Not Much Time Left
“….”
Hyung and I both fell silent at the same moment.
The shock from the data sheet Representative Kang Suk-woo had pushed across the table hadn’t even begun to fade when he opened his mouth again.
“Author. I’ll be honest with you. From what I’ve analyzed….”
He paused for a beat, then fixed me with a gaze full of absolute conviction.
“I can feel the aura of a masterpiece in this work.”
“A masterpiece?”
“Yes. As you know, the web novel market these days isn’t what it used to be. It doesn’t end with just the text. When one IP blows up, it spreads into webtoons, animation, drama, games… it reaches the entire world. Just like works such as I Alone Level Up.”
Heat rose in his voice.
“I believe The Regressed Hunter is Merciless holds that kind of potential. The protagonist’s character, the expandability of the world-building, and above all, the perfect catharsis points that make readers go wild.”
I swallowed hard.
It wasn’t empty flattery. His eyes glittered like a miner who had just struck a genuine vein of ore.
And yet.
“But I don’t want you to sign with me right away.”
“…What?”
Hyung and I echoed the same stunned question.
Wasn’t this the moment he was supposed to shove a contract under our noses and pressure us to stamp it?
“Meeting the author who wrote this work in person has only strengthened my conviction. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say anything disappointing or unpleasant to you. I’ve already become a fan who’s completely obsessed with this story.”
Representative Kang gave a bitter smile.
“That could become poison. Management sometimes has to give realistic advice and hard truths… but if I only say nice things out of fan feeling, you might end up dissatisfied with the practical side later.”
He stood, pulled out another business card, and laid it on the table.
“I’m sure other management companies have contacted you a lot already. Meet them too. Whether they’re big or mid-sized, listen for yourself to what conditions they offer and what vision they present.”
“…”
“After you’ve met them all, if you still feel like working with me… contact me then.”
He bowed his head.
“When that time comes, I will stake everything I have to create an environment where you can focus solely on writing. I promise.”
Earnest, yet unshakably confident.
It was a vibe that could only come from someone who possessed absolute faith and passion for his work.
He left the café without looking back.
As if he already knew we would definitely return.
On the way home.
I sat in the passenger seat of hyung’s car, staring blankly out the window.
My head was a mess.
A million won a day. IP expansion. The global market.
The wild fantasy that had started in the corner of my room had swollen into something almost too massive to handle.
“Insane….”
Hyung muttered as he gripped the wheel.
“A million won a day. Well, for a work of that caliber, it’s deserved. And your quality just keeps climbing.”
Excitement colored his voice too.
I glanced at his profile.
The face of a worn-out office worker.
Even though he’d pulled two all-nighters for my sake, he was celebrating as if it were his own victory.
“Hyung.”
“Yeah.”
“How’s work these days?”
“How do you think? You feel it better than anyone. The boss is prepping to hand the company over to his son and the place has gone to hell. Parachutes dropping in, politics getting vicious. I guarantee it won’t last long.”
He clicked his tongue.
Just as he said, Ad Like’s future was already written. The moment a guy like Executive Choi was set to inherit, it was basically a terminal diagnosis.
“Gotta prepare.”
“For what?”
“Job hunting. Or maybe look into starting my own business.”
His bitter laugh.
I hesitated a moment, then spoke.
“Hyung.”
“What is it, Author-nim.”
“What’s your salary these days?”
“…?”
He shot me a sidelong glance. His eyes had already caught my intention.
His expression turned serious.
“Minjun. I get what you’re thinking, but don’t do this out of affection.”
“…”
“You might regret it later. They say even family shouldn’t go into business together. Being close like older and younger brothers doesn’t change that. Once money gets involved, relationships break easy.”
“What are you talking about? I’m doing this because I need you.”
I shot back, dead serious.
“And when I first came up to Seoul, the deposit you lent me—was that a rational decision?”
“That was….”
“Handing ten million won to a complete junior the second he got discharged? Does that make any sense? You weren’t exactly rolling in cash back then either.”
Hyung’s mouth closed as if the words had stuck.
That debt.
Paying it back in money wouldn’t settle everything.
Even if the company was trash now, it had been decent before. The only reason a nobody like me could come to Seoul and find his footing was because of hyung.
“I really need you. I’m terrible at dealing with people. Reviewing contracts, power-struggling with management, handling taxes…. I just want to write. You’re the only person I can trust. What am I supposed to do?”
“…”
Hyung scratched the back of his head with one hand.
The hesitation was plain on his face.
“You punk…. I’ve got a kid to raise and a wife to feed….”
“Exactly.”
“Yeah. Honestly, I could help you for a set period. Hell, even if I went straight to a construction site I’d make more than this job, so it’s not like I’d go completely under.”
He let out a long sigh.
“Separately, I just don’t want to become a burden on my little brother. And….”
At a red light he looked straight at me.
“Like Representative Kang said earlier, we might be looking at nothing but a rosy future. We could just be floating on all the nice words. Reality might be different.”
“…”
“Of course, as a consumer I’m more certain than anyone that your writing will sell. But how much money that actually turns into is something only industry people know. And if you start feeling financial pressure because you’re looking after me, it’ll hit your writing. That can’t happen.”
