Chapter 75
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: Small World
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“Eh?”
I was pretty sure he was one of the academy students.
“Fancy meeting you like this!”
Was his name Hwang Geon?
“Hello.”
A young man standing next to him bowed his head politely as well. His face rang a bell, but I couldn't recall his name.
“Did Luke stop by, by any chance?”
“Yes, on some business.”
“Whoa! What a small world, haha!”
We had nothing much to talk about, so after a few awkward seconds passed, I smiled naturally and wrapped things up.
“Well then, have a good day.”
I handled business and gave lectures, but at my core, I was an introverted guy. Without any prior connection, even five minutes of chit-chat felt impossible.
“You take care not to catch a cold too, sir.”
After he left with the young man, Ye-jin returned a short while later.
No need to bore her with every little detail, like running into an academy student, right?
“Take your time finishing up.”
We had plenty of time before the afternoon meeting, so while Ye-jin ate, I organized the thoughts I'd had earlier.
In truth, the alternate history genre could seem endlessly tricky if you overthought it, but once you grasped the pattern, it was the easiest for delivering vicarious thrills.
People might say, “Man, I wish they'd just crash and burn!” but when a Korea-Japan soccer match rolled around, they cheered like fanatics.
This patriotism-fueled “nat drip” hook drew tons of readers to later alt-history works. For guys especially, the key was that bold, straightforward charge ahead.
It differed from the cute, gradual build-up of something like the world's strongest idol or the elves of Jirisan.
Building something from scratch was a staple of male-oriented stories, but you had to craft the process with precision to really ramp up the hype.
“Sorry, did I keep you waiting?”
“Nah. Want some more?”
“I'm stuffed. Let's head out.”
Ye-jin stood up, and I rose with a smile too.
He eyed Lee Se-ho, whom Hwang Geon had brought along, and thought to himself.
‘Doesn’t look promising.’
PD spots were always short-staffed, but that didn’t mean you could onboard just anyone. PDs were all about writer wrangling—hire some weirdo, and you’d trash relationships with your established talent overnight.
“Se-ho’s got a sharp eye for stories and real grit.”
He turned to Hwang Geon.
“What’ve you been up to lately?”
“Still trying my hand at writing.”
Hwang Geon hadn’t ditched his author dreams. But in his eyes, success as a writer was flat-out impossible for the guy.
‘No talent.’
He could scrape by as a PD, sure, but Hwang Geon flat lacked the stamina and focus writing demanded.
“Give it a shot as an intern—you won’t regret it.”
He sidestepped Hwang Geon’s pitch.
“Eaten?”
“Grabbed something. Oh, saw the Memory author over there—he was here, right?”
“Memento Mori?”
“Yeah.”
He’d caught a glimpse earlier while dropping off the contract.
“Tsk...”
A thick wave of regret washed over him. That one guy alone was worth a hundred others.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He told Hwang Geon,
“If it really doesn’t pan out, take a year off and circle back. Things’ll have cooled by then. Just watch how you mix personal and professional.”
“Haha! Won’t happen again, ever!”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Think I’m about to get a girlfriend. And I’m self-admittedly loyal to a fault!”
Fired for groping a female writer, and now this...
‘Dog’ll never quit shitting.’
He sighed and glanced at Lee Se-ho.
‘Still looks meh no matter how I slice it.’
Slick operator vibe. Even giving looks a pass, the guy was already jiggling his leg like he was bored stiff. Nerves?
“Resume?”
“Se-ho, hand it over.”
“Yes, sir!”
He took the envelope, nodded, and said,
“I’ll take a look.”
“Thank you, Team Leader! You’re the best!”
“Quit calling me that. Can’t you see I’m sticking my neck out for you? I’m retired, remember?”
One last check in mind, he turned to Lee Se-ho.
“Mind if I see your phone?”
“My phone?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, sure. Here.”
Glancing at the home screen as he took it, he asked,
“What’s your go-to novel platform?”
“Uh, me... Story World...”
He pulled up Story World on the guy’s phone.
“No purchase history.”
“Well... mostly...”
Lee Se-ho grinned awkwardly, scratching his nape.
“Dark web routes, haha! Everyone does it, right?”
“I see.”
What would the writers think of a PD admitting illegal reads so casually?
“Got it.”
He handed the phone back and stood.
To Hwang Geon: “Catch you later.”
“Yes, Team Leader! Thanks a ton!”
Out in the hall, he returned to his desk and chucked the resume in the trash.
Favor or backroom deal, whatever—even desperate, you didn’t hire stray dogs.
“Phew...”
He needed a successor.
‘Boring.’
This routine couldn’t deliver the kicks anymore—he felt it in his bones.
‘Anyway.’
A fun idea popped up.
‘What could I do to keep that guy from cracking?’
