8 Chapter 8 - Smelly-Grilled Mackerel (1/2)

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

”Take care of yourself.”

”Alright, be safe.”

Mr. Moon sent the students away and stayed behind, in the science room, on his own. There were five notebooks piled up on the desk, all submitted by the members. They were new and spotless.

He opened the notebook on the top of the pile. It was the time to listen to the voices of his young pupils.

'My name is Sun Hwa Ahn. I'm 17 years old, and my blood type is B. I'm maintaining my grades at a higher tier, and my hobby is reading comic books. I enjoy comics. The reason why I joined the Literature Club instead of the Comic Club is that the Comic Club at our school is not a genuine club.'

From that point on, Sun Hwa wrote at good length on her complaints toward the school's club management. Wasn't it supposed to be a self-introduction?

About half of what she wrote was about comics. When it came to the things she liked, they were described in great detail.

'I hope you can view me as a bright and healthy student! Thank you Mr. Moon!”

She was straightforward to the end. She had the courage to speak up about the things she liked. Mr. Moon was able to immediately picture Sun Hwa. Considering how it painted a fairly accurate picture of herself, that had been a decent self-introduction.

He picked up the second notebook. It was a similar notebook to Sun Hwa's, and it wasn't hard to guess who it belonged to.

'My name is Bom Yoon. I'm 17, and my blood type is A. My hobby is reading. I like both comics and literature. I joined the Literature Club at the suggestion of a friend. Everyone here seems to have distinct personalities, so I look forward to being part of this club. Thank you Mr. Moon.'

That was it. There were traces of her erasing in the blank space. Timid and a woman of few words, it seemed like she was still working on introducing herself. Despite the length, it was easy to identify her characteristics. She was complimenting a group of people around her when she had barely met them. Her style was similar to Sun Hwa's. Her self-introduction was focused more on the others than herself.

Perhaps she's sensitive to her surroundings.

After some thought, Mr. Moon moved onto the next notebook. The name Seo Kwang Kim was visible.

'To Mr. Moon.

This is Seo Kwang Kim. I've chosen the Literature Club as my first club after coming up to high school. The reason why I didn't choose another club that could potentially look better on my school record is simply because I'm not interested in getting good grades. Nobody enjoys studying, but I seriously despise being forced to do something.

My parents call me immature. They say that I'm going to regret this in the future, but I know for a fact that regret isn't going to be the only sentiment I feel when I look back to this moment.

I love books. That's the reason why I joined the Literature Club. The first time I came to like books was the moment I shed a tear onto the page of a book. I've cried reading a book in the past. It was an amazing experience. Although I wasn't listening to beautiful music or was able to see gorgeous colors, I was being moved from deep within.'

Mr. Moon related to Seo Kwang's statement. You could never forget the moment of being moved by that thing called a book. Many people kept crying and laughing from stories left by great storytellers. A person could grow solely through that.

Seo Kwang described himself at the end in a single line, 'Your pupil who's in love with all of the stories in this world, Seo Kwang Kim.'

Next was Baron. When that kid showed up to the staffroom for the first time, Mr. Moon was honestly shocked.

”I want to draw.”

Mr. Moon replied, ”I'm a literature teacher.”

Then, Baron answered, ”I'm aware.”

'Who would've thought a rebel could be so polite?' Mr.Moon quickly gave him permission. 'It was good to have at least one person around who liked to go against the flow. Others could find that a motivation to write.'

What kind of things would a artist pupil of a literature teacher draw?

Mr. Moon opened the sketchbook and smiled with satisfaction. It was a very familiar drawing, a bird in a white background. It immediately reminded him of a book cover, and he felt a small bit of relief. After reading that book, he had to feel something, whatever that might be.

Mr. Moon picked up the last notebook, Juho Woo's. That kid was hard to read. He seemed innocent, but on the other hand, mature. He appeared to have a floaty kind of personality, but at the same time, he blended well with others. It was hard to tell if he was calm or just absent-minded.

'Maybe his introduction will tell me.'

He turned the page.

”Oh man, this kid.”

Could that be better described as brilliant or off the wall? Mr. Moon chuckled at the title written on the first sentence.

'About Grilled Mackerel.

Mackerel is referred to as the blue fish. Its clean, buttery-tasting meat is worthy of being called ”the porkbelly of the sea.” If the fish is of high quality, all it needs is a little salt. Otherwise, it will require a bit of trimming. This is to eliminate the fishy smell.

Prepare some rice water or water with a little bit of soybean paste. Soak the fish for about ten minutes, then wash it in running water. The odor will disappear. If you add lemon or finely ground daikon radish and soy sauce, the fish becomes a delicacy.

I'm always eating grilled mackerel that's been tidily prepared. Only, my father is not fond of that.

He dislikes the fact that the human hand is extinguishing even the essence of the ocean. Even if it were the fishiest smelling mackerel, he says that he prefers that over the mackerel that's been prepared to people's liking.

Standing next my father longing for the lost essence of the fish, I find myself subconsciously picturing him when he was full of the fragrance of life.

With a hope of having grilled mackerel for dinner tonight, I now bring this composition to an end.'

”Grilled Mackerel.”

'I like it.' Mr. Moon read Juho's writing again. It was flawless as a self-introduction.

”I wouldn't have know. This kid is very interesting. Are kids good at writing by default nowadays?” Murmured Mr. Moon as he thought of a young author in his head.

---

As Juho read in his room, he heard the front door opening. His mother was home.

”Welcome back.”

”You must be hungry. I'll grill some mackerel.”

”Sure.”

Juho felt awkward about speaking to his parents in casual language. For some time, he had been speaking to them properly. His parents were thinking that their son had grown up after moving up to high school.

”What about father?”

”He must be busy at work. He said he'll be late.”