Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Again, Writer
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Chapter 11: If a Person Doesn't Change, Their Fate Won't Change Either.
‘But I can’t settle for this.’
Compared to before, his position as a writer had skyrocketed impressively, but Woo Ji-hyun still wasn’t satisfied.
If he assessed it objectively, his current standing was at the level of a B-rank writer gunning for A-rank.
In soccer terms, it was like a promising young talent whose potential was just starting to burst forth.
And his age matched that perfectly.
‘That’s why what comes next is even more crucial.’
He had proven his potential with Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero, and demonstrated his value and skill with Asura Sword Emperor.
That was why both Rubin Media and Future Books here were vying for him.
But they wouldn’t offer him their absolute best contract terms just yet.
“Out of personal curiosity, how many volumes do you plan to wrap Asura Sword Emperor up in?”
“I originally planned it for twelve volumes, like Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero, but I’m thinking fourteen wouldn’t be bad either, so I’m working toward that now.”
“With Asura Sword Emperor’s performance so far, fourteen volumes would be great. No, from the publisher’s perspective, it’d be fantastic. If sales don’t drop and you go long-form like that.”
“And it’s good for me too.”
Since Asura Sword Emperor came with full volume guarantees, the more he wrote, the better it was for Woo Ji-hyun.
But he wasn’t dragging it out with pointless padding either.
In the future, writing well would matter, but image management was just as important.
That was why he was writing with the ebook market in mind too.
“If it’s not too rude, could I ask how many volumes you’ve completed so far?”
Ki Ji-seok asked cautiously.
Seo Hee-jin and Go Yu-jeong’s eyes lit up as well.
They’d both been wondering the same thing.
“I turned in volume seven last week.”
“Whoa!”
Ki Ji-seok’s eyes widened.
It was an utterly insane pace.
At the same time, he reaffirmed his decision in his mind.
“So now I’ve just passed the halfway mark.”
“That’s truly impressive. Writing at that speed isn’t easy at all...”
“Haha. Gotta hustle to eat. It’s the talent I’ve been given, after all.”
He’d always been fast, and since Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero and Asura Sword Emperor were novels he’d already written once before, that helped.
But they weren’t identical to the originals.
He’d fleshed out the half-baked characters and sharpened the underdeveloped plotlines.
In terms of polish, Woo Ji-hyun was confident they were far superior to the originals.
Plus, he’d optimized them for mobile reading, so royalties would keep rolling in later.
‘These martial arts novels I wrote back then really acted like a steady annuity.’
Modern stories or pro-level tales were stimulating but had short lifespans.
They rode trends easily, so once the wave passed, they were forgotten fast.
Martial arts were different.
Not trendy, but with a strong identity and dedicated fanbase—no massive hits, but steady payouts.
“You really are amazing. Plenty of people think about it, but hardly any actually do it.”
“It’s my livelihood on the line. As a full-time writer, that pushes me even harder.”
“If only other writers followed your lead, Woo Ji-hyun-ssi.”
“Hahaha.”
Woo Ji-hyun gave an awkward laugh at Ki Ji-seok’s sudden lament.
No matter how well he was doing lately, he was still a mid-tier newbie with just four years under his belt.
Subtract his military service, and it was barely over two.
“On the other hand, I’m grateful too. Having one model writer like you inevitably influences the others.”
“I hope we live in a world where hardworking writers who don’t slack off succeed. Not one where talent alone lets people run wild.”
“That’d be ideal, but it’s not easy. More importantly, Writer-nim.”
“Yes.”
Ki Ji-seok lowered his voice.
It was time to get to the point.
“I heard you don’t have a contract with Barun Publishing after Asura Sword Emperor. So, how about our publishing house?”
“Future Books, huh. Solid reputation. Famous for treating writers well, and tons want to sign with you.”
“I don’t know the details of your Barun Publishing contract. But one thing I can say for sure: we can offer better terms than them.”
“Full volume guarantees too?”
Ki Ji-seok’s face turned dead serious, smile gone.
Woo Ji-hyun replied in a joking tone.
“Of course. The president’s already approved the guidelines, as you know.”
“Alright, let’s hear it.”
It was true that he’d hit free agency after Asura Sword Emperor.
And since he had no plans to quit writing, he did need a new contract somewhere.
The key was that, excluding Rubin Media, he was free to sign next-work deals anywhere.
“We’ll guarantee 400,000 won per volume.”
“4,000 copies at 10%.”
“Exactly. Plus, we’ll pay two volumes’ worth of royalties upfront as signing bonus. If you do another work after that, the one after can get three volumes upfront.”
Ki Ji-seok rattled it off without pause, then quickly gauged Woo Ji-hyun’s reaction.
Negative? Sweeten the pot. Positive? Push forward.
But surprisingly, Woo Ji-hyun’s face was a perfect poker mask.
