Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Again, Writer
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Even though September had arrived, the sweltering heat showed no signs of relenting.
If anything, the intensifying blaze was wearing people down.
“Lalala~!”
While everyone else grimaced and trudged down the streets in the sweat-inducing heat that poured out even when standing still, Woo Ji-hyun alone wore a smile.
And that was because Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero Volume 4 had hit the shelves just yesterday.
With Volume 4 marking the Maginot Line for returns, rental shops across the country now faced a decision.
Whether to stock more or send them back.
“It’d be nice if the return rate was low, but I shouldn’t get my hopes up too much. The market’s just in such bad shape.”
Reality was grim, but Woo Ji-hyun’s expression remained bright.
The end of the rental shop era was inevitable, and no matter how well-written a book was, 3,000 copies was the limit.
Anything beyond freak hits like Solar Sculptor, which came out in January 2007 two years ago, topped out at 3,000.
Plus, in his past life, the final Volume 8 had barely cracked 2,000 to earn incentives, so Woo Ji-hyun tempered his expectations.
“The important thing is that I finished it.”
Despite the oppressive heat, the reason Woo Ji-hyun smiled as he headed to Bucheon Station boiled down to one thing.
He had wrapped up Heavenly Thunder Sword Hero at Volume 12 today.
It was four volumes longer than the original, but he’d tied it off neatly to avoid readers complaining about pointless padding.
If anything, in terms of completion, he thought it turned out far better than in his past life.
“And royalties are piling up steadily.”
With Volume 3 royalties coming soon, a smile crept onto Woo Ji-hyun’s lips unbidden.
Sure, from Volume 4 onward, royalties were based on print run rather than guaranteed copies, so they’d be less than Volumes 1 through 3, but having the whole series done meant he didn’t have to worry about living expenses.
And if he wrote a new work and got royalties for that, his bank account would fatten up even more.
“The problem is that writing Volume 2 doesn’t double the royalties. Still, you never know. Sales might not drop—they could even go up.”
Woo Ji-hyun decided to stay positive.
The rental shop market’s collapse was unavoidable anyway.
So he had to squeeze every last drop out of it while he could.
“As long as I keep the quality steady, I might not make bank with print books, but ebooks are a different story.”
The sole reason Woo Ji-hyun hammered away at his writing was simple.
The more published works he had, the stronger his position in the ebook market.
It was a transitional period with its share of issues, but the key was that money could be made.
And he needed to stack cash now to survive until the paid serialization market opened and stabilized.
“After that…”
Woo Ji-hyun’s expression grew dreamy.
Once paid serialization took solid root, seven-figure earners started popping up, and talented young writers bought homes and drove imports.
Things unimaginable now would become possible then.
“No reason I can’t do it too.”
In his past life, he’d quit this industry over bad choices.
Paychecks were inconsistent even before the rental shops tanked—the one semi-reliable income source.
Ebooks opened up after, but the money wasn’t great.
The amounts hitting his account fluctuated wildly too.
And with age creeping up, Woo Ji-hyun had faced a choice.
Stick to this path come hell or high water, or grab a stable job now?
In the end, he’d picked the latter.
Stable income was essential with the future in mind.
But even then, he hadn’t quit writing entirely.
“This time’s different.”
He’d tried making the right calls, but looking back, most were wrong.
Sure, those trial-and-error lessons gave him experiences other writers lacked, but coldly speaking, they weren’t essential.
“Writer Woo Ji-hyun!”
Lost in thought, Woo Ji-hyun arrived at the meeting spot, Jo Jin-gu’s voice calling from afar.
He’d apparently been waiting a while—his face was flushed beet red.
“You should’ve gone in if you got here first. It’s brutally hot out here—why wait outside?”
Spotting Jo Jin-gu’s sweat-drenched face, Woo Ji-hyun checked his watch.
Just making sure he hadn’t shown up late.
But it pointed to ten minutes before the appointed time.
“Haha, work wrapped early. Come on in. The pork ribs here are killer.”
“I like pork belly too, you know.”
“In this heat, you want good meat. Come on, let’s go.”
The promised pork belly had upgraded to ribs, but Woo Ji-hyun wasn’t fazed.
He knew it’d be charged to the company card anyway.
Plus, he hadn’t demanded advances or mooched off the publisher, so ribs were fair game.
“Auntie! Three servings of pork ribs here, and what soju do you like?”
“Anything but Original Ice.”
“First Spark it is, then.”
