The Great Storyteller-Chapter 345 - The Glory of Traitor (5)

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

“Susan.”

“Welcome! You look well. You’ve grown a lot in the last two years,” Susan said, greeting the young author from the living room. Much like the villa, she had hardly changed. Seeing as though there was a tea set on the table, she had to have been drinking tea up up to the moment that Juho showed up.

“I apologize for coming so suddenly.”

“There’s no need to walk on eggshells around me. Make yourself at home. There are plenty of rooms, so feel free to pick one,” she said, pointing toward upstairs with her chin just like Coin did. Juho went upstairs with his belongings. Walking past the door to Coin’s room, which was tightly shut, Juho went into the same room in which he had stayed during his last visit.

“Come in once you’re done unpacking,” Coin said, pointing to his room and going into it without even waiting for the young author’s answer.

“You could at least give me time to hydrate myself,” Juho murmured.

“This room looks just like it did last time too,” Juho said. When he went into Coin’s room with a glass of water in his hand, he was greeted by the familiar interior. Looking around unhurriedly, Juho spotted the things that had changed since then.

“Got yourself a new chair, I see?” Juho asked, pointing at the chair Coin was sitting on. It seemed different from the one Juho remembered. Coin looked like he couldn’t remember when he had bought the chair, but he patted it and said, “It broke, so I got a new one.”

“How did that happen?”

“You really wanna know?”

After staring at a dent on the wall for a brief moment, Juho shook his head and said, “I think I’ll manage.”

The young author started to make sense of how many nights Coin had stayed up writing. At that moment, a phone started ringing. However, it didn’t sound like Juho’s. Glancing at his phone on the desk, Coin tapped the decline button on the screen.

“Who was that?”

“Jenkins.”

“That was cold,” Juho said. Then, his own phone started vibrating in his pocket. By that point, it was obvious who was calling. In the end, Juho answered the phone, and Jenkins asked about the young author’s current situation in his usual, unhurried cadence, adding that he still couldn’t get a hold of Coin.

“Why do you think he’s avoiding me?”

“Who knows?” Juho said, glancing over at Coin. At that, Coin narrowed his eyes and reached his hand to Juho, gesturing for his phone.

“Here’s Coin,” Juho said, handing the phone over to the author, who proceeded to hang up upon taking the phone from the young author’s hand. Then, he tossed it over to Juho, who barely managed to catch it.

“You gotta be gentle with these things. They’re not cheap, you know,” Juho said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“What? You’re loaded. Besides, you don’t think I can afford to get you a new one?”

“All I’m saying is that we should take good care of our things,” Juho said, looking intently at the cracked screen of Coin’s phone. Of course, Coin ignored him blatantly. Then, Juho redirected his attention to the books on the shelves, which he didn’t recognize aside from the names Cain and Abel.

“If those two were to meet Violinist…” Juho said to himself, thinking, ‘What would happen?’ Then, as Coin raised his eyebrows, the door opened nearly at the same time.

“You guys hungry?”

It was Susan. Before Coin and Juho even had time to respond, she said, “I am. Should I start cooking?”

Rising from his seat, Juho replied, “Sure. What can I do to help?”

“You like fish, right?”

Remembering the dish she had made him during his last visit, Juho nodded.

“Well, come on down, you two,” she said, turning back and heading downstairs without delay. Juho followed. His eyes darting back and forth between where his mother had been standing and where Juho had been sitting, Coin, too, rose from his seat.

“I am stuffed,” Juho said, looking up at the night sky. The place tended to get noticeably colder after sundown. There was a unique taste to Susan’s cooking, which was quite pleasant. As a means of getting some exercise, Juho walked around the villa in a big circle. Standing conspicuously in the middle of a cornfield, Coin’s villa looked quite different at night. Looking at the dusky surroundings, Juho replayed the conversation he had had with Coin earlier that day.

“Cain and Abel.”