No hint of like or dislike.
“4,000-copy full guarantees. I’ve come up quite a bit.”
“...Not enough?”
“Feels just right. Neither good nor bad.”
“We can do 7:3 on transmission rights instead of 6:4.”
“I don’t think the split matters much in a market that’s not established yet. Unless you’re cutting out secondary transmission rights entirely.”
Ki Ji-seok’s face stiffened.
Transmission rights—covering ebooks and secondary uses—were things writers often overlooked.
They kicked in for games, dramas, films, or anime deals, but practically, only ebooks mattered.
Outside legendary hits like Dragon Friend, genre novels rarely got game adaptations.
“Excluding secondary transmission rights is tough. Huge growth potential ahead, as you know. And unlike other publishers, our contracts are only three years.”
“That’ll change soon enough.”
“...”
“Plus, Barun Publishing could offer 4,000-copy guarantees too.”
Ki Ji-seok’s pupils flickered at Woo Ji-hyun’s calm, firm response.
Just as expected, he wasn’t easy.
He came off like a veteran who’d clawed his way up, and Ki Ji-seok unconsciously licked his dry lips.
“Mind sharing what you’re aiming for?”
“Minimum 5,000 copies. I think I’ve earned that.”
“Ugh.”
A groan escaped Ki Ji-seok.
500,000 won per volume wasn’t low in the current market.
Even most A-rankers couldn’t command it—many couldn’t at all.
Future Books had only a handful at that level.
“Of course, that’s my benchmark. Not saying you have to match it exactly.”
“That’s scarier. Sounds like no deal unless it’s this or better.”
“Not necessarily. It’s just my hope. I’ll mull over your offer, Team Leader. Contracts are big deals—gotta think it through.”
“Y-Yeah.”
Ki Ji-seok smiled awkwardly.
He’d expected tough, but this was beyond.
“Oh, right—I haven’t given you my card yet.”
Go Yu-jeong chimed in at the perfect moment as the mood grew heavy.
If she let it sit, things would get really awkward.
“Huh? You made deputy?”
“Hehe! Time and experience add up.”
“Congrats, Deputy Go Yu-jeong.”
Woo Ji-hyun looked mildly surprised as he took the card.
She’d been a regular staffer, but now deputy—time really flies.
After that, Woo Ji-hyun chatted lightly with the three of them.
Steering clear of contract talk, as much as possible.
* * *
With Lunar New Year—one of the nation’s two biggest holidays—upon him, Woo Ji-hyun dragged his heavy feet back to his parents’ place for the first time in ages.
Like Chuseok, he’d planned to bury himself in work, but his mother’s threatening calls left him no choice but to cave.
Especially since she had the moral high ground, he had to heed her summons.
“Oh yeah, I need to get my driver’s license. Been so buried in writing, I forgot.”
Between home and gym on repeat, his rare outings were drinking sessions anyway, so he hadn’t felt the need.
No plans to buy a car right now either.
But even without a car, he needed the license.
“Might as well get a new one later, not used.”
Giggling to himself over flashy car models in his head, he arrived at his parents’ restaurant before he knew it.
They specialized in duck roast, duck soup, and spicy chicken stew, and thanks to his mother’s savvy, regulars were piling up year over year.
His father’s spending was ballooning accordingly.
“Haah.”
“Why the deep sigh out front?”
“Uncle.”
“You’ve changed since discharge. That scrawny look’s gone—who’d have thought? Even dressing stylish now.”
His maternal uncle approached with a grin, cigarette in hand nearby.
But his eyes brimmed with surprise.
“Gotta take care of myself properly now.”
“Good attitude. Come on in. Your mom’s been waiting—says it’s too hard seeing you since you went independent. Thought you’d re-enlisted.”
“Hahaha.”
Woo Ji-hyun laughed awkwardly and stepped inside.
There sat his maternal relatives—five siblings’ families—crowded around the heated floor.
“Hyung!”
“Oppa!”
“Yeah, you’ve all grown.”
His younger cousins swarmed from beside their grandmother.
But their eyes gleamed more with $$ than joy.
Sure enough.
The moment he arrived, sebaetime kicked off—red envelopes flying here and there.
“Yep, today’s for spending. Here!”
With a big age gap, Woo Ji-hyun handed out pocket money to his younger cousins for the first time in a while.
Including what he’d missed at last Chuseok.
And once again, he felt it.
Watching fires or fights was fun, but nothing beat spending money.
“Thank you!”
“Yeah, listen to your parents. No trouble in elementary now, Beom-ho.”
“Thanks, Oppa!”
“Good, good—behave in kindergarten.”
Woo Ji-hyun strutted with big-brother swagger after so long.
Oddly, it didn’t look awkward at all.
“Ji-hyun must be raking it in?”
“Doing okay?”