As the vibe suggested, Jo Jin-gu was a regular, ordering with ease.
Soon, pork ribs sizzled on the grill between them, wafting mouthwatering aromas.
“I’ll pour first.”
As the meat cooked, Woo Ji-hyun grabbed the soju bottle.
Jo Jin-gu was his senior, so he poured first.
“Oh, I should be pouring for you…”
“You’re grilling. Let me do it. Here.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Pour.
Clear liquor flowed from the soju bottle—featuring a smiling actress rare in real life—into Jo Jin-gu’s glass, sparkling pure and bright.
“To the section chief—thanks for all your hard work.”
“No, no. You’re the one who worked hard, Writer. Hitting deadlines isn’t easy, but you delivered manuscripts so fast. The staff’s all curious about you now. Wondering what kind of guy you are. Haha.”
“Writers keeping deadlines is just basic.”
Woo Ji-hyun took the soju Jo Jin-gu poured with both hands, brushing it off.
If anything, writers missing deadlines were the weird ones.
But that issue persisted even into paid serialization.
Delays and hiatuses were rampant.
“There are plenty of writers who don’t do that ‘basic’ stuff. You know that too, Writer Woo.”
“You could call it personal style, but yeah, it’s still wrong.”
“Exactly. Meat’s ready—cheers?”
With the ribs about done, Jo Jin-gu raised his glass.
Woo Ji-hyun matched him politely.
“Kkh!”
The soju’s sharp, boozy bite slid down his throat, drawing an involuntary smack.
Of course, it was delicious.
Plenty of booze in the world, but it all circled back to soju.
“You seem to like your drinks.”
“Yeah, I have some alone now and then. Just enough not to mess with work.”
“Looking at you, you don’t seem twenty-three at all. Like I said last time.”
“My friends call me an old soul too.”
“Haha. Here, have some.”
Jo Jin-gu tonged a piece of rib onto Woo Ji-hyun’s plate.
He’d been sipping soju without eating, just ice water, so he plated it right up.
“Thanks. Oh, any totals on yesterday’s Volume 4 sales? Should’ve shipped nationwide by now.”
“That’s what I wanted to tell you. Still early days, but last I checked before leaving work: 2,700 copies.”
“That’s solid.”
“With manuscripts ready ahead, the release schedule holds, so I don’t see print runs dropping much through the end. Reader feedback’s good too.”
Woo Ji-hyun looked mildly surprised.
Better than expected.
It was almost a given, but he hadn’t relaxed.
This industry was full of variables—sales could tank below projections.
“Hope that print run holds steady to the finale.”
“We’ll do our best. That said, Writer…”
“Yeah?”
“With the finale wrapping up soon, we should talk next work contract.”
Jo Jin-gu broached it carefully.
The drinks were partly to treat him right, but mostly to discuss the next contract.
Hands so fast he was called a machine, quality unflagging.
The team had decided: secure the next work, come hell or high water.
‘I don’t want to lose him either.’
Some problem writers made outrageous demands despite poor sales, full of baseless confidence.
Or had personalities too prickly to handle.
But Woo Ji-hyun was neither.
He was a dream to manage.
No wonder Yoo Mi-rae said she wanted only clients like him.
“Figured you’d bring that up.”
“Personally, and for the company—we don’t want to lose you.”
“Thanks for the offer first off.”
Jo Jin-gu’s face stiffened at Woo Ji-hyun’s polite reply.
A bad feeling stirred.
“Any calls from other publishers?”
“Nah. No contracts either. Just reminded me of my old one, so thanks again.”
“Phew. Gave me a heart attack.”
Jo Jin-gu looked a decade older.
Losing Woo Ji-hyun to rivals would’ve meant hell from the boss.
He resolved then and there.
Seal the deal today.
‘At least two works, minimum.’
Jo Jin-gu’s eyes gleamed.
He’d planned one next work, but nearly losing him shifted gears.
No way he’d let that happen.
“Why the big reaction? It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s huge. For me, for the company. We really don’t want to lose you, Writer Woo. Your handler, Assistant Manager Yoo Mi-rae, feels the same. So, any complaints about us? Air them all.”
Forgetting the ribs charring, Jo Jin-gu leaned in earnestly.
Woo Ji-hyun chuckled inwardly, flipping the meat with tongs.
“Nothing like that. No issues with Assistant Manager Yoo either.”
“Then contract your next work with us.”
“Tell me the terms first.”
“Oh, got ahead of myself—didn’t lay out conditions. Sorry.”