The New Employee - 2
A writing contest.
The proving ground for aspiring authors—an arena where writers confident in their craft flaunted their talents and threw their hats in for the prize. If the contest itself was famous, winning alone brought prize money and honor, and afterward it served as tremendous publicity for a serialization career. For anyone truly sure of their pen, it was a gateway worth challenging at least once.
"Does the Yichang Literary Society hold events for new writers as well?"
An event for new writers, apparently. Judging by what the Scholar Hwang brothers had told me, the Society was holding a contest for up-and-coming authors. And here I'd thought a "literary society" was merely a place where scholars held reading circles among themselves, savored poetry, calligraphy, and painting, and drank and made merry.
"The Chairman of the Yichang Literary Society is an eminent scholar who once served as an advisor to His Majesty the Emperor himself. Since retiring to his hometown, he founded the Society here in Yichang, and he makes a regular practice of seeking out poor writers buried in obscurity."
"He has been doing truly meaningful work, then."
When a high official stepped down from office, returning to his hometown to teach young scholars was a common path even in Joseon. Apparently the Chairman of this literary society ran his own quiet talent hunt for writers on the side.
"Yes. The Society's event is famous not only in Yichang but in every city round about, including Wuhan, the provincial capital of Hubei."
So it was a hugely famous event. Well, a contest itself had to be a rarity in this world—and the chief judge was a retired high official out of the Hanlin Academy, no less. That alone would grant the thing an authority it would otherwise never have had.
"And for so meaningful an event, you are inviting me to serve as a judge?"
"Yes. We should like to invite you, Manager Kang Yunho, to the event to be held some days hence."
"I am not a member of the Yichang Literary Society, however."
"Ordinarily only members of the Society may judge, but this time we wish to make a special exception for you, Manager Kang."
"What reason could the Society have for inviting me to an event it hosts itself?"
"To literary men like us, artistry and literary merit are what count. But for poor writers, what counts is someone who can judge how well their writing will sell, does it not? And no one in Yichang can gauge that better than the manager of its most famous bookstore."
"So you are asking me to judge whether the entries can sell."
So they wanted me to assess commercial viability—like a contest judge for a publisher or a web novel platform, in a manner of speaking.
"Thanks to Dangga Pungun, many of our members have been made keenly aware of their shallow knowledge of novels. We would be most grateful if you would come as a judge and lend us your insight, Manager Kang."
I understood it was an honor. That didn't mean I wanted the job. For now, I took a step back.
"I'm not sure a humble bookstore manager ought to be invited to judge so grand an affair. The burden rather daunts me."
"Please, don't say such things! Who was it that discovered the great Hopil himself? None other than you, Manager Kang Yunho!"
"I was merely fortunate. Had Author Hopil knocked on the Society's door, it might well have been the Society that found him."
"Fortunate, you say! Had I been judging, my blinkered eye would have cast Dangga Pungun out during the review itself! And in all the history of the Society's prize-winning works, nothing has ever rivaled Author Hopil's Dangga Pungun!"
"I appreciate the praise, but I'm busy preparing for our reopening."
"Is there truly no way you might manage it?"
At least offer me money. I nearly said it to the pleading faces of the Scholar Hwang brothers, then swallowed the words. Being gilded with flattery was all well and good, but I was a professional, and nobody gets professionals for free. Time is money for the self-employed, my friends.
Perhaps because the post was so honorable, they never once mentioned payment. And if I asked for money after being handed so glorious a position, they would surely wrinkle their faces—so he was that vulgar a man all along.
No profit, no reason to play judge.
Serving as a judge would devour great stretches of my time. There was Daseogak's reopening to prepare for, staff to hire, business contacts to call upon again. It did seem to be an event with real standing across Hubei, but I hadn't the hours to spare. Famous or no...
Hold on... a famous event?
Just then, a fine idea flashed through my mind. The most prestigious event in all Hubei—and one that carried weight among writers, at that. Then surely there was a way to profit from it beyond mere coin.
"Then grant me just one favor."
I made my proposal to the Scholar Hwang brothers in a grave tone.
"What's with the walnut cookies?"
"An acquaintance gave them to me as a gift for my safe return."
Having barely escaped with my life, I was in no mood to start cleaning, so I had returned to Baek Family Manor instead.
"They're loaded with walnuts. The red bean filling's delicious, too."
"Give me one as well."
"Which fancy confectioner made these?"
"I'll go in and rest."
"You're not having any walnut cookies? Crisp on the outside, soft and moist within—these are truly wonderful."
"I had some on the way."
They were tasty, I'll admit.
I watched the Tang Clan folk divide up the warm walnut cookies for a moment, then turned toward the room prepared for me in Baek Family Manor.
"Just what sort of ordeal did Uncle Wang put me through?"
I grumbled under my breath, thinking of Uncle Wang of the drapery shop in Chilgok County—or rather, the former Shadowless Divine Thief. He must have given me the Black Coin out of goodwill; no fugitive in hiding would hand one over while courting the very risk of being found out.
If he had simply been honest with me, I wouldn't have held it against him. The man in his prime could slice the heavens open, and a single cry of Wingardium Leviosa had his underlings moving mountains, didn't it? From Lupin to the rival of that master detective—a walking murder-case generator—to thief stories that shall spare us any further explanation. I really do love a good phantom thief tale. What a shame.
