Chapter 3
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: One Point Short
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Blink.
‘Didn’t die after all.’
Tough little shit...
I wasn’t cursing him. He must have seen me collapse, but here I was, opening my eyes right in the spot I’d slammed into before.
“Ugh...”
How much time had passed? The lights were out, so it had to be night.
I glanced at the wall clock. Being electronic, it was the only light in the dark.
‘4 hours left.’
Good enough that I’d survived.
Today was the grand weekly rankings announcement, and just one point would’ve set me free.
“Huuugh... fuck... when someone’s sprawled out like this, the polite thing is to at least move them to the bed, right?”
I barely crawled onto the bed. It was soaked in blood, the stench overpowering. But I didn’t even have the strength to wipe it up and shove it down the laundry chute.
What good was a laundry ticket without the stamina for it? If I had that energy, I should’ve written one more word at least.
‘Didn’t finish yesterday. Was gonna wrap it all up.’
There was no guarantee I could pick up where I left off once I got out. Sure, someone might say what’s a measly story compared to freedom, but every work I’d hammered out here over the past ten years felt like my own flesh and blood.
‘Ten of them? No, unfinished ones make it eleven, I think...’
If my body were intact, I could’ve burned through that workload in a single day. But the day before yesterday, I’d only managed four. Yesterday, not even three.
‘Impossible...’
How do you even describe this nagging itch?
I wanted out of here. I wanted to be free.
Yet this stubborn sense of duty to see them finished kept rearing its ugly head.
“You crazy bastard... what the hell’s a story worth...”
I drifted off again. My mouth tasted bitter.
“Ugh...”
I must’ve missed the alarm. When I opened my eyes, it was 11 a.m.
Food tray would be coming soon.
‘7 hours left.’
Rankings dropped once a week at 6 p.m.
‘Gotta write a bit more... no, hold on. If I can’t finish anyway, what’s the point?’
Serial schedules varied by work, so they’d tallied sales up through yesterday.
“...”
I heard the food tray slot open, but I wasn’t hungry.
I staggered straight to the desk. Even walking was a struggle now. I’d managed a shower yesterday, but today that felt impossible.
‘It’s the last day, so...’
I stared at one monitor. She was looking right back at me.
Are you okay?
She was worried about me too. Call it my delusion if you want. But she was the reason I’d endured, the reason this hell still sparked some thrill.
I’m fine.
Cough!
‘Huh?’
No blood this time. Was my body recovering?
I was worried. You sure you’re really okay?
See? She was worried!
Number 7, you’ll hit 100 points for sure. Just need one big hit. One big hit...
No point holding back advice now that I was getting out anyway.
Modern genres burn hot and fast, hard to hold top ranks long. Try romance fantasy next. Don’t zero in just on the romance with the male lead—sprinkle in the heroine’s growth and political scheming with the blackguards. You can stretch the length that way.
I poured my heart into the chat. Wanted to be even more earnest, but it just wouldn’t come out right. I was great at novels, terrible at this chat crap.
Number 1, not eating?
Ha, this asshole again... Do I look like I’m in any shape to eat?
Cough!
Ignore him.
Thanks! Romance fantasy! I’ll definitely give it a shot!
I’d survived the past ten years devouring every author’s work in here.
Newbies’ stuff was rough around the edges, but I’d watched them grow, so I could offer feedback at just the right level.
I’d clawed my way up from the bottom too. I knew.
Number 1! You’re heading out today, right?
Big event! Finally, a graduate!
What’ll you do first when you get out?
Part of me wanted to say hit the police station, but no way I could. The Team Leader might tail me. Fool around, and it’s my head or right back here.
Wanna get some fresh air.
Yeah, that was honest.
Every time a newbie like Number 36 showed up, I’d get snippets of how the outside was changing.
Brainrot TV, whatever-TV, MZ generation, that kinda stuff got shared around. Nothing I was dying to know about.
But the desperate longing for the everyday things I’d taken for granted since birth? That never faded.
‘Just the normal stuff.’
That’s what I wanted to do. Ideally with Number 7...
‘If Number 7 gets out, I’ll find her somehow.’
Didn’t know her name, but I knew her face. More than that, I’d recognize her writing no matter what.
Not that! Anything else?
Karaoke! Hongdae! Myeongdong! Ah! Just thinking about it feels good!
What you really wanna do!
Today, all eyes were on me. Lunchtime probably helped. My rep was at least above newbie tier.
As I typed into chat, the words slipped out unbidden.
“I’ll wait for you...”
Number 7 had real talent. If she could just rein in her habit of rushing headlong into romance, she’d hit number one soon enough.
‘Definitely... meet again...’
If we could.
Come to think of it, outside of Number 7, nothing else even crossed my mind?
What a pathetic son I was.
Let’s work! Work! We gotta get out too!
Yeah! Let’s grind!
Aja aja! Aja today too!
They could stay positive in a place like this. Probably the Team Leader’s ploy, but I was their beacon of hope.
That’s why precedent mattered. Gave them confidence they could do it too.
“Fuu...”
Thinking about heading out soon left me all bittersweet. Wouldn’t finish those eleven today anyway, dead or not. Too rattled, just staring at the monitor.
