Novelist Running Through Time-Chapter 174

TL: KSD

Gu Yu-na’s interview was a success.

She had successfully thrown a barrel of oil onto a burning house.

The scale of interest pouring onto Gu Yu-na was incomparable to before the interview.

Whether positive or negative, it grew exponentially without discrimination.

Fortunately, public opinion leaned more toward the positive, but that was that, and this was this.

A mistake was still a mistake.

“I sincerely apologize!”

That was why Rachel Surface clasped her hands together politely, tightly shut her eyes, and bowed in apology.

Naturally, the recipient of this apology was none other than Michael Collins, the CEO of Collins Press, who had now earned the title of “one who engages in vulgar noise marketing.”

He smiled as if to say he was really fine with it, but anyone could tell he was not fine.

“Hmm, it’s okay. It’s fine.”

It was not okay.

“But… couldn’t the content have been edited? It was a pre-recorded broadcast, wasn’t it?”

The unspoken words, “If it was pre-recorded, you should’ve edited it properly, you bastard,” were almost tangible just by looking at how Michael Collins clenched his teeth.

Rachel Surface trembled as she answered.

“W-well, that’s because Mr. Schneider got involved in the editing…”

Michael Collins smacked his forehead.

“Ah- I see? Then it couldn’t be helped. Who in this industry could possibly go against Mr. Schneider?”

If Rachel Surface had been Korean, she would have showcased an impressive spinal technique by bowing her head twice per second to physically express her immense regret.

But she was a cold-hearted American more familiar with lawsuits than apologies, so she had no proper way to convey the overwhelming remorse flooding out of her.

So, her hands politely folded at her navel, then flailed in the air as if trying to justify her mistake, and eventually, they covered her face like a mask.

Rachel Surface hid her face in her hands.

Sitting like that, her own situation felt so miserable that she suddenly got choked up.

Sniff-

It was a small sound, but in the quiet office, it was loud and clear.

“A-are you crying…?”

Michael Collins felt his heart drop. Normally, if a subordinate messed up and then whined about it, he should have been furious, but for some reason, his heart was sinking instead.

Fortunately, Rachel Surface wasn’t the type to break down so easily.

She quickly pulled herself together, lowered her hands from her face, and returned to being a professional editor.

She then gave the ultimate apology one could offer in American society, something equivalent to a dogeza in Japan.

“I will take full responsibility.”

In East Asian cultures, people would often lower their heads and beg for leniency, trusting that others would show some mercy out of face-saving considerations.

But in the cold, pragmatic world of the West, where efficiency and rationality reigned, that kind of implicit understanding didn’t exist.

In such a pragmatic world, the greatest apology was taking concrete action to fix the problem.

So, Rachel Surface resolved to burn herself in atonement.

“I will do my best to clean up this mess, and then I will take responsibility and step down-”

“That’s enough.”

Michael Collins cut her off.

Out of a sense of loyalty to a capable employee, he decided to be especially generous this time.

“Let’s stop talking about this. It’s not like the results were all bad, right? I don’t really get it, but young people these days love this kind of thing, don’t they? Like Greta Thunberg… those cheeky little girls.”

“……”

“Anyway, I’m not here to discuss politics with my employees. The interview did produce some positive outcomes, so there’s no need to be so discouraged.”

That was true. Gu Yu-na’s shocking interview had gained cult-like popularity among young people who worshiped shock value. America had always loved things like this.

But that was Gu Yu-na’s benefit, not Collins Press’ gain. Strictly speaking, Michael Collins’ argument was incorrect.

However, logic wasn’t the priority right now. Acting indifferent and saying whatever came to mind, Michael Collins pardoned Rachel Surface’s mistake.

“So, you can leave now. Just be more careful next time.”

“…! Understood!”

As soon as Rachel Surface left the CEO’s office, both she and Michael Collins let out deep sighs of relief, simultaneously.

EP 10 – Starry Sky

「…The long journey across the starry sky has come to an end.」

The long journey across a strange land where literature had vanished, leaving only capital to rule, had also come to an end.

Gu Yu-na sat by the familiar clubroom window and closed the final page of ‘A Starry Sky’.

A cool autumn breeze slipped through the slightly open window.

It was a signal that the intense summer, which had begun with that school trip, had finally ended.

