Write the Three Kingdoms
"Even if they offered me a full professorship at Seoul National, I would stay with you, sir. Without condition."
Spend long enough under Jo Sudeok, and you started borrowing his flattery too.
"Well, look at this. He really is my student. Sharp as anything when it comes to telling which way the wind blows. But couldn't you have saved the heartfelt speech for when I wasn't in the room?"
He grinned as he said it. The words were all scolding, and yet I saw the smile caught at the corner of Jo Sudeok's mouth, plain as day.
"Our ace starts work tomorrow."
"Professor, thank you for grinding me so hard all this time."
"I told you to save that for later."
The jokes kept coming after that. What amused me was that not one of them asked how the salary would work. Which meant I had to bring it up myself. What else was I supposed to do?
"You're not curious? About what you'll be paid?"
"What I earned on the American job alone would keep me fed for a year."
"So what... you're going to work for free?"
Not that, his look said. You wouldn't let your own people starve. Too naive for comfort, really. But he did the work cleanly, so I couldn't very well complain.
"Shall we go get something to eat?"
"A company dinner?"
Jo Sudeok pounced on the word.
"We've got a new hire. Of course we should have a dinner."
"Aigoo! Then may I run and take a quick shower? Change my clothes, too?"
As if he needed to ask.
"Heh heh heh."
Jo Sudeok collected his toiletries from the cabinet.
"I'll be right back."
"Sir, I'll grab my things and be right back as well."
Then I might as well step out too.
It felt strange to sit alone in the lab, so I walked the corridor at an easy pace. I was moving quietly along the wall when a notice I had seen earlier caught my eye again. The first time, it had meant nothing to me. Maybe it was only that we had just been talking business.
Writer Lee Munhyeok. How many copies did that mega-hit of his actually sell?
The calculator in my head started clicking on its own. From what I remembered, something close to twenty million copies had gone out in the nineties alone.
So how much did he make?
Even a rough count... one, ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand... a billion, ten billion!
I nearly choked.
Sales alone in the tens of billions of won!
What kind of book sold tens of billions of won?
The thought didn't last.
Say an S-rank author's royalty runs to about fifteen percent.
Distribution, publicity, payroll... strip all of that away, and the publisher had probably still kept half.
The arithmetic finished.
I swallowed. My throat bobbed, hard.
If we could sign the Lee Munhyeok of this moment, our house would come into possession of an unrivaled cash cow (...).
But you. Didn't you swear you'd only publish books you loved?
I had. I really had.
And the books I love... am I supposed to dig them out of the ground?
If we meant to keep bringing out excellent work, somebody had to go and earn the money. Then we could pay authors fat royalties. Find them handsome studios. Hire a whole stable of fine editors and throw everything we had into supporting writers.
And above all.
The dream of handsome covers, good paper, and elegant hardcovers, sold cheap.
All of it possible, if we bring Writer Lee Munhyeok in.
And I was supposed to walk past that and pretend I hadn't seen it? Not a chance. I wanted a quiet life, and the world simply refused to help.
Fine. Just this one thing. All right?
I was making the sort of shabby little vow a man makes every time he fails to quit smoking, when a voice came from the end of the hall.
"Sir, let's go!"
It was Jo Sudeok, and behind him I could see Jeong Jinwook's face. I walked toward the two of them.
"I'm sorry, but could we put the dinner off?"
"...?"
"A business idea just came to me."
The words were barely out of my mouth.
"My first day... does it start today?"
Jeong Jinwook's face, a step behind, brightened. I began the briefing.
Could one book really make that much money? And would Lee Munhyeok, famous for his stubbornness, write to someone else's commission? Fair questions, both of them. The two of them nodded first and thought later.
Their styles, of course, were different. Jo Sudeok was the sort who came back with a startling solution built on his particular web of contacts and years of experience. Jeong Jinwook, by contrast, had not yet lived long enough to hand over an answer of his own. He was only just thirty.
Only natural.
Even so, he had a clear virtue. If he could not find the perfect answer, he at least meant to carry out whatever he was given, and carry it out completely. That resolve showed plainly in the care of his questions.
"Aside from the money, is there anything else that might appeal to the writer?"
"If there is, how far am I allowed to take the offer?"
"May Hyeon-gang's name appear in it?"
He made no clumsy attempt to imitate Jo Sudeok. He admitted he was several moves behind, and he tried to cover the gap with thoroughness and care. I liked that.
His questions went on for a while. Then, carefully, he offered a conclusion.
"Writer Lee Munhyeok... I think it would be better if I met him alone."
"You want to see him without me?"
"Yes. From what you've said, he sounds quite conservative. Wouldn't he rather talk with a working man in his thirties than with a young president?"
He had a point. The question was whether he could pull it off alone.
"You chose me because you trusted me, sir. I ought to earn my keep."
"Land this contract, and you'll have earned the next ten years of it."
"One day's work for ten years' keep. I couldn't ask for a better chance."
