The Editor's Request
Once a writer publishes a bestseller, their life changes quite a bit. What if they wrote a book that sold a million copies? As of 1988, a thick book of several hundred pages cost roughly 6,000 won. If that book sold a million copies, at a 10 percent royalty rate, the author would earn 600 million won in pre-tax income. So, what about Son Min-gwan? His novels had an average retail price of about 4,000 won, which meant his income from royalties was—at the very least—2 billion won. After all, Son Min-gwan was a star writer of the current generation who had already put out several bestsellers. His post-tax income was at least 1 billion won. In other words, thanks to his connection with Yoon-gi, he had earned roughly 3 billion won or more by 2010s standards.
Son Min-gwan, a millionaire in his late twenties as of 1988. How had his daily life changed? Surprisingly, nothing had changed at all.
"Haaaaaah."
It was a bright, sunny spring morning. After a long, lazy yawn, Son Min-gwan took a pack of ramen from the kitchen cupboard and turned on the gas stove. With a hiss-hiss-hiss sound, the burner ignited, and soon the aluminum pot, filled with just enough water, began to bubble and boil. Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!
The star writer’s breakfast was just ramen. Son Min-gwan ate his ramen in the living room, watched the morning broadcast on TV, and then went back to bed. Then, at 10 o'clock, he scratched the back of his head and walked into his study. If there was one thing that had changed for Son Min-gwan, it was his house. He had turned the largest room into a study, and he began to pull out books to read. Then came lunch. Son Min-gwan boiled ramen again, and he read books until dinner. And for dinner, again...
"Do you only ever eat ramen?"
Ma Seok-il, who had appeared out of nowhere, was sighing at Son Min-gwan.
"Oh, Hyung. You're here?"
Ma Seok-il was Son Min-gwan’s former direct supervisor. Because Ma Seok-il had taught him so much back then, Son Min-gwan trusted him implicitly. That was why Ma Seok-il had a key to Son Min-gwan’s house and could come in so easily. Son Min-gwan didn't think anything of it, either. However, Ma Seok-il clicked his tongue as he looked at the kitchen.
"I see three ramen wrappers, so you've been eating nothing but ramen all day?"
"Well, I suppose so."
"Aigoo..."
Ma Seok-il opened the refrigerator. He saw that the side dishes he had brought over were still sitting there, untouched.
"Hey, why aren't you eating the side dishes I brought? You said my wife's cooking was good."
"Ah, it's just... it's a hassle to heat them up."
Son Min-gwan scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed expression.
"Hey, you can just take them out of the fridge and eat them!"
The answer that came back to the bewildered Ma Seok-il was truly a masterpiece.
"It's just... it's annoying to take the containers out. And if I eat a meal, I have to cook the rice."
Ma Seok-il grabbed the back of his neck at Son Min-gwan's response.
"Oh, my blood pressure. Hey, turn off the gas stove!"
"What? I just put the noodles in."
"Throw it away or whatever, just turn it off!"
"Uh... okay."
Since Son Min-gwan was the type to listen well to Ma Seok-il, he turned off the stove. Ma Seok-il then sat Son Min-gwan down in a dining chair and began moving around the kitchen in his suit.
"Ugh, look at the state of this rice."
Ma Seok-il had put rice in the cooker when he visited last time. And now?
"At least you ate half of it..."
"It's delicious when you mix rice into ramen."
But he had only eaten half of it, at most.
"I'm going crazy. How did you live in the 70s?"
In the 70s, electric rice cookers with warming functions barely existed. They started appearing around '77, but they were the exclusive property of the wealthy. So, how did Son Min-gwan survive the 70s?
"Ramen."
"Ah..."
At the somewhat expected answer, Ma Seok-il sighed again.
"Is this rice? It's scorched rice. No, even scorched rice would be moister than this."
The rice in the cooker had been there for so long it had turned dark brown, smelled musty, and was hard as a rock. Ma Seok-il grabbed a scouring pad and scrubbed the inner pot of the rice cooker hard, not caring about scratches. He felt the smell would never go away otherwise. But even then, it was hopeless.
"Ugh, damn it. Hey! Go buy a new electric rice cooker!"
"What? That one is perfectly fine..."
"Do you think this looks fine?"
Ma Seok-il shoved the dripping wet rice cooker in front of Son Min-gwan. The smell emanating from the poorly maintained inner pot hit Son Min-gwan’s nose.
"Hmm..."
"Go buy one!"
"It's a waste..."
"You make more money than I do, why are you whining about money? Just go buy it without another word!"
In the end, Son Min-gwan got up sluggishly and went outside. He was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, shorts, and slippers. Ma Seok-il shook his head at the sight.
'The accountants were right after all.'
Ma Seok-il was close with several accountants, and they all said the same thing about writers:
Looking at Son Min-gwan’s behavior, it was hard to believe he was a writer who had penned multiple bestsellers. Sure, his house had gotten a bit bigger and he had a study, but in every other aspect, his daily life was no different from someone doing manual labor a few days a month.
'Should I just move in next door and keep an eye on him?'
He was a guy who did his job perfectly when given an assignment, but when left alone at home, he lived like this. Ma Seok-il truly couldn't understand him.
"I bought it."
As Son Min-gwan handed over the new rice cooker, Ma Seok-il asked while washing the rice, "Hey, don't you get lonely living like this by yourself?"
