Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Again, Writer
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# 41
Again, Writer 041
In fact, even Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero and Asura Sword Emperor were successes that made no sense when you considered Woo Ji-hyun’s previous works.
It wasn’t for nothing that reviews were popping up calling Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero his debut.
Woo Ji-hyun had been a C-rank writer with zero name recognition.
But after his discharge, he hadn’t just changed 180 degrees—he’d been completely reborn.
“I figured Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero was a stroke of luck, and Asura Sword Emperor was just barely riding its coattails. So this time, it’d crash and burn. Plenty of people thought he’d risen too fast and was bound to fall just as hard.”
“But the results were better than Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero. It was a martial arts novel worthy of the name—good enough that even the picky Jeondaehyeop and Obidio didn’t bash Woo Ji-hyun.”
With perfect name recognition and image-building under his belt, Woo Ji-hyun was now the top rising star threatening the S-rank writers.
In martial arts novel terms, he was the ultimate latecomer standing right in front of an absolute master.
And the most shocking part? It had only taken him a year to climb this high.
“The problem is this: not just Section Chief Jo, but all the other publishers are gunning for Woo Ji-hyun. Rubin Media and Focus Media don’t have the bandwidth right now, but the other six do.”
“And among them, the closest thing we have to connections is us and Phil Media.”
“Connections.”
Ki Ji-seok smacked his lips.
Recalling Woo Ji-hyun’s attitude when he’d visited Future Books, it hardly felt like they had any real rapport.
The only one he’d shown any warmth toward was Go Yu-jeong.
“Should we set up a meeting with Deputy Go?”
“Not a bad idea, but…”
“Considering Woo Ji-hyun’s pace, he’s probably almost done with the series by now. He said he writes three volumes a month at the fastest, two at the slowest.”
“Heh heh heh.”
Ki Ji-seok let out a hollow chuckle at the absurd pace he was witnessing yet again.
Frankly, the literary merit or artistry was nothing special.
Yet he’d turned that around with sheer publication speed and addictiveness.
That’s what amazed and baffled Ki Ji-seok.
‘What on earth happened?’
If he’d spent two years studying and researching, it would’ve made sense.
But Woo Ji-hyun had spent those two years serving at a frontline unit.
It was hard to believe he’d just been reading and studying.
Especially in a military unit without a library.
‘At minimum, you’d need a brigade HQ for that. Which makes it even more of a mystery. How did he regain his touch so fast after two years?’
The more he thought about it, the more questions piled up.
But he couldn’t just ask.
He couldn’t call out of the blue and go, “Hey, what happened?”
“And though it’s just a hunch, Rubin Media might make a move too.”
“Hm?”
Ki Ji-seok’s eyes went wide.
His gaze asked what she meant.
“Rubin Media’s in a rough spot right now. Serious writer defections. They’d want a surefire ace up their sleeve, right? Woo Ji-hyun could clean up their image, and he’s fast to boot.”
“Hoo. Could be.”
Ki Ji-seok stroked his chin.
Seo Hee-jin’s point had merit.
Plus, Rubin Media’s planning department had openly coveted Woo Ji-hyun.
It was plausible.
“But the real issue is the other publishers. Woo Ji-hyun’s a card every single one wants.”
“Then it’ll come down to contract terms.”
“Assuming our current offer is a 5,000-copy full-series guarantee…”
“The best play is bumping royalties. Push past 10%, or guarantee 6,000 copies.”
Seo Hee-jin chewed her lip.
She was pondering how far to plan ahead.
“They’d just laugh at 5,500.”
“High chance. And would he switch publishers for a measly 500-copy bump? He’s tight enough with Section Chief Jo to follow him to Linus Publishing.”
“Sigh.”
Seo Hee-jin let out a sigh as they circled back to square one.
But surprisingly, she didn’t agonize long.
She’d lost Woo Ji-hyun to hesitation last time.
“Gotta see the president first. Better to get a budget limit set.”
“I’ll come too. Got something to report.”
“Let’s go.”
Seo Hee-jin stood from her seat.
Ki Ji-seok stuck close behind.
* * *
Woo Ji-hyun didn’t hide his bewilderment as he poured soju into an empty glass.
He then stared holes into Min A-rang, who was grinning ear to ear.
“Oh my. Don’t stare so intensely. It’s embarrassing.”
“…Didn’t you say we were talking work?”
“Come on, we can eat while we chat. It’s dinnertime anyway.”
Even with Woo Ji-hyun’s words edged like a knife, Min A-rang breezed past with a beaming smile.
As if suggesting they might as well grab dinner together.
“We could’ve met during the day.”
“Sadly, us newbies can’t take half-days off. Boo hoo.”
“Jeez.”
Woo Ji-hyun threw in the towel at Min A-rang’s fake tears—tears that weren’t even there.
