The Temple of the Sun
Watching him concentrate like that, I had a fair idea of what Soul had taken root in this fountain pen. It was almost certainly one that amplified its user's focus.
If I could keep producing this Soul on demand, I'd make a fortune...
And this wasn't some ordinary gadget. If word got out that a particular pen could send your concentration through the roof, the wealthy parents of Gangnam would come running with bags stuffed full of cash, begging me to sell them one.
Unfortunately, Soul was not something I could apply at will. This time it had manifested as a focus-enhancing Soul, but the next fountain pen I made might carry something entirely different — or the same one. There was simply no way to know.
A shame, really.
If I could imbue Soul in whatever direction I wanted, I could craft even more perfect objects. I simply hadn't reached that level yet.
"They say Hephaestus has attained that realm..."
I was muttering it under my breath when I noticed that Mr. Kim had already gone back to scribbling in his notebook.
That aside, I really need to close up and go home...
How long was this man planning to sit here writing?
This isn't a study cafe...
I called out to him again, louder this time.
"Mr. Kim! Author Kim!"
After I'd shouted his name several times, he finally snapped out of it and looked my way.
"Ah... I'm sorry. I completely zoned out writing."
"I think it would be best if you set the fountain pen down for now..."
The Soul in that pen was clearly far stronger than I had estimated.
Well, there is a bit more packed into it than usual.
Then again, compared to Master Matsuoka's brush, I hadn't even poured that much care into today's fountain pen — and yet the Soul it carried was far more potent than I'd expected.
Don't tell me my skills improved in the meantime.
Kim Jeong-hoon set the fountain pen aside and looked at me with something close to reverence.
"This is truly remarkable. Honestly, when I first saw your face after coming here, I was convinced the whole thing was a scam. But once I received the item... this wasn't a scam. It was magic."
He glanced down at the fountain pen again.
How can a pen possibly make this little sound?
It was as if fountain pens had never been meant to make noise at all. Not even the faintest scratch reached the ear. And then there was the focus. Whether it was the silence or something else entirely, the moment he took up that pen and started writing, his concentration surged to an almost possessed degree.
It really does feel like magic...
In truth, after placing the commission, Jeong-hoon had spent the waiting time searching everything he could find on All-Around Workshop. The reviews from people who had actually commissioned work here and received it were, without exception, strangely worshipful — the kind of praise that made you think you were looking at people who'd fallen into a cult. And now he had the unnerving sense that he had become one of them.
It couldn't be that... could it?
Jeong-hoon asked Cheolwoo carefully.
"Um... Cheolwoo... no, Mr. Kang. You're not pumping some kind of strange gas through this workshop, are you?"
"Pardon...?"
What is he even talking about...
"You know the kind of thing I mean. Narcotics in aerosol form. You're not spraying something like that in here, are you?"
The question was so absurd that a laugh burst out of me before I could stop it.
"Hahaha. If I ran my business like that, do you think I'd be appearing on television? Not that I couldn't make something of the sort — I simply have no desire to manufacture that on top of doing a blacksmith's work."
I knew how to handle most chemical materials, so it wasn't as if I was incapable. I just had no reason to, and no intention of ever doing so.
At my answer, Jeong-hoon bowed at a full ninety degrees.
"I'm sorry. The whole situation seemed so impossible that I asked even though I knew it was rude."
"That's quite all right. Everyone's like that at first. And yet they all leave satisfied in the end."
The confidence rolling off him was almost excessive. When Jeong-hoon had first heard it, he had taken it for arrogance. Having used the fountain pen, that same confidence now felt like humility.
The best in the country? No — even if you searched the entire world, would there be another person who could make something like this?
He picked up the fountain pen once more.
This thing is actually dangerous...
"Thank you so much. And this is dangerous, honestly... Just holding it in my hand makes me want to write so badly I could lose my mind. I haven't felt like this even once in nearly two years..."
I smiled and said,
"You should head home and get to writing."
You need to leave so I can lock up and go home too.
"Ah — I should settle the remaining balance before I go."
Without a word of haggling, he transferred the rest of the payment to my account. It was an absurdly excessive price for a single fountain pen, but having used this one, Jeong-hoon would have bought it even if I'd asked for ten times the amount.
"Thank you so much! Mr. Kang! I'll be on my way, then!"
He bowed, then tucked the fountain pen into his bag with the care of a man enshrining a sacred relic.
Whew... now I can finally go home.
I was just about to start closing up when he suddenly turned back.
"Mr. Kang — would it be all right if I mentioned your name in my next novel?"
"Excuse me?"
"If it hadn't been for you, I probably never would have written another work. As a writer, that's about the only way I can repay you."
A little awkward, but... I suppose it doesn't matter.
Before the television appearance I might have hesitated. I was already going on TV, though. What difference would a name in a book make?
"That's fine. You're a bestselling author — I'd be honored."
"Yes! Then when the book comes out, I'll be sure to send a copy to the workshop. Thank you so much!"
He bowed once more and, this time, actually left All-Around Workshop.
"Whew... I should head home too."
"Nngh..."
It was Sunday, and I'd slept in a little. I hadn't even done anything, and it was already past ten.
Mother came into the room as if she'd known the exact moment I woke, drawing the curtains as she spoke.
"Son. Come eat."
"Okay. Let me just wash my face."