‘Newbie looks totally deflated.’
The scariest part of penalties? No matter how much you beg or reflect, you serve the full term. Second scariest? They stack longer each time.
Starts at a week, then two, a month, two months.
Couldn’t check now, but the old Number 13 had pulled six months and vanished without a trace.
Cough.
‘Oh! Chest still hurts, but the bleeding’s stopped!’
Was I really getting better? Breathing sucked, but no more hacking blood—I might live.
‘2 hours left now.’
First time slacking off work to just watch Number 7. Knowing it was only two hours left made it impossible to look away.
‘Hang in there.’
She had this habit when writing. Didn’t seem aware of it herself—pursing her lips like a baby, or pouting. Adorable.
‘Should I just say I’ll stick around a few more days?’
You lunatic!
‘Just till the finales?’
You’ve lost it completely!
Meant I wasn’t right in the head.
Truth was, I was barely perched, squatting on the chair. Breathing was a chore?
Cough, cough.
Even in this hazy state, I was brainwashing myself: 50% feelings for Number 7, 50% regret over unfinished stories.
Sorry to the readers, but it was more like 9 to 1.
Whoa! 6 p.m.! 5 minutes to go!
Announcement time at last?
This week’s hotly anticipated number one is?
The newbie, who’d been hiding, peeked out too—curious, no doubt.
Had to be a rare event for her as well.
Ten whole years.
She couldn’t fully grasp that span, but my breakout would motivate everyone.
Creak!
Right on 6 p.m., the Team Leader’s announcement chat popped up.
Great work, everyone, this week too.
The bastard hadn’t raised his voice once in ten years. Textbook psychopath.
First, the results. This week’s sales number one is...
Please.
‘No shakeups. I’m still number one.’
Stories have momentum. Mine was barreling toward the end—readers couldn’t drop it now.
Number 13! Congratulations! 1 point and a meal ticket awarded.
“...What?”
It was razor-close. Here’s the data file.
Couldn’t process it.
Platform rankings unchanged. But check this? Sales-wise, Number 13 edged ahead by a hair.
What the...
If Number 1 had wrapped that last chapter yesterday instead of crashing out, might’ve been different.
I didn’t crash out! I collapsed!
As the conduct code states, if skill falls short, crank out volume to boost sales. Case proven.
The room spun.
One chapter not enough? Two. Two not? Three. Everyone knows the drill.
Yeah, I know, you fuck! But I was sick!
Tough break for Number 1—aim for next week! Congrats to this week’s champ, Number 13! Send your menu for the meal ticket!
Number 13 was beaming ear-to-ear on the monitor.
Seasonal seafood sashimi an option?
What? You say that in front of a dying man?
Anything as long as it fits the tray.
Haha! Brunch burger tomorrow, half-and-half chicken for dinner! For everyone else, I’ll do a real mukbang! Seafood omakase on the last day! Boom!
Fuck... rubbing it in like that.
‘Number 13...’
We were in the same boat, but right now, I wanted to kill him more than the Team Leader.
Now wrap up today’s work, and Numbers 1 through 36, familiarize yourselves with your vouchers.
Whoa! Up to 4th!
Thank god. Toilet paper was out.
Been forever since I washed my blanket.
No reason to begrudge them prizes like basic modern necessities. I’d been thrilled by the same over ten years.
But this resentment? Guess it didn’t translate.
You okay?
Only one person consoled me.
“...”
There’s always next week! A week flies by!
Couldn’t hear her voice, but it felt like her breath tickled my ear.
My heart settled strangely calm.
‘Yeah, no more blood, body’s improving. Needed to finish anyway.’
Positivity was crucial here. One mental slip could poison the writing.
‘Fuck, I lasted ten years. Can’t handle one more week?’
I was magnanimous. Good for me... good for Number 7... good for readers waiting on finales...
Thud!
Fell off the chair again.
So this is what dying feels like.
“No helping it. Taking you to a hospital would blow everything wide open.”
First time hearing the voice, but I knew who it was.
“Just so you know, no sales rigging this week. If you’d wrapped yesterday, number one was yours. All your fault.”
No strength to retort.
“Anyway, never planned to let you live. Gonna tell the others you checked out early.”
This fucker was the devil.
“Left like this, you’d last a few days, but why make the reserve wait? Gotta free up the room. New works come faster that way.”
I’d been complacent. If I ever got out, first thing: kill this prick.
“Sucks I won’t see the ending. Was fun. Oh well. Someone else’ll wrap your unfinished stories.”
Don’t! They’re mine! Hands off, you fuck!
“Told you to take care of your health, asshole. How shitty was it babysitting you, only for you to croak like this? Ha, raised a total nerd this far...”
No anger left. Even now, curiosity gnawed. Why was I dying? What the hell was wrong with me?
“Least we got tons of data now. Should be able to groom a better number one next time.”
Don’t wanna hear it. Just kill me. Hate it all.
“Kekeke.”
Felt him lean right up to my ear.
“Ears gone deaf too? Can’t hear?”
He laughed. Then he said it.
“That shit-writing Number 7 bitch. Tonight, I’ll...”
What? No! Don’t! Stop! You fucking bastard!