Chapter 31
I’m translating the chapter into polished HTML now, with the in-universe messages rendered as styled blocks and the narration shaped into natural novel-style paragraphs.CHAPTER_TITLE: Chapter 31: The Web Novel Contest Sounds Tempting
Willow Publishing.
At a company dinner after a long stretch without one, Team Leader Yu Na-ri went on talking with her tongue pleasantly tangled from too much drinking.
“Listen, Kim Dae-ri. We’re not some company with no foundation, you know?”
“I know, of course.”
“We’re a full-fledged publishing house. Our history is among the longest of any domestic publisher. We’re not even in the same league as that damned Solar Publishing. They’ve only been around three years, and they think they can talk down to us?”
Lately, the company had been putting more energy into translating and publishing web novels, but at its core it was still a publisher that produced everything from literature to essays and other general books in-house.
Of course, they had also handled web novels directly by signing contracts with authors and preparing the books together for publication.
“But what are we supposed to do when it’s gone and failed?”
The books they published just hadn’t performed well.
They’d been running at a loss for so long they could barely pay employee salaries, so upper management had started talking about cutting staff, and the people on the ground had eventually landed on the only path left to survival: importing foreign web novels and publishing those instead.
“And those bastards at Solar still have the nerve to call us a bunch of losers with no foundation?”
Team Leader Yu slapped down her soju glass with a bang, venting her frustration.
“That’s just bad manners from people in the same industry. Plain bad manners.”
“That’s right.”
“They say we’re eating into the market, but if they were in our shoes, would they just sit there and let themselves get fired?”
“We survived because of you, Team Leader.”
“Honestly, even if we do all this, our operating profit is basically nonexistent.”
“Right. We’re just barely staying afloat without actually losing money.”
Translation work took a hefty commission cut, so for the amount of effort involved, the profit margin wasn’t much to brag about.
Still, because the works they picked had already proven they could sell, they didn’t fail outright. It was enough to keep the department alive, at least.
“Team Leader, if we publish a really good title, we can wipe those Solar Publishing idiots right off their high horse, right?”
“Of course. Which is why...”
With slow, deliberate motions, Team Leader Yu pulled out her phone.
“That translator. Kang Seo-jun.”
“Yes.”
“The novel he posted on his blog is actually really fun, you know?”
She added, sounding genuinely impressed.
“Way more entertaining than a lot of the novels I’ve handled. The target readership is broad, too.”
“That’s true.”
“If we could just publish this, our web novel team could walk around with our shoulders back again, couldn’t we?”
“And we wouldn’t have to keep tearing our hair out every day looking for translators either.”
“Exactly!”
“Exactly.”
Team Leader Yu lifted her eyes sharply.
“Kim Dae-ri, contact him and try to work out a contract.”
“I’d like to, but...”
He pushed his glasses up, a little awkwardly.
“He said not to contact him for the time being.”
“...Really?”
“Yes.”
“No way...”
Team Leader Yu pouted, looking crestfallen.
“We’ve already been rejected?”
“Ah, no, not exactly. It was about three weeks ago? I’d contacted him because the translation was so urgent, and his voice was different from usual. He’s always been so gentle and kind, right? But he answered me pretty sharply.”
“Did he make some kind of mistake?”
“No. I just called, and he said he was busy for the time being so I shouldn’t contact him. He sounded incredibly sensitive.”
“Oh, man...”
“I don’t know why either. I figured maybe things had settled down by now, but I’m afraid to reach out again in case I upset him.”
That was how it had been.
Seo-jun had been in the middle of starting his figure-making work and had become sensitive from the sheer intensity of his craftsmanship.
Back then, his nerves had been so frayed that he avoided every call and message unless he was at work.
Of course, the people who didn’t know that only grew more frustrated the longer they waited.
“Then should we send a gift first?”
“What kind of...?”
“Didn’t Kang Seo-jun’s Heavenly Demon Dodo just finish recently? Weren’t we planning to send a gift set to celebrate?”
“We had prepared a nut assortment for that...”
“Forget that. Send beef instead.”
“If we’re doing that, let’s make it Hanwoo.”
“Obviously. Go with top-grade two-plus.”
“Should we go deliver it ourselves?”
“No. That kind of thing would make him uncomfortable. Don’t poke the hornet’s nest. Just send the gift, nothing more.”
“Understood.”
***
Tap-tap.
[The active effect duration of Echo of the Keyboard has ended.]
“Hoo—!”
