Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Again, Writer
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Chapter 18. As the Market Shrinks, the Bottom(?) Narrows Too.
“But I see things differently from those folks.”
“In what way?”
“They’ve got a point, of course. A work is like a child to a writer. Still, I’d love for more readers to check out my stuff. The method might differ, but what matters is whether readers read it or not.”
“Hmm.”
Jo Jin-gu stroked his chin.
Woo Ji-hyun’s words definitely carried weight.
But he couldn’t guess the full extent of what was really going on in Woo Ji-hyun’s head.
‘The method doesn’t matter. What counts is how much hits my bank account. Cheap image? The moment you stop caring, the banners vanish, and the sales dry up. It’s materialistic, sure, but if you’re writing to make money, this is the right answer.’
Muttering the inner thoughts he couldn’t voice to Jo Jin-gu, Woo Ji-hyun lifted his glass.
Min A-rang caught on like a ghost and held out her own glass.
A gesture to drink together, not alone.
“Why go solo? I’m right here.”
“You think I’d pour alone if you weren’t?”
“Planning to keep me single for three years?”
“You’ve already hit one year. Just two more to go.”
Woo Ji-hyun grinned, staring straight into Min A-rang’s glaring axe-eyes.
She shook her arm wildly, as if to swat him with her glass.
“What if after two years, I go running to you instead?”
“You think I’m the type to take you back?”
“From what I see, you’ll still be single then. What good’s making bank if you’re alone? You’re solo right now too.”
“……Let’s drop it. Feels like we’re just picking at my own flesh.”
Woo Ji-hyun raised the white flag first against Min A-rang’s merciless jabs.
He sensed he’d take the bigger hit if they kept going.
“Hee-hee! I win?”
“Yeah, you win.”
“But something’s bugging me.”
“Spit it out.”
Woo Ji-hyun glanced at Jo Jin-gu, lost in thought, and refilled Min A-rang’s empty glass with soju.
Jo Jin-gu’s contemplation seemed set to drag on.
And that made sense.
No one—not even him—could predict the future with certainty right now.
‘Everything’s up in the air. That’s just how it is.’
They kept saying things would get tough, but the worst hadn’t hit yet.
The peak would come next year, in 2012, leaving Woo Ji-hyun with a wry expression as he filled his own glass.
A colder winter than ever, a brutal cold snap, would sweep through the genre fiction world.
“Don’t you think it’s been ages since we last drank like this?”
“We’re not exactly alone here. Isn’t that too casual?”
“What’s wrong with it? The boss isn’t the type to mind. And technically, I’m your handler.”
“That’s why this feels just right.”
Min A-rang pouted.
She’d instantly grasped what Woo Ji-hyun meant by “this.”
“Getting really bummed out here.”
“It’s a casual night—New Year’s party meets future strategy session?”
“No contract tucked away?”
“In that tiny clutch?”
Woo Ji-hyun nodded toward the lone clutch bag she’d brought, just like last time.
But even at his gesture, Min A-rang smiled confidently.
“Not just me with a bag.”
“Ugh. Sales pitch even tonight?”
“Why not seal another one while we’re at it? It’s a challenge piece—peace of mind if it’s safely contracted.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Woo Ji-hyun deflected politely.
Nine Thousand Demon Gods was already locked in, unwritten or not. No need for another.
“Way too cold. You that harsh with girlfriends too?”
“Nah, I give all my love. I’m a romantic at heart.”
“Yeah, right.”
Min A-rang snorted.
Tsundere vibes, maybe—but she’d never seen a warm side from him.
“I don’t hand out affection to just anyone.”
“Makes me even sadder. I’m your handler, you know.”
“That’s why I’m pouring your drinks. Be grateful.”
“Tch!”
Woo Ji-hyun listened to Min A-rang’s grumbling as he picked up a slice of sashimi, wrapped it in lettuce.
But deep down, he wanted to flirt a little.
His age—twenty-five before he knew it.
* * *
Yang Geon-woo dragged himself out of bed without washing up and plopped down at his desk.
He fired up the computer and logged straight into Munpia.
After tanking two serials back-to-back, he’d started a new one, so he wanted to check views and favorites.
But the moment he hit the site, his eyes bulged at the Today’s Best 10 novel.
“What the hell? Another new serial? It’s only been two months since he pulled Nine Thousand Demon Gods from publication?”
Yang Geon-woo stared in disbelief at the name “Woo Ji-hyun” next to the title proudly sitting at 10: ‘Blood Link: Lord of Congealed Blood’.
