The Great Storyteller

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

“What the heck is going on?”

Putting a printout of all the comments online down, Juho placed his hand on his forehead, completely taken by surprise. Meanwhile, Nabi had a bright smile on her face.

“This is a good thing!” she said in a bright voice.

“I don’t know if I agree with that.”

“This was bound to happen the moment you made your first donation under the name Juho Woo. I’m very proud of you, Mr. Woo.”

As if completely oblivious to Juho’s state of mind, Nabi had been ecstatic for some time. Leaning back, Juho murmured, “It was just for self-gratification…”

The fact that he had donated under his real name had been proof of that. Juho had wanted to make up for his pathetic self in the past somehow.

“I just wanted to spend my money without guilt,” Juho said.

Although she tilted her head at the word guilt, she raised her thumb and said, “Well, you did the right thing, Mr. Woo. Bravo!”

“It just feels so strange to get that much public praise.”

“Enjoy it! All of your good deeds up to this point are finally paying off! I’m telling ya, what goes around comes around. Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Woo,” Nabi said light-heartedly, checking the response of the fans in real-time.

“That’ll show the haters,” she said, laughing cheerfully and sounding like she was complimenting somebody.

Realizing that the situation had already gotten out of hand, Juho said weakly, almost as if having given up, “The kids were adorable, I’ll give you that.”

At that, Nabi agreed emphatically, almost as though she had been waiting for Juho to say that.

“I know! I loved the intention behind what they did too! Wanting to give you something back for helping them out. I’m sure they’ll make it big in life later.”

Picturing the three students, who had to have listened in on his conversation with the teacher, Juho murmured, “I wouldn’t have thought in my dreams that they were listening in on us. I knew I shouldn’t have gone there that day.”

“No, Mr. Woo. You made the right decision to go there.”

“Maybe I would’ve been better off suing the people who put up those comments. Then, those kids wouldn’t have had to get themselves involved in all this.”

“As I said, Mr. Woo, it was bound to happen at some point.”

Juho sighed deeply. When he had met with the three students, they had apologized profusely, as if they had gotten into serious trouble with their teacher. However, their eyes had been sparkling with a sense of justice. I had been clear that they were proud of what they had done, and Juho fully understood their intention behind it. Besides, Juho had never taken offense to them.

“He’s an adult,” the student in the middle, named Somang, had said. At which point, her friends to her either side of her had poked her on the side. The three had worked together as a team in standing up against the unfounded hatred toward the young author on the internet.

“Where did you guys get the number one billion from?” Juho had asked them. Being used to the process of either getting complimented or scolded by adults, the students had stared at the young author with widened eyes.

“We didn’t do it,” the boy had said, and nodding, Juho replied, “I know. I read the post myself.”

Juho had asked out of pure curiosity. The boy’s bangs had covered his eyes ever so slightly, moving with him.

“You wrote it, huh?” Juho had asked him.

“How did you know?” the boy had asked, his eyes filled with anticipation as if the young author had some sort of special skill. However, Juho had replied nonchalantly, “I guessed.”

At that, looks of disappointment had appeared on the students’ faces. At which, Juho couldn’t help but chuckle. At the same time, he was reminded that the things that surrounded him were far too excessive for his own good. While grand and beautiful, it didn’t change the fact that they were too much. However, Nabi seemed to interpret that as being successful.

“You’re a good writer,” Juho had said to the boy, whose lips had been clenched tightly and eyes teary for some reason. He seemed to have a lot of things he had wanted to say. Although Juho had been curious about how the boy viewed him, he had chosen not to ask.

“Our teacher always compliments him on his writing,” Somang had said on the boy’s behalf.

“He reads the most in our class.”

“I see.”

“Especially your books. He’s read every single one of them.”

“Well, I really appreciate that.”

“Shut up,” the boy had said in an attempt to stop Somang from talking. At that moment, as the tallest student raised her hand, Juho locked eyes with her. Juho had been aware that she had been staring at him for some time.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

After glancing over at their teacher, who had been sitting next to her, and Nabi, who had been sitting next to the young author, she had asked, “Are you mad at us?”

“What?”

“That we wrote that without your permission?”

Tilting his head, Juho had replied, “Not really.”

However, the student’s eyes had kept moving anxiously, observing Juho’s expression as if she still hadn’t been at ease.

“We just couldn’t let those people run their mouths when they don’t even know you,” she had explained, and Juho had nodded.

Encouraged by her friend speaking up her mind, Somang had also chimed in, “They’re always saying things that are far from the truth, and it drives me up the wall whenever I read what they have to say about you on the internet. They just keep insisting that they’re right when they’re not, so that’s why we… we did what we did: to show them who Yun Woo really is.”

Without saying a word, the teacher listened to them quietly. Then, Juho had asked them gently, “Did we meet back then?”

“… I’m sorry?”

“Because I don’t think I met you guys before today.”

At that, the three faces had turned bright red. They had wanted to help their favorite author. They had known that Yun Woo was a great person, and to them, that had been more than enough reason to write on the internet. However, at the young author’s question, their conviction had started to waver. They had started to question their intention for the first time. ‘Maybe what we did wasn’t all that different from the people we were writing against after all.’

“We… we still didn’t say anything bad about you,” the tallest student had said, feeling pricked in the heart.

Looking at her with a smile, Juho replied, “I know.”

If anything, Juho had wanted to ease their minds rather than compliment or criticize their efforts.

“I read the post. I told you.”

