46 Chapter 46 - A Flower Yet to Bloom 2 (1/2)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
”So, you are still not making any friends?” Juho asked.
Sung Pil was quite a straight edge, which was unusual for his age. Without any change in his expression, he admitted the fact that he was alone, ”Nope.”
”Aren't you bored?”
At once, Sung Pil shook his head. He wasn't bored, apparently.
”I write. That's more than enough.”
Even within a boisterous class, he wrote by himself. Somehow, Juho saw a resemblance to his old self. He too had been alone at one point. That was when he had written 'The Trace of a Bird.'
He looked at Sung Pil. His real name was Pil Sung Choi. Three years from then, he would accomplish his impressive debut.
'When did he write his debut novel?' Juho wondered.
”Have you been working on anything lately?” Sung Pil asked ahead of Juho.
He answered after thinking briefly, ”Nothing unusual.”
”I see.”
”Instead,”
”Instead?” Sung Pil asked.
”I'm taking part in an essay contest with the club.”
”An essay contest?”
His thick eyebrows furrowed.
”Yep. The Youth Literary Essay Contest.”
”What's that? Can anybody take part in it?”
He seemed quite interested, and Juho told him everything he knew about the contest.
”I've heard you need a letter of recommendation from a teacher, but other than that, the only qualification is that you have to be a high school student.” Then, he added, ”There's a preliminary round too.”
”A preliminary round? What's that look like?”
”It's like submitting your entry. You write about a topic of your choosing. After writing a short prose, you revise it to the set format and then upload it. Whoever gets picked gets to go up to the finals. I heard they give out the subject the day of.”
”That sounds fun.”
His voice was filled with interest, and Juho said, ”You should give it a try.”
”Should I?” he asked back immediately. His heart was already more than willing. After suddenly standing up from his seat, Sung Pil told Juho, ”We'll meet at the finals.”
He hadn't even applied yet.
”If the judges like what I wrote.”
”No! We can make it happen if we work hard enough. We'll meet at the finals,” he emphasized again. Although it was just before sunrise, his face was already shining brightly.
Juho chuckled with a sigh.
”Fine, if it's possible.”
---
There was one week left until the deadline for applications, and Juho was sitting in front of his computer.
”A topic of my choosing, huh?”
He couldn't resist the yawn forcing its way out. He felt sluggish and was not in a mood to write. There was one week left. He thought about starting back the next day, but soon, he shook his head. There was no guarantee that he'd be more motivated then, so it'd be safer to upload it when he could. He would have looked for another competition if he had been on his own, but now that Sung Pil was involved, Juho had to keep his end of the deal.
”A topic of my choosing..”
The topic was the contestant's choice, which meant that they'd accept just about anything. Juho applauded their generosity.
”I have to get past the preliminary round somehow.”
There was no time to lose. There were countless kids who had paid a handsome amount of money for detailed analyses of the past year's winning composition. However, it was hard to say that the Youth Literary Essay Contest would be more popular than Seo Kwang's or Sun Hwa's.
”That still doesn't mean that the competition will be taken over by those private institutes either.”
There was no right answer in literature. Analyzing an award-winning work didn't always lead to winning an award. A high school literature contest was different from the professional world. What the critics were looking for the most was probably…
”... Writing honestly.”
Heartfelt, unpretentious, honest compositions that made them continue reading despite the crude sentence structures. For example, a mother's letter was one of those things because there were emotions behind those words. They were heartfelt. Before sincerity, even the most skillfully written sentence became mere pretense.
Writing with sincerity might be something that was easier for those with less writing experience.
”At least, I prefer sincerity.”
In writing, he'd much rather prefer sincerity over skill
”Sincerity…”
He immediately thought of someone. He was loud and had thick eyebrows. When he came across a ten cent coin on the street, he didn't hesitate to take it to the police station. And, he was not afraid to admit that he was alone.
”Let's do this.”
He thought about writing about Sung Pil and grabbed a piece of paper that was rolling around the room and picked up a pen. First, he had to give shape to the ideas floating around in his head, 'Sung Pil, and thick eyebrows… would not be necessary. He's alone. He writes. He's honest. His writing. His future, present and past. Freedom. Police station. Race. Sincerity.'
There was no way he could include all those thoughts. The length of the composition was limited. In that case, a core foundation had to be established. He had to pick out the most memorable parts of the story.
”The past of a person who had succeeded.”
That was not a failure. It was a leap toward success. He thought about Sung Pil's present. 'He writes by himself in a classroom full of kids…' In that place, he was alone.
”Is this going to turn into my story?”
He reminisced about his past and revisited memories that were more than thirty years old. He had been alone. He couldn't figure why that was. A person always became alone at some point.
'There was no seat for him anywhere. With his tightened lips, he listened to the sounds coming from the classroom.' One by one, he wrote out his honest feelings, advancing toward something, at least for the duration of his writing.
Just like that, 'The Trace of a Bird' was born.
He overlaid his memories with another person's appearance. Then, he closed his eyes and pictured Sung Pil looking more mature, but slowly getting younger.
”This should do.”
He put his hands over the keyboard. Tick. Tick. For a while, there was nothing but the sound of the pressed keys.
'An author looking back to his first writing.'
Calmly, Juho wrote out his story.
---
”Did you apply?” Bom asked, and Juho nodded with a piece of cookie in his mouth. Of course he had.
”Your competition, The Youth Literary Essay Contest, is happening first right?” Sun Hwa asked while bringing some cookie crumbs to her mouth.
”I think so.”
Every contest started on a different date. In terms of order, Juho's was first.
”Will I make it to the finals?”