Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Once Again, Writer
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Jo Jin-gu carefully poured sake into the empty glass as he asked.
Yet his pupils trembled ever so slightly.
He knew all too well how Future Books poached writers, so even as he prayed it wasn't the case, a nagging doubt crept in.
“I didn’t. I was just there to look around from the start. Of course, I did get an offer. But you really didn’t know?”
“Haha. They kept dodging with vague answers, never giving me a straight one.”
“That could happen.”
He couldn’t tell if it was Ki Ji-seok or Seo Hee-jin he’d spoken to, but one thing was clear.
Both would have given evasive replies.
They probably figured no contract had been signed ‘yet.’
“So I was playing it cool, but honestly, I was on pins and needles. I’d even heard Rubin Media was trying to make a move.”
“They called a lot. I just didn’t pick up. Something about their first impression—and that weird gut feeling—rubbed me the wrong way.”
“I see.”
Jo Jin-gu’s face brightened instantly at the news that Woo Ji-hyun hadn’t even answered the phone.
Fewer competitors were always better, after all.
On top of that, he shared Woo Ji-hyun’s poor impression of Rubin Media.
They smiled through business dealings, but they weren’t exactly close.
“I’m a bit picky about who I deal with.”
“Ahem! Mind if I ask one more thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“Any plans to sign with Future Books?”
“That’s not quite what I expected you to ask.”
Woo Ji-hyun raised an eyebrow slightly.
Jo Jin-gu’s words were completely different from what he’d anticipated.
“To be frank, the president ordered me to sign you today, Woo Ji-hyun. You might know this, but we’re the publisher that lost the most authors to Future Books. And it happened mostly on my watch.”
“Must’ve been tough.”
Woo Ji-hyun offered a brief word of sympathy.
He could speak calmly about it now, but back then, Jo Jin-gu must have faced brutal backlash.
Even though pros chasing better pay was par for the course.
And if Barun Publishing had treated them right, the writers wouldn’t have jumped ship so easily.
‘Still, loyalty and bonds can only hold so far.’
When contract terms were similar, sure, sentiment could sway a writer.
But when the offers differed starkly, no amount of loyalty could compete.
“Haha. I drowned my sorrows back then. Alone, of course. It was my burden to bear. And I wasn’t even mad at the writers who left. If I were in their shoes, I’d have done the same with those terms.”
“Hard not to waver when it’s tied straight to your livelihood.”
“Exactly. Loyalty matters, but sadly, it doesn’t pay the bills. Especially with a family to support—it’s the right call to move.”
From the writers’ side, jumping to the higher bidder made sense.
But publishers couldn’t let them go without a fight.
Especially in this market.
“Human relations are tricky. Too many tangled interests.”
“You got that right. That’s why the president was fuming today. Losing you is bad enough, but it’s his pride on the line too.”
“Hmm. Makes sense.”
Woo Ji-hyun nodded.
But he didn’t look convinced.
He knew publishers could band together against threats whenever it suited them.
And that was just good business.
No permanent enemies or allies in this industry.
“But I’m not pulling out a contract for you today, Woo Ji-hyun.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Instead, I have a different offer.”
Jo Jin-gu replied in a serious tone, then downed his glass in one go.
As if wetting his throat before dropping something big.
“A different offer.”
Watching Jo Jin-gu gulp sake alone without a toast, Woo Ji-hyun took a sip himself.
Then he dipped a neatly sliced piece of sashimi in soy sauce and popped it in his mouth.
“It’s still under wraps, but I’m switching jobs in March. Planning to tell the president this month.”
“I see.”
“……You’re not surprised?”
“This industry’s full of job-hoppers. And you’ve been around long enough—I figured you might move soon.”
“Guess that comment you made during our last contract wasn’t just talk.”
Jo Jin-gu looked mildly shocked.
Woo Ji-hyun had a shrewdness beyond his years.
Sometimes it felt like dealing with a peer, not someone in his twenties.
“Yeah, if the deputy manager leaves, I could end up like an orphaned duckling on the Nakdong River.”
“No way. You’re one of our top performers right now.”
“I’m in a reliable spot, sure.”
“Exactly. That’s why I want you to come with me. To Linus Publishing, where I’m headed.”
Jo Jin-gu’s eyes gleamed.
That had been the real goal of today’s meeting, after all.
Tense, he watched Woo Ji-hyun’s reaction.
“To Linus Publishing, huh.”
“Yeah. And I’ve got the green light from their president on the terms.”
“Already?”
