the novel."
"A reason?"
"That's right. Why are we here?"
"Uh... Hm... Maybe... to go college?"
"To be happy, all of us," said Mr. Moon.
"What you're about to write, it won't help with college in any way. It won't bring your grades up either. YET, you guys are working hard. Even now, you guys are on fire to learn more and write better. Why?"
"Because it's fun," said Bom.
"I love writing."
"I want to write."
"It helps me reach my goal."
The other club members added to Bom's statement. Whether emotional or rational, everyone had a reason.
"See? Everyone has an answer. It's the same with your characters. They move about because they have their own reason to."
Pausing briefly, Mr. Moon looked around.
"OK, let's say I kill a person."
"Huh!?"
"Ah, assuming that I'm a fictional character," explained Mr. Moon, waving his hand to mimic swinging a knife. Juho watched his hand carefully. "Stab."
The members imagined the gut-wrenching sound of a knife piercing through skin. Mr. Moon had just killed someone. Of course, his knifeless hand was swinging in thin air.
"This doesn't leave you with any impressions. Why?"
"Because there is no reason for it," said the club members, applying what they had just learned.
"That's right. It's because there was no explanation as to why I did what I did. Again, your characters are alive, and they do things for a reason. There's always a reason. It's just that we can't express it for them. Parents! Are you planning on raising a child who's a boring killjoy? The almighty creator, are you intending on leaving your creations confused? Aren't you all going to explain yourselves?"
"No!" the members exclaimed.
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"That's right. You have to protect yourselves with everything you've got. 'I will reciprocate as much love as you show me. I'll tell you what you want to hear. Or, maybe I can show you something unimaginable.'"
"I'm kind of getting goosebumps."
"As you can see, creating a character is not easy."
"I didn't mean it lik..."
"Got it? Now, think about a character that would suit the events in your stories," Mr. Moon interjected.
"Sounds complicated."
"Try to enjoy it. You'll get the hang of it."
With a sigh and a pens in hand, everyone glared at their notebooks.
When Mr. Moon finished speaking, the room sunk into silence. Only the air lingered about. Juho thought, 'What do I do? I've already met her, and I already know her personality. I know her reason for her actions and behavior. I know what she wants and where she wants to be in life.'
With those thoughts, he quietly raised his hand.
"Yeah?" asked Mr. Moon.
Juho's voice broke the silence, "If I've already heard an answer from my character, can I just start writing?"
"... Bring it here."
Juho took his paper over to Mr. Moon. All eyes were on him as he walked toward the teacher.
Slowly, Mr. Moon immersed himself in the world Juho had created. Though it was incomplete, things were bound to change down the line. New things would come up as others would get taken out.
"Ha...!" Mr. Moon laughed. "When did you write this?"
"Eh, this is nothing. Besides, it's short," said Juho.
"Have you thought about how you want to end it?" Mr. Moon asked carefully. Juho had a history of writing ridiculous endings.
"Vaguely. Things are still blurry," Juho said, shrugging.
"Try to be more intentional this time, will you?"
"I've told you, it's not that simple."
"Try anyway. Starting with the next time we meet, write in the computer room. For now, focus on your ending."
"Yes, Mr. Moon."
With that, Juho returned to his seat, feeling the uncomfortable gazes of the other club members over him. The first one to speak up was Sun Hwa.
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"Don't act like you don't know."
It made sense that she was surprised. Juho had already started writing when everyone else was still busy thinking of a character. Since he had decided to write two separate novels, there was no time to waste.
In the end, Juho had no choice but to say, "What can I do? I'm just that good."
"You're so shameless."
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"Haha."
"You're laughing? That's cheap. When did you start writing? Cheap shot."
"I'm not surprised," said Seo Kwang, resting his chin on his hand. He seemed familiar with Sun Hwa's experience.
"Juho can be like that," agreed Bom. It was clearly not a compliment.
Suddenly, Seo Kwang clapped loudly as if he had remembered something.
"I should write about someone like you!"
"I will reciprocate as much love as you show me."
"Strike that," said Seo Kwang at once.
As Juho poked fun at Seo Kwang, he felt someone looking in his direction and asked, "What is it?"
"Nothing," Sun Hwa and Bom said, giving him a peculiar look.
"Do you want to write about me?"
"I thought about it, but I don't think it'll work out. It's too much."
"Yeah, I think so too."
They had answered gently, but it had been a resounding "No." At that moment, Seo Kwang pulled Juho's notebook in his direction and asked, "Can I look at this?"
"No," another voice answered.
Seo Kwang looked in the direction of the voice and protested, "Why not?"
"It'll affect your writing. You have to write on your own," warned Mr. Moon, crossing his arms. Until he had finished his own writing, Seo Kwang wouldn't be able to read what Juho had written.
"OK."
"Alright then, I'm leaving now. Don't look or show."
With those words, he made his way to the staffroom. Watching the door open and close, Juho organized his thoughts.
Then, Baron raised his voice and asked, "I can look, right?"
"That's not fair!"
"We want to look too!"
"That's really unfair Baron."
The three club members protested, but Baron paid them no attention. Willingly, Juho handed him the notebook.
"Wow, these people," Sun Hwa grumbled, but Baron took the notebook from Juho's hand, reading it quietly.
It was the overall flow of the plot. Although it wasn't long, Baron remained silent for a good while.
"... You're writing this?" he murmured.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, no problem." Baron thought, 'There's no problem, but...' "... Wouldn't it be a little difficult?"
Though he was about to go on, Baron stopped himself. He was conscious of other club members. However, Juho had understood more than enough to know what he was trying to ask. A person going to the beach alone, all without an apparent climax or danger. It could easily turn out boring. It would be a challenge to keep it interesting. Yet...
"I want to write it, so there's nothing I can do."
"... Show it to me when you're done. I'd like to read it."
With that, he gave Juho's notebook back to him. To everyone else who was glaring at him with piercing curiosity, Juho added, "If you're so anxious to read it, then all you've got to do is finish your stories."
"Punk," said Sun Hwa, who snatched her pen still glaring with her nose on her notebook, she immersed herself in thoughts about the characters for her story.
By contrast, Juho reached slowly for his pen. It was time for him to write about the woman at the beach.