Novelist Running Through Time-Chapter 171

TL: KSD

In the darkness, my body swayed slowly.

With that swaying motion, my senses began to return one by one. The sound of a car engine, the damp scent of an air freshener, and Ma Ki-hoon gripping the steering wheel beside me.

“Oh, you’re awake?”

It seemed I had dozed off in the passenger seat.

Blinking blankly, I stretched out my stiff body to relieve the discomfort. A groan escaped my lips naturally.

After replenishing my oxygen deficit with one yawn, I briefly summed up my thoughts on the short nap in the passenger seat.

“Ah… That was a great sleep.”

It was a strange thing.

Falling asleep comfortably in an uncomfortable passenger seat was odd enough, but what was truly strange was that Ma Ki-hoon’s driving, which usually turned the passenger seat into a rollercoaster, had allowed me to sleep so soundly.

Leaning slightly forward in curiosity, I realized that the car barely shook at all. Watching the vehicle glide smoothly like it was sliding on ice, I understood that Ma Ki-hoon’s driving skills had significantly improved.

If that was a professional achievement, then it was one worth recognizing.

I offered a word of congratulations.

“Hyung, your driving has really improved.”

“What’s this? A sudden compliment?”

Seeing Ma Ki-hoon’s driving skills, I suddenly became aware of the passage of time. He was no longer a fumbling rookie road manager but a competent new manager who could handle driving well.

Lim Yang-wook, once the phantom of the underground parking lot, had become a department head with executive-level treatment. The rookie editor, Baek Seol, had become the CEO of Baekhak Publishing. The washed-up Kim Byul had transformed into superstar, Kim Byul.

What have I become?

A third-year student about to graduate middle school? A somewhat famous author? Well. Titles like that felt meaningless. None of them were things I had earned through my own efforts…

So, in the end, it all came down to books.

Writing words, writing novels, writing books, stacking them one by one to build a tower.

That’s what I need to do.

But sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder what lay at the top of that tower.

Who knows.

So, like any ordinary working person who needed to clock in and get things done, I had to tackle the tasks in front of me one by one. Sometimes, being a novelist didn’t feel all that different from having a regular job.

In that sense, today’s task could be considered a kind of business trip.

“In-seop, we’ve arrived.”

Beyond the car’s windshield, Incheon Airport slowly emerged from the thick morning mist.

EP 10 – Starry Sky

Back to the Future, Doctor Who, Re:Zero – Starting Life in Another World (a recommended book by Min Hyo-chan), and so on…

Compared to the various media portrayals, my identity as a time traveler was much more sentimental, dreary, and tedious. I had already defined my life in such terms.

My life wasn’t two separate existences cut off from each other. It was one continuous life.

Time wasn’t a straight line or a flat plane, it took the shape of memory. Strictly speaking, the term “past life” that I sometimes muttered was more accurately just “the past”.

But the irony of fate’s vortex often made me, a time traveler, feel quite bored by the overly cliché nature of it all.

And that cliché was as follows.

Ah— don’t you know?

This is…

‘A child writing stories.’

‘WOOOOOOW—!!!!!’

The moment I landed in California and barely managed to shake off the exhaustion of a long flight, the exploitative black company Baekhak Publishing dragged me around, parading me as some kind of K-genius boy wonder.

Then, a crowd of pale-skinned people from the world’s greatest superpower, America, gathered around, pointing fingers at the South Korean kid writer as if he were some kind of spectacle.

I felt like a fascinating monkey on a circus stage.

Since I wasn’t fluent in English, my “monkey trainer”, Lim Yang-wook, handled most of the general communication.

“It’s truly astonishing that such a young author has written so many books. Is there any special secret to it?”

“Rather than a specific technique… I’d say it’s closer to talent. From the moment I first met this kid, he was already an author.”

“Talent, huh! What an incredible gift. But surely there must have been something that first led you to pick up the pen. Would you mind sharing that story?”

Of course, it’s not like Lim Yang-wook had actually stood in the middle of Times Square shouting—

‘Come one, come all! We’ve got something amazing to see here!’

‘Stop by and give a pat on the head to this child writer!’

‘Only one dollar per touch!’

—Nothing like that.

We were meeting a journalist at a café near the hotel, sipping on America’s traditional gukbap, Americano, as we carried on a calm interview.

Of course, I was also actively cooperating with the interview, accompanied by Baek-something, the “professional interpreter” dispatched from Baekhak Publishing.

