NOVEL NEXT Chapter 30
If Yoo Seolhwa were to look back on her life as a child, she’d say it was so rich that nothing was lacking.
As the granddaughter of a chaebol family, she was showered with her grandfather’s love, able to get anything she wanted.
With her dazzlingly beautiful appearance and her well-rounded education, she was both martial and literary excellence, a genius who swept countless writing competitions and contests across the country.
Known as the “flower on the cliff” at school, it was common for her to be called “Peony when sitting, Lily when walking.”
“……This is just awful. I have to read it countless times just to understand the author’s intent. It’s no different than some sorcery book.”
Yet, there was one thing that she lacked.
It was her personality.
Her nature demanded correction; if something was wrong, she couldn’t move on until it was fixed.
“There are too many commas, making it hard to read, the line breaks are weird, and they don’t consider the information gap between the reader and the author. It’s like they’re just telling their own story!”
That was her first assessment upon reading Han Dohyun’s novel, King of Diamond Fist‘s prequel.
There were no praises to be found, resembling a reader blasting a scathing 5,700-character comment.
But,
“…Why is this kind of fun?”
Han Dohyun’s writing had something unique.
A beauty that transformed the dark and despairing reality into words—a quality you couldn’t find in anyone else’s work.
Honestly speaking, it was a novel so unconventional it was practically hipster. Messy enough that you had to read it several times, it was like an unrefined gem.
“No way. This isn’t what a novel should be.”
Seolhwa shook her head vigorously while reading Han Dohyun’s work. It was a bizarre piece that only relentlessly did what one should NOT do.
– The protagonist’s backstory is far too grim.
– How does the author know about boiling flesh from corpses or committing suicide with poisonous mushrooms?
– In the end, this novel has a dark conclusion.
– Why? Is it an autobiographical novel?
With red pen in hand, she listed her disappointments, underlining whatever angered her.
The writing style and the atmosphere conveyed through the words are like the writer’s fingerprint; they can’t be easily changed.
While some writers pen soft, fluffy marshmallow-like prose, others wield their words like finely honed blades.
“Miss Seolhwa, what do you plan for dinner tonight?”
“…No thoughts.”
Seolhwa replied apathetically to the white-haired butler who knocked and entered. The vividness of Dohyun’s writing had made her stomach churn like a rollercoaster.
It felt like she’d been awake for days, how her breath carried a metallic taste, her blood practically boiling.
“Let’s read it one more time. This is for analysis.”
That was the day Yoo Seolhwa first began to feel emotionally wounded from reading Han Dohyun’s writing.
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What Seolhwa liked about his writing was how painfully aware it was of miserable reality.
Full of descriptions and settings that couldn’t be known without experience.
If someone else read it, they might ditch it midway due to the barrier to entry, but…
“…His name is Han Dohyun.”
Seolhwa was a genius.
Someone who was similar to others but had a slightly peculiar side.
Thus, she could understand Han Dohyun’s creative world better than anyone else. Though still a mess, his talent was so overwhelming that it devoured his flaws.
“Looks like he hasn’t chosen a pen name; he must have just started writing.”
She glanced at the words scribbled on the bottom corner of the booklet.
“Class 1-2, XX Middle School, Han Dohyun.”
A name that seemed familiar, not unfamiliar at all.
As Seolhwa mulled over the mere three syllables of the name, she tried to picture what he looked like.
“Now that I think about it, there was a handsome guy who always slept during class.”
It must’ve been during the athletic competition when the whole class participated.
She suddenly recalled a boy who’d reached out to help her when she fell and scraped her knee.
His gaze, looking at her with those sad eyes, was nothing like the greedy glance of someone wanting something just because she was a granddaughter of a chaebol.
“I thought the rumors were bad…”
Yoo Seolhwa sighed deeply, contemplating Han Dohyun. She couldn’t tell what his true nature was.
Among the girls, he had a reputation for being a sly fox who relied solely on his looks. She’d heard tales of girls confessing to him only to be rejected in tears.
“How can someone who writes such amazing prose be weird in personality?”
She wondered if it might be a case of a girl scorned trying to slander him. The rumors she occasionally heard indicated that the kids in class often scrambled to win his favor.
Moreover, artists often had delicate sensibilities, and many had twisted personalities compared to ordinary folks.
Even she, often referred to as a genius in writing, couldn’t stay calm when someone else’s writing had errors.
– I don’t mean to share my uncomfortable experiences. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made the protagonist the leader of the Heavenly Demon Divine Sect, saving others.
As she scanned her notes analyzing Bi Wol, a subtle smile appeared on Seolhwa’s lips. She could roughly guess what the author was thinking just from reading.
– But neither did I write for money, nor did I have the elite mentality of believing ‘my writing is different from others’ due to a lack of understanding of the genre.
The act of writing has a low barrier to entry; many started without a proper sense of professionalism, like flies sticking to sweet foods.
– This author’s thoughts are overly negative. It feels as if there’s no support around.
Tight.
Unbeknownst to her, Seolhwa was now clutching the booklet containing Dohyun’s novel as if it were a precious treasure.
Her queen-sized bed was large enough for several people to lie on, and as she lounged about feeling relaxed, an idea suddenly popped into her mind.
“If I could write together with this kid, wouldn’t it produce an astonishing result…?”
Co-writing.
