“Boss. You got anything sharp? Feels like writers these days have gotten too well fed — there’s no hunger in the writing. The second one of them starts doing well he drops a volume every few months like he’s passing a constipated turd. It’s only because I’ve got a good head on me; anybody else would have the contents of three books mixed together and couldn’t tell shit from soybean paste.”

“Heh heh. Dong-sik. Don’t get angry. Masters like you are exactly why people leave the martial world. And if you don’t like it, be a writer yourself. A rental-shop owner I know became one.”

“Whoa. Amazing.”

“What’s so special about writers. The fantasy and martial arts novels we’ve read between us have to be over ten thousand volumes. That’s enough to go and challenge the martial world.”

“You think? I hear if you serialize on the internet and it’s any good the publishers come and carry you off…”

“They carry you off, all right. The problem is how thoroughly they knife you in the back of the head.”

“What? The back of the head?”

“The way I hear it, a new writer gets guaranteed two thousand copies at seven or eight percent, and only on the first two volumes. Eight thousand won a volume, so call it about a million won.”

“A million won? Oh! That’s more than I thought.”

“More? If you flop at the third or fourth volume you get a hundred, two hundred thousand.”

“R-really?”

“Writing one volume a month is already all you can manage. You think a man can live on two hundred thousand?”

“Wow… The world really is fucked.”

In a neighborhood rental shop in Eungam-dong, Eunpyeong District, Seoul, an owner and a regular were deep in a heated conversation.

“Hoo. Dong-sik. I’m fucked too.”

“Why?”

“Video died a long time back and I’ve been scraping by on books, and now that’s reaching its limit too. I’ll have to look for other work within a few months.”

“Has the income dropped that much?”

“This trade’s on the way out because of the bastards who pirate everything.”

“…I see.”

Dong-sik felt a small twinge.

He had downloaded novels himself, through the pirate sites swarming all over the internet.

“Those bastards are going to get fucked soon too.”

“Wh-why?”

“The writers have had it up to here and they’re filing criminal complaints for copyright violation. Word went around that one writer’s started a civil suit. Agh! If they got hit with fines in the millions I’d die happy!”

“Hurk.”

Dong-sik’s face went black.

“What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

“N-no. My stomach just started hurting.”

Dong-sik’s worry was considerable.

He had put a few works up on a P2P site to earn points.

“Anyway, take a look at this one and give me an opinion.”

“Wh-which one?”

“It came out as a new release today, and the title’s unusual. Cloud Warrior? Looks like a game novel, and the writer’s a newcomer.”

“A game novel?”

Worried as he was, Dong-sik took the book.

The cover showed a figure riding up on a cloud and creating weapons out of cloud.

“Hm, the cover’s fine, at least.”

Dong-sik opened the book and turned pages with the flick-flick technique only a master can perform.

That went on for a good twenty minutes.

“Mister!”

“What? Not much good?”

Dong-sik called urgently to the owner, who was tidying the shelves.

“This one’s a smash! Order a few more sets right now. It is completely my style!”

Delight settled over Dong-sik’s face.

He had caught the scent of a hit, the kind only a master can smell.

“That good? The hero seemed kind of pathetic to me…”

“That’s why it’s a smash! He’s pathetic and he’s a delight. It’s brisk, and the story moves fast. The supporting cast has flavor too. Wow, this is really fun.”

Dong-sik wouldn’t put the book down.

“I’m calling dibs on this one first.”

“Go ahead. Looks like the response will be good, so bring it back fast.”

“I’ll have it to you this evening!”

Dong-sik was a college student and had time on his hands over vacation.

His family was comfortable enough that he didn’t work a part-time job either.

His steps quickened.

He hurried home carrying the demonic tome he had run into after so long.

Delete what he’d put up on P2P, crank the air conditioning, read Cloud Warrior — the thought made his whole day happy.

And at that same hour, the same reaction was happening at rental shops across the country.

The publisher had printed six thousand copies, and within days orders were pouring in to the distributor.

Nice Media scrambled into a second printing.

They ran four thousand more at once and hammered the serialization sites with ads calling him a ten-thousand-copy author.

Rowing while the tide is in is basic anywhere.

“Hoo.”

A long sigh ran across the breakfast table.

“…”

Everyone’s chopsticks stopped.

Only I went on eating happily.

It was a plain spread — squash soybean-paste stew, seasoned cucumber, stir-fried aged kimchi, and eggplant picked out of the garden.

I stirred the stew into a farmhand’s bowl of rice and shoveled the spoon in.

Mom’s cooking never got old, however often I ate it.

I chewed every grain and enjoyed the taste of the broth.

The Jang Tae-san who used to show his worst self at this table, I threw out for good.

My father’s sigh went in one ear and out the other.

The table Mom set every morning was more precious than anything.

“D-dear… what’s wrong, no appetite?”

Mom fussed over the head of the house, the one doing the sighing.

The owner of the sigh, my father, didn’t look well.

My father, once the promising young man of the village, now a shabby farmer.

He was slightly thin and tall.

