Chapter 239
Chapter 239
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 239
Chapter Title: 78. Regarding Romantic Feelings (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
On stage, the rehearsal was underway. Horror-themed dancers fitting the genre twisted and turned to eerie music like ghosts. As the camera director and sound director pointed here and there, issuing instructions...
In the audience seats, a few writers glanced furtively toward one spot.
The 'Broccoli-Haired' writer was an unexpected figure.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, to the point of leaving one speechless.
Yet, for all her beauty, there was an air of distance about her. No one dared approach her casually, but curiosity drew their eyes back again and again. Her slightly drooping eyes had a decadent allure, and her sullen expression evoked the image of a displeased goddess from some religion.
She didn't give off the vibe of just a 'pretty girl.' There was something sacred about her aura. She seemed like someone from another world—inhuman, even.
And when their eyes met, regardless of gender or age, everyone's breath caught in their throat. A faint smile curved her otherwise bored, indifferent face.
It wasn't entirely pleasant. Strangely, the writers felt a chill of fear. Amid that uncanny atmosphere, she spoke.
"I'm a bit nervous. It's my first time ever winning an award."
Ah, right. Haha. I'm tense too... A few writers scrambled for responses.
One middle-aged female writer cleared her throat and spoke up.
"Writer-nim."
"Yes."
"That... earlier. What the Carrot Girl writer said."
"Ah..."
She had called her hair color 'tire.' Bom nodded.
The writer glanced toward Carrot Girl, who sat alone in the distance, legs crossed.
"Tch. Must've startled you since it's your first meeting. But don't let it get to you."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"She's got quite the temper, that one."
"Lives off her own hype..."
Her reputation was poor even on normal days, and the gossip continued.
"Ah... I'm fine. Thank you. But is something wrong with her? She seemed really down."
"I know since we're from the same agency. Lately, she's been scrapping her drafts left and right."
"Really?"
"Running out of ideas. No inspiration. That sort of thing... She's been writing nonstop for years without a break, so it's inevitable. But then she blames everyone else."
"I see..."
'Unbelievable.' 'She's lost it...' 'Doesn't everyone hit a block?' As they whispered, Bom, now curious, asked.
"She writes horror well, so maybe she's just picky about her subjects?"
"Obviously. It's all self-indulgence anyway."
"Self-indulgence?"
"She's a horror writer at heart. It's her hobby."
A few scowled in annoyance. Writing it as a hobby and still being selective was talent, if nothing else.
"But for her agency and her, the real money's in romance. One romance novel earns 80 times what a horror one does."
"Ah..."
"Don't know the details, but the way she's stirring up trouble everywhere screams it. Money drying up, so she's lashing out more."
"Must be stressful."
"She's already made a fortune, and she's still that greedy... Anyway, no one close to her knows. Poor agency staff are dropping like flies."
Whew. Sighs led to more gossip. 'How does a woman like that even write romance?' 'Right? Who'd put up with that personality?' Chuckles followed. Some glanced at Carrot Girl.
At that moment, Bom murmured, I see.
Left alone, Carrot Girl huddled in a corner until the rehearsal began.
She got regular manicures to curb her nail-biting habit. But today, she couldn't help it.
One man's face lingered in her mind.
Chapped lips. Sharp jawline. Pallid skin. And eyes that viewed the entire world with utter contempt.
He was shockingly captivating.
Carrot Girl bit her nail.
As a child, many people seemed lofty and impressive.
As she grew older, she realized most were just ordinary.
Becoming Korea's top writer—hailed as the J.K. Rowling of the nation—she found no one truly extraordinary.
That was her life at twenty-nine.
—Joo-hee, just one more. Not too much, not too little. China's going wild. So many waiting for your novel— you gonna betray them?
"Betray? Since when was it symbiotic? They'll point fingers the second I write crap anyway."
—Hey, Joo-hee!
"President. Am I writing out of loyalty? How many times do I have to say it? I'm doing what I want now!"
Absurdly, it was 'romance'—started just for cash—that elevated her.
She had no interest in romance. She preferred horror, stories delving into humanity's depths.
But the more she wrote, the more dissatisfied she grew. Years of romance had conditioned her to please readers; she'd forgotten how to write for herself.
She even won awards, but it didn't feel good.
This wasn't the horror she craved.
She'd become a broken writer, unsure what to write.
To others, a blessed life. To her, solitary hell.
Then she saw him.
"..."
For research, she'd visited a superhuman psych ward, interviewed possessed people and criminals, met real ghosts, talked to murderers. All were comprehensible.
But today, she encountered the incomprehensible. Just a glance sparked inspiration in her mind.
She wanted to know more. Talk to him. What thoughts drove him? How to capture such a man?
Something precious, long lost, was reviving.
Dante had Beatrice for the Divine Comedy.
Nietzsche, Rilke, Freud vied for Lou Salomé.
She'd once wondered: What was a 'muse' like? Someone whose mere existence poured forth inspiration?
Today, she knew.
"Manager."
"Yes!"
"Those idols from earlier."
"Ah, the Gold Award writer-nim?"
"Yeah. Remember the guy with them? The buff one."