Her dry, emotionless eyes turned toward the vast autumn sky.

“…It’s clear.”

But the girl’s heart was not. Gu Yu-na’s gaze returned to the book.

The cover of ‘A Starry Sky’ was dressed to impress. White starlight stretched across the black sky. The title, written in refined Hangul, was so elegant that it could be considered a work of art in itself.

But that, too, was mere vanity. Gu Yu-na did not see the beauty of minimalism in the cover, instead, she saw flattery, designed to ensure that those who purchased the book felt satisfied.

Utterly vulgar.

The book band wrapped around the cover was proof of that.

Publishers generally avoided placing “worldly” phrases directly on the cover. The cover pretended to be noble, like a Confucian scholar reciting poetic verses while secretly accepting bribes.

The dirty work was left to the book band. That disposable strip of paper, which could be peeled off and discarded at any time, was covered in all sorts of chatter.

How many copies had been sold, how many countries had published it, how many awards it had won, how many media appearances it had made, how many, how many, and how many more…

The usual phrases like “A sensational bestseller” were printed on that book band.

And throughout the summer, the book band of ‘A Starry Sky’ had been changed dozens of times.

To captivate those obsessed with rankings, the publisher replaced the book band with every slightly better statistic that emerged.

And now that the promotional campaign for ‘A Starry Sky’ had finally concluded, the book band bore the most glorious achievement it had recorded.

Hugo Award.

The award often referred to as the “Nobel Prize of Science Fiction” was the greatest feat ‘A Starry Sky’ had achieved.

“Haa…”

Gu Yu-na was not an ordinary person, but she was an ordinary aspiring novelist.

So, like any other aspiring novelist, she had once fantasized about her own novel sweeping through the world’s most prestigious literary awards.

And the Hugo Award was exactly that kind of prestigious literary award.

It was the most renowned, most authoritative, and most honorable prize that science fiction literature could receive. No one could dispute that.

But Gu Yu-na wanted to dispute it.

This was not her award. It wasn’t Moon In’s award, either.

This Hugo Award belonged to Lim Yang-wook.

“……”

Everyone was applauding Gu Yu-na and Moon In’s literary achievements, but Gu Yu-na had witnessed Lim Yang-wook’s business strategy from beginning to end.

And with her keen intellect, she could see through the truth behind Editor Lim Yang-wook’s actions.

In her view, Lim Yang-wook had aimed for the Hugo Award from the very beginning.

The controversial noise marketing, the mass-friendly approach through social media, the deliberate emphasis on the fact that the author was East Asian, everything had been calculated for the Hugo Award.

Because the Hugo Award is determined by votes.

‘A Starry Sky’ had been selected as the Best Novel at the World Science Fiction Convention, Worldcon.

Everyone hailed it as a historic triumph, but Gu Yu-na thought it would be strange if she hadn’t won the award.

Not because the novel was particularly outstanding.

The election had been decided before it even began.

The Hugo Award was famous for being chosen not by industry experts whispering in secret, but by votes from science fiction fans around the world.

But those “science fiction fans around the world” were none other than paid members of Worldcon, who had joined by paying a membership fee.

Their numbers amounted to only a few thousand, and even fewer actually participated in the voting.

And the majority of them were American.

For the past decade, they had shown a tendency to vote for Asian science fiction writers, holding a deep pride in SF as a niche literary genre.

There was no reason for them not to cast their votes for an Asian SF girl who had set American mainstream culture ablaze.

Especially when that picky yet charming girl had spent the past few months touring every YouTube channel, radio station, TV program, political charity event, and book launch, carrying out what was essentially-

<Election campaign>

That’s right. Every step Gu Yu-na took had been a election campaign.

The meticulously structured schedule crafted by Lim Yang-wook was never just a simple promotional tour.

There was a clear political agenda behind it. And that agenda was the Hugo Award.

The Hugo Award win for ‘A Starry Sky’ functioned like a carefully placed piece in a grand scheme.

A novel that was famous for being famous carried an unfounded sense of authority, which invited heavy criticism.

But the Hugo Award completed the puzzle. With its endorsement, ‘A Starry Sky’ became a perfect myth.

Simon Publisher, realizing too late that they had walked into a trap, lashed out, accusing Collins Press of stealing the Hugo Award through underhanded means. But their words fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the smear campaign they had already been waging for months.

