Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Again, Writer
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“Goddamn it, that son of a bitch!”
“What now?”
Park Chan-hu turned his head, his face full of confusion.
Even though Gong Hyun-jung was known for his hot temper, it was rare for him to curse like this at the office.
And he wasn’t even hangry, which made Park Chan-hu even more puzzled.
“He’s not picking up the phone at all. I’ve been calling once a day.”
“Ah, Woo Ji-hyun?”
“Yeah. This bastard definitely has my number saved and is ignoring me on purpose.”
“Looks that way to me. He’s been responsive with his editor, they say. Back at Phil Media, he wasn’t the type to ghost like this. Sure, working in a buffet kitchen meant delays sometimes, but now he’s full-time, right?”
Park Chan-hu spoke with an expression that could’ve been either consoling or teasing, hard to tell.
Meanwhile, his other hand leisurely mixed some instant coffee.
“Why the hell isn’t he picking up? We just met him that one time.”
“We didn’t screw anything up.”
“He’s ignoring your calls too, hyung?”
“Yeah.”
Unlike the fired-up Gong Hyun-jung, Park Chan-hu replied nonchalantly.
Writers ghosting wasn’t anything new—there were too many to count—so he’d long passed the point of getting worked up over unanswered calls.
Besides, Woo Ji-hyun wasn’t even officially under Rubin Media yet.
“Why, though? I can’t figure it out. Even if he’s from another publisher, shopping around is the way to bump up his rates.”
“I’m curious too. Usually they dodge the first couple calls but pick up by the third.”
“Ah, he seemed like such a straight shooter.”
Gong Hyun-jung scowled deeply.
He’d thought this would be an easy pickup, but the reality was a total ambush.
That made it sting even more.
Rubin Media desperately needed a writer like Woo Ji-hyun right now.
“How about working his circle? Any writers close to him on our side?”
“Already checked everyone. Seems he only hangs with the folks from Phil Media’s author lounge. First time signing with anyone else.”
“Tricky.”
Park Chan-hu had left it to Gong Hyun-jung, but he hadn’t washed his hands of it entirely.
He was still the head of planning, after all.
And in his eyes, Woo Ji-hyun was a prime catch.
Writers who maintained above-average quality and churned out two volumes a month? They were unicorns.
“We gotta lock him down before Barun Publishing gets wind.”
“Figured out his contract terms?”
“Put out feelers. Promised conditions better than Barun’s, no question.”
“Hmm. What if he’s got full rights guaranteed?”
Park Chan-hu brought up the worst-case scenario.
Full rights were the top-tier deal these days.
Not that all full-rights deals paid the same royalties, of course.
They varied wildly based on print runs.
“Bump it by about 500 copies and we’re good.”
“Hmm.”
Park Chan-hu stroked his chin.
Given Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero’s performance and current pace, even Rubin Media would’ve offered full rights.
Though not at the absolute top-writer level, of course.
He wasn’t there yet.
“If that’s short, go up to 1,000. Or load up on incentives.”
“That could work. But the real issue is no communication.”
“That’s why I’m pissed!”
Gong Hyun-jung snatched up the phone he’d chucked earlier, scowling again.
The thing was built tough—just some scratches, still good as new.
“Sent a text? If calls aren’t working, try that first.”
“You think I haven’t?”
“What’s his deal, really? Bad rumors spooking him?”
Park Chan-hu sighed and tilted his head.
No matter how he turned it over, he couldn’t guess.
“Can’t even visit since we don’t know his address.”
“We met once. Lucky if he doesn’t slam the door in our faces.”
“To snag the contract, we gotta try everything.”
“Good attitude, but it’ll tank our image. Chasing a writer who won’t send manuscripts is one thing—this is the first meeting.”
Park Chan-hu smacked his lips and shook his head.
No matter how urgent, showing up uninvited felt off.
“That’s how desperate it is. Ignoring texts, ignoring calls. If we’re not careful, Future Books’ll swoop in.”
“Their situation’s not great either, right? Atmosphere wasn’t good last I heard.”
“But word is, their section chief sealed his first contract.”
“Yeah, and got dumped right after.”
Park Chan-hu gave a knowing smile.
He picked up bits from drinks with writers—Woo Ji-hyun tidbits included.
“Still, you never know. They’ve got deep pockets. Money talks in this business. And snatching S-rank writers with cash? That’s Future Books’ specialty.”
“True.”
Park Chan-hu’s face soured.
Rubin Media had lost a few hot writers to Future Books’ cash splurges.
He could complain, but no point calling them out.
Pros followed the money—it was a given.
‘Learned our lesson, though.’
If you’re gonna play, play big.
Park Chan-hu had internalized that.
