Chapter 106
Chapter 106
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 106
Chapter Title: Chapter 39: Wind Blowing from Overseas
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With the new year of 2015, the *God of Martial Arts, Return* webtoon officially launched on Kakao Page.
After more than half a year of preparation, the webtoon had finally begun serializing.
“The update went up smoothly.”
The moment the *God of Martial Arts, Return* webtoon appeared in the banner, Woo Ji-hyun checked it right away.
He wanted to make sure there were no mistakes.
Bzzz! Bzzzzz!
As he carefully reviewed the five episodes that had been uploaded, his smartphone vibrated.
Just like him, Jo Jin-gu—who had been monitoring Kakao Page—called in.
“Yes, President.”
-*God of Martial Arts, Return* webtoon is up. Have you checked it yet?
“I’m looking at it right now. It came out clean and nice. I’m on episode 3, and no typos so far.”
-You were already checking, as expected.
Jo Jin-gu let out a light chuckle.
He seemed as diligent as ever.
“This is my first work to get a webtoon adaptation, so of course I have to check it.”
-Haha. How does it feel?
“Great. It’s amazing, too. I’d been hoping for this, but seeing it for real makes it a bit hard to believe. It’s a complicated mix of emotions.”
-The response is good so far. Traffic is rising fast, comments are steadily coming in, and no hate comments yet.
“I hope the sales do well, too.”
Woo Ji-hyun spoke with genuine sincerity.
This webtoon wasn’t solely his creation.
The original novel was his, but the webtoon had been produced by Frontier Management’s webtoon team.
It was the result of those four people’s efforts and sweat, so Woo Ji-hyun truly hoped it would sell well.
-I’m eagerly awaiting that, too. The first project needs to succeed for the next ones to follow.
“And it’ll boost the webtoon team’s morale.”
-Exactly. They’re all watching anxiously right now. They’re working, but their minds are elsewhere.
“That won’t do. They need to work properly while keeping an eye on it...”
This webtoon was practically their first project, too.
So he understood their tension.
But steady serialization was just as important as performance.
That was why Woo Ji-hyun muttered in a worried tone.
-Don’t worry about that. I didn’t set up the webtoon team’s studio in the office for nothing. I’ll pop in from time to time to supervise.
“That puts my mind at ease. You handle things thoroughly, President.”
-Haha. Thank you. Oh, by the way, an idea came up in yesterday’s meeting. What do you think about adding illustrations?
“To the novel?”
-Yeah. Since we have the webtoon, it shouldn’t be too hard to add character illustrations. And it’d naturally tie the two together for promotion.
Woo Ji-hyun scratched his chin while holding the phone to his ear.
It definitely seemed like a solid idea.
The characters already existed, so it wouldn’t take much extra work.
They could even reuse the webtoon artwork.
“Not a bad idea.”
-Right? We’ll start with *God of Martial Arts, Return*, then slowly add them to other authors’ works. After asking them first, of course.
“I doubt many would say no.”
Who would refuse illustrations for their story?
They’d probably welcome it with open arms.
The issue, as always, was manpower.
With just four people handling the webtoon plus covers for Frontier Management’s authors, adding illustrations would surely lead to complaints.
-I think the same, but some might dislike it. Everyone has their own style.
“True. There are plenty of unique authors out there.”
-Alright, I’ll take that as agreement and get started.
“Yes, good luck.”
He ended the call with Jo Jin-gu, who sounded busy in the morning, and Woo Ji-hyun checked the webtoon again.
He’d already seen everything before the update, but he inspected it meticulously just in case.
Thud.
After thoroughly reviewing all five episodes, Woo Ji-hyun set down his smartphone with a satisfied expression.
Fortunately, he hadn’t found anything off.
He skimmed the comments next, then dove into his own work in earnest.
*God of Martial Arts, Return* Part 1 was still serializing, but he had no intention of slacking off.
Tap tap tap!
He knew full well that you had to work even harder when things were going well.
And stockpiling manuscripts was never a bad thing.
Bzzz!
But then his smartphone vibrated briefly.
Not a call—probably KakaoTalk or a text.
“Hm?”
He wasn’t the type to ignore messages entirely while working, so Woo Ji-hyun picked up the phone again.
It was a KakaoTalk from one of the Creation Academy students.
“A manuscript.”
Woo Ji-hyun murmured with an odd expression.
The Creation Academy was nearing its end.
Just one week left until the planned eight-week course.
From week six, they’d started real practice sessions, so students now sent him their completed manuscripts via email or KakaoTalk.