Years of planning, derailed. Nabbing one and locking him up? Success. But the bastard wouldn’t write. At this rate, mental collapse loomed. Theory and boots-on-ground were worlds apart, alright.
‘Two to a room? Too dicey.’
No telling what those guys might pull—better preempt double adult-male trouble.
“Hold up.”
Brilliant spark.
‘Computer...’
The work PC hit different now.
‘Set up a community for ’em?’
Loneliness drives folks mad. Even Hwang Geon was fine day-to-day, but women flipped his switch.
How to leverage that?
‘No meets, but chats?’
Face-to-face ideal, but even text could soothe, no?
‘Locking ’em solo was naive—won’t crank out words. Competition’d be gold, but first: not alone.’
Solo op everything? Hands tied. But trust others? Nah. Team with a Hwang Geon type—lazy, busy excuses—backstab city, or blackmail fodder.
‘Network system. Game-changer.’
Snagging one took Herculean prep, exposure guts.
Stock the roster that hard, only for madness? No thanks.
‘Guess...’
Men first so far, but maybe what they needed was women.
‘Pull the plan forward.’
If someone were tailing me, they might peg it as a regressor author’s success saga. But my genre was thriller from jump—raw revenge drama. Even chowing a burger, I honed my blade inside.
‘All that bastard’s doing.’
Afternoon meeting? Bust. Demands way overboard—no way I’d bend.
En route to the goshiwon, I roughed out the intro for my new series in the car.
Juggling two ongoing works plus a fresh one? Every reminder deepened my grudge against that Team Leader scum.
My trauma wouldn’t fade till payback.
“What’re you thinking about?”
“Oh, the new work.”
“Huh? Already?”
“Contract’s signed—gotta prep.”
Ye-jin perked up at that.
“What genre?”
“Male-oriented, history-based.”
“Like Romance of the Three Kingdoms?”
“Kinda. But ours hits closer to home.”
Down the line, Napoleon or Hitler possessions would pop, but pace it moderate now.
“Builds empathy easier.”
Pulling into Happiness Goshiwon, a familiar car tail slipped into the lot.
“Ack! It’s DM!”
Out of the car, Min Team Leader approached. Jin-seong and Jin-guk were rousing the others.
“Total wrecks.”
“Idol grind’s all the same.”
Min Team Leader had slimmed down too.
“How’s the buzz?”
“Video views holding steady. Perfect timing—got something to hash out. Got time?”
“I’ll make it.”
Ye-jin and I followed him to the rooftop.
Coffee brewed, we sat. Min Team Leader asked,
“Heard about the K-pop concert in the States this year?”
“Nope.”
“US market’s stuffy, but K-pop’s gaining ground bit by bit. Prime face-time shot.”
“Sounds like a win then.”
“Yeah. But cracking top 14? Brutal—stacked field. Fresh debut like DM? Long shot.”
“How can I pitch in?”
“I’ll burn every contact I’ve got. President, could you put a word in at JJ Entertainment?”
“You got it.”
“Debut track’s English-heavy—bombed domestic. But US? Maybe clicks. YouTube’s overseas views dominate.”
Min Team Leader was all-in on that concert.
“They’re peaking form-wise, nailing stages. Get ’em there, they’ll drop a bomb.”
Ye-jin chimed in.
“And the costs?”
Min Team Leader grinned sheepishly.
“That’s part of the talk.”
DM wasn’t pulling meaningful revenue yet.
Idols bleed cash. Eat, wear, breathe—expenses. Music sales, gigs, gigs trickle next month.
Still red.
Simple: Variety gig, Jin-seong and Jin-guk duo pulls 200,000 won. 100k daily each.
Salon eats it pre-gig. Meals on us, transport, outfits—all investment.
Stars snag sponsors, fat fees. Newbies? Zilch.
Ditch it? Why grind deficits?
TV face = marketing gold.
“Costs? Don’t sweat.”
Hey, fresh off a 500-million-won deal.
“All focus: max shot at that concert.”
Back in my room.
“Outside world’s a drag...”
Those DM kids, zombie’d out in the car earlier. Me neither. Activities just sucked the life out?
But snug in my room, energy trickled back.
Early yet, so I changed and plopped in the chair.
Toy with alt-history opener? Nah, build condition first—switched to browsing.
This was my downtime. Hit Story World for male-oriented stuff, female platforms’ free boards too.
Habit turned ritual.
Regression nearing year one. Yet untapped authors scarce. Timing off—they hadn’t peaked. Plus zero leads on Team Leader.
‘Bet he’s lurking these feeds.’
Guy was a workhorse. No way he’d corral that many locked writers otherwise.
“Hmm...”
Staring down the monitor strained my eyes; squeezed ’em shut, clicked a fresh novel.
Zero hype.
Three eps only.
“...”
Read one.
“...?”
Two.
“...!”
Three done—I shot to my feet.
“...What?”