"Could Im Hayeon actually be the true heroine?"
With the former Shadowless Divine Thief duly considered, my thoughts turned to the current one. A woman with pink twin-tails. As a character in a martial arts visual novel, she was a peerless beauty as well. Whether she bore me some grudge or not, she kept her eyes wide and glaring whenever she looked at me, which made her hard to read—but when that roguish streak of hers showed, the corners of her eyes curved ever so slightly. Catch her smiling with her eyes, and she might look every bit the seductress a courtesan ought to be.
A cheonggi, after all, was in modern terms something like an idol who lived on song and dance. If she were plying the courtesan's trade, you would need a small fortune and a reservation at the priciest courtesan house in the land just to hear a single verse of her singing or glimpse one dance.
"I've already laid the groundwork with Im Hayeon."
I couldn't say whether she was the true heroine. Even turning over whether there was anything for my Reverser power to heal, as there had been with the Poison Human or the Heavenly Killing Star, nothing suitable came to mind. Was I supposed to cure her kleptomania, perhaps? The Reverser did seem able to rewrite a heroine's fate, but did it always have to take the shape of an incurable affliction like the Heavenly Killing Star or the Poison Human? Then what did that make the main heroines of the original story?
If it was not a mere illness but destiny itself, that would make sense of it. I couldn't say for certain. I considered chewing the question over properly, but soon gave up on the notion. I had already forged a bond with Im Hayeon, so there was no great need to fret over her. What mattered was the fame I needed to save my women from their cursed fates.
First, I had to get Daseogak back on its feet. I laid my weary body and mind down on the bed and closed my eyes.
"Young Master Kang!"
A voice rang out, like a raw recruit trying to rouse a long-service sergeant who had no intention whatsoever of getting up. Had I slept that long? The leisurely chirping of morning birds outside suggested I had slept soundly indeed.
"What is it?"
"A man called Scholar Hwang is here asking for you, Young Master."
Well, that was quick.
"It seems I've come rather early in the morning."
When I reached the gates of Baek Family Manor—no, the Seocheon Escort Agency—Scholar Hwang's younger brother was standing there. Did that make Scholar Hwang's younger brother a "Scholar Hwang" as well?
"I suppose my travel fatigue hasn't quite worn off yet. Is this about the favor I asked of you yesterday?"
If he had come to refuse, then the answer was no. I asked, ready to deliver an instant verdict.
Fortunately, my prediction proved pleasantly wrong. Scholar Hwang's younger brother nodded, beaming, and spoke.
"We have decided that you, Manager Kang, shall serve as the award presenter at this event."
"Excellent!"
I cried out with delight. Not only a judge—have me present the prizes to the winners as well. That was the condition I had named for accepting the judge's post.
In the end, what mattered was fame.
Street storytelling, novel-writing—everything I did came down to raising that number. At an entertainment awards ceremony, the winners set tongues wagging, but so do the presenters. If things ended at "Kang Yunho of Daseogak became a judge for the new writers' contest," that would be one thing—but if I appeared at the ceremony itself as the award presenter, it would carve my name into people's memories all the deeper.
And there was one more thing I had asked of them for fame's sake.
"Furthermore, when the Yichang Literary Society announces the event in the Court Gazette under its own name, it will of course state that Manager Kang Yunho has been appointed as both judge and award presenter."
There had been a time when a rave from the Yichang Literary Society ran in the papers, and Dangga Pungun sold as though it had sprouted wings. Once my name appeared in the Court Gazette, my fame would sweep through Yichang in the blink of an eye.
"Thank you."
"Serving as award presenter is an honor in itself, but why ask to have the news published in the Court Gazette as well?"
"Because there is a need for people to know who I am."
"What do you mean?"
"Hwarin, the owner of Daseogak, has gone to live with the Tang Clan. If I run Daseogak alone from now on, then as a barbarian, unpleasant incidents could arise without warning. But if word spreads that I have taken a post of honor that all Yichang recognizes, I can prevent such troubles before they ever come to pass."
And while I was at it, the rumors painting me as an unscrupulous merchant could use a good laundering too.
"I never grasped the hardships you face, having come from a foreign land. My insight was wanting."
"Not at all."
"The Chairman asks that you pay him a visit. Do you have time at the moment?"
"Then let's head over together right away."
I set off with Scholar Hwang's younger brother at my side.
I had seen the Chairman of the Yichang Literary Society's face once before. On the day the Tang Clan folk had nearly dragged me off, he had appeared before them and warned them—swearing that if my head came flying home all on its own, he would not stand idly by.
In the chaos of that day I had failed to thank him properly. Since I was visiting now, I might as well offer my thanks.
"I told you—no!"
"And why not!"
As I drew near the Chairman's house, I heard a voice I'd heard somewhere before, shouting.
"The application period ended yesterday!"
"That's absurd! There's no way!"
The woman went on shouting in an angry voice, heedless of the stares from those around her. Pink twin-tails. A familiar voice—and a familiar silhouette from behind, too.
"What brings you here?"
"Ugh! Manager Kang Yunho?"
Im Hayeon. What on earth are you doing here?