“They don’t want to lose you. Full print run guarantee of 5,000 copies. And for secondary transmission rights, a 70:30 split in your favor.”
Woo Ji-hyun’s eyes widened slightly.
Jo Jin-gu was offering far better than the spendthrift Future Books.
“You’re sure Linus approved these terms?”
“Yes. I got the president’s direct okay.”
“Wow.”
Woo Ji-hyun was genuinely surprised.
He’d hoped for this, but deep down figured 4,500 copies and 10% was the ceiling.
Yet Jo Jin-gu wasn’t haggling at all.
“This is the best I can do. Their president hinted to lowball if possible, but I disagree. To beat Future Books, we need terms at least as good—in fact, better.”
“It’s way better. Future Books floated 4,000 copies. I shot it down flat.”
“Talk about greedy.”
Jo Jin-gu looked incredulous.
That was rock-bottom even for a bargain.
For the Woo Ji-hyun of Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero days, 4 million won per title would’ve been great.
But now? He was a different beast.
“So I turned it down cold. Gotta watch the arrogance, but I’m not underselling myself one bit.”
“Good call. Say no to bad deals, especially when you’re not that tight. Actually, the closer you are, the worse it gets.”
“One thing I want to ask.”
“Ask away. I’ll answer anything I can.”
He could’ve pushed for 4,500, but Jo Jin-gu didn’t regret it.
The Woo Ji-hyun he’d scouted and nurtured was worth 5 million per title.
And he had a hunch: the writer would only get bigger.
“During Asura Sword Emperor’s run, can I drop a new work?”
“Of course. If you’ve got the manuscript, anytime. We’ve already cleared it.”
“You’re thorough, as always.”
“Shall I get the contract?”
Jo Jin-gu shifted eagerly.
He looked ready to whip it out on the spot.
Woo Ji-hyun chuckled and nodded.
“Yeah, let’s do it now.”
“Haha, thank you!”
Jo Jin-gu beamed, pulling the contract from his bag.
He’d hoped for yes, but braced for no.
Asura Sword Emperor was still serializing, and Woo Ji-hyun’s ties to Barun weren’t bad.
Yet with no hesitation, Woo Ji-hyun agreed—pure joy lit Jo Jin-gu’s face as he handed it over.
‘Linus, huh.’
Meanwhile, Woo Ji-hyun eyed the contract with a strange expression.
A bad memory from his past life with Linus Publishing flashed by.
But that editor was probably gone, so he signed without pause.
“Thanks for the great terms.”
“No, thank you. Not an easy decision.”
“It’s tough for Linus too. Though I’m set—other writers are gonna suffer.”
Woo Ji-hyun’s face soured.
His deal was golden, but most wouldn’t be so lucky.
B- and C-rank writers would take the hardest hit.
Name-brand authors held value even in a dying market.
But mid-tiers? Not so much.
Their terms would worsen, royalties plummeting exponentially.
Sure, breakout hits happened.
But they were rare as hen’s teeth.
‘Bust your ass for a month, and if your bank shows under 500,000 won, anyone would bail.’
Few could tough it out on part-time wage-level royalties.
Love writing all you want—bills don’t care.
That’s why genre lit lost a ton of writers this era.
‘The real issue? Talented ones left too.’
B- and C-ranks now, but no guarantee they’d stay there.
Unlock potential, and they could rocket up anytime.
Yet publishers weren’t nurturing them right.
“That worries me too. Plenty with real talent, but the market’s killing them.”
“Yeah. Not my place to fret over others, though.”
Woo Ji-hyun had been one of those who quit briefly in his past life.
He got their pain better than most.
It fueled his own dogged writing too.
“You’re a freak case, Woo Ji-hyun. Nobody rises this fast. Talent makes it possible, sure.”
“Thanks for saying that. Here’s to more success ahead.”
“Likewise.”
They exchanged copies, bowing politely.
And so, Woo Ji-hyun’s next work was set for Linus Publishing.
* * *
Her pupils shook violently as she sat across from her son, glasses in hand.
She never dreamed he knew.
“H-How did you find out?”
Fresh snacks arrived with her first sip; as she poured the second, his bombshell hit. Her voice quavered.
“Forgot? I was the first to spot Dad’s affair. Back in Gwango-dong. I was seven, right?”
“……Yeah. That’s right.”
The fierce fight that night lingered sharp in her mind.
And at seven, Woo Ji-hyun would remember too.
“I know you’re still hoping, Mom. Haven’t given up. But you know how this ends.”
“No need to assume the worst…….”
“If—if—I’ve got one scenario for you.”