I let go of the keyboard and leaned back.
“That was more manageable than I expected.”
Seven installments.
Excluding sleep and meals, I’d written one piece every two hours and managed to finish exactly seven in twenty-four hours.
“If I post one a day, that’s a full week’s worth.”
The active effect could only be used once a week, so it fit perfectly.
Honestly, I had no idea how long I’d keep serializing this thing.
For now it was still just a hobby, something I was doing for fun.
It was still too early to call it a side hustle, since it wasn’t making money yet.
“The response isn’t bad.”
-WorldStrongestHeavenlyDemons: Thanks for the great read ^^
-FightingPower: It’s fun!
-jaeger: Please give me the next chapter!
-Gustav: Can you do a rapid upload?
-ClumsyLove: It’s unique, and I’ve been enjoying it.
-gonimaru: Aren’t you going to publish it?
-LightRoar: I enjoyed today’s chapter too.
There were plenty of compliments about how enjoyable it was, but if there was a problem, it was this:
The view count isn’t very high.
Compared to travel logs or certain reviews, it was less than half.
I guess that’s just the nature of a blog.
This was a site people used more to browse light anecdotes or product reviews than to read fiction.
In the end, if I want a real reaction, I’ll have to post it on a site that actually gathers web novels.
But that brought me to another concern.
Echo of the Keyboard
- Passive Effect: When you write about firsthand experiences on your own personal site, readability and impact increase dramatically.
- Active Effect: When used, the passive effect’s restrictions are removed for 24 hours.
“That passive effect is bothering me.”
Sure, the active effect said the restriction disappeared, but I was still worried.
If I uploaded a piece I’d written in advance after the effect had already worn off, what if the buff no longer applied?
And if I got criticized for it, I was afraid it might break my confidence.
This is really annoying. Really annoying.
So I decided to put it on hold for now.
Whether I posted it now or later, it wouldn’t change the novel I’d written.
“Oh?”
What a surprise.
“A Hanwoo gift set from the company, of all things, and not even from a holiday bonus?”
The most I’d ever expected at Chuseok was a Spam gift set, and even that would have been something to be grateful for.
And now beef was coming from the publishing company I was working with as a side hustle.
Kang Seo-jun: Thank you. Then, Seoul, Daehak-ro...
No, wait.
I didn’t need it sent to my house.
“This building can even use the rooftop freely, right?”
A grin spread across my face.
“Should I throw a barbecue party?”
***
Tap!
A cup of coffee was delivered to my desk.
The person who brought it was Park Dae-ri, standing beside me with a bright, eager expression.
“How was the meeting?”
“Just got back from it.”
He flashed a grin and held up the contract.
“Thanks to you, I got the stamp on it without any trouble. Appreciate it.”
“Good job.”
“You busy right now?”
It looked like he had something to say, because he jerked his chin upward in an unmistakable gesture.
“Yeah. Let’s go have a cigarette.”
We headed up to the rooftop together.
November.
The moment we stepped outside, the cold air hit us full in the face.
“It’s getting chilly.”
“Winter’s almost here.”
“It feels like summer just ended, and now this.”
“They say autumn just vanished.”
“That it did.”
Park Dae-ri pulled his collar closed and looked at me.
“Anyway, Yu Sora is really pretty...”
“Yeah?”
“I’d already been following her anyway. But cosplay photos get edited so hard that when you see the real person, you end up disappointed more often than not, right? Yu Sora was different.”
The guy launched into a review that came out like a waterfall.
“She’s seriously beautiful. She looks exactly the same in real life. She really isn’t the number one cosplayer in Korea for nothing.”
Park Dae-ri rattled on, clearly excited.
“I was already a fan of Yu Sora, you know. I was trembling the whole meeting, thinking I might die from nerves.”
“Haha. She was pretty, I’ll give you that.”
I’d seen her in person a few times too, and she was on par with most celebrities.
“But she was a lot colder than I expected.”
“The weather?”
“No, I mean Yu Sora.”
“...Really?”
That was the exact opposite of how I’d felt.
“She asked a few times whether you weren’t coming to the venue. I think she agreed because I said it was your assigned work.”
“I told her the contract side was your area.”
“I said that too. Once I told her that you’d handle things when it came time to seriously prepare for the festival, she relaxed a bit.”
“Good.”
“Anyway, if nobody else, I think you’ll have to be the one in charge of Yu Sora.”
“That’s no problem. It only takes a few messages.”
“Exactly.”
“All right, do me that favor.”