I got up, splashed water on my face, and headed for the kitchen — where, for some reason, LA galbi was waiting first thing in the morning.
"What's with the galbi at breakfast?"
"You've been working so hard lately, Cheolwoo. Times like this, you need to eat meat and replenish your strength."
"Oh, this looks great."
The moment I sat down I grabbed a piece of LA galbi and tore into it. The tender rib meat and the sweet-savory marinade melted on my tongue.
"Mmm...! Nothing beats LA galbi."
It had been so long that I started tearing through the ribs with single-minded enthusiasm. Mother watched me with a faintly worried look.
"Good grief, you'll give yourself indigestion. There's plenty, so eat slowly."
"Okay. You eat too, Mom."
"Yes, yes."
Hm? What's that?
Behind where Mother was sitting, a book was visible on the far side of the table.
"Mom. What's that book?"
"Book?"
She looked around, then spotted the one she'd set down behind her.
"Ah, this one."
The title was Anatomy of the Mind. It sounded forbiddingly dense, but the cover made it look far closer to a novel than some specialist text.
"It's a novel. This is the only author I read. I couldn't even tell you how many times I've gone through this one. But he hasn't put out a new book lately. I wish he'd hurry up and release his third work."
"Hmm... is that so?"
Come to think of it, on evenings when she wasn't watching television, there had been times I'd found her in the kitchen with a little stand lamp on, reading.
So that was the book.
I asked around a mouthful of galbi.
"Mmm... delicious. Is that book any good?"
"Honestly... I told you not to talk with food in your mouth."
"Okay. But is it good?"
"Of course it is. What kind of question is that. I must have read this author's novels a good ten times each."
"Really? That good?"
She held the book out to me.
"Cheolwoo, why don't you try reading it sometime when you have a chance?"
"Hmm..."
...Huh?
The name was awfully familiar.
No. It couldn't be...
I asked her carefully.
"Mom. Hasn't this author not released anything for the past two years?"
"Hmm? That's right. He was doing incredibly well, and then two years ago the new-work announcements just... stopped. Wait — how do you know that, Cheolwoo?"
It was him. The very same Kim Jeong-hoon I'd made a fountain pen for three weeks ago.
Strange. So this is how connections find their way back around?
"Ah... well, it's a little complicated to explain..."
Hmm... and Mother likes him this much...
I stopped eating and sent him a message on the spot.
He must have been looking at his phone, because the reply came at once.
"I told you not to look at your phone while you're eating."
I set the phone down and turned to her.
"Mom. The author said he'll send a signed copy to the house."
"What? What are you talking about. Why would that author send a signed book to our house..."
I explained, slowly, what had happened last time.
"We had a bit of a connection from then, so I messaged him just now, and he said he'd send one."
A look came over Mother's face that belonged on a girl half her age.
"Oh my goodness. Mom's a real fan of Author Kim, you know. Thank you so much, Cheolwoo."
"Don't mention it. It's nothing, really."
"Nothing? He's not just any bestselling author."
"Is that so?"
Well, considering a publishing-house manager had personally gone out of his way to look after him like that...
Either way, seeing how happy she was, I figured I could forgive Mr. Kim for delaying my closing the other day.
We finished the meal, I did the dishes, and I was enjoying the rest of Sunday playing with Coco when the doorbell suddenly rang.
Who is it on a Sunday?
I set down the toy I'd been dangling for Coco, opened the front door, and asked,
"Who is it?"
"Courier. This is Kang Cheolwoo's residence, correct?"
"Yes, that's right. A courier? Who sent it?"
The man checked the sender's name.
"It's from Kim Jeong-hoon. I'll need a signature here."
What, he sent it by courier? A regular parcel would have been fine...
I hadn't expected him to get it here this fast. Without even opening the box, I carried it to Mother's room and held it out.
"Mom. Here's the book I mentioned earlier. The author sent it by courier, just like that."
"Goodness, by courier? You must have made him one hell of a fountain pen."
She opened the box with a delighted face — then tilted her head.
"Hmm? What's this?"
"What's wrong?"
"I've never seen this title before..."
"Really?"
The title on the cover was Temple of the Sun. It was clearly a different book from the Anatomy of the Mind she had shown me. And it didn't even feel like a proper book — more like A4 manuscript pages that had been roughly bound at a copy shop.
"Author Kim doesn't have a book like this... what is this?"
As if on cue, a message arrived from Kim Jeong-hoon.
...Is this even allowed?
If this leaked, it would be a genuine disaster. Sending a book that hadn't even been published yet — I would never understand how writers' minds worked.
"Cheolwoo. Is this really Author Kim's book?"
I looked at her with a slightly pained expression.
"Mom... he says this is his new work coming out in two weeks. If anyone leaks it, it'll be a real problem, so you have to read it by yourself, okay...?"
"What...? Is that true? This is really Kim Jeong-hoon's new novel?"
The confusion on her face gave way to anticipation.
"Yes. It really is."
"Good heavens, a book that hasn't even been released to the world yet — I don't even know if I should be reading this... I've been waiting for it so badly, though..."
That was what she said. Her eyes, however, were already locked on Author Kim's new work. Before I knew it, she was shooing me out of the room.
"Son. Mom's going to read until dinner, so don't disturb me. Got it?"
Making that fountain pen was worth it...
Watching her like that, I found myself wondering if I ought to craft something else for him and send it along.