I Hate PC Bangs
"Hoo~ You've already planned the ending? So it's a short story? Something quick?"
That was probably the natural reaction if I said I'd mapped out the ending. Sunlight Painter spanned over fifty volumes in its epic run, but they had to be picturing maybe ten at most. I debated whether to tell the truth or just brush it off.
"You don't have to say~ The boss is just probing casually. Sora, just keep writing like you always do!"
What people commonly called Kim Sung-ho's approach could be summed up in modern terms as one thing.
Gripping the author. The term came from editors shaking writers like rats to steer them.
It wasn't always a bad thing. Writers were human, after all—stories could veer off into weird directions or clash with the overall narrative. In those cases, readers piping up in comments to point out plot holes made sense.
But sometimes it went too far: meddling with side plots or pushing absurd changes.
Of course, it wouldn't faze me. I'd already plotted the entire story, start to finish—no revisions needed.
That said, the endings of the novels I remembered weren't all perfect. Out of everything I'd read, only a tiny fraction nailed the close. Most fizzled out ambiguously or ended on a sour note.
Wasn't it said that endings were the hardest part for writers? Webtoons and comics often forced them, and novels did the same. You could count the ones that stuck the landing on one hand. Still, I had no intention of chiming in with my two cents. I didn't have the chops for it anyway.
"Just... roughly thought it through."
"Yeah? Well, nobody plans a perfect ending upfront anyway."
I pulled out a piece of tangsuyuk and popped it in my mouth. The batter was perfectly crispy, and inside was chewy, savory pork—not like the future versions stuffed with glutinous rice filler.
"How's the jjajangmyeon and tangsuyuk? Super tasty, right?"
"Yes. Really delicious."
"Go ahead and have more."
"No thank you. One piece filled me up."
A kid's stomach couldn't handle two full bowls of jjajangmyeon. I didn't even have the capacity. Those mukbang YouTubers scarfing down ten bowls? If I tried that, my belly would burst, and I'd end up in the hospital.
"But Sora, your writing speed is insane. Do you always crank it out that fast? Or were you skipping revisions since we were watching?"
Revisions were one of the most crucial parts of writing. They often took as long as the drafting itself. Writing without them was like charging blind toward a cliff.
Your first draft always had issues on a reread. Perfect first drafts that needed no polishing were mythical. Even literary giants revised religiously. Sure, there was that one famous Russian author who never touched his drafts...
But that was a rare exception. Most writers banged out a draft, then revised it dozens of times.
Typos, awkward phrasing—you name it. Even with revisions, problems cropped up. Skip them entirely? The result would be trash.
In my case, though? Zero revisions required. These were novels already polished to perfection by their authors over countless drafts.
"I write pretty fast by nature. Revisions... I handle them later."
"Last time you did a whole chapter in thirty minutes... That's legitimately fast. Right, boss?"
"It is. Some folks take half a day per piece. The quickest writer I know needs three or four hours—and that's without revisions or extras. Factor those in, and it's way longer."
My speed was straight-up cheating. Kim Sung-ho and Yoo Min-ah had watched me do it, so they couldn't deny it.
"Including revisions and all that, I can finish a chapter in about an hour."
"Whoa, you're a monster...!"
"Sora really is a genius, huh?"
I wanted to say it took under an hour with no revisions at all, but they wouldn't buy it.
We demolished the jjajangmyeon and tangsuyuk. Maybe it was the novelty after so long, or just how authentic it tasted from the old days—but damn, it hit different. No delivery apps back then, either; proper chefs manned the woks, and dedicated riders handled drops. Apps killed that off later.
"Sora, you've got sauce on your mouth."
Yoo Min-ah grabbed a tissue and gently wiped the corner of my lips. First time a woman had ever done that for me. Back when I was a guy, I'd been a total virgin.
Never dated, never even had a girlfriend. If I'd known I'd reincarnate as a girl, maybe I'd have tried romance... But with my plain looks, a girlfriend was like a star in the sky.
Visible, but forever out of reach.
"Ugh..."
Yoo Min-ah got every last bit.
"Anyway, Sora."
With full bellies, Kim Sung-ho spoke up.
"Yes?"
"When can we expect volume one of that novel? We need a timeline for publishing. Smooth communication between author and editors is key. If you give us a rough ETA, it'll help us plan."
"Hmm..."
I thought it over.
At my typing speed, one webnovel chapter every thirty minutes.
Figuring twenty-five chapters per volume...
Two per hour. Twenty-four in twelve hours.
Half a day for a whole book. But factoring in meals, breaks, and human limits, two days per volume felt realistic. Nobody types nonstop for twelve hours straight.
"Sunlight Painter's at episode seven now, right? Not sure on exact word count, but Daldongne figures twenty-five episodes make a volume."
Kim Sung-ho explained helpfully. I nodded and replied.
"I think I can have volume one done by the end of this week."
"For real? That's blazing fast. No need to push yourself."
With seven out already, they probably figured eighteen more in a week—Monday today. They'd seen my thirty-minute demos, so impossible wasn't on their minds. And honestly, it wasn't.
Give me a computer or laptop, and I could knock out a volume in a day.
"But I have a request."
"Shoot. If it's not too much, we'll make it happen."
"Could you maybe buy me a computer? Or a laptop? Like you know, boss, we don't have one at home. PC bangs cost money, and I hate the cigarette stench."
PC bangs weren't a hassle otherwise. But the stale sweat funk mixed with chain-smokers' haze? Unbearable. And in a kid's body? Secondhand smoke was poison—common knowledge.
"Yeah...?"
Kim Sung-ho's face stiffened a bit. Smoker guilt, maybe.
Computers were pricey back then, too. No cheap DIY builds; you bought pre-fab from big corps.
And those? Started at a million won easy. Minimum wage around 3,500 an hour—full month grinding wouldn't cover it.
From my broke perspective, anyway. Cheaper than the future, where one RAM stick cost as much as a graphics card.
"How about this instead?"
Kim Sung-ho proposed an alternative to buying outright. Probably too soon—no proven sales yet. Personal cash was one thing; company funds for an unknown like me? No way.