Chapter 60
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: It's Number 21!
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After the Sindorim author, it had been ages since I'd spotted one of my own connections from back then.
Who would've thought I'd find them here?
'Lucky break.'
The fact that I'd discovered Number 21 before that Team Leader creep got to them made today's event worthwhile all on its own.
Still, our relationship was too vague for me to go over and say, "Hey, long time no see!" So I decided to keep my distance and watch closely while picking up the mic.
'Not as nervous as I thought.'
Standing in front of this many people, I didn't feel tense or embarrassed. If they'd asked me to sing, I might've broken out in a cold sweat, but this was my wheelhouse, so the words came out steady.
"A heartfelt welcome to everyone joining the Memento Mori Academy. From here on, you'll learn skills tailored to your individual talents across various fields. As announced earlier, tuition is completely free—but it comes with a three-year exclusive management contract."
I'd be handling one weekly lecture myself. Out of these 200, some would drop out midway, new faces would join, but those who stuck it out without quitting would get that much closer to their dreams.
The core of the academy business was providing rock-solid motivation.
Does writing well guarantee a web novel's success?
Does drawing well make a webtoon blow up?
No.
Even if it's a bit rough around the edges or not fully polished, it's all about the execution that determines a work's fate.
I spent about five minutes on greetings and the essentials.
"Any questions?"
As we moved into Q&A, I faced a sea of hundreds of fidgeting faces and twitching lips.
"Yes, Number 21... I mean, you there—go ahead."
Amusingly, Number 21 shot their hand up high.
"I'm wondering if the earnings are guaranteed enough to stake your life on!"
They were probably a couple years older than me right now. Number 21 had a name tag reading 'Lee Myung-han' pinned to their chest.
It was a familiar face—we'd been locked up together for over seven years—and yet this was the first time I'd learned their name.
"If I may be so bold, our market will grow over fifty times larger in the next decade. Start preparing now, and when that time comes, you'll secure higher efficiency and returns than any other profession."
An era where doctors switched to writing and lawyers quit to pen novels. It sounded like fiction, but it was the reality barreling toward us.
"But one thing—you can't cage your imagination."
We needed powerful clichés that went beyond the regression, possession, and reincarnation tropes I'd shown them.
I smirked at Number 21 and asked,
"What if you got a mission saying, 'Write five novels by the end of today, or die'?"
"...Me?"
"Yeah. Think you could do it?"
"Quality's no guarantee, but I don't wanna die, so I'd give it a shot."
Number 21 had been famous back in captivity for churning out tons of writing. Watching them crank out ten pieces a day had made me reflect on my own output more times than I could count.
"That's the event intervention type. Give your everyday protagonist a must-complete mission. It gives the writer a short-term goal to stay on track, and lets readers intuitively grasp where the story's headed."
"Ah, like online game quests?"
"Exactly. No need to explain who gave the mission or why it happened. Readers now see fantasy itself as one big event. Regression doesn't have to involve grim reapers or gods anymore."
In novel creation, the event intervention type is the easiest to grasp.
Suddenly, one day!
Not just regression, possession, reincarnation, or returns—even a life-altering twist from something encountered in daily routine offers that vicarious thrill.
"Thanks!"
Number 21 sat down with some realization dawning, and others hurriedly raised their hands.
I wanted to answer everyone, but my time was limited to an hour. Still, since many questions overlapped, the hands went down with each reply.
-How do I tackle long-form stories?
-How detailed should plotting be?
-Can't the protagonist be the villain?
About a month before death? The Team Leader had told us web novel authors in Korea had topped 100,000.
Not worldwide—just in South Korea.
The market would explode, but so would the competition. To survive, you needed something uniquely yours and a precise read on what readers craved.
'Start prepping now.'
Today it was 200, but accumulation would hit 2,000 fast, and in ten years, tens of thousands would pass through.
What gems would emerge? Even I couldn't predict.
'Gotta invest more here.'
I hadn't realized it when Ye-jin was prepping, but being here myself, I felt it too.
The academy ran three-month courses, with tons dropping out in the first month.
Web novel and webtoon tracks differed, but only a few would endure.
'Help even one more stick it out.'
With other instructors' intros next, I wrapped up.
"Thank you. See you around."
I bowed and headed into the hallway.
