“Tae-san. I feel like your mother’s been bewitched by a goblin in broad daylight. Right?”

Mother, that goblin goes on to bewitch Kang Go-eun and the whole nation. (TL Note: Korean has an idiom about being spellbound by a goblin in daylight — something too strange to be real. Tae-san is also thinking of a television drama a decade ahead of him, in which a goblin is the romantic lead.)

In 2006, Kang Go-eun is still in middle school.

Should I go and charm her myself before the goblin carries her off?

Thinking about Kang Go-eun, who looks innocent and still overflows with a quietly provocative appeal, left me warm.

This was the good part of coming back to the past.

Profiles of the stars who would rise in the future came rolling through my head.

Just thinking about it pleased me.

“Mom. Is the coffee any good?”

“Mm. It’s good. Sitting like this reminds me of the old days.”

Mom, a graduate of Hongin University’s art school, drank nothing but the cheap instant coffee mix.

The sight of Mom on a rainy day, holding a cup of coffee and looking outside, stayed in my memory with an ache in it.

An art-school girl had become a farmer.

Mom would have swept through Hongin in her school days, and now she was a country wife.

I couldn’t understand why she had followed Dad out to the country.

Mom had a lot of secrets.

As though the coffee with its melted ice were too precious to waste, Mom savored it slowly.

A cup of coffee was expensive overconsumption to her.

“Let’s come out on dates like this often from now on.”

“All right. Thank you, son…”

Mom’s eyes grew damp as she listened to me.

My guileless mother, moved by a cup of coffee.

The look in the eyes of a mother who has made sacrifice her virtue for her children ached in my chest.

Right up until I died, I lived as hard as I could to repay that look.

But an unprepared youth wasn’t granted survival in the world either.

It’s about time for a reaction, isn’t it?

While President Choi and the editor-in-chief scanned the five volumes at the next table, I drank coffee with my mother.

In the seats where they had first sat, the two men stared at the screen as though they meant to bore through it.

They were reading fast.

They were experts, so even a rough look would let them price it.

So I took my time.

“Hoo.”

“Haa…”

A moment later, two sighs told me the wait was over.

Sighs, my foot. If you like it, say you like it!

A few typos and some broken sentences fixed — that was the whole of it.

It was a copy of Cloud Warrior, which I had read and enjoyed enormously.

If you don’t find it fun, your eyes have rotted.

“Author Jang…”

President Choi Ung-cheon’s voice shook as he came over and spoke.

I could feel something close to respect in it, aimed at me.

“We’ll sign. We’ll give you twenty million won up front!”

You’ve struck gold, boss!

And so the fate of a work the era itself vouched for was settled.

President Choi pushed the amended contract at me.

He hurried, in case I changed my mind.

Going from the weak party to the strong one takes no time at all.

“Please sign the contract.”

I could see President Choi tensing as he held out the pen.

“Tae-san…”

With twenty million won confirmed, Mom gave another start.

Mom still didn’t understand.

It would be strange for an ordinary person to guess that a manuscript on a USB drive was worth that much.

Our household’s total income for a year, at that time, didn’t reach twenty million won.

And I had taken it in one stroke.

“Please issue the tax invoice accurately. And on a second printing, notify me and pay as the contract says.”

“Of course. Whatever else I am, I’m a manager with a conscience, even in the genre market.”

That I wouldn’t know about.

How do you trust a man you met for the first time today?

I would trust only the money that landed in my account.

Scritch.

I signed, for the first time in my life, a contract I had checked over.

I had become a writer, which was nowhere in my fate.

Mom finished signing too, in her capacity as legal representative.

“I’ve just transferred it to the account.”

The moment the contract was done, President Choi shot the money into my account.

My poor account, whose maximum until the day I died had been two million won.

Tears nearly came up out of nowhere.

Ah! My bankbook! Your hungry days are over.

From here on your big brother will keep you stuffed for life!

“We’re counting on you, Author Jang.”

President Choi gathered up the documents and put out his hand.

I put mine out too.

Now I was a proper working member of society, earning money.

Main job, student. Side job, writer.

“Thank you. You really have struck gold.”

“Yes. It does seem that way.”

President Choi was honest.

The honesty was worth something.

“Author. How many volumes are you thinking of writing in total? From the content it looks like it will run past ten at the least.”

The editor-in-chief’s eyes gleamed.

Left to me I would have wanted to finish inside twenty, but that wouldn’t be showing readers proper respect(?).

This was a work that had defined an era.

“Sixty.”

“Hurk! S-sixty volumes?”