The very first recorded murder in human history had occurred between the two brothers in the Bible. While God had rejected Cain’s offering, He had accepted Abel’s offering, which stirred up Cain’s jealousy toward his younger brother. Picturing their lives before the relationship between the two brothers had turned sour, Coin had added his own imagination to the widely-known story. The result was one that took place in a distant future, when and where a new type of human, including the two brothers from the original story. Coin had emphasized the aspect of offerings in his new novel. While the older sibling had been a farmer, the younger had been a shepherd. Although their occupations had differed, they had both worshipped the same deity.

The two brothers had always worn the same clothes, woken up at the same time, bathed themselves at the same place, and made offerings, which signified their identity, to their deity at the same time. Although the two brothers had been quite close to each other, the reality was that they hadn’t been able to unite since the god they worshipped didn’t love them equally.

The two had never fought or harbored resentment toward each other from the day they had been born. They had grown up seeing only the most beautiful things while doing only what they were supposed to do. It had been a peaceful life. Coin pinpointed the reasons behind their peaceful lives one by one, without which, the brothers started to change slowly.

Juho wondered how the story might have changed if God had been a vegetarian. Would the other sibling be the one to commit the murder? Would there have been a murder at all? In that case, humanity would have never grasped the idea of war, massacre, or death.

“In some ways, my novel seems more like it takes place in the future.”

The very first murder in the history of mankind followed by a war. Did peace come first, or conflict? It was quite confusing. Coin’s distinct style of writing had been an integral part of the novel. Unlike his wild, atrocious personality, his writing couldn’t be more gentle and beautiful. Juho thought of the blue flame, where, in the novel, the offerings were made.

Then, he started running in place. Although everything shook, he reminded himself that Coin wasn’t too far off.

“Violinist,” Juho said, calling out for the protagonist of his novel. How would he react if he were to see the peaceful world with his own eyes? How would he come across in a world where people didn’t have the concept of murder? Would Violinist leave them in their blissful ignorance, or would he go out his way to teach them? How would characters that live in completely different worlds interact with each other upon meeting?

“Maybe I should try bringing them together,” Juho said, closing his eyes. About five minutes later, Coin came out of the house looking for Juho. Then, upon finding him by the house, Coin leaned against the doorframe and stared intently at the back of the young author’s head. Although it was quite obvious that Coin was behind him, Juho didn’t move a muscle. In the end, with a cup of coffee in his hand, he called out to the young author, “Hey.”

There was no response. Disgruntled, Coin walked over to Juho and called out to him again, “Hey,” raising his eyebrows. When Juho locked eyes with him, Coin had rather unpleasant look on his face.

“Are you tryin’ to pick a fight?”

“… A fight? Who is?” Juho asked, blinking awkwardly.

At which point, the disgruntled look disappeared from Coin’s face. Then, furrowing his brow, Coin asked, “What’s with that look?”

“I saw something unpleasant,” Juho replied with a delayed response.

“You saw what? It’s dark out,” Coin said, looking around, and Juho took the opportunity to catch his breath in order to calm himself down.

“I think it’s better to keep them separate.”

“Keep what separate?”

“Everything.”

In the end, the three characters had been ruined beyond recovery when they came together. Then, bending at the knee, Juho squatted in his place. Coin followed the young author’s movements with his eyes.

“Did you go for a run?”

“I ran in place if that counts.”

“At this hour?”

“For digestion.”

At that, Coin drank his coffee, slurping loudly on purpose. At which, Juho shook his head in disapproval.

“So, I did some thinking.”

“About?”

“Your book.”

“Was it nerve-racking?”

Without giving him an answer, Coin chewed on chunks of ice. Unlike his usual preference, he seemed to be drinking iced coffee.

“I hate to admit, but it’s a draw.”

At that, Juho couldn’t help but laugh. Although he had wanted to win, a draw meant that he hadn’t won. However, the news didn’t come with discouragement. Coin was quite the formidable opponent, and he probably thought similarly of the young author. At the moment, a draw was the fairer assessment.