Jeong Jinwook drew his brows together, as if setting his resolve. Then, clutching a small notebook as though it were precious, he rose slowly from his seat.
Jeong Jinwook attended Lee Munhyeok's special lecture. He listened hard, partly to take the measure of the man, and because of that he found he could lose himself in the class more than he had expected, painter that he had once hoped to be.
When the lecture ended, Lee Munhyeok took questions. Ordinary curiosities lined up one after another, and after about ten minutes even those dried up. The students sat there blank-faced, mouths shut. Class was over; they wanted the after-party. That sort of mood.
Jeong Jinwook decided this was his moment and raised his hand.
"Today you spoke mostly about the attitude a writer ought to take toward life."
He needed a question that would stir Lee Munhyeok. The sort of thing President Park Jihoon had singled out and pressed.
"As an artist... have you ever come up against a practical barrier?"
"Could you give me an example?"
"Money. Making a living."
Lee Munhyeok nodded, as if to say go on.
"Earning your bread through art is no ordinary thing. Money keeps people from giving themselves wholly to the work, and the moment they take a job they inevitably neglect the writing. A vicious circle..."
"Are you a creator yourself?"
"Yes. Until recently I was in that line."
"And now you're not?"
"I quit."
Lee Munhyeok nodded at that.
"Hmm. Art doesn't pay. That's true. A lucky few earn something now and then, but most of them go hungry. The great majority of my juniors do."
Here he drew the microphone closer.
"However bleak it is, you can hardly go around groaning about it. Everyone has it hard. Ordinary people give up precious things just to get by. It's the same for them."
He offered an example.
"Even if his five-year-old daughter cries for him to play, a father still has to go to work. He gave up long ago on being the kind of dad who's also a friend. The best he can do is drag his heavy feet out the door and tell himself that at least he'll be the fence around his household."
"..."
"Everyone lives that way. How can artists be the only ones airing their complaints? I'm not defending society as it stands. I only want to stress that before we voice our regrets, we need a clear view of the reality we're in."
For all the firmness of his manner, there was a sadness in Lee Munhyeok's eyes.
"I'm fortunate enough to make my living with words. More blessing than my talent deserves. Maybe that's why. Lately I've been thinking a great deal."
"...?"
"Can I really look away from what my juniors are suffering? As a senior who found his place first... shouldn't I show them a responsible attitude? The worry runs deep, but I still haven't found a proper answer."
"Then may I take this lecture as part of that effort, for their sake?"
Instead of answering, Lee Munhyeok's face turned bitter: the look of a man ashamed that this was all the repayment he could offer. The silence held for a while.
"Does anyone else have a question?"
He waited a good long time. Only when he was sure no hand would rise did he speak again.
"Let's go have a drink."
He left the lecture hall.
"Sir, could you spare me ten minutes?"
"The student from a moment ago?"
Standing in the corridor, Lee Munhyeok recognized him.
"If you've got something to say, why not say it at the dinner?"
"I'm sorry, but it's rather important."
"The students will be waiting, though."
A dinner like that would already have been arranged by the teaching assistants. The only moment Lee Munhyeok truly had to show his face was when it came time to pay. Perhaps it was the seriousness in Jeong Jinwook's eyes.
"What is it you want to say?"
"It's about improving the lot of younger artists."
"Isn't that a bit grand?"
He said so, and yet he started walking, slowly, as if he had already agreed. The two of them headed for the instructors' lounge, the place Jeong Jinwook had asked him to come. Lee Munhyeok sat and waited, calm, for him to speak.
Meanwhile Jeong Jinwook quietly replayed his conversation with President Park Jihoon. He had been given guidelines, but from here he would have to improvise. He let out a breath, then opened his mouth more carefully than he ever had.
"The students are waiting, so I'll come to the point. I would like to sign a publishing contract with you."
"What?"
Publishers begging for his name would already be lined up out the door.
"You called me here in the name of my juniors, and now you want a book? That's about filling your own belly. What does it have to do with them..."
"We plan to use the sales to build a writers' village, a place where authors can devote themselves entirely to the work."
"...!"
"We'll also select talented writers and award them creative grants."
Was the offer too absurd? Lee Munhyeok only blinked.
"And that isn't all. Like Japan next door, we intend to keep translating and distributing books on the foundational disciplines."
"Work the Japanese state has invested in for years... and a single publishing house means to do it?"
"We couldn't translate all those books at once, of course. But we mean to train translators as we go, and take it one careful step at a time."
"With what money? You're not about to tell me one book of mine will pay for all of that."
"With your pen, sir, I believe it would be enough."
"Come now. How many people even live in this country? However well a book sells..."
"It's possible."
"What?"
"If you take the item we've conceived and work it through in your own interpretation..."
Had he touched a nerve? At that, Lee Munhyeok's expression turned visibly harsh.
"You're handing me an item?"
"..."
"Don't tell me you mean, make us a product to order. Is that it?"
"Nothing of the kind. We want an immortal classic interpreted in the colors of Lee Munhyeok."
"An immortal classic?"