“Author…”

My answer threw President Choi and the editor-in-chief into shock.

Books that ran that long were rare.

But what could I do, with fifty-nine volumes stored in my head.

I had no confidence I could cut it.

I was, when it came down to it, Cloud Warrior‘s stand-in working in the dark.

“Don’t worry about the manuscript. The story is mapped out to sixty volumes. I’ll publish one a month at the latest.”

Copy what’s in my head with my hands, like a photocopier, and it’s done.

A stand-in writer, but I intended to be diligent and faithful about it.

I would write straight through and finish it at sixty without fail.

It was the grudge I had carried as a reader since my past life.

“We’ll discuss that once we see how the manuscript progresses.”

The editor-in-chief played a card.

Hah. As if that’s up to you.

This work is going to be reprinted again and again.

Those two, who didn’t know the future, couldn’t see the big picture — that this would be the last gift to the dying rental-shop trade.

“Yes. Understood. Let’s do that.”

Once it goes to a second printing, I’m the king.

In a few days they would obviously be saying a hundred volumes would be fine.

“Mom, let’s go.”

I got up from my seat.

“Ah, why don’t we at least have lunch together.”

Eating with strangers wasn’t an easy thing for Mom.

“We’ll eat next time.”

There was nothing I needed from them.

I said my goodbyes, cool as anything.

The contract was fairly concluded and the money was in the account.

I had my seed money, so there wasn’t a speck of regret in me.

Writer is not the goal of my regressed life.

“How should I get in touch?”

“For the time being I’d like to work by email. I’m getting a cell phone in a few days. I’ll call the number on your card.”

It was a secret from my father and my two younger sisters.

There was nothing good in it for them to know.

Mom, who was behind me all the way, was fine.

“Ma’am. Next time you come up to Seoul with Author Jang, please visit the publisher. I’ll put on a real spread.”

“Yes… I don’t know exactly what’s happened, but I’m sorry for the trouble today.”

“Trouble? Meeting Author Jang today is a piece of luck for me and for the publisher.”

Mom seemed to be troubled by how hard I had pushed.

Mom, don’t be intimidated.

Nice Media is going to take more money out of this work than I will.

“We’ll see you next time.”

“Th-then, we’ll see you next time.”

I took Mom’s hand and we went outside.

There was a lot to do today.

The seed money couldn’t be left to rot in the account.

“Tae-san, where are we going?”

“We’re stopping at the community center, then the bank.”

“Why? Is something the matter?”

“Yes. It’s important. Very important, in fact!”

My heart was pounding.

There was a stock whose operation began tomorrow afternoon.

The securities account had to be opened before the day was out.

Even with money, being a minor meant I needed my parents’ consent form.

There were downsides to regressing into the past too.

I couldn’t buy liquor and drink it whenever I felt like it anymore.

The cold can of beer you reach for when your mood is grim was gone for a while.

“Tae-san, shouldn’t something like this be discussed with your father?”

Mom didn’t seem to find me trustworthy with an enormous lump sum in hand.

I was a boy who had been living on a hundred thousand won a month, bus fare included.

Her worry was natural.

But you can set that worry aside, Mother.

I only look like a high school kid. I’m a veteran of many battles who rolled all the way through the mud of his youth.

“Mom. You said you’d believe in me?”

“Th-that’s right. I did.”

“Then keep today a secret from Dad. For a while it’s a secret between you and me.”

When I said it, Mom looked steadily into my eyes.

“All right. It’s money you earned by your own effort, so Tae-san should be the one managing it. I’m sorry, son.”

I understood well what Mom had wanted to say.

Twenty million won would clear a fair part of my father’s debt and interest at the Nonghyup.

But I couldn’t give my father the money.

It was priming water, a brood hen that would lead me to wealth.

“Give me one month. I’ll tell Dad then.”

“All right, son. Your mother believes in you.”

Mom smiled brightly.

Even I thought my mother was remarkable.

Few parents would hand the power of disposal to a minor son.

It was only this way because she was our mom.

“For lunch your son is buying jjajangmyeon!”

“Aw, that’s too weak. Add sweet-and-sour pork on top.”

“Deal!”

Cheerful Seol-ran linked her arm through mine.

This was the good part of regressing.

I was still at an age where I could act like a child.

Blind money, wait a little longer. Big brother is coming!

Even in the middle of it, I was drawing up the operation in my head.

The manipulation rings, consciences long since rotted, fleecing the ants with garbage material.

Now it was their turn to be the ones set up, by me, and bled until they shit blood.

(End of Chapter 7)