Chapter 393: Here Comes the Great Storyteller (2) (1/2)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
”Well, this is awkward,” Juho said as he brushed his hair up. The story was on the verge of completion.
”How do I end this?” Juho asked himself, but he simply couldn't reach an answer. The character was either going to die or live, and there was nothing hypocritical about that.
”I'm the real hypocrite here,” the author said, massaging his thigh, his feet numb from the cold. Time was running out, and Juho was anxious to finish the story. Then, Juho chucked the pen. A dull sound reverberated through the room as it hit something, which was more than enough to bother Juho. Without moving a muscle, the author wrestled with himself. At that moment...
”Mr. Woo?” a cautious voice called for him.
”What?”
”May I suggest you go out for a walk? It's warmer out than it was yesterday.”
”...”
Crow studied the author cautiously. The window shook violently. Although the weather might have been warmer than the day before, it was still winter. After some contemplation, Juho rose from his seat and picked up his jacket.
”I'll lead the way. I found the perfect place to jog recently,” Crow said excitedly. He was in the habit of exercising both in the morning and the evening. Although it was nothing more than running around the neighborhood, the aspiring writer seemed to enjoy it quite a bit. On the other hand, Juho had been spending more time walking than running lately.
”Should we have a race?” Juho asked as he put his shoes on. Chuckling, Crow replied, ”I don't know, Mr. Woo. It's pretty obvious who is gonna be the winner.”
”You don't know that.”
”I won't go easy on you.”
Walking past the aspiring writer, who was anxious to start running, Juho said, ”Forget it. You wouldn't want to break a bone or something. It'll hinder your work.”
When they got outside, their breaths became visible. It was dark out. Then, following Crow's lead, Juho made his way to the trail. Walking definitely helped him calm his mind.
”Mr. Woo?”
”Yeah?”
”You said you hate crows, right?”
”I did.”
”Was that a roundabout way of saying that you don't like me?”
”What if it was?” Juho asked, chuckling.
”Then, I'd like to apologize. Please forgive me,” Crow said in a serious tone.
Rubbing his cold nose, the author asked, ”Were you still thinking about that?”
”How could I not?”
Juho had no time to spare for the aspiring writer. He had been so preoccupied with his own problems that the thought of looking at his surroundings hadn't even crossed his mind. As if the anxiety was finally catching up to him, Juho felt his shoulders tense up. Looking toward the aspiring writer, Juho thought about what to tell him. The surrounding scenery came into view.
”This place...”
”It's nice, isn't it? We'll get there any minute now.”
Juho looked around the trail they were on, which felt very familiar. He had been on it previously. Meanwhile, Crow led the way unhesitantly. Juho couldn't feel his feet. The streetlights kept the two from being swallowed by the dark.
”How far is the place?”
”We're almost there,” Crow said, picking up the pace.
”Here we are.”
The sweat on Juho's palms started to cool off. Whenever he breathed out, his breath became visible. A river flowed through there. As Juho backed away from the safety rail, the aspiring writer asked, ”You like the river, right, Mr. Woo? What do you think of the place?”
Juho looked down at the water, which shone brightly with the moonlight. It had been at that very spot that Juho had drowned in his past life. Walking toward the author, who appeared to be frozen in place, Crow called to him, ”Mr. Woo?”
At which point, Juho forced himself to move his legs. His cheeks were frozen, making it hard to move his mouth.
”It's pretty windy today. It's probably because we're by the river.”
”Right. Why don't we head back?”
”Already? Let's go a little further while we're here.”
”... All right,” Juho said, struggling to move his legs. As if completely oblivious to the state Juho was in, Crow walked ahead with excitement. In the end, feeling his hands trembling out of control in his pockets, Juho called for the aspiring writer, ”Hey.”
”... Is that how you're calling me now, Mr. Woo?” Crow asked with a look of disappointment. Over his shoulders, Juho saw the safety rails stretching through the trail. It had been on one of those rails that Juho had fallen in the water.
”You do know my name at least, right? Now that I think about it… you've never called me by my name!”
”No, I haven't.”
Juho only knew him as Crow, which was the aspiring writer's nickname. Since he had turned up, Juho had noticed that the bird had been nowhere to be seen. Then, remembering Wol telling him to face the crow, Juho let out a sigh.
”Mr. Woo.”
The bird had never addressed Juho respectfully. Since Juho remained unresponsive, Crow started to walk on ahead. When the author called out to him, the aspiring writer looked back.
”I think we should head back.”
”Is everything OK?”
”... If I were to pick up where we left off…”
”Were we in the middle of something?”
”I genuinely hate crows,” Juho said, locking eyes with Crow. However, that hadn't necessarily been directed at the aspiring writer. ”When I don't like someone, I'm not afraid to let them know. To clarify, there's only one particular crow in this entire world that I can't stand. Aside from that, I have nothing against the rest of the species.”
Then, the gust of howling wind blew, snapping a tree branch in the distance. 'Been a while since I heard this sound,' Juho thought.
”What did that bird do to get on your bad side?”
”It ruined my life.”
Ignoring the confused look on the aspiring writer's face, Juho lifted his hand and pointed toward the sky.
”Look up at the moon.”
”Ah, full moon.”
Crow did as Juho said. Then, when Juho looked down after staring up at the moon with his mouth slightly parted, he saw a crow sitting on the safety rail. Juho walked toward the bird slowly. Despite being close to the author, the bird didn't fly away. When Juho reached for the bird, the crow suddenly puffed up its body.
At that moment, Juho heard what sounded like a loud burp. When he turned toward it, he saw somebody wrapped in layers of clothes covered in holes. As if mesmerized, Juho walked toward the person. Juho thought of the faces of the novelists who had taken their own lives. He wouldn't say who they were out of respect. Among those authors, were an artist who couldn't overcome his desire for destruction and an exceptional novelist. Their books had no business in grieving the deaths of their masters, and they continued to sell, unlike Juho's.
Then, the homeless man leaned against the handrail, staring at the river. Juho had wished that he could be born as a river in his next life. Flowing aimlessly, not bound by destination or starting point. From the look of it, it appeared that Juho had failed at his life yet again. His will to live was so desperate that he wanted to die. At that moment, the homeless man reached his hand out precariously toward the river.
”Watch out!” a young man shouted urgently. The homeless man was falling into the water head first, and after Juho grabbed him by the ankle, he also got dragged into the water. A scream, ice-cold wind, and the coolness against his scalp were telling him that he was falling.
Feeling a strong impact, Juho screamed, ”Help!”
And then, Juho opened his eyes and found himself back in his room. At the sight of his chair spinning in place, Juho felt instant relief. Falling back on his bed, Juho stared at the ceiling. Looking at the pen on the floor, he let out a chuckle. At that moment...
”Wait, my back doesn't hurt.”
… The author was struck by the realization that it wasn't real. The sliding door was proof of that. Juho knew for certain that there were no sliding doors in his apartment.
”This looks different. Not exactly what I'd imagined the other world would look like.”