Song of the Sword
Who in the world could hate the overwhelming genius and hero Yi Sun-sin? Personal tastes might differ, but when it came to favorability, it was safe to say he enjoyed near-absolute support from the public. His statue wasn't standing in Gwanghwamun Square for nothing. Just as Japanese visitors felt a chilling dread upon arriving there, the very name Yi Sun-sin shone with immense brilliance and renown. He wasn't someone you could casually mock with jokes. Everything he accomplished over his lifetime was nothing short of monumental feats.
That's why, before writing Song of the Sword, I searched the internet for historical records. I wanted to make sure there weren't any altered histories I didn't know about. But the names were the same, and the famous sea battles had occurred at the exact same times and dates. Even the most renowned Battle of Myeongnyang had unfolded just as I remembered, down to the hour. What a relief. If the names had changed or history itself had been rewritten, I wouldn't have known what to do.
Of course, there were some tiny differences, but they were the kind you could overlook. The names of people around Yi Sun-sin were slightly altered, perhaps. But they were minor side characters, and the famous ones remained unchanged. Even Won Gyun, the infamous culprit, kept his name. However, no drama adaptation of Yi Sun-sin had been produced here. That was a bit surprising. Then again, without the original novel Song of the Sword, it made sense that no drama would exist. Sure, dramas usually drew from multiple novels besides the main source, but those other referenced novels hadn't been written here either.
I began writing Song of the Sword, the novel I'd found so thrilling and captivating in my past life—a book that easily ranked in my personal top ten. The idea that the people here hadn't read this masterpiece...! That was something I absolutely could not allow. This beautiful, awe-inspiring novel had to be shared with others. I didn't change a single character from the content I'd jotted down. I lacked both the skill and the right to alter it. I simply transcribed it as is.
I diligently wrote the novel and turned it into a book. Before publishing, I printed a single prototype copy. Team Leader Kim Sung-ho gave it rave reviews, and Agent Yoo Min-ah showered it with thumbs-ups and praise. Thankfully, the people in this world seemed to have the same good taste. Still, I felt a twinge of unease. It wasn't that I distrusted the two of them, but they weren't exactly literary experts. So, I lent the book to Professor Lee Yeon-ji, the expert who'd come to see me. But that turned out to be a poison pill.
Lee Yeon-ji took the book from Sora and headed straight home. Her house was spacious—she was a professor at a top university, after all. It was a proper detached home, and she could easily afford it. She earned several hundred million won a year. Lecture fees were pocket change for university professors. The real money came from corporate-funded research projects.
Without even changing out of her clothes, Lee Yeon-ji entered her study and placed the book on her desk.
"Mooom!"
"Mom's busy."
She ignored her kids too. Fortunately, dinner was already sorted, so she didn't need to worry about them. Since it was just a prototype, there was no proper cover—just the title Song of the Sword scrawled on it haphazardly.
Lee Yeon-ji approached it with half excitement, half worry. What would a literary novel by a first-grade elementary student feel like? That was the hopeful side. The anxious half wondered if a kid who wrote genre fiction could handle literary work—and not even a high schooler, but a first-grader. At that age, classes covered only basic arithmetic like 1+1 and dictation. Could she really write a novel requiring rich, literary vocabulary? Or would it just be a messy blob of ink?
But thinking back to what Sora had shown her, there was reason to hope. Lee Yeon-ji tossed her coat aside and sat in her chair. Buried in the cluttered, disorganized study she used alone, she picked up Song of the Sword and began to read.
She felt something extraordinary right away. Every expression was so beautiful and refined. If an undergrad she'd taught wrote like this, she'd snatch them up for grad school on the spot.
"Huuuh..."
Lee Yeon-ji let out an involuntary groan like an old grandma. She hastily covered her mouth with her hand and glanced around. Thankfully, she was alone. No snacks needed—this was captivating enough.
The prose was profoundly serious and weighty, beyond what you'd expect from a child; it conveyed the hero Yi Sun-sin's inner turmoil with perfect emotional depth; and the sentences wrapped up so cleanly, they could pass for poetry. Was this really written by the same Sora who penned Sunlight Painter? That one was certainly a fine work, worthy of acclaim. But this novel? "Fine work" didn't do it justice. It was a masterpiece... no, a magnum opus.
How could her style and atmosphere change so drastically from one book to the next? Expression and description weren't easy to switch up. It felt like a different person had written it entirely.
"O love, O distant Japanese foe..."
"Flowers bloomed across the abandoned fields..."
The content was so rich and substantial that Lee Yeon-ji lost track of time, forgetting dawn's approach as she immersed herself in Song of the Sword. Closing the final page, she shut her eyes and replayed the story in her mind. It was that kind of novel. Was this what true genius looked like? Everything from one to ten was perfect—no flaws whatsoever. It was exceptionally well-written.
The fact that a first-grade elementary student had produced this...! She had more than enough qualification to appear on Can Such Things Happen in the World?. Just for writing this, Lee Yeon-ji wanted to drag her straight into the grad lounge. A first-grader at Seyeon University Graduate School, Lee Sora—what a glorious sight that would be.
"A real genius... a genius..."
She dismissed any ghostwriting suspicions. On the broadcast, she'd harbored faint doubts—maybe it was edited to make her look like a prodigy literary girl. But after visiting Songi Media and seeing Sora herself, Lee Yeon-ji had acknowledged her talent fully. She'd watched Sora write in the office with her own eyes. No room for doubt.
Lee Yeon-ji fell hard for this genius literary girl, Lee Sora. Sunlight Painter had left her intrigued but uncertain; now, with Song of the Sword, she was hooked. It matched her favorite style perfectly. If a college student wrote something like this, she'd pull them into her lab and mold them into a grad student no matter what. Sora's literary talent wasn't just abundant—it overflowed like a destructive tank.
"Hmmm..."
I was sleeping sandwiched between Mom and Dad. Riiing!
The alarm clock blared. Dad got up soon after and headed out to work. It was before sunrise. I snuggled into Mom's arms. But she got up too and left for her shift. In the end, I was left alone on the floor with the bedding laid out.
Sleeping in my parents' arms felt great, but unless it was Sunday, I'd end up alone like this. What could I do? They had to work.
Riiing!
The old alarm clock from the junk shop rang again. Without a cellphone, this was my only wake-up call. Without it, I probably couldn't rise early.
"Ugh..."
Rubbing my eyes, I got up from the floor. After decades sleeping in beds, laying futons on the floor still felt alien. And with the floor like a block of ice, it was even worse.
"So cooold..."
Rubbing my hands, I stood. Mom had set out breakfast. Simple fare: stir-fried dried seaweed and plain white rice. But I was content. It was made with her love.
I mixed the seaweed into the rice and ate heartily, then prepared for school. Shhhh!
Washing in ice-cold water was pure torment. I nearly screamed.