“Anyway, the contract is done, so that’s settled.”
“Right.”
The festival was still at the planning stage, so actually carrying it out would take quite a while yet.
There was a lot to do, starting with venue rental, then recruiting sponsors, promotion, and more.
Of course, that was the organizer’s domain. Our side only had to prepare the advertising materials.
I was curious to see Yu Sora wearing the costume I’d made and to see how the public reacted to it.
Still, I’d have to wait until the event itself.
“Anyway, to thank you, I’m buying tonight’s dinner.”
Park Dae-ri mimed tossing back a drink.
“How about samgyeopsal and soju? I may not be able to buy Hanwoo, but I can treat you to Korean pork!”
“Sounds good. But...”
I grinned and made a counteroffer.
“Let’s save the samgyeopsal for another day. Tonight, I’m buying Hanwoo.”
“...You got help from me, and now you’re buying Hanwoo?”
He swallowed hard.
“All right, deal. But why are you treating me?”
“I got some beef as a gift. It just came in yesterday, and I figured it’d be best to eat it while it was still fresh.”
“Oh, nice. Then let’s keep the soju-and-pork plan in reserve. I’ll treat you whenever you want.”
“Sure. Then come with me after work today.”
“Okay.”
***
“Whoa, this is your workshop?”
“Yeah. Pretty decent, right?”
“Decent? This is insane.”
Park Dae-ri’s eyes went wide as he looked around, amazement spilling out of him.
“I always dreamed of having a hideout like this...”
Clearly picturing it in his head, he rattled off the whole fantasy.
“You’d set up a PlayStation here, a console over there. And on this side, you’d install about four computers, invite your friends over, and crush a round of StarCraft Hunters four-on-four. Then you’d put in a driving simulator over there and fire up Euro Truck, and it’d be perfect.”
“Now that you mention it, I kind of want that too.”
It felt a little like going back to my high school days when I used to go to PC bangs.
Of course, because of my sewing machines and other equipment, I probably couldn’t spare the space for that sort of thing.
“You really made it, huh.”
“Made it? It’s just rent.”
I waved him off and headed for the rooftop.
“Come on, let’s get up there and grill some meat.”
“Right.”
We sat across from each other on the large wooden platform up on the roof.
I hadn’t prepared full barbecue equipment.
In a rush, I’d just bought a charcoal brazier and a grill plate from a nearby supermarket and brought them up.
Park Dae-ri tapped the platform a couple of times and asked, “Isn’t even this platform expensive?”
“I picked it up from out front. It took some serious scrubbing to clean it.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. They were tossing it because the seniors’ center out front was closing down. They’d put out all kinds of stuff, so I grabbed this quickly.”
“It must’ve been heavy.”
“There were other people moving things too, so I helped them out and asked for this in return.”
“Mutual aid, huh. Nice.”
Park Dae-ri kept looking around, his envy showing no signs of fading.
“The view is good too. You can see everything below.”
“It’s a hillside neighborhood, so it’s built on a mountain.”
“What’s the rent here again?”
“Seven hundred thousand won.”
“That’s good...”
“You should get one too.”
“Hey, if you take seven hundred thousand won out of a salaryman’s paycheck, he’s basically dead. There’s not even enough left to live on.”
“Ahaha. Fair enough.”
I only had the workshop because of my side hustle. If I hadn’t, I would’ve just kept trembling and never dared to take the plunge.
Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle.
While we chatted, the beautifully marbled Hanwoo kept browning deliciously.
The sirloin, loaded with marbling, soaked up the charcoal aroma and turned a rich brown.
“Want a drink?”
“Absolutely.”
I tossed back a shot of soju, and the sharp burn sterilized my mouth and ran through my throat like a jolt of lightning.
“Japanese beer is nice too, but for Koreans, Korean soju is king.”
“True. Nothing beats local produce, right?”
People always said Koreans eventually came back around to soju after all the back and forth.
That line fit perfectly.
Next, I picked up a piece of sirloin.
It didn’t even need lettuce or garlic wraps.
I just dipped it lightly in salt and put it in my mouth.
“Ahhh!”
Juices flooded my mouth all at once.
“This is ridiculous.”
“That’s no joke.”
Only exclamations kept bursting out of me.
Hanwoo.
More than that, top-grade Hanwoo. It had been who knew how long since I’d eaten it, and I couldn’t help smiling.
“Still, I’m glad your side hustle seems to be going well, unlike mine. You even got this workshop and everything... Sorry this congratulations is late. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. How’s crypto these days, by the way? Doing okay?”