He was right.
Hyung always saw one step farther and more realistically than I did.
No money had hit the account yet. I hadn’t even started paid serialization.
If I dragged him in now and my writing flopped?
His family would be out on the street.
Could I carry that weight?
“Yeah?”
I nodded.
“Then let’s stay at the company for now. When I’m sure, I’ll bring it up again.”
“That’s the right order. But I’ll still go over every contract with a fine-tooth comb, so don’t worry.”
“Thanks, hyung.”
It was definitely too early to say it now.
But.
It won’t take long.
I clenched my fist tight.
The next morning.
My eyes snapped open before the alarm even rang.
Out of habit I unlocked my phone and logged into Munpia.
Refresh.
1st Place: The Regressed Hunter is Merciless
“…Ha.”
First place.
I had finally taken it.
A complete rookie with barely thirteen chapters had seized the throne, pushing past established veterans.
Overnight I had also stockpiled another ten chapters of buffer.
The reaction was explosive.
Every single comment felt like a medal.
I sat in front of the computer and reread what I had written.
“It’s actually fun….”
Even though I had written it myself, admiration slipped out.
Compared to the veterans, it was overwhelming.
The sentences were cleaner, the plot denser.
It felt like the AI, through repeated learning, had perfectly grasped both my tastes and the readers’ needs and was polishing everything further.
Conviction solidified.
This would work. It absolutely would.
From that day, for three days straight.
After work, the evenings became a battlefield.
Following Representative Kang Suk-woo’s advice, hyung and I met with other management people.
Famous large agencies, mid-sized ones with supposedly good terms.
We met all sorts.
But.
“Author, to be frank….”
The team leader from Company A put on airs and shoved a contract forward.
“It’s extremely common for rookies to write well at the start. All the material and ideas they’ve been holding onto just pour out at once. What people call the ‘opening boost.’”
“…”
“To drag this to a hundred, two hundred chapters, you need professionals like us. If you go alone, by around chapter thirty the material dries up and quality can plummet. Established authors don’t deliberately hold back early on for no reason.”
Under the name of “reality,” he was holding my future hostage and threatening me.
The split was 7:3. And even that could change depending on how much advance they paid—his tongue was long.
Company B was the same.
“If you sign with us, we’ll push for a webtoon adaptation. Of course it’s not something we can confirm right now, but our management has experience working with various webtoon companies and….”
When you actually listened to the terms, it was all empty promises dressed up pretty.
Most of it was “we’ll try” or “we might be able to.”
Completely different from Representative Kang Suk-woo, who had shown a rosy future and invited us to dream together.
These people didn’t see my writing as a work of art. They saw it as a product—or a consumable.
Well….
Maybe that was the normal way of things.
It just made the comparison inevitable.
“What do you think?”
Hyung asked as we left the café.
I let out a short laugh.
“You already know. The answer’s clear.”
He nodded.
“Yeah. They’re all desperate to lowball you. You can see them trying to take the high ground just because you’re a rookie. Deliberately scaring you too.”
The decision was made.
We contacted Representative Kang Suk-woo again.
Studio Nangan office.
It was closer to an officetel than a proper office.
Staff, including Representative Kang, totaled exactly three.
But the air flowing through that space burned hotter than any conglomerate.
“Author! You’re here!”
Representative Kang rushed out barefoot to greet us.
His eyes looked more hollow than a few days ago, yet the pupils themselves blazed like torches.
“How were the other places?”
“Well…. Thanks to them I realized just how much of an angel you are, Representative.”
At my joke he broke into a wide smile.
“That’s a relief. A real relief.”
The moment he sat down he launched into talk about the thirteenth chapter I had uploaded the night before.
“This chapter was incredible too. Especially the final scene where the protagonist declares to the Hunter Association President that there is no mercy…. I got chills and actually shouted out loud.”
“Haha, thank you.”
“I’m not just saying it. You’re a genius, Author. If you maintain this form, you’ll rewrite web novel history.”
He still didn’t hold back on praise.
Knowing it came not from empty flattery but from deep understanding and genuine love for the work made it feel even better.
“Let’s sign.”
I said it.
Hyung placed the contract he had already finished reviewing on the table.
Representative Kang’s hands trembled.
“You won’t regret this. I’ll stake everything I have and make you the absolute best.”
I stamped the seal.
Thud.
A clear red ink mark.
It wasn’t merely the sealing of a contract.
It was the sound of the second act of my life opening.
Writing that had started as a hobby.
A side hustle I’d thought might earn a little pocket money.
In this moment it became a real profession that would overturn my entire life.
“Looking forward to working with you, Partner.”
Representative Kang held out his hand.
I gripped it firmly.
“Likewise. Make me a lot of money.”
“A million won a day? I’ll do everything I can to make that the baseline. No—I’ll make it happen.”
At his bold declaration hyung and I both burst out laughing.
But there was no mockery in that laughter.
Somehow, I felt certain he really could do it.
For now it was still a side job with no income—a web novel author.
It didn’t seem like much time was left until the side job and the main job switched places.