The boy’s head had dropped, and his hair had covered his eyes.

“What is it?” Juho had asked, wondering if he was crying. Thankfully, his voice hadn’t sounded all that emotional.

“I’m terribly embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why?”

“I’m unbearably embarrassed about my writing,” the boy had said confidently. Up to a moment before, he had acted with firm belief, as though he hadn’t regretted or questioned anything. However, things had taken a sudden turn. Although the boy had written for Yun Woo, believing that he had been helping his favorite writer, the young author hadn’t seemed delighted by his effort at all, which had made the boy wonder if he had been too proud in his decision to write about the author on the internet. Although the boy had believed that the author would compliment him, that hadn’t been further from the truth.

“I did something similar once,” Juho had said, and the boy had looked up slightly.

“… Really?”

“I completely rewrote an ending to a book once. It was when I was writing on stage. Oh! You know that I presented on stage before, right?”

“You’re talking about the presentation at the exhibition event, right? I really wanted to go.”

“Yeah! We spent hours in the computer room trying to get a ticket but no luck,” Somang had said, interjecting. Agreeing with the students, Juho had carried the conversation on. Then, as their embarrassment subsided, Somang had brought up a question that had come to her. She had started to understand that they were neither being complimented nor criticized for what they did.

“Why are we meeting today?”

Juho had looked toward Nabi, who had been talking to the teacher in the distance. The occasion had been arranged by her, who believed that it would be best for Juho to show some kind of response to the situation. Although there hadn’t really been a reason for Juho to meet with the students, the young author had chosen his words carefully. Then, shortly after, he had replied, “Because you guys wrote.”

After that, Juho and Nabi had taken everyone out to eat. Although the students had said that they would be more than happy with eating at a snack shop, the young author had insisted on taking them to a restaurant. In the end, they had all eaten to their hearts’ content.

“Mr. Woo?” Nabi called to Juho, who was reminiscing to the time when he met the three students.

“You talked to those students before we left, right? What did you talk about?”

Juho reminisced to their last moment:

“Thanks a lot.”

“We’re sorry.”

That had been it. Scratching his chin, Juho looked toward Nabi and replied, “We were just saying goodbye to each other.”

Then, with a curious look, she asked, “Even though there were a billion dollars involved?”

“Yep,” Juho replied, looking away from the online comments that had been printed out. The world grew silent the moment he turned his eyes away from them. While the young author stared out the window in a daze, Nabi spoke further. She seemed like she still had things to say.

“Well, we’re working on taking down false articles, so you can rest easy, Mr. Woo. Your publisher is also working hard to rectify the situation.”

“Right.”

“One more thing,” Nabi said, closing her laptop. Sitting up, Juho listened to her. “Remember the manuscript you submitted to Fernand not too long ago?”

“Ah, yes.”

Fernand had made an offer to the young author not too long after the Nebula Award ceremony…

“It was in English, I believe.”

… that the young author write a novel in English.

“I remember talking to the senior editor on the phone.”

At that moment, Juho’s phone started to vibrate on his desk, amplified by the rigid surface. As Nabi gave the young author a nod, Juho checked the screen on the device and said, “Well, speak of the devil.”

“Answer it.”

After clearing his throat, Juho answered the phone, and Nabi looked intently at him.

“Mr. Woo! We got the manuscript,” the voice in the receiver said. Juho was starting to get better acquainted with Adam’s voice. “I also heard the news. Very admirable, Mr. Woo.”

“Please,” Juho said, laughing.

Then, Adam’s voice took on a serious tone all of a sudden, “I can’t believe that you’re not from an English-speaking country.”

Hearing the senior editor’s voice gave Juho the illusion that he could smell the cologne that Adam was known to wear. There was an uncanny resemblance to his tone and the cologne that he wore.

“That’s good to hear.”

“This is gonna be a lot of fun,” Adam said, laughing. “It gave me a good idea of what it’s like to read your writing in its untranslated state,” he added. Then, in a low voice, he said, “It was entirely different from your stories I’ve read thus far.”

Leaning back on his chair’s backrest, Juho asked, “Well, which one do you prefer?”

“I like them equally as much, but… I’m gonna have to go with the current one,” the senior editor replied.

“Would you mind telling me why?”

“It feels more like Yun Woo.”

At that, Juho remained silent for a brief moment.

“Do you think I should’ve included writing in multiple styles?” Juho asked.

“That wouldn’t have been a bad idea. Though, it would’ve become incredibly experimental.”

“I could make the changes now if you want.”

“Maybe next time, Mr. Woo,” Adams said, naturally planning for the future. Juho played along. When the young author had first visited Adam at his office, Juho distinctly remembered the confidence exuded by the senior editor.

Upon meeting the young author, Adam had asked without hesitation, “Have you ever written in English, Mr. Woo?”

Since Juho had been preoccupied with identifying where the potent scent of cologne had been coming from, he had answered in a delayed response, “Not really, no.”

The herbal tea that had been brought out by the secretary had also had a strong scent, which had given Juho the impression that the senior editor preferred strong-scented things. Picking up the mug, Juho had inhaled deeply. There had still been a whiff of cologne in the air.

“Would you like to give it a try?”

Juho had looked up at Adam, who had proceeded to lock eyes with the young author and start to explain his plan for the project.

“If I were to put it in simple terms, I’d like to ask you to write a novel in English.”

“May I ask why?”

To which, the senior editor had replied in a calm tone of voice, “I want to read your book in its most unadulterated state, untranslated.”