Chapter 22
Chapter 22
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Is the Author Omnipotent?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“That's an incredible response.”
Representative Kwon checked LitWorld on his smartphone.
An employee had informed him that writer Jeong Tae-seong was serializing a new story.
The views, comments, and recommendations.
Every metric was unbelievable for just five chapters.
‘This work is insanely fun too.’
Representative Kwon had reviewed the saved manuscript for Otherworld Chef.
It was of phenomenal quality.
A story that captured both fun and drama perfectly.
It had massively amplified the dramatic elements from [Return of the SSS-Class Hunter].
It felt like a depiction of real life.
‘He's still so young, yet he writes something this profound. What a remarkable author.’
There's a saying that writing contains life.
The depth changes when you write after gaining diverse experiences.
Because what you've seen and been through is different.
Even genre fiction chasing thrills wasn't all that different.
But every now and then, outliers appeared.
Authors who infused more fun and life than their age suggested.
Jeong Tae-seong was one such writer.
‘In a way, you could say he's reached the pinnacle.’
His writing balanced fun and life seamlessly.
It was a harmony even Representative Kwon, with decades in the genre scene, had never seen before.
That was why readers were going wild.
“Representative Kwon?”
Just then, a woman approached.
“PD Kim! Long time no see.”
“I'm a bit late, right? A prior meeting ran over.”
“No, not at all. Please, have a seat.”
The woman called PD Kim sat across from him.
“I was surprised when you contacted me out of the blue.”
“Haha! Sorry about that. Actually, a great manuscript just came in.”
“A great one?”
“Yes, this one.”
He handed his smartphone to PD Kim, whose eyes lit up.
“[Black Knight's Her]... Nice title.”
“You'll like the content even more.”
“Really? If you recommend it that highly, I'm excited. Let me take a look.”
“Sure.”
As PD Kim scrolled through the screen, she soon became absorbed in the story.
Her own recent experiences overlapped, bringing a natural smile to her face.
* * *
Serializing the new work went smoothly.
Daily updates had pushed it past ten chapters.
Views had broken twenty thousand, drawing massive reader reactions.
Name recognition helps boost early views for established authors.
But maintaining them is incredibly tough.
Quality decides everything.
No matter how famous the author, if the story flops, readers turn away coldly.
When Jeong Tae-seong started his new serialization, some claimed it would crash and burn.
But views grew daily, compounding like interest.
Recommendations and comments followed suit.
In just a week, it settled into the top five bestsellers.
Cumulative data makes it hard for new works with few chapters to rank.
Yet raw view counts, recommendations, and comments like a gangster muscled it into the bestsellers.
A bit more accumulation, and first place seemed guaranteed.
As reactions to the new serialization heated up, something else burned even hotter.
[You have a new message.]
The messages flooding Tae-seong's account.
There were three senders.
[Author-nim! Loving your story!]
One was a reader.
Occasionally, fans who found it so fun they wanted to send something in return asked for an address.
He replied to those with the office address, gratitude in his heart.
‘I can't ignore readers' goodwill.’
They must have agonized before sending.
Tae-seong felt it rude to reject such brave offers outright.
[Donation received.]
The second was a system notification for a donation.
LitWorld had a donation system.
Readers could send direct support to their favorite authors.
Tae-seong's account had accumulated millions in such donations.
‘Adding the ones from [Return of the SSS-Class Hunter] makes quite a sum.’
It required a payout request, so he hadn't withdrawn yet.
Like piggy bank savings, reader sincerity had snowballed into a hefty amount.
‘Time for an event soon.’
An idea from reading other authors.
Some returned these donations to readers via events.
Tae-seong planned the same.
‘Best to go paid and run an event for marketing.’
Even with strong performance, Tae-seong focused on promotion.
He ended each chapter on a cliffhanger, leaving readers desperate for more.
Readers complained—not really complaining—about his masterful cliffhanger skills.
And the third message sender.
[Author-nim, this is Team Leader Kim Woo-jin from Baegyeong Publishing.]
[Deputy Manager Choi Tae-min from Hwaseong Publishing.]
Publishers.
Despite rejections, they kept pleading for one meeting.
Some sent polite daily messages like clockwork, even without replies.
‘They're persistent.’
He'd announced his contract elsewhere.
No use.
‘Can't be helped.’
They were just doing their jobs.
Annoying, but publishers could message freely.
He left them alone.
‘Wrapping up today's work...’
Tae-seong opened FineTech's chart via HTS.
Father was watching it closely, so son duty called.
‘Let's analyze.’
His eyes gleamed at the chart.
* * *
Tae-seong had once made his name as a merchant.
He'd spent lifetimes immersed in trade, handling all sorts.
One was futures trading.
Futures meant contracting to buy or sell goods not yet cashable at a future date.
Determining future value required broad vision.
For example, contract now to buy an item at 200,000 won though it's currently that price.
If it hits 250,000 won at delivery, buyer gains 50,000.
If 150,000, they lose 50,000.
That's futures in essence.
‘That world with medieval-level civilization had no futures concept.’
No merchants used it then.
Contracts were tough even without.
Too novel.
But desperate folks always signed anyway.
First deal lost 20% of investment to thin air.
‘But it turned profitable.’
Word spread, drawing crowds for futures contracts.
Second year, ten deals.
Huge gains.
Mainly wheat and apples—both hit poor harvests, prices soared.
Profits dwarfed contract values.
Hooked on trade, Tae-seong lived as merchant in four lives total.
One as analyst.
Analyzing FineTech stock was child's play for the famed investment analyst.
‘Father can use this as reference.’
Light steps homeward.
He spotted Father approaching from opposite.
“Father.”
“Hm? Tae-seong. Heading home now?”
“Yes. You're late today too.”
“Overtime.”
Father and son walked home together after ages.
Father halted abruptly.
In front of a pork belly joint.
“It's late—dinner out?”
“Sure.”
“Call Mom too.”
“Yes, I'll phone her.”
Sudden plan, but Mother welcomed it arms wide.
“Mom'll take a bit.”
“Wait inside.”
“Yes.”
They entered, took seats.
* * *
Grilling meat, tilting soju glasses.
“Business going well?”
“Yes, lots of help, so smooth.”
“Good to hear. People matter in any field. Cherish ties—they pay off someday.”
“Got it. How about you, Father?”
“Me? Fine.”
Father's face darkened mid-reply.
Something was up.
But as head of house, he couldn't vent.
That's the role.
“Maybe I should chip in rent next month.”
“Rent?”
“I earn now. Living alone, rent, food, expenses add up. Not full, but a bit.”
“No need. Save that money. Marriage, kids—expenses explode later.”
“I know. That's why just a light amount, no burden.”
“Enough nonsense. Drink.”
Father wouldn't hear it.
Supported his work plenty, but old-school mindset.
Provider bears all.
Pushing risked real anger, so Tae-seong dropped it.
‘Slip it to Mom quietly.’
Not the point.
“Father, about FineTech last time.”
“Yeah?”
“Friend at Mirae Securities.”
“Mirae? That Mirae Bank affiliate?”
“Yes. Bumped into him, chat turned to FineTech. Recalled Lunar New Year talk, asked details.”
“Oh?”
“This from him today. Take a look.”