“Don’t ask. The market’s been a mess lately.”
“You’ve been looking at your coin app less lately, so I figured things were fine.”
“I made about five million won last month, and then I lost about four million this month.”
“So you’re still ahead.”
“It’s basically break-even, that’s all.”
“Even that’s pretty good, isn’t it?”
“Once you think about the stress coin trading gives you, it starts to feel like a bad idea.”
“Heh. True enough. When you were really deep into it, you were staring at the coin charts almost twenty-four seven.”
“That’s just what happens if you do coins.”
“Still, the people who make money really do make money.”
What came to mind after eating beef was this:
“This is the first time I’ve had top-grade Hanwoo since Assistant Manager Yu.”
Park Dae-ri snapped his fingers as something occurred to him.
“Oh, right. Did you hear about Assistant Manager Yu?”
“Anything after the rumor that he’d ‘graduated’ through crypto?”
“Hey, this is huge news. I can’t believe you didn’t know.”
He lifted his brows, looking delighted to have a juicy topic.
“I really have no idea. What happened?”
“That guy looks like he’s about to go bankrupt.”
“...What?”
Could that even be possible?
I’d heard he’d made as much as twenty billion won.
“Didn’t he say he was done with crypto and opening a cafe in Jeju?”
“Listen, I’ve seen this in real life. I’ve never once seen someone say they’re graduating from crypto and then actually delete Upbit or Binance.”
“Really?”
“Dogs may stop eating shit, but people who make money in crypto can’t stop. It’s basically gambling.”
“...”
“Anyway, it looks like that guy made a few huge bets. He even used leverage. Then he got liquidated on everything he had, and on top of that he used the cafe in Jeju as collateral to invest. Apparently he lost almost all of that too.”
“Then the cafe...”
“It’ll probably get seized.”
“Oh, man...”
It was so unfortunate it circled back around to being shocking.
“It’s not some small amount either. It’s two billion won, after all. How does that even happen?”
“If you can’t manage leverage, that’s what happens.”
“I guess...”
My father hadn’t been poor by any means either, and yet he’d wiped out everything on stocks in a single stretch.
“Anyway, hearing that freaked me out a bit too. I’m just messing around with small money now, but what if I suddenly lose my mind one day, pile into high leverage, and lose it all? So I pulled out everything I had in coins.”
“Yeah, good call.”
“I’m taking a break from coins for a while. I’ve already moved it all back into my bank account.”
He’d seemed pretty clear-headed lately.
Apparently there was a reason for that.
“How about trying a side hustle?”
“I was actually interested in that already, and after coming to your workshop today, I’m even more drawn to it.”
He put down his chopsticks too and spoke seriously.
“I went to a manga market during a business trip to Japan recently, and then I helped prepare for the festival, and it made the otaku blood in me start boiling again. Lately I’d been holding back because I was putting everything into coins, but now that I’ve stopped, I want figures, manga, goods, the whole lot. You might not get it, but there’s such a thing as otaku blood.”
“I think I do.”
Park Dae-ri was like that, and so was Yu Sora.
Once something related to animation or one of their interests came up, they practically lost their minds.
“Anyway, I’m going to look into side hustles. But I don’t really have any craft skills, so I’m thinking I might just try riding work.”
“People usually start like that. It’s not a bad choice.”
“But there are a lot of high-paying part-time jobs on social media.”
“Most of those are scams. Be careful.”
“Yeah, there’s no such thing as easy money in this world.”
He chuckled and lifted his soju glass.
Clink.
“By the way, what side hustle are you doing these days? You’ve even got a workshop now, so it feels like the scale is getting bigger.”
“I got interested in novels, so I’m writing one.”
“A novel?”
“Yeah. Not really a side hustle yet, just a hobby for now.”
“Sounds fun.”
He seemed to think of something and said, “Come to think of it, we just got an ad request in our Planning Team 3 that was about novels too.”
“...Really?”
“Yeah. We were excluded because of the animation festival, but I think Assistant Manager Kim is handling it. Something about a web novel contest?”
That grabbed my attention.
“It turned out that that world was bigger than I expected. The grand prize was one hundred million won, apparently.”
“...They give out a hundred million won?”
“Yeah, and that’s just the pure prize money. The royalties are separate. If it blows up, a hundred-million-won annual income isn’t even unusual.”
“Oh...”
My ears perked up all at once.
A web novel contest...
That was tempting.