391 The Crow’s Whereabouts 4 (1/2)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
As Crow remained silent, Juho asked, ”Do you think I'm joking?”
”And if I win?”
”I'm gonna jump.”
At that, Crow blinked rapidly, his eyes filled with stubbornness and pretentiousness.
”I'm not backing off, Mr. Woo.”
”You're dumber than I thought.”
At that moment, a shout came out of nowhere. It seemed like there was a problem on the other side of the street. Glancing in that direction, Juho asked, ”What do you have to gain from this bet anyway?”
If Crow lost, he would have to give up writing. If he won, his teacher would die. Then, as Juho started cackling out of nowhere, Crow's face flushed bright red. When the author started walking, the aspiring writer followed him.
”Were you joking?”
”I didn't mean any of it, I can tell you that.”
”I didn't either.”
”... Right.”
Crow remained quiet as he followed Juho, looking down. However, his face lit up the moment he set foot in Juho's house.
”Yun Woo's writing space,” Crow murmured, his mouth agape as he looked around the room. Because there was no light, the room had a cold atmosphere. It was filled with mountains of manuscript paper. ”So, this is how much you've written, huh?”
”Anybody can do it. I'm throwing it all out once it reaches the ceiling.”
”Such a waste…”
”You mean trash.”
Juho had been repeating the pattern of stacking and throwing out his manuscripts for years. He sat on his chair with no intention of telling the aspiring writer what to do. As long as Crow didn't try to choke him from behind, Juho couldn't care less about what the aspiring writer did. Since Juho was antsier than he was letting on, he picked up his pen and pulled out a sheet of manuscript paper.
”Oh, shoot! I'm so sorry!” Crow said anxiously after stepping on a piece of manuscript paper on the floor.
Juho remained silent, thinking, 'Been a while since I've felt this way.'
”I think it's time to get to work.”
”Oh, right.”
As Crow remained still, the room became silent, just like when Juho would write on his own.
”What kind of story are you writing?”
The only difference was that there was a crow in the room.
”It's about death,” Juho said briefly. When the aspiring writer didn't say anything else, Juho pulled out another sheet of manuscript paper and added, ”I'm planning on killing three people.”
”Who?”
”I'd rather you find out yourself.”
A rude, cocky teenager. A middle-aged addict. A cowardly failure. The three commit suicide at the same time.
”If I remember correctly, you wrote an autobiographical story, right?” Juho asked while moving his hand busily.
”Yes.”
The people in Juho's story were living in constant fear of the sky collapsing on them. Fighting futile battles against the unseen, they were living with the unbearable fear of imminent death. They didn't know how to stop it, and in the end, they decided to run away, making a poor choice like they always did. Thirty minutes had passed by the time Juho finished writing. Then, when Juho looked toward Crow, he was caught off guard by what he saw.
”Are you crying…?”
The aspiring writer was covered in snot.
”You haven't even read it yet.”
”Please, Mr. Woo. I beg you. Take me in as your pupil,” Crow said, spitting all over the place.
”No.”
At Juho's refusal, Crow started weeping. His tears looked like drops of sweat for some reason.
”Mr. Woo, you're… truly…” Crow dragged on in a suppressed voice, desperate to get the words out of his mouth. While he struggled with his stutter, Juho waited for him patiently, staring leisurely at his face covered in tears and snot.
”... A genius!”
With that, Crow started raving about the story, giving his thoughts on it.
”I've never felt this way before! I'm so humbled by the way you write: calm and humble, yet fast and precise. I almost forgot to breathe there!” Crow said with his hand on his chest. ”I'd never seen anything like it.”
”Is that so?” Juho asked, smiling.
”Yes. You're incredible, Mr. Woo. I wanna be just like you.”
Then, walking right past him, Juho went out of the room and into the kitchen. That time, Crow didn't follow him out. When Juho went into the room with a couple of cups of tea, he saw Crow reading his manuscript with his face still covered in tears and snot. However, Crow didn't seem to mind it one bit.
”Oh, thank you,” Crow said, looking at the author with respect.
”Well, this wasn't exactly the picture I had in mind,” Juho said.
”I'm sorry?”
”You can stick around until you finish your tea.”
Then, turning around, Juho walked out of the room and sat down on the couch in the living room. Shortly after, Crow came out of the room with a bunch of things in his hands.
”What are these?” he asked with an old notepad in his hand.
Staring intently but briefly at it, Juho said, ”Real-life stories.”
”Did you actually go out and do the research yourself?”
”Something to that effect. It's about a person who comes back from the dead.”
At that, Crow's eyes widened.
”Wait… Are you telling me that the character from 'The Spirit of Moon,' was based on a real person!?”
”That's right.”
”May I?”
”Go ahead.”
Crow opened the notepad anxiously, yet cautiously. However, his expression started to sink as he read on.
”... This is a diary.”
”It's written by that man himself.”
”It seems like he died around your age.”
”It's the first thing he wrote after he came back from the dead, apparently. I think he never wanted to relive his past life again. It only took him a few hours to write down the previous three decades of his life.”
”It gets harder and harder to read, though.”
”Seems like he was in a hurry when he wrote it, doesn't it? Don't you think it adds to the realism?”
”... It's all about his failures.”
”It makes sense that he'd be so desperate for a second chance.”
”I don't know if I would want my life to look like this.”
”Me neither.”
”So, where is this person now?”