“A draw against the eccentric problem child of the industry? That’s an honor. You might have a reputation, but you are one of the most representative authors this country has to offer,” Juho said, reminiscing to the time when he hadn’t even been able to afford a book. Everything about Coin’s achievements, including his awards and recognition, was impressive. Coin had been at the top even up until the moment of Juho’s death. Though, he had often been in the spotlight for his demeanor instead of his books.

“Why don’t you say what you mean?” Coin said, calling the young author out as if already aware of Juho’s intention.

“You’re already thinking about your next book,” Coin added, accurately pointing out Juho’s thoughts. However, the clues were quite obvious.

“You’re the same way, aren’t you?” Juho asked. Coin had always maintained his position in the literary world. He had never grown weary as an author.

“Guess there’s no hiding it. Though, I have this lame and boring event coming up.”

“Good luck with that.”

“The worst is yet to come. You just wait.”

“I guess that’s true. I do have to start showing my face around,” Juho said, stretching his neck from side to side. The thought of it alone was exhausting. Then, as Juho looked into the dark inadvertently, he saw something completely unexpected,

“What’s that?” Juho said, referring to a pair of lights approaching them.

“There are cars around here at this hour?” Coin added, furrowing his brow and glaring at the headlights. The car was rushing toward them at a frightening speed.

“Are you expecting another guest?”

“No.”

“A reporter, maybe?”

“Were you telling people where you were going before coming here?”

“No way.”

As the car approached, Juho heard what sounded like a funeral march played on a violin. It was gloomy. ‘Maybe it’s a hearse?’ Juho thought to himself, rising from the ground as the plate of the car became visible. Then, as the car came to a halt in front of them, the door opened from the driver’s side. While Juho took a step back, Coin walked toward the car, which Juho remembered seeing somewhere.

“Ta-da!”

“I knew it.”

It was Jenkins. The genius Hollywood director was visiting Coin at his residence. Upon recognizing the director’s face, Coin stopped in his tracks. Coming forth toward the author, Jenkins said, “I’m here!” as if he had been invited. Wondering if Coin had talked to Jenkins on the phone while he had been outside, Juho glanced over at Coin. At which point, it became obvious that they hadn’t talked to each other. Similarly to the time when he had visited the young author at his hotel room, Jenkins charged toward Juho.

“Been a while, Mr. Woo! Guess what I brought! A sixty-six-year-old wine!”

Fully aware that Jenkins was behaving that way on purpose, Juho said, “Our host doesn’t drink, remember?”

“Ah! Right. Well, more for me!”

Juho chuckled at the director’s nonchalant attitude.

“By the way, I was very moved by your new book. I came running here as soon as I finished reading it. I loved it so much! Oh! How was my movie? It was unbelievable, wasn’t it?” Jenkins asked, looking all over the house. He was bouncing off the walls.

“So, this is the Villa! It’s kind of hard to see it at night, though. You see, I was very excited to see the cornfield, but it was too late by the time I got here. Such a bummer. I had some business to attend to, so I couldn’t leave any earlier. Man! Am I BEAT! All these hours behind the wheel… Let’s go inside, shall we?”

‘How did he even get here? What was he thinking coming here? Why is he here?’ Juho thought, smacking his lips at the thoughts rushing into his mind all at once. However, unlike Juho, Coin was much more emphatic.

“GET! LOST!” Coin said, turning around without hesitation, going inside and slamming the door.

“Wha-? Seriously? He’s kidding, right? Is this about the wine? I brought other gifts too.”

The door remained tightly shut.

“I don’t know if that door’s gonna open anytime soon,” Juho said, and Jenkins scratched his head, feeling slightly awkward.

“Well, this is not what I had in mind.”

He kept blabbering until Susan came outside. In the end, he took a room next to Juho’s.