The public had long since grown tired of negativity.

Had Simon Publisher launched their attacks just a few months later, this year’s Hugo Award might have been recorded as a failure of democracy. But their criticisms were dismissed as the usual whining of sore losers.

The fight had always been for entertainment, and the moment the public decided that Gu Yu-na winning the Hugo Award made for a more entertaining story, the battle was over.

Simon Publisher became the Dark Lord, Gu Yu-na became the hero who defeated the villain and secured a happy ending, and the public, satisfied with the story they had orchestrated, moved on in search of their next target to vilify.

On the surface, it seemed like a grand tale. But in reality, it was utterly devoid of romance.

And so, Gu Yu-na felt no romance in this Hugo Award either.

The dreams of childhood had vanished the moment she stepped into the shallow, wretched world of publishing.

A world without art was bleak beyond words.

Did Moon In see the world this way as well? That, she did not know.

But there was one thing she did know.

Gu Yu-na would not succumb to this vulgarity.

“Yu-na, what are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“How many times are you going to read your own book?”

“Because I like it.”

Postmodernism dismantled all cultural authority. The cry of how all those supposedly great, rational, reasonable, and intelligent people could kill so many through war changed everything.

And so, people labeled Gu Yu-na as the vanguard of postmodernism.

In the apocalypse of modernism, a ruin brought forth by so-called rational thought, ‘A Starry Sky’ was said to depict an image of humanity embracing one another with irrational warmth.

The critics proclaimed:

Ah! How beautiful were the lives of the old poets, wanderers, and drifters who roamed the world beneath the starry sky!

Bullshit.

Gu Yu-na had not written ‘A Starry Sky’ as some artistic statement on modernism or postmodernism, or any other convoluted Western artistic movement.

She had simply wanted to help someone.

Gu Yu-na was defective.

From the moment she was born, she was flawed. A broken, abnormal being. A piece of human garbage who would pour boiling water on her sister just for playing a prank. A reject, a freak, a psychopath.

Even her own mother had trembled and wept, telling her, You don’t belong in a school. You should be in a mental hospital.

And in that moment, as she wondered, What exactly did I do wrong? she realized something was truly wrong with her.

No, Yu-na.

You can learn. If there’s something you don’t know, you can learn…

So let’s not give up, okay?

But Gu Hak-jun believed she could become perfect.

The greatest novelist in the world had believed in her.

And so, Gu Yu-na began to learn literature. She walked the path to abandon her flawed self and become a more perfect person.

But one day, she met a strange boy.

That boy saw her for who she was.

You’re a talented novelist.

Others called them flaws, but to him, they were her greatest strengths.

Yu-na doesn’t know how to express herself well, that’s all. But she has such a warm heart.

How beautiful it is to meet a friend who sees you as you are and embraces even your imperfections.

Gu Yu-na learned the warmth of being fully accepted, flaws and all.

Of course, just because Moon In was indulgent didn’t mean her flaws would disappear. She knew that.

Gu Yu-na was a person with defects, and those defects had the potential to hurt others.

So, like cutting off a part of her body, she would have to carve away at her heart one day.

But giving back even a little of the warmth she had received—surely, that wasn’t too greedy of a wish.

“Hey, Yu-na.”

“What.”

The two of them sat side by side in the clubroom, reading a book together. It was the book they had written together.

The boy nudged the book toward the girl.

Then, he pointed to a passage in the novel.

“There’s this part where the boy speaks to the android, ‘Nine’…”

“Yeah.”

“Did you write that for me?”

An android gazed into the vastness of space. A universe filled with darkness, madness, and uncertainty. The android girl trembled in fear.

To her, the boy said:

「So, Nine. I hope you won’t be too afraid of the unknown. It’s a world full of starlight. It’s so beautiful…」

「……」

「You won’t know until you open every door. Whether good things await, or bad ones. And even if something bad happens, we can cry together, laugh together. At least you’re not making this journey alone, right?」

Gu Yu-na felt a quiet euphoria rising within her. That was the correct answer.

Countless critics had flailed around, attaching all sorts of meanings to the novel. They were all wrong.

The idea that interpretation is the reader’s freedom did not apply to a tyrant like Gu Yu-na.

Every character, every plotline, she had manipulated them all with precision, all in pursuit of a single purpose.