From everything Woo Ji-hyun had shown so far, starting a new work meant he’d finished Nine Thousand Demon Gods—the one he’d yanked recently.
But what really got under Yang Geon-woo’s skin wasn’t that insane pace.
“Fantasy? This martial arts hack’s jumping into straight fantasy?”
Sneering as he entered Woo Ji-hyun’s serial board.
The guy who’d churned out nothing but wuxia was trying straight fantasy? Absurd.
Especially since it was his own turf—straight fantasy. He didn’t like the challenge.
Wuxia wasn’t easy, but neither was straight fantasy.
“Crazy bastard. Writing’s popping off a bit, so now he’s sniffing around everywhere?”
Yang Geon-woo bit his lip after checking his own board’s views and favorites.
Unlike Woo Ji-hyun’s Today’s Best 10 entry, his novel got zero buzz.
Even though he’d poured his soul into this one, sharpening his blade like never before.
What burned hotter: Woo Ji-hyun’s measly 20 chapters hitting Today’s Best, while his near-30-chapter slog couldn’t crack 50.
Click.
Pride shredded, Yang Geon-woo clicked the prologue of Blood Link: Lord of Congealed Blood, curious what made the views explode.
His eyes raced down the text.
“What? Nothing special? Cliché city—no fresh ideas anywhere. Why’s everyone eating it up?”
In under 30 minutes, he’d blasted through 20 chapters, muttering in disbelief.
Blood Link: Lord of Congealed Blood was a dime-a-dozen revenge growth story—sucked dry like old bone broth.
Sure, the scale seemed bigger than your typical territory or continental war bait scattered around.
But that was it.
Yang Geon-woo smirked at the nothing-special novel—no standout hooks even if you scrubbed your eyes.
“Figures from a wuxia guy. Zero depth for straight fantasy.”
He shook his head.
Early buzz from name recognition, sure—but it’d crash later.
No genius masters multiple genres.
And Woo Ji-hyun, from what he’d seen, wasn’t one.
“It’ll flop anyway. Might as well speed it up. Could be doing him a favor. Clinging to a dud—what’s the point? Heh!”
Yang Geon-woo dove into the critique board.
To post a straight take-down of what he’d read.
But he didn’t know.
His monitor-reflecting eyes brimmed with jealousy.
* * *
Min A-rang shivered, recalling the brutally cold morning commute—like winter announcing its approach.
The office felt just as frigid inside, still early.
She cranked the heater first, then headed to her desk and booted her PC.
“Gotta be some good stuff today.”
While it loaded, she mixed a coffee and logged into Munpia, eyes gleaming.
Market shrinking, veterans bailing—still, rookies had to be scouted.
A publisher that stopped printing books wasn’t a publisher anymore.
Plus, a wildcard hit could blow up anytime, so the whole Linus Publishing crew scoured Munpia, Joara, and J-World for newbies.
“Huh?”
She’d prepped her own countermeasures, browsing for gems—when her face froze at something.
Lightning-fast clicks followed.
“No way. This guy.”
The critique-board flame had spread to the author’s serial page.
Worse: people piling on the instigator’s agitprop.
“Totally orchestrated.”
He’d dressed it up as logical critique, but to Min A-rang, nope.
Just nitpicking sneers, slathered in filthy jealousy.
“Jeez.”
She tsked, combing through the targeted comments designed to rattle any writer’s nerves.
Worry hit hard.
The trash-fire target was her charge.
“What’s got you fuming like that?”
“Boss?”
“The chill in here’s nothing compared to the ice shooting from your eyes. Know that?”
“Check this out.”
Jo Jin-gu had joked to soothe her morning rage—but hurried over at her vibe.
“Woo Ji-hyun’s new one, right? Nine Thousand Demon Gods follow-up.”
“Yeah. But someone’s spamming hate comments on every post.”
“G-Star?”
Min A-rang zipped through, showing Jo Jin-gu every serial hate and the critique post.
His face hardened by the second.
“Too malicious, right?”
“And clever. Not a single curse or slur. Just sneering vibes.”
“He okay? I hear Woo Ji-hyun reads all comments. Even drops replies sometimes.”
“Bet he has. Hmm.”
Jo Jin-gu got Min A-rang’s worry completely.
Most writers had fragile mental games.
Humans shook under hate or nitpicks.
“Call him? He’s an early riser—probably up grinding now.”
“Wait. Keeps getting stomped. Let’s check the ID.”
“Pulling it up.”
Min A-rang opened G-Star’s profile as Jo Jin-gu tilted his head skeptically.
A small window popped: gender, email, short bio. (Back in 2011.)
“As expected.”