“I started writing because I loved books. There weren’t many hobbies to pursue at the orphanage. It’s not like there weren’t TVs or computers, but those were always claimed by the older kids. So, I got pushed into a corner and just read books. Thinking back, it’s kind of funny that my first experience with reading started that way. In any case, that’s how I formed a connection with books.”

The interviewer gave me a thoughtful smile and typed my response into their laptop. Then, they expressed sympathy for my past, admiration for how I had overcome my struggles, and even offered words of encouragement. A very kind journalist, indeed.

Of course, this industry is full of reporters who say one thing and then stab you in the back in print. But I didn’t doubt this particular journalist’s goodwill.

After all, they were handpicked by Collins Press. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

So, even if I hurled curses at them, the interview article would still come out painting me like an angel.

In other words, this whole process was just a formality. This wasn’t an interview, it was an advertisement.

Or, to put it another way, it was a sales pitch.

Just before putting the “extraordinary monkey” on display, this was the refined equivalent of shouting, “Come see the amazing monkey here!”

A bit more sophisticated, that’s all.

* * *

“Hey, so when singers perform on TV, is that basically them saying, ‘Look at this amazing parrot—’?”

“Oh……”

“What do you mean ‘Oh…’ you bastard?”

Flick!

Lim Yang-wook’s knuckle flick landed with precision.

I collapsed onto the table like someone whose skull had just been cracked open.

I played the part of a wronged corpse, my eyes open in eternal grievance.

“Hey, stop pretending to be dead. People are staring at us weirdly.”

“……”

“You seriously look like a corpse… Rise! From the dead!”

Poke.

Lim Yang-wook jabbed me in the side, reviving my body with a jolt.

I twitched from the ticklish sensation but pretended it was nothing as I sat up again.

Just then, a waiter approached, and Lim Yang-wook accepted two cups of cola, handing one to me before continuing.

“You always view everything in such a structured way. But there’s no warmth in a system. How long are you planning to live so coldly?”

“Sssip…”

“Let’s change the analogy. Forget that cruel circus monkey stuff. How about this instead, you’re a cultural ambassador spreading K-literature across the distant land of America?”

“My novels aren’t nationalist literature, though?”

“You mean that it’s not K-literature that’s great but the author Moon In who’s great, so why attach K to everything? Fine, you’re great. Keep living like that… Hmph!”

Yeah. I would keep living like this.

There was no other choice.

Money, fame, popularity… to me, those things were like sour grapes.

Not just because I had experienced time travel, but because I had lived my entire life like the fox that never got to taste the sweetness of grapes. I had no choice but to mutter to myself that they were sour.

So even now, when I finally could have my fill of grapes, they still tasted sour to me. The moment I admitted they were sweet, it would feel like I was denying my past self…

It was a kind of complex.

Sort of like how Lim Yang-wook would say, “College isn’t that big of a deal.”

If I explained it to him in that way, he might actually understand my feelings. But I didn’t want to shatter the heart of a sentimental middle-aged man, so I kept my meaningful silence.

Lim Yang-wook, gulping down his cola like it was beer, glared at me over his fries.

“What are you looking at?”

“You, Department Head Lim.”

“That’s an unpleasant gaze… You were cursing me in your head just now, weren’t you?”

“You’re like King Kung Ye.”

Lim Yang-wook grabbed me by the collar and gave me a shake, but then, true to his sentimental middle-aged nature, he muttered like a sulky child.

“Well… if it’s really that hard, just say so. I’ll adjust your schedule…”

“It’s not that hard.”

“Then why were you grumbling?!”

That was how I kept myself entertained by teasing Lim Yang-wook just enough to relieve some stress while smoothly following through with my schedule.

However, as my time in the U.S. went on, I began to notice something rather interesting…

There was far more interest in Baek Seol and Gu Yu-na than I had expected.

* * *

Among the employees at Baekhak Publishing, there were (naturally) those who dismissed Baek Seol’s title of “Booker International Nominee” as nothing but empty hype.

They believed Baek Seol’s reputation as a translator was overrated.

-Baek Seol? A Booker Prize nominee?

-But she never actually won the Booker Prize, right?

-Yeah, so basically, trash.

There were various reasons why such talk started circulating. Some were more loyal to the COO than to the CEO, some resented Baek Seol for being Baek Do-hyun’s puppet, and some were bitter after getting chewed out by their boss just because Baek Seol had personally changed the office water dispenser.

Not every employee was going to blindly support the CEO, so it was only natural for rumors like these to spread.

However, their claims were objectively incorrect.

The Booker Prize is not hype.

It’s one of the most prestigious literary awards in the world. Some even argue that, since the selection process considers reader opinions, it’s superior to the Nobel Prize in Literature.