And that purpose was. freewēbnoveℓ.com

To offer a single word of comfort to a boy who had resigned himself to this world of darkness, to remind him that darkness was not the only thing that existed here.

Thus, ‘A Starry Sky’ was a long rebuttal against ‘dark adaptation’.

Ah, the roundabout journey she had taken just to deliver those few words.

And it was all because of this oblivious boy who was so slow to catch on.

So, Gu Yu-na smiled and teased him.

“Did you finally get it?”

* * *

「It was a war against ignorance. It was a war against intolerance. It was a war against a world filled with infinite darkness.

Science tells us that the universe is made of darkness, and that darkness is boundless.

But the boy saw stars in that darkness.

Even if that starlight was nothing more than the dying gasp of a star that perished billions of years ago, it still carried a glimmer of hope.

Thus, that starlight was born from the heart—not a truth that demands survival through conquest, but a faint belief that if one reaches out a hand, someone might take it.

Wanderers relied on that starlight as they traversed the cold, infinite void.

And at the end of that journey, the travelers finally gathered by the window, each of them crying, laughing, embracing, cheering, giving thanks, praying, dancing, and singing.

The answer they had sought was clear, even from the empty bridge of their ship. The boy chasing stars and the android girl gazed upon the answer before them.

A vast green planet, covered in lush, vibrant vegetation, spoke to them.

The long journey across the starry sky has come to an end.」

* * *

“Ah- this doesn’t sit right with me….”

“What doesn’t?”

Moon In grumbled until the very end.

“Wouldn’t it have been a better ending if it wasn’t the main characters, but their descendants who reached the sanctuary? Logically speaking, there’s no way they could have crossed that vast distance within a human lifespan. And a slightly bittersweet element lingers in the readers’ memories longer than a perfect happy ending….”

“……”

“Or what if the boy died of old age, and only the android girl made it to the sanctuary…?”

Gu Yu-na poked Moon In’s side with the book.

“This isn’t that kind of novel.”

“Then what kind of novel is it?”

Gu Yu-na thought carefully. She closed her eyes, leaned against the window, and chose her words with the utmost deliberation.

“It’s a fairy tale. A fairy tale for those who haven’t become whole yet… That’s why it has to end with a happy ending.”

The autumn breeze slipped gently through the slightly open window. Leaning against the clubroom window, Gu Yu-na’s hair swayed softly in the wind.

Moon In watched her and let out a quiet laugh.

Then, he nodded.

“I see….”

His gaze returned to the book, while Gu Yu-na kept her eyes closed, staring into the void. Their eyes never met, but their conversation continued.

“Moon In-seop.”

“What.”

“Did you have fun writing this book?”

“Yeah.”

“Much more than Dark Adaptation?”

“Much more.”

“Do you think you can continue to write happily in the future?”

“Yeah. Thanks to you.”

“Then that’s enough.”

Gu Yu-na smiled faintly. Mission accomplished.

To tell a boy who saw the world as darkness that there was starlight even in that darkness.

To let him know that starlight carried warmth, born from the heart.

That was the sole reason ‘A Starry Sky’ had come into existence.

And now that it had succeeded, even the stains left on her heart by the vulgarity of the publishing world in America seemed to be washing away.

In the end, she had managed to return a little of the warmth she had received from Moon In.

Somehow, she felt… more human.

She was getting closer to perfection.

But…

Just a little more.

Just a tiny bit more…

She decided to be greedy. Or maybe, just a little brave.

In a quiet clubroom with just the two of them.

A gentle autumn breeze slipping through the window.

The soft rustling of pages as the boy turned them.

Leaning against the window, eyes closed, Gu Yu-na spoke.

“…Do you want to go out with me?”

She did it.

The moment the words left her lips, she felt the pounding of her heart, ready to burst.

She opened her eyes.

And looked at the boy.

His expression had changed.

Not red.

White.

As if he had come face to face with his greatest fear.

Terrified.

“…No.”

Gu Yu-na wasn’t someone who let emotions control her.

She asked a question, and she received an answer.

Now, it was time to accept it.

“…I see.”

Gu Yu-na quietly rose from her seat.

“It’s not possible…”

And then, she left.

In the classroom the girl left, the boy remained alone.

The boy, trapped in a maze of time, murmured in terror.

“No…”

*****

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