The Writer, Stripped Bare
“Here you go.”
I set the teacup down and slid it gently toward her with my fingertips. Then I fixed her with a steady stare that said, Drink it if you can. Anyone short of completely shameless would find it impossible to accept the cup under these circumstances.
She must be trying to seize control of the conversation with this weird demand….
When it came to weird, I wasn’t exactly innocent myself. She wasn’t actually going to drink it, so handing over the rest of my milk tea was no big deal.
“Hehe. Thank you…!”
Slurp—!
“Mmm…!”
“……”
Wait. She actually drank it?
“What did you say this was again?”
“……”
“Writer-nim?”
“……Yes? Oh.”
I had been completely spaced out. The sheer audacity unfolding in front of me had short-circuited my brain.
“It’s milk tea. Made from the powder they sell at A Twosome Place….”
I was so flustered I even volunteered unnecessary details. Mentioning the brand felt like oversharing, but Tachibana Hana simply smiled and nodded.
“Oh, so this is A Twosome Place milk tea? No wonder it tasted familiar.”
“……Do you go to cafés often?”
“Not often, just sometimes. I go with friends, order drinks, and chat.”
“I see.”
Of course. With looks like hers, being a pale-skinned foreigner probably wasn’t much of an obstacle. She was beautiful, spoke flawless Korean, and had a friendly personality; it made sense that people would line up to be her friend.
Unlike me.
That’s a foreign-language high school uniform she’s wearing….
If she was that good at dance on top of everything else, she’d be a perfect hexagon of talent. Seeing someone like her made me think God really wasn’t fair at all. Why pour every gift into one person? If someone was perfect in every way, what were the rest of us supposed to live on? Everyone needed at least one flaw. Like my personality, for example.
“Oh, right. Should I leave you the rest?”
“……No. Go ahead and finish it.”
“Really? I can? Hehe…”
“……”
She was drinking it with genuine delight. For someone sipping from another person’s cup, she looked far too happy. The thought suddenly crossed my mind:
Maybe she wasn’t running some elaborate psychological game to steal conversational dominance….
Maybe she just really, really likes milk tea and wanted another sip.
“Mmm. So sweet…”
“……”
I subtly looked away. Tachibana Hana had placed her lips exactly where mine had been moments earlier.
An indirect kiss….
Being conscious of something like that would be childish. It wasn’t as if I had never held a girl’s hand before.
Well, actually I hadn’t, but that was beside the point.
Anyway, I crossed my legs and pretended to be perfectly relaxed while I waited for her to finish. She must have really liked it, because she kept asking what kind of tea it was. Even so, emptying the half-full cup didn’t take long.
“Thank you. That was delicious.”
“……Yeah. Sure.”
I didn’t bother saying I’m glad you enjoyed it. This wasn’t the first time I’d served tea to someone, but she was the first person I’d ever handed my own half-drunk cup to.
Shaking off the pointless thought, I spoke.
“Shall we get back to what we were talking about?”
“Oh, what were we talking about again?”
“……Excuse me?”
“Hehe. I’m kidding. Just kidding.”
“……”
I’d genuinely thought she was serious. The brief moment I spent wondering what kind of girl does that was cut short when Tachibana Hana cleared her throat.
“First point. Writer-nim, you feel intense pressure from your parents.”
A fastball straight down the middle, right from the first pitch. I was slightly rattled but answered calmly.
“What makes you think that?”
“The parents of the protagonists in your novels. Every single one of them places enormous expectations on their child. The wealthy parents in your debut work expect their son to become far more accomplished than they are and bring glory to the family. The poor parents in your latest book expect their son to solve all the family’s hardships in their place.”
“……”
“And there’s always a description of the protagonist feeling crushed and tormented by that weight of expectation. …So, in other words.”
She glanced at me, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and twirled her fingers cutely as she looked my way.
“Writer-nim is someone who bears the full weight of his parents’ expectations and finds it incredibly burdensome.”