Son Min-gwan looked puzzled. "Why would I?"
He asked "Why." That was it. That was a response that could only come from someone who felt absolutely no discomfort at all.
'Aigoo, how am I supposed to drag him along when he says things like that with a face like that?'
If Son Min-gwan felt skeptical about his daily life, Ma Seok-il would have a justification to keep him close. But since he didn't feel any discomfort and thought he was happy, interfering would just be meddling. So, Ma Seok-il shook his head, pressed the cook button on the rice cooker, and checked the side dishes he had brought earlier.
"Ugh..."
It went without saying, but they had all gone bad.
"I'm going crazy."
Ma Seok-il called his house and sent a distress signal to his wife. About 40 minutes later, Ma Seok-il’s wife arrived, carrying bags full of side dishes.
"Min-gwan! You didn't eat my side dishes again?!"
Ma Seok-il’s wife, Kim Se-young, shouted. Ever since Son Min-gwan and Ma Seok-il had become as close as real brothers, Kim Se-young had become like an older sister to Son Min-gwan.
"Uh... um..."
When Son Min-gwan couldn't answer, Kim Se-young slapped him hard on the back.
"You'll ruin your health eating ramen three times a day! You're not even in your 30s yet, how can you live your life so carelessly!"
"No, that's... ugh..."
Son Min-gwan felt his peaceful daily life being disturbed, but in truth, if Ma Seok-il didn't visit like this, Son Min-gwan might have already been hospitalized for malnutrition. A person’s body couldn't be properly maintained by eating only three packs of ramen a day.
"Here, eat!"
As Kim Se-young worked her magic, a proper meal was laid out on the table in an instant.
"You're going to eat too, right?"
"Huh? Oh, right."
Ma Seok-il nodded at his wife’s words, and soon the three of them were eating dinner together.
"How is it, Min-gwan? This is tastier than ramen, right?"
At Ma Seok-il’s words, Son Min-gwan nodded as if it were obvious.
"Of course. Noona, it's delicious."
As Kim Se-young nodded with a wry smile, Ma Seok-il spoke again.
"Then, make sure you eat properly from now on. Noona here is bringing you side dishes."
"It's just that... it's a hassle to even take the kimchi out."
"Aigoo..."
Ma Seok-il, and even Kim Se-young, shook their heads.
After his wife left, Ma Seok-il had a cup of coffee with Son Min-gwan.
"You're so diligent when it comes to writing, so why are you like this with everything else?"
"Hmm, I don't know...? Maybe it's because I don't have much interest in anything other than writing...?"
"No, you worked hard in your social life, didn't you?"
"That's because those experiences help me when I write. But eating... I've done that so much already, there's nothing there that could be an experience."
Ma Seok-il sighed at the thought, which was that of a writer to the bone.
"Aigoo... I can't even imagine who you'll end up marrying."
"I don't know... I don't think I'll get married, because I don't think I'll have time to write if I do..."
Ma Seok-il’s head snapped back. It was as if he’d tried to bang his head against the back of his chair. Son Min-gwan’s answer was that hard for a normal person to understand.
'It’s amazing that a guy like this writes such delicious prose, isn't it?'
Ma Seok-il, who had been letting out a hollow laugh, decided it was impossible to change Son Min-gwan.
'Fine, I'll just ask for a favor.'
The reason Ma Seok-il had visited Son Min-gwan today was to ask for a "favor." So, he carefully brought up the main topic.
"Min-gwan, you know I've been working on newspaper-related matters over at MEV lately, right?"
"Yes, I hear bits and pieces from the person who comes to pick up my manuscripts."
While the 2010s were a time when writers sent manuscripts by email, in '88, editors had to come in person to collect them. That was why Son Min-gwan was vaguely aware of what Ma Seok-il was doing.
"Right, then this will be quick. Thanks to your serialization, our current focus is going very well. But honestly speaking, it's hitting a limit."
"Is that so?"
At Son Min-gwan’s question, Ma Seok-il nodded.
"Yes. We've surpassed 1.5 million copies in daily circulation, but I need to reach 4 million to execute the strategy I have in mind."
"4 million copies... at that level, for a book, you'd have to be a bestseller not just for that year, but maintain that status for two or three years in a row."
"Right, it's not easy. So I was racking my brain, and you came to mind."
"Me?"
"Yes. I know it will be really tough for you, but is there any chance you could serialize another novel? In the current situation, that’s the surest way to increase circulation."
The method Ma Seok-il was thinking of was to serialize different novels by Son Min-gwan in two separate newspapers. If that happened, people would buy the newspapers just to read Son Min-gwan’s stories. However, it was also true that he was worried because this was a task that would require Son Min-gwan to grind himself to the bone. That was why Ma Seok-il was being so cautious. Of course, this was only possible because the relationship between Ma Seok-il and Son Min-gwan had long since surpassed that of simple acquaintances and reached the level of real brothers.
"Another novel?"
"Yes, is there any way?"
At Ma Seok-il’s words, Son Min-gwan suddenly jumped up from his seat.
"M-Min-gwan?"
Son Min-gwan didn't answer, but suddenly walked briskly into the small room. And a moment later, Son Min-gwan dropped a very, very, very thick stack of manuscript paper in front of Ma Seok-il.