Writing often involves clashing egos, where fights are common over things you can’t negotiate.
“I’m sure he’ll like it too!”
Little did Yoo Seolhwa know.
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Thus, after boldly revising Han Dohyun’s writing, she thought she’d receive praises and envy, the first words she heard from him were:
“So what?”
That was it.
“What, what do you mean? Are you talking to me right now?”
Seolhwa couldn’t hide her bewilderment at the conversation that went exactly contrary to her expectations.
She had never faced such a cold rejection from anyone in her life.
“Yeah, who do you think you are to criticize someone else’s writing?”
His voice was chilly and sharp, the disdain in his eyes was palpable. It felt like she had disturbed a sleeping lion.
“I won gold in last year’s literary contest and also received the grand prize at the national writing competition!”
That was the best defense she could come up with. If she didn’t, Han Dohyun’s talent would overshadow hers.
But,
“So, you learned that winning awards gives you the right to tear down someone else’s writing?”
“……”
“There’s no finger that doesn’t hurt if you bite it; for any writer, every piece of work is precious. Choose your words carefully.”
He was far more stubborn than she expected. He had the exact attitude expected from a writer.
“Uh, I guess you’re right after all…”
In that moment, Seolhwa could only nod, respecting Han Dohyun’s opinion.
“Then can you tell me why this protagonist needs to have such a past?”
That was a question she had long pondered over.
Why adopt such a brutal background?
If only he chose more mainstream material, it could be even more popular now.
Meaning, an honorable mention could have easily turned into a gold medal.
“This kid’s a monster. He’s cursed with the Heavenly Demon Star from birth; he can’t survive unless he kills.”
Han Dohyun calmly opened up about Bi Wol’s setting to her, but this was when Seolhwa should have realized that something was off.
“So, you wrote the first scene as one of a famine-stricken village? The sky filled with locusts being the root of all evil?”
“Exactly, I believe that the Heavenly Demon punishes those who don’t hear the cries of the people. That’s why I darkened the sky.”
“Oh… The direction is pretty good, though?”
For a middle schooler, that was quite a challenging concept, connecting the theme and the narrative threads.
“Then was it really necessary to include the part about dying from poisonous mushrooms or cooking and eating dead bodies again? I find it too grim.”
“When people are cornered, they’ll do anything.”
Seolhwa continued questioning him, trying to resolve her curiosity. She jotted down answers in another notebook, amazed at how such dark-colored writing could be produced.
“Harsh environments can push even good people to extreme actions. You wouldn’t know, but…”
Stopping, Seolhwa’s hand froze as she realized that those weren’t words a mere middle schooler should speak.
“Wh-who said I don’t know?”
What should one do in such a situation? It was something she had never learned, even with all those countless lessons.
“I know that much! I’ve taken thorough lessons on how the successor becomes enraptured in sorrow from a young age, learning about how deeply a person can change…”
“…In the end, you’ve never experienced it yourself.”
“……”
Han Dohyun slightly lowered his collar to reveal the scars on his neck.
His wounds told the story of a life he’d lived up till now. Scars were like a palette mixing self-harm, domestic violence, and self-destructive behavior, a deep red hue.
“I just thought… you seem to have the potential to write better, it’s a shame you keep writing negative stuff. I’m sorry.”
After seeing that, Seolhwa felt the urge to apologize. She clearly had touched on a sensitive wound.
“There’s no need to apologize. Mistakes are part of being human.”
Oddly, Han Dohyun’s calm tone and his nonchalant adjustment of his collar irked her.
“I didn’t know that…”
It was all her fault.
She had mistaken him for just a handsome boy who wrote well.
“Hey, are you crying? Stop it. Just stop.”
“Sorry… Huhwaaa…”
“I just wanted to be friends with you…”
Normally, she would’ve just said thank you for helping her at the sports competition.
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Thus, the distance between her and Han Dohyun rapidly shrank. Using a single notebook to share their worldviews and settings, they gradually spent more time together.
Before long, their mutual interest blossomed into affection, and having confessed to each other, they became a couple, looking forward to a future filled with happiness.
“Today, I’ll make you the scrambled eggs you like, Dohyun~!”
Seolhwa was heading home after stopping by the mart to buy ingredients for Han Dohyun’s favorite dish.
Feeling relieved and cheerful, she exhaled at that moment,
“Eh? Why is that kid over there….”
Her eyes widened in a moment of freeze.
It was one of the hottest summers, with cicadas buzzing. On the crosswalk stood a child all alone.
As the green light turned to red in an instant.
Greeeeek─!!
The child ran while a car barreled forward crazily.
And Seolhwa leaped in.
Thud.
Crack. The sound of reinforced glass shattering.
Sudden screeching tires and the acrid smell of burning rubber.
Warm blood splattered across the black asphalt.
‘Ah, I hadn’t gotten to wish Dohyun a happy birthday yet…’
She immediately found it hard to breathe.
Her body felt like it was on fire, yet she couldn’t even move a finger.
In her dimming vision, a lone child was crying while looking at Yoo Seolhwa.
So, at least one person could be saved while another dies.
Just when she thought she had found someone precious.
Now, it really felt like they could fulfill her dream of being a writer together.
After living half her life only looking at Han Dohyun, the outcome she faced was a traffic accident.
A misfortune worse than a hit-and-run, where the perpetrator fled.
In that despair, she slowly closed her eyes.