Even if she hadn’t won, just being nominated was an accomplishment in itself. There’s a reason why nominees are divided into longlists and shortlists.

Moreover, the Booker Prize originally focused on English-language works, while the Booker International recognized foreign literature, including its translators.

That meant Baek Seol, who had made it onto the Booker International longlist, was a translator with international acclaim, regardless of her title as the CEO of Baekhak Publishing.

And this renowned translator,

Who is also the CEO of a major publishing house,

And a chaebol?

That automatically made Baek Seol a celebrity.

“CEO Baek! Just one question, please!”

“Do you have any plans to translate works other than Author Moon’s? Particularly American novels into Korean?”

“Can you share your SNS handle? What? You don’t use social media? Why not?”

“W-Wait a moment…!”

Celeb Baek Seol instantly became a media sensation.

Of course, part of it was her own celebrity aura, but it was also thanks to Collins Press stirring up attention behind the scenes. The deep affection of the Oxford graduate Collins CEO had played a role.

Baek Seol herself had no desire for popularity, but from an outsider’s perspective, she was a textbook Paris Hilton-type, an elite figure born into wealth and status.

In America, the “businessperson + entertainer” combination was as classic and comforting as gukbap.

For example, we had the OG gukbap business owners: Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, and… Donald Trump.

Especially that last one, who added the “politician” attribute and ended up cultivating a borderline cult following.

After all, slightly twisting a cliché is far more effective than copying it outright.

So, Baek Seol, who carried the added attributes of “translator” and “Asian”, made for an even more intriguing character.

Like a scene-stealing minority actor introduced in Season 3 of a hit American drama, Baek Seol captivated those obsessed with uniqueness.

Naturally, the clueless Westerners who couldn’t tell the age of an Asian woman started throwing around the usual comments.

“You—you’re not 17?!”

“Really?! Then, how old are you?”

“T-That’s…!”

Baek Seol (Translator, 29) was dreading the approach of her thirties.

In any case, it wasn’t surprising that Americans were fascinated by a “businessperson + entertainer + translator” with a Booker Prize nomination.

Baek Seol had plenty of reasons to attract media attention.

Gu Yu-na, on the other hand, did not.

She only had one.

But that one reason was more than enough.

“Is it true that you’re the daughter of novelist Gu Hak-jun?!”

“……”

* * *

The world of media manipulation is vast and deep. Especially in an era where the rise of social media has expanded public discourse beyond the reach of traditional media.

The size, shape, and complexity of public opinion…

Since ancient times, the collective mindset of the masses has been an “world of uncertainty” much like Schrödinger’s cat in a box, who enjoyed tormenting animals.

That’s why precise media manipulation requires local expertise.

Just like in military operations, understanding the geography and culture of the battlefield is crucial in media warfare.

Thus, the “Baekhak Publishing style” of media play, where the literary world was manipulated through tight-knit connections and the mass media was bombarded via affiliated companies, was ineffective in the U.S.

After all, in California, Baekhak Publishing had no loyal critics willing to act as mouthpieces, nor did it have powerful subsidiaries ready to respond to its media blitz.

As a result, the entity controlling the strategy for U.S. activities was Collins Press, a publisher that treated California as its own backyard.

And as the control tower, the first thing Collins Press did was seize control of social media.

News articles and advertisements could be handled with money, but social media couldn’t be bought so easily.

Unlike in South Korea, where paid commenters could steer public sentiment with a simple “Oh wow, how nostalgic!”, Americans were far more skeptical, always demanding transparency, raising concerns about data privacy, and sniffing out media manipulation.

So Collins Press mobilized celebrities.

They leveraged the voices of well-known figures who could influence not just California’s local community but the entire nation.

That was Collins Press’s media strategy.

“These young friends wrote a novel?! Absolutely incredible! I’m sure our viewers at home are just as amazed!”

“The fact that rapid technological development has alienated human nature… even this young child understands this undeniable truth. And to everyone joining this book club today…”

“Gu Hak-jun’s daughter debuting so quickly! Did she inherit her talent from her father? Gu Yu-na, what are your thoughts on that?”

A social media-driven strategy meant direct engagement with the public. And the public was drawn to things that were provocative, personal, and easy to understand.

So instead of promoting the novel itself, Collins Press focused on the authors, driving media coverage through controversy, avoiding technical discussions, and even tying it into politics.

“…Why aren’t we talking about the novel itself?”

The fact that such a question popped out of Gu Yu-na’s mouth,

Was perhaps inevitable.

*****

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