“This isn’t easy, either.”
His sigh deepened at the manuscripts arriving at all hours.
Nearly twenty students were sending them—not just one or two—so even rushing through them took time.
He was already short on writing time lately.
But he couldn’t skip it, so Woo Ji-hyun squeezed it in during breaks and sleep hours to review them.
“Whew. Work first.”
Glancing at the dozen or so piled up, he turned back to his monitor.
Work came first.
He mentally confirmed today’s quota and ramped up his focus.
* * *
Fiddling with his tablet PC, Elder hummed a tune.
His newly released mini album had charted high on various music charts.
And the title track had proudly claimed number one.
“My instincts were right.”
Elder grinned at *Common Crush*, which sat at number one on five music charts.
It confirmed his gut feeling hadn’t been wrong.
The moment he first saw the lyrics Woo Ji-hyun wrote, Elder had been certain.
Combining his music with those lyrics would create tremendous synergy.
“The other tracks might drop after today, but *Common Crush* could stick around for a while.”
“I think so too. But you’re really not gonna tell?”
Lost in thoughts of it becoming the year’s megahit, Elder composed himself.
His manager’s sudden voice had snapped him out of it.
“Tell what?”
“Playing dumb again. You know what I’m asking.”
“I seriously have no idea.”
“Are we gonna keep doing this?”
The plump, kindly-faced man in his early thirties responded with mock hurt.
They’d been together for nearly three years, yet it felt like Elder was still keeping him at arm’s length.
“I’m really asking because I don’t know.”
“You’re too much. Usually after three years, you can read each other’s minds with a glance.”
“Not everyone’s like that. Some couples stay awkward even after ten years.”
“That’s the exception. Most aren’t. Idols and managers see each other more than family. So, who’s the lyricist? I looked it up—this was their first gig. Or a pen name?”
“Why are you so curious?”
Elder eyed his persistently probing manager with puzzlement.
He couldn’t fathom the intense interest.
“I’m dying to know who pulled you out of your slump. You’ve never collaborated with anyone before.”
“That’s true. But that’s no reason.”
“Then why won’t you tell me? It’d be great publicity for them—get their name out there, more jobs rolling in.”
“Sorry, but they don’t want the exposure. They’re not hurting for work. Or more accurately, they’re not interested in this side of things.”
Elder recalled his first meeting with Woo Ji-hyun.
And the time he’d scribbled *Common Crush*’s lyrics in his notebook as if possessed.
“Huh? They don’t want fame? Then why write the lyrics?”
“It just came out by chance. Not something I sought out. Well, just the title track. The others I begged for.”
“Wow. So they’re not in the industry?”
“Yeah.”
The manager’s face filled with regret.
The entertainment world had plenty of composers and lyricists.
But talented ones were rare.
That’s why agencies and labels scouted promising talent.
“Too bad. Our usual lyricists have been bombing lately—I was thinking of recruiting this one.”
“Won’t be easy. They make plenty without writing lyrics.”
“Couldn’t we at least make a spot for them?”
“I’ll ask. But don’t get your hopes up.”
The manager smacked his lips at Elder’s firm tone.
If Elder was saying that much, the odds were slim.
“So, hard to work together on your next album, too?”
“Hm, guess I’ll have to check on that.”
Elder’s expression shifted.
As if he hadn’t even considered his next album.
The manager smiled inwardly at the sight.
This might naturally lead to a meeting.
“But it’s surprising. You, collaborating with someone else.”
“I was shocked, too. But it turned out great. It was stimulating, inspiring.”
“That’s why I kept telling you to try it sooner. There’s always something to gain from working together. Speaking of which, how about collaborating with this artist? Their agency called— they’ve been dying to work with you.”
The manager’s eyes lit up eagerly.
Plenty of artists wanted to collab with Elder.
But Elder shut it down flat.
“Not now. I want to do more with this one first.”
“...Wouldn’t it be better to work with more people?”
“Not saying no forever—just later. Priorities, you know? This comes first. Don’t want to miss this rising inspiration.”
“How about at the company then? You can work here, but their facilities are better—engineers and all.”
The manager smoothly steered toward the company.
But Elder wasn’t fooled.
He saw right through his manager’s ulterior motive.
“This place is fine. I can handle revisions and recording solo at the company anyway.”
“Too sharp for your own good.”
The manager smacked his lips again.
He’d tried to casually arrange a meeting with the lyricist, but Elder blocked it.
If anything, his curiosity deepened.
The more Elder hid it, the more he wanted to see.
“Wait. I’ll ask them first.”