And that any writer could be bought—for the right price.
Of course, factoring in the costs that came with it.
“Hyung, lemme go big on the corporate card.”
“Huh? What’s this out of nowhere?”
“Gotta make a splash.”
“Who? Woo Ji-hyun?”
Gong Hyun-jung nodded.
But his eyes burned with a dangerous glint.
Pride bruised, he looked ready to strike.
“Yeah, he’s green. Time to wine and dine him hard. Or start the ‘entertaining’ early.”
“Stay within limits. But you know the deal—come back with a signed contract, ink or print.”
“Business ain’t my first rodeo.”
Gong Hyun-jung flashed a cocky grin.
He didn’t notice.
Park Chan-hu mirroring him with an identical smile.
* * *
Saturday evening, Woo Ji-hyun headed to Seochang-dong with heavy bags in hand.
His grandfather’s place was there.
One hand held Jinro Original—his grandfather’s favorite soju—and the other, a spread of pork bossam.
He rang the doorbell.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Grandpa.”
From the sofa, no doubt—his grandfather’s slow, distinctive drawl echoed right away.
Hearing it, Woo Ji-hyun’s eyes stung on reflex.
He tried not to show it, but Grandpa’s voice always made them well up.
“What brings you? Been a minute since last time.”
“Thought I’d have a drink with you, Grandpa. You haven’t eaten yet, right?”
“Just about to start.”
Grandpa opened the door, nodding toward the kitchen.
Grandma’s signature doenjang jjigae wafted gently out.
“Then dinner and drinks it is.”
“Ho ho ho. Drinking with my grandson. Well, now.”
Grandpa scratched the back of his head, sheepish at this novel grandson-grandpa booze-up.
But joy lit his face, impossible to hide.
“No overdoing it, though. Just a moderate amount.”
“Ho ho. Moderation in booze? Once you start, it just flows.”
“Still, health first.”
“Ho ho ho ho.”
Grandpa clammed up.
Worrying about health now was pointless.
And Woo Ji-hyun knew it too.
In his past life, he’d been clueless.
No one told him, so only after Grandpa passed did he learn about the cancer battle.
‘Said he’d rather enjoy his smokes and drinks till the end than suffer chemo.’
Even that, Mom only shared post-funeral.
Grandpa had insisted on keeping it from him.
So he’d been totally in the dark.
Grandpa acting normal with his usual drinks and smokes.
“Just one bottle each? That’s why I only bought two.”
“Who’s gonna get buzzed off one bottle?”
Grandpa smacked his lips as Woo Ji-hyun held them up.
One bottle was just two mugfuls.
“Eight shots in a soju glass.”
“Ruins the taste that way.”
“It tastes fine. Especially with me. And I got your favorite bossam.”
“Bossam?”
Grandpa perked up.
No vegetarian, but Grandma’s veggie sides meant meat at home only came at holidays.
He rarely went out, so cravings hit hard—now, bossam in hand, he started salivating.
“Yeah, big family size. Plenty for three.”
“I won’t eat any, so it’s just us two.”
“Leftovers for later drinks.”
“Good. Real good.”
Grandpa beamed.
Woo Ji-hyun grinned back, greeted Grandma, and unpacked the bossam on the table.
“Meat after so long.”
“Ho ho ho ho ho!”
Grandma, setting down the jjigae, shot Grandpa a glare.
As if she never fed him meat.
“You too, Grandma.”
“I’m good. Jjigae’s plenty. Got fried egg too. But booze? This much and no more.”
“Hey, there’s soju on the balcony, ain’t there?”
“No.”
Grandma shook her head firmly.
Booze was poison for her husband now.
Deep down, she wanted to stop Woo Ji-hyun too.
“Just this much.”
“Ahem!”
With wife and grandson drawing the line, Woo Sang-deok cleared his throat awkwardly.
Tasty snacks, but no free-flowing drinks—frustrating.
His iron-willed wife left him nothing but loaded coughs.
“Here’s a glass.”
“Ho ho. Booze from my grandson.”
But Woo Sang-deok brightened fast.
The polite pour lifted his spirits.
First grandson-grandpa drinks? Pure bliss.
“Such a simple guy.”
“Grandma, a glass?”
“She don’t drink a drop. And even if, no.”
Still holding the bottle, Woo Ji-hyun eyed her—Woo Sang-deok jumped in quick.
Couldn’t spare any of their precious two bottles.
“Why not? Can’t I get one from Ji-hyun?”
“Well, it’s not that...”
“Stingy, huh?”
“Ahem!”
Woo Sang-deok turned away, coughing instead.
Silent admission.
She poured from Woo Ji-hyun anyway.
Nothing sweeter than revenge on the pesky husband.