Her eyes asked if she was right. I deliberately gave neither confirmation nor denial. Because she was correct.
“And the second point?”
“The second is… you’ve experienced fierce competition since childhood. The evidence is the constant comparisons that appear throughout your work. There isn’t a single episode in your stories without comparison. The protagonist is always measuring himself against others, trying to prove he’s better. As if that’s the very reason he exists.”
“……”
“The parents’ escalating expectations during that process are just the bonus. Honestly, if my own child were as talented as the protagonists you write, I’d probably have high expectations too. Though I wouldn’t stake my entire life on it like the parents in your books.”
“……”
I stroked my chin without saying a word. It was a defensive reflex, nothing more. But Tachibana Hana seemed to take it as a signal and nodded.
“Third. There’s a high probability that Writer-nim actually comes from a wealthy family. The evidence is the casual mentions of luxury brands and specific locations that pop up in your writing.”
“Hold on. Isn’t it a huge leap to assume someone is rich just because they mention brands or places?”
“Hmm… well, yes, that does sound like a stretch. Simply naming those things isn’t enough to conclude the writer is from a rich household.”
“Then your analysis is wrong?”
“No. It’s not wrong.”
“Why not?”
“As you said, mentioning famous brands or locations doesn’t automatically mean wealth. However, among the things you’ve referenced, there are far too many that ordinary people wouldn’t know. For example, Cartier boutiques, Galleria Department Store, or ‘Pheasant’s Sea Village’…”
“Anyone could find those with a quick search.”
“True. But there are things you can’t learn with just a quick search.”
“Such as?”
“At 330 Seongbuk-dong, there’s a row of luxury homes, and at the end of that row is an exclusive lounge where secret social gatherings are held. It’s known as Seoul Club Branch 2, and it frequently interacts with Seoul Club Branch 1 in Jangchung-dong. Things like that?”
“That’s just a fictional club I made up…”
“I looked it up. It actually exists. Both the Jangchung-dong Seoul Club and the one in Seongbuk-dong.”
“……How exactly did you look that up?”
“Membership requires recommendations from at least four existing members and a rigorous screening process. The screening takes roughly one to two months. The initial fee ranges from 95 million won to 200 million, plus a monthly membership fee of one million won afterward. Even powerful figures in politics and business are not exempt.”
“……”
She really had looked into it. The fact that she knew the actual membership conditions—details not widely known to the public—was proof.
“Shall I continue?”
She smiled beautifully. It was the kind of captivating smile no man could look away from.
“No. That’s enough.”
I shook my head.
“All right. Then the fourth point—”
“You ran background checks on every member of that social club… It’s not that, right?”
I asked half-jokingly. She grinned.
“Come on, of course not. That would be impossible. There are over five hundred members.”
“You’re sure you didn’t do it?”
“Yes. I really didn’t run background checks on the members.”
Then what had she done? My eyes asked the question for me. Tachibana Hana’s eyes curved into a smile.
“Writer-nim. You received an offer to adapt Age of Abhorrence into a film not long ago, didn’t you?”
“How could you possibly know that? My father blocked every article that tried to run.”
“There were rumors. Word got out that JL Entertainment was making a huge investment to produce the movie.”
“Ah.”
That made sense. You could block the press, but you couldn’t silence people’s mouths.
“Since both the main investor and distributor were JL, things moved quickly. The director is someone considered the best in commercial cinema. They gathered JL’s top-tier actors—the ones who guarantee a million tickets each. The script was based on the original, so that was already perfect, and the co-investors came together fast…”
“It was at the filming stage. It fell through at the last minute.”
I crossed my arms and spoke indifferently. The reason the adaptation collapsed was simple. The director had suggested revisions to the second half of the script, and I, the original author, had opposed them. Their differences couldn’t be resolved even right before the first shoot. The director eventually walked away, saying, “I can’t make a movie with this script.” There was no other director capable of taking over a project with less than a week until filming. End of story.
