Novelist Running Through Time

TL: KSD

「When you work as a special cleaner, you end up thinking a lot about the job. What exactly is a special cleaner? It’s someone who cleans special things. That something is people.

So if you clean trash, you’re a cleaner, and if you clean special trash, you’re a special cleaner. This leads to the conclusion that people are special trash.

You might wonder who twists words like this, but for me, it was an interesting dilemma.

The truth is, I graduated with a degree in philosophy.

Studying philosophy made me think a lot, and studying philosophy led me to become a special cleaner. After learning how to think, I ended up doing a job that requires a lot of thinking, so in a way, I’m utilizing my major.

To get back to the main point, my conclusion about the validity of the term ‘special cleaner’ is this:

People are indeed trash. But they’re not special.

In summary, it’s a common pessimism.

There’s no dignity in the corpse of someone who died alone in a single room. Similarly, there’s no dignity in the relatives who neglected him all his life and then barge into the deceased’s home looking for anything valuable.

Whether alive or dead, people are just trash. And it’s hard to say they’re ‘special’ trash distinguished from other trash.

Of course, in front of others, I speak humbly. I always say I work with respect for the deceased, carefully sending them off on their final journey.

But that’s just because society expects me to say so, not my true feelings. My humanity has worn out in the grueling work.

Maybe that’s why I can’t appear on TV. The biggest success for a special cleaner is to be on TV or write a book. Only then do people start to respect you.

So, I’ve also tried to appear on TV and write a book, but it didn’t go well. Perhaps the story of a liar is too obvious.

But around that time, a thought suddenly occurred to me – isn’t my behavior of going around lying and proclaiming ‘I respect the deceased’ actually a longing for dignity?

After saying humans have no dignity whether alive or dead and are just unremarkable trash, I’m going around lying to become dignified myself.

What a clownish act this was.

While being deeply troubled by such thoughts, I happened to read a book. I found it during my work.

It was the home of a young woman who had hanged herself at a young age. Strangely, this book was written in the form of a handwritten note.

It was placed in such a perfect spot in the middle of the room that I wondered if it was a suicide note, but the writer was a man, not the woman.

So why did this woman leave another person’s writing in front of her before she died?

I couldn’t resist my curiosity and turned to the first page…….」

EP 8 – Dark Adaptation

“Ah, is it a frame narrative?”

“Yes. It feels like looking at the protagonist’s life from an observer’s perspective.”

Park Chang-woon is considered by the academic community to be a being composed of sugar, spice, and everything nice, with a bamboo flute and a modernized hanbok.

However, perhaps as retribution for someone from the liberal arts using a scientific term like ‘the academic community’s consensus,’ Mother Nature decided to utterly destroy my common sense.

Just as countless physics students’ papers become kindling every time a particle accelerator runs, Park Chang-woon appeared wearing clothes other than a modernized hanbok.

And to my surprise, he looked quite dashing.

“A special cleaner… It’s a job that’s become quite famous these days. It’s often on TV. A lot of people know about it. Wasn’t there a drama about it recently?”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“It probably aired. Anyway, it feels interesting.”

The literary award ceremony where I met Park Chang-woon was held at the convention center of a hotel in downtown Seoul. The venue exuded a banquet hall vibe. It was a place that didn’t quite suit me.

Journalists, writers, high-ranking officials from literary magazines, and people who looked like senior media personnel were wandering around the banquet hall in splendid attire, but Park Chang-woon stood out among them.

This was because these distinguished people bowed their heads to him.

“Ah, Minister.”

“Oh? It’s been a while.”

“Haha, it’s been a long time since we last met. Minister, why haven’t you shown your face around?”

“Minister, my foot. I was dismissed after a week, so calling me Minister repeatedly is just bullying.”

Even while sitting and talking with Park Chang-woon, numerous people interrupted to show their faces to him.

The titles they used to address Park Chang-woon constantly reminded me that our school’s eccentric teacher had once been quite famous.

“Oh, is this person that…?”

“Hello.”

“Oh, you’re Author Moon In! Nice to meet you. You look really young in person!”

I couldn’t escape that influence either. It was karma for sitting next to Park Chang-woon.

Anyway, Park Chang-woon’s acquaintances generally followed a similar pattern: they eavesdropped on our conversation, waited for the right moment to interrupt, greeted Park Chang-woon, and then, pretending to only just realize who I was, acted surprised and introduced themselves to me.

Once I got used to this, I developed a knack for slowing down the pace of my conversation with Park Chang-woon whenever someone suspiciously lingered nearby, making it easier for them to join in.

When I mentioned this, Park Chang-woon burst out laughing.

“Hahaha! Were you actually paying attention to that?”

“It just seemed interesting.”

“Well, such small observations are indeed a novelist’s virtue. You’ve got a good eye for people.”

Park Chang-woon continued after sipping some high-quality mineral water that a hotel staff member had just poured into his wine glass.

“Still, all this nonsense is a form of etiquette, isn’t it? What do people usually say about educated and wealthy individuals? They have manners, don’t they? By behaving according to the set framework, others can predict their next actions, and that’s all connected to etiquette.”

“Ah…”

I didn’t bother to point out that the ‘common sense’ Park Chang-woon was talking about was not the same as ‘manner’ but rather ‘decency’. People make verbal mistakes sometimes.

Instead, I scanned the hotel convention center with my eyes. The chandeliers and crystals glittering all around made it dazzling just to stand there.

In fact, literary award ceremonies aren’t usually held in hotels.

They are often held in upscale restaurants like Korean traditional dining houses, or at the headquarters of media companies. These venues are generally smaller than hotels.