"Of course."
"What'd you think of him?"
The junior manager who'd stayed in the waiting room answered.
"Seemed really kind."
"Kind?"
"Yeah. Gentle... Listened well. The girls with the Broccoli writer followed him closely too."
Good-natured, huh?
Odd, but fine then.
She dropped the bomb.
"I want to meet him."
"Pardon?"
"Bring him to me. Whatever it takes."
Outlandish, but not new. Grumbling 'Money's the enemy...', the manager awkwardly approached him for a meal.
But the reply was firm.
"No thanks."
"Huh?"
"Not interested."
The manager felt like a rejected salesman.
Didn't he know who Carrot Girl was?
"Look, we'll make it worth your while."
"No need. Bye."
Ready to cling if necessary.
But somehow couldn't. The manager called Carrot Girl, flustered.
—@#%@%!!!
A scream pierced the phone. Sweating, he soothed her for minutes until the line cut abruptly.
What now? As the manager sweated...
"Where is he!"
Her voice rang out. Carrot Girl, in a dress, sweating profusely, rushed over.
"Wh-what?! Writer-nim? Isn't rehearsal happening?"
The startled manager opened an umbrella against the sun, but she ignored it, yelling.
"Just tell me where that guy is!"
Around then, Yoo Ji-tae was on the phone with the federation, preparing for the 'second night' ahead.
Hanging up with Jefferson, he turned to watch the rehearsal. Click-clack. Urgent footsteps approached, and a woman burst from the alley.
"Ah, you...!"
The orange-haired woman from the waiting room earlier.
"Hey. Look at me for a sec."
"What's this about."
Panting from running in heels—weak stamina for a superhuman.
She wiped sweat from her brow repeatedly, took a deep breath, and spoke.
"I know it's rude on first meeting, but hear me out. Me? I make about 100 million a month."
Yoo Ji-tae was briefly speechless.
So?
"I've got tons of hits. Ten or so. Five of my novels became dramas, two topping that channel's ratings. You probably don't know, but I'm the only one in Korea with 750 million ebook downloads. Second place is under 100 million. Plus, I'm kinda..."
"Hold up. Got it. So what? Get to the point."
Interrupted, her brows furrowed.
But wiping sweat, she flashed a confident smile again.
"Seeing you sparks ideas. Never happened before. Sounds weird, but it's huge for me. Tens of billions ride on one work. Lately, ideas have been..."
About to ramble, Yoo Ji-tae growled low.
"Point—"
The beastly rumble cut her high-pitched voice.
Startled, she bit her lip. Yet a satisfied glint crossed her face—why?
"Not more, not less. Meet me five times."
"Meet you? Why."
"Told you. You inspire me. Want to learn about you. Easy. Just meals and chats."
"No need. Bye."
"What? Wait! Not just hanging out. You have a job, busy I get."
"Told you no."
"Why so stubborn? You lose nothing. I'll buy your time. Ten million per hour. Good? Want more, say it. Pocket change to me."
Her confident smile flashed.
The attitude of one used to getting her way. Common among ranker superhumans he'd seen.
Her slender, wrinkle-free neck.
He briefly imagined grabbing that chattering throat. Efficient silence.
Bom's ceremony would be ruined, though.
"Don't you get it?"
"Pardon? What..."
"Leave before I snap your neck."
His voice dripped disgust.
"Wh-what kind of talk is that?"
"Scram?"
She froze stiff. What? He was supposed to be kind...? Speechless, yet satisfied. Yes, a man like that should be...
But him turning toward the building wasn't welcome.
"W-wait! Hey!"
Heels clicking, Carrot Girl chased.
Overexerting, one heel snapped. "Ack—!" Foot slipping, she tumbled messily. He turned. His broad chest loomed close.
Gonna shove me? she thought. But he sidestepped smoothly. She face-planted on asphalt. Thud!
"..."
As Yoo Ji-tae felt a moment of absurdity at the slapstick, she jerked her head up.
"Why didn't you catch me? Whatever. Forget that. Any other demands?"
Drip... Nosebleed trickled as she lifted her head.
Ignoring it, she grabbed his pant leg.
"M-money bribe upset you? Sorry then. Easy fix."
"Ridiculous. Let go."
"Wait. Second place! Broccoli! That her boyfriend? No, right? Not interested in you romantically!"
By now, even he wondered.
Yoo Ji-tae was pinning her with considerable killing intent. Life on the line, yet she clung desperately.
Desperate or not, irrelevant to him. Except hatchlings, nothing mattered. He stomped her hand gripping his pants. "Aaaah—!" A sharp scream rang out.
As he turned, she yelled again.
"Wait! Contest! Right. Contest OSMU film rights guaranteed for grand prize! I'll help. She's gold, yeah? I'll make it filmable! Got connections there!"
But.
This time, she offered something worthwhile.
When crude money and power failed, connections' power remained.
Power built over time from money, bonds, credit.
"Really turning me down? Just one meal?"
Yoo Ji-tae considered.
Bom had been uncharacteristically thrilled at her finalist notice.
How happy would she be if her novel became a movie...?