“Yes, it fell through. I was so disappointed when I heard. I thought we’d finally get a proper picaresque film after so long…”
“So what does any of that have to do with me being L.J.?”
I cut in bluntly. That was what I was most curious about. She might have found it slightly rude, but I didn’t care.
“Don’t tell me you think I must be connected to JL just because they tried to adapt my work. That would be ridiculous—”
“You signed the film contract by hand, correct?”
Tachibana Hana continued calmly.
“Yes, I did.”
“I’m talking about the copy of that contract. Did you know that Kimwon Publishing kept it for a while before shredding and discarding it recently?”
“No, I wasn’t aware… Since the project fell through at the last minute, I assumed they shredded the contract.”
“They shredded it by hand.”
For a second I thought I’d misheard.
“……What?”
“They tore it up by hand. Like this, like this. Two tears—up, down, left, right.”
She mimed ripping something. Rip. Rip.
“When destroying important documents, you’re supposed to use a cross-cut shredder. That’s office procedure 101, isn’t it?”
“……Wait. You don’t mean—”
I asked with growing dread. It couldn’t be. There was no way….
“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”
“When you say ‘that’…”
“One of our employees found a poorly shredded copy of the Age of Abhorrence film contract in the trash pile discarded by Kimwon Publishing. And on the original author signature line was the name Kang Ijun.”
“……”
“Kang Ijun. At first we naturally assumed it was the name of a representative. But when we did a little digging, we discovered that the son of JL Group’s vice chairman is also named Kang Ijun.”
Tachibana Hana’s gaze settled on me.
“Vice Chairman’s son: Kang Ijun. Name on the film contract’s author line: Kang Ijun. And the harsh upbringing environment I deduced for L.J., plus all the detailed settings in the work that only a rich heir would know. When you put it all together…?”
She pointed at me with her index finger.
“The only son of JL Group’s vice chairman, Kang Ijun, is very likely the author L.J.! …Well? Am I right?”
I had nothing to say. The circumstantial and physical evidence was perfect.
“So you went and asked my father directly? You asked if his son was the author L.J.?”
I let out a deep sigh that felt like it came from the bottom of the earth.
Tachibana Hana smiled and nodded.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And my father just admitted it?”
“No, he didn’t admit it easily. But after I laid out all my evidence, he thought for a very long time and finally let out a huge sigh. Just like the one you let out a moment ago, Writer-nim.”
At least my father hadn’t been the one to tell her. That made sense; he wasn’t the type to run his mouth.
…Still.
If that contract copy hadn’t been discovered, none of this would have happened, right? It wasn’t even a deliberate leak—just a tiny, careless mistake at work. Realizing my identity had been exposed by something so trivial made my head throb.
That damn publishing house. Once this print run was over, I’d have to look for a new one….
“Writer-nim.”
The moment that thought crossed my mind, Tachibana Hana leaned forward.
“If you become an exclusive author for our publishing company, something like this will never happen again.”
She dropped a completely unexpected bombshell.
“Huh?”
“Instead of the sloppy, haphazard work you get from a place like Kimwon, we handle everything with artisanal precision. Naturally, your personal information would be treated as top-level confidential and protected without fail.”
“……What are you even—”
“We’ll guarantee print runs of at least ten million copies for every book you’ve published so far and every book you publish in the future. We’ll attach the best translators in the industry to create editions in other languages as well.”
“You’re saying…”
“At least ten million copies sold in Japan alone. On top of that, translations in every major language sold worldwide. Out of the revenue generated, your royalty rate would be twenty percent.”
“Wait…”
“At twenty percent royalty on ten million copies, even conservatively, you’d earn at least a billion yen. In Korean won, that’s roughly nine billion.”
She planted both hands on the table and looked straight at me. Her blue eyes sparkled with naked desire.
“Writer-nim. I’ll let you earn as much money as you want, so please give yourself to our publishing house. If you do…”
“……”
“I’ll give myself to you, Writer-nim.”