Classes were in a rented building near Anguk Station Exit 2, and Ye-jin followed right away.
"Some students might struggle with meal costs too. Scout nearby spots and make sure our kids can grab at least one square meal a day without worry."
"If all 200 eat, you know how much that's daily? Meals alone hit a million won. Per day!"
Bigger than the rental fee. But investing in that one meal to squeeze out even one extra word? Win-win for everyone.
"It's fine. Make it happen."
"Lord, you're impossible."
If it works, it's an investment. If not, a donation.
Number 21 author Lee Myung-han had been a nobody for two years straight.
When he heard about the Memento Mori Academy opening, his face flushed hot with excitement.
He'd entered genre fiction via game fantasy but wrote wuxia. Never topped 500 views, though—and he wanted the academy to be his turning point.
-Unless it's a major injury or illness, two no-shows a month means disqualification. The creation rooms are open 24/7, but disruptive behavior affecting others gets you banned. Consideration matters.
An academy usable unlimited, weekends included? Pure luck for him. He'd slacked off alone before, but this setup screamed immersion.
Others seemed focused too.
'I wanna be like Memory author.'
Memento Mori was the top male-oriented author right now. His original work was even hitting drama screens soon.
And that? Enough cash to launch a massive academy like this.
'In three years, no matter what!'
-Monthly evaluations on your output. Just sitting there doing nothing? You'll flunk. Harsh, maybe—but think of it as stealing someone else's shot. Effort over selfishness, academy pride over empty ego. That's the vibe.
No dorms, but barring survival basics, every waking hour here was key to surviving the competition.
Three-year exclusivity. The place crawled with folks aiming for Memory-level fame.
OT wrapped, splitting web novel and webtoon hopefuls.
Web novel aspirant Lee Myung-han was ushered to the creation rooms.
Five rooms, 20 desks each—packed like a study hall.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
He turned at the voice behind him.
"Beers after? We've got five so far."
"Sure, sounds good!"
A guy in his early thirties grinned and moved on. First-day bonding, probably.
Creation rooms kicked off officially tomorrow at 9 a.m. He'd have to show up for the next month to three.
6 p.m.
OT over, he stepped out. Living in Eunpyeong-gu, Line 3 from Anguk got him home in under 30—location perfection.
"Over here!"
Someone waved on the main drag. Five earlier, now ten waiting.
"Dutch okay?"
"Of course."
"Names unknown, so name tags till we split."
"Got it."
The leader's tag read 'Hwang Geon'—single syllable.
Ex-publishing planner, which explained the easy vibe with writers.
At a nearby chicken joint, he broke the ice with tales.
"My mentor told me: some wuxia author, terminal diagnosis, cranked out ten volumes a month for his family."
Possible? Lee Myung-han's jaw dropped.
Skip army soccer stories, but this? Absurd.
Someone voiced it.
"One volume every three days?"
"Terminal vibes, y'know."
"Whoa... Do that, you're rich quick."
Two mil per volume? Twenty mil monthly.
"Our publisher distributed it—no lie. Kept it up a full year."
Then, something snapped in Lee Myung-han's head.
'Right. Writing well isn't the only answer.'
One volume every three days sounded impossible, but 25 chapters? Eight daily.
'One per hour...'
Eight hours. Editing and all, ten tops. No job demands that.
-What if you got a mission: 'Write five novels by end of day or die'?
Memory's words echoed.
'Die? Gotta do it.'
He'd hit three on good days. Quit his part-time for all-in academy commitment—he gripped his beer tight.
'Starting tomorrow, five minimum.'
Realistic goals first. Can't? No quitting.
High school proved it.
Life's fiercest moments made five stories doable.
As he steeled himself, the sole woman spoke. Late twenties, cute—guys stealing glances.
"We're fated here—how about regular meetups for critiques? Clears the head, gets feedback."
Hwang Geon fanned the flames: great idea.
'Same-level folks critiquing? Helpful?'
Lee Myung-han half-doubted, but clinging to anything, they set Mondays at 6 p.m.
Whatever—he was novel-obsessed.
One story's worth of plot before? Now five meant grander visions.
"Joo-yeon, got a boyfriend?"
Watching Nam Joo-yeon smile brightly, he realized it was time to head home.
'No time for dating.'