No point arguing; she’d dodge everything.
“And it’s our first time out alone. Might as well eat and talk shop in a relaxed vibe.”
“Then why’s there booze?”
“To loosen up the awkwardness?”
Min A-rang flashed a cheeky grin and raised her glass.
A silent toast prompt.
The problem? The pork belly hadn’t even arrived yet.
“Already? No sides even.”
“Jeez, why act like an old fogey? The banchan’s plenty. And we’ve got ice water!”
She grumbled like a young person ribbing someone for sounding geriatric.
She swirled her glass gently.
“If I may, what’s your limit?”
Woo Ji-hyun asked without lifting his glass, a vague unease nagging him.
Better to check before drinking.
“Eh, half a bottle?”
“No jokes. For real.”
“Busted?”
“Most people say half a bottle of soju. Almost all women.”
“Ahahaha.”
Min A-rang laughed awkwardly.
She’d tried playing coy, but he’d seen right through her.
At the same time, she was convinced.
‘He’s got experience.’
She’d sensed it at the office, but Woo Ji-hyun never faltered around women.
Not even with someone like her.
Even the near-thirty section chief blushed around her, but twenty-four-year-old Woo Ji-hyun looked at her like any passerby.
“Be straight with me. So I can pace us.”
“Pace us?”
“Yeah, you’re walking home. No crawling on all fours.”
“No option for carrying me or walking me home?”
Min A-rang looked slightly flustered.
None of her expected choices were on the table.
“Your place is nearby, right? Then you go alone, obviously.”
“Oh? You’d let a tipsy pretty girl go solo?”
“You’re not a girl—you’re my担当 editor.”
Woo Ji-hyun drew a firm line with a sharp tone.
Then he grabbed a water cup instead of soju to wet his throat.
All that talking had dried him out.
“Wow. Didn’t peg you for the cold type, writer-nim.”
“Came here thinking of it as work.”
“Got a girlfriend? Is that why?”
“Nope.”
Woo Ji-hyun shook his head with a wry tone.
He had zero intention of staying single.
Hell, he’d love to date right now if he could.
Sadly, no common ground with anyone.
“Then why?”
“Conversation’s veering off. Tell me your limit and drink.”
Min A-rang, who’d slyly brought her glass to her lips, flashed an awkward smile.
She’d tried sneaking one in, but he’d blocked it cold.
“About two bottles without blacking out. Three on a good day?”
“Impressive.”
Woo Ji-hyun looked mildly surprised.
Right on cue—above average, as expected.
“You?”
“Same as you, A-rang-ssi. Two and a half to three? Two and a half’s ideal.”
“Soulmates?”
“As if.”
“Tch!”
Woo Ji-hyun firmly shook his head at Min A-rang’s joke trying to link them again.
The part-timer brought pork belly, which he laid on the grill.
Sizzle!
Thick strips hit the heat amid white smoke, filling the air with savory aroma.
Min A-rang forgot the banter, eyes locked on the crisping meat.
Like she could devour it with her gaze.
“But seriously, what’s up? I was shocked when you suddenly asked to grab dinner.”
“What part?”
“We’ve met once, and you want to eat alone? Not the usual.”
“I’ve seen your seniors—they keep a professional distance. No pushing for closeness.”
Woo Ji-hyun nodded.
He knew exactly why.
“Yeah.”
“Why’s that?”
“Writers are freelancers, ultimately. They’re yours during contract, but post-finale, it changes. Not always—some keep ties even after switching houses. And vice versa. Rarely, editors jump ship too.”
“Ah.”
Min A-rang let out a gasp of understanding.
As a fresh hire, she hadn’t known those nuances, but his explanation clicked.
“Let’s have one.”
“Oh, finally?”
“Meat’s ready.”
“…Kinda hurts my pride, oddly.”
Min A-rang pouted, but Woo Ji-hyun just smiled faintly, no reply.
Cool autumn air chilled the soju as it slid down his throat.
“Kkh!”
Woo Ji-hyun let out an involuntary savor at the bitter burn.
Soju never changed, and that familiarity endeared it more.
Maybe why people always circled back to it.
“Tasty, right?”
“Yeah. But go easy, A-rang-ssi. Overdoing it’s no good.”
“If I get wasted, you’ll take me home, right, Ji-hyun-ssi?”
“Dunno. I’m the type who ditches drunk friends.”
Min A-rang’s eyes widened in horror.
She’d never dreamed such words from him.
“H-how could you leave a girl like me…!”
“That’s why I said go easy. Also, I don’t even know your address.”
“Oh, true.”
“What’d the president say?”
His tone was cool, but Woo Ji-hyun placed a perfectly grilled pork strip on Min A-rang’s plate.
He refilled her empty glass too.
“What do you mean?”
“The contract.”