Of course, abroad, literary award ceremonies are quite grand. It’s not just because they have more money. There needs to be physical space to accommodate the numerous reporters and audience members attending.

But in Korea, there are neither many attendees nor many reporters, and certainly not much money.

Therefore, literary award ceremonies are often held in cozy yet dignified restaurants or at the headquarters of media companies to promote their sponsorship of the awards.

So, the fact that this grand literary award ceremony was being held in a hotel implied one thing: this event was attracting media attention, an audience, and money.

Because of Gu Yubin.

“Oh my, Yubin, it’s been so-o long…”

“Ah! Hello, Author Jung!”

“I saw you when you were just a child, and now you’ve grown up. Truly…”

Gu Yubin was already surrounded by people. Writers, journalists, and publishers alike swarmed around her like bees.

That was because Gu Yubin was expected to win the grand prize at this award ceremony.

I had already been briefed on the political context surrounding the ceremony by Lim Yang-wook.

Gu Yubin, a rising star who appeared like a comet to the literary magazine suffering from the question, ‘Why don’t they give the award to Moon In?’ provided a convenient excuse.

An excuse to maintain the prestige of the literary award while avoiding the criticism from readers for not awarding the whistleblower who exposed the debut fee practice…

Well.

That was the adult backstory.

So, although it was an event I didn’t really need to attend, there was a sincere request for my presence.

It was none other than a request from Seo Woon-pil, the Dark Lord of the Korean literary world.

It wasn’t a direct request; it was a highly political solicitation.

Seo Woon-pil, who embodies the consensus of the literary magazine industry, met Lim Yang-wook through Gu Hak-jun over a meal, and there he made his move through all sorts of metaphors and implications.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to deal with that dreadful task, and Lim Yang-wook, who suffered in my place, gave me a brief summary…

If I just say, ‘We didn’t fight’ at this literary award ceremony, the karma from exposing the debut fee practice would be completely cleared.

In other words, they wanted to preemptively block the inevitable criticism of ‘Why didn’t Moon In get the award?’ when Gu Yubin won the literary award.

That was why I was playing the unexpected role of a guest attendee.

Of course, I had already given up on literary awards. Once, I was obsessed with winning trophies, but now I was devoted to literature itself.

However, I thought Lim Yang-wook couldn’t ignore the literary magazine industry. While I could just brush it off, Lim Yang-wook would suffer continuous retaliation.

So, thinking of it as saving a person, I dragged my tired body out here, but an unexpected incident occurred.

It wasn’t that the literary magazine side was trying to screw me over. Since we had talked beforehand, they approached me with embarrassed smiles.

They had the professional attitude of giving what they should and taking what they could. They probably also intended to make some money off of me.

Though their intentions were obvious, I didn’t particularly feel unpleasant. After all, Gu Yubin wasn’t getting the award for free; she deserved it.

To be honest, if it were someone else, I might have felt a bit bitter.

That feeling of ‘bitterness’ was the starting point of the incident.

While setting aside the award ceremony and chatting leisurely with Park Chang-woon, someone approached and joined our conversation.

“But why did you use a frame narrative?”

“Since the novel’s theme is quite dark, I thought it might be too exhausting for readers. So, I tried to create some narrative distance.”

“Wow, you write novels more methodically than I thought?”

“Actually, it also has a bit of homage to No Longer Human…”

“Do you like Osamu Dazai?”

The owner of the unfamiliar voice was another candidate at the ceremony.

In other words, like me, a novelist destined to be overshadowed by Gu Yubin.

The smiling novelist asked for permission after joining us.

“Oh, Writer Park Chang-woon. May I sit at this table?”

“Do as you please. I’m not the owner of this place…”

“Thank you.”

Without any self-introduction, the conversation continued straight away.

“Honestly, I don’t understand what’s so great about Osamu Dazai’s novels. Especially ‘No Longer Human’, which college kids always say is their favorite… It’s so strange.”

“……”

“It feels like people who try to imitate popular characters from dramas. Everyone seems to relate themselves to Osamu Dazai too much. Haha.”

The criticism of Osamu Dazai continued after that.

Somehow, I felt that this was a criticism of my attempt to pay homage to ‘No Longer Human’.

But as someone who had developed a certain degree of paranoia from a troubled childhood, I tried to continue the conversation cautiously to avoid bearing a grudge against an innocent person.

And it gradually became clear that it was not a misunderstanding.

The distorted psychology directed at me became more and more apparent.

“By the way, I guess Gu Yubin will win the grand prize, right? It seems everything was settled before the ceremony. Well, it’s easier for them too. She’s pretty, popular, and easy to sell…”

“……”

“It can’t be helped, I suppose. People making money off novels have to allocate resources to the well-selling ones. This time, that was Gu Yubin, and well…”

Though he spoke vaguely, he implied that Gu Yubin was winning the award for her looks and popularity.

And that was also directed at me.

Whenever I criticized myself or others criticized me, it was always said that I gained the image of a genius boy because of my age.

And this became even clearer with his subsequent meaningful words.

“It’s good to be young, isn’t it?”

“Hmm…”

As I reflected back, the most crucial realization I had was that selfhood was more important than worldly matters.

Things that exist outside of ‘me’ are illusions that can disappear at any time, and in the unknown world, the only certainty is myself.

This aligns with why I don’t accumulate wealth.

And it also means that I don’t have to be bound by social reputation.

So I didn’t hold back.

“I think I became famous because I write better than you.”

“…What?”

One surprising, or perhaps inevitable thing was that Park Chang-woon didn’t hold back either.

“Fucking bastard, have you gone crazy….?”

*****

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