His fine-featured face was burned black by the summer sun.

The father I saw the year I died was thinner still.

He lost the orchard too, to debt, and got by working other people’s land.

My poor dad.

“Dad…”

Vacation was nearly over and there were no supplementary classes, so the twins were eating breakfast with us.

Ju-a, the elder of the twins and the sweeter-natured one, called out to Dad.

She knew how things stood in the house, and her eyes had gone damp.

They really were good kids.

In the past we hadn’t gotten along well.

They were two sisters who never went anywhere without being told they were pretty.

Twins with neat bobbed hair, skin white as anything, and round eyes.

To me they looked like the heroines of a romance comic.

Their natures were easy enough; it was me who had no manners.

When my sisters started high school in town, I was in my third year.

The punks wouldn’t leave it alone.

Somehow they got hold of information about the twins.

They ground on me and beat me, telling me to introduce them to my sisters at the girls’ school.

So I was harsher with my sisters than I needed to be.

I kept them at the greatest distance I could, in case acting close to their brother got them caught up in something.

My sisters were hurt by it.

That was how I grew apart from them.

Through my college years I was living away from home and had almost no time to visit.

I was working part-time jobs seriously by then, so I stopped by a few times a year at most.

My sisters were busy with their own studies, so there was no chance to see each other.

The household was going downhill and times were hard, so both of my sisters, though their grades were good, took scholarships and went to a junior college near home.

Ju-a, the elder, who had taken after Mom’s talent for drawing, studied industrial design.

But it didn’t suit a girl who loved watercolors.

Ju-hui, the younger, who loved animals and dreamed of being a veterinarian, dropped out and became an animal trainer.

They were good sisters who earned money after graduating and gave it to my father.

But they were held back by their credentials, and both worked non-permanent jobs.

On top of that the family situation was a bucket with the bottom out.

My father’s debts were so large that their income alone changed nothing.

And of course I played my part faithfully as the parasite draining my sisters’ money.

And right now was the period when the crisis of the head of the house came fully into the open.

“Dad. What’s wrong? You haven’t looked well lately. Shouldn’t you go to a hospital?”

My father got along well with his daughters.

Ju-hui, the younger, who wasn’t especially quick on the uptake, asked in concern.

Ju-a didn’t tell her sister it was about money.

Ah! Suddenly my face burned with shame all over again.

In those days too I lived proving myself an idiot.

I hated being poor and I was irritated that my father had no ability.

Before the term started I whined at them to replace my worn-out sneakers.

The state of the household was grown-up business, and I made a point of ignoring it.

I think it’s about time to release the first seal on poverty.

“Thank you for the meal. Mom’s soybean stew is a work of art no matter when you eat it!”

Mom looked at me.

I smiled.

She had kept her mouth shut all this time because of her promise to me.

But with her husband struggling, she looked at me, the one holding the secret bankbook.

Mother, don’t worry.

I’m going to put the starch back in that man’s shoulders today.

“Nobody’s busy today, right?”

I asked about everyone’s schedule while drinking the scorched-rice water.

My stomach was thoroughly full.

Mom’s cooking was food for the soul.

Keeping that soul going is a son’s duty too.

“I-is something happening?”

Mom asked with expectation in her eyes.

Oh dear, it’s written all over you!

That’s why she’s our good mom.

“Oppa, why?”

My cute, bob-haired sister Ju-a looked at me.

Those big round eyes…

I’m not going to make them shed tears again.

“Today I’m treating everyone. The whole family.”

“…?”

“O-oppa is?”

My adorable sisters were startled.

Kids, you’re going to be thanking yourselves for years for getting an oppa like me.

“Tae-san. Today is…”

My father, unable to carry out his duty as head of the house, faltered over his words.

Heh heh. Dad, don’t be nervous.

From now on you’re walking around this town with your shoulders straight.

“Mother, you’ll bring Dad out with you, won’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

Mom asked with her eyes whether this was all right.

Of course it is!

Hahaha.

Laugh first, then begin.

“Dad, Mom. Bring your ID cards. Twins, your student IDs.”

“ID cards? Why?”

“There’s a reason, apparently.”

I closed the matter off cleanly.

I was young, but I was the eldest son of the house.

My father was far more fragile than he looked.

Even with the credentials behind him, he couldn’t hold out in a rough world.

He had the sort of nature that couldn’t trade its conscience away for a compromise.

He was a man who said, and acted on, the principle that rice and apples his own family couldn’t eat had no business going out into the world.

He isn’t strong, and that is exactly why I respect him more.

He could have taken the easy road and put out apples soaked in pesticide, and he didn’t sell his conscience.

That’s why my dad is the best.

In this rotten world he was salt and light.

“Oppa, what’s this about? Did you go and work some part-time job behind our backs?”

Ju-hui, brimming with curiosity, looked at me with her eyes shining.

At times like this the youngest was quick on the uptake.

“Children don’t need to know.”

“Pff… You’re all of two years older.”

Little one… your oppa, you see.

Whatever he looks like, he came back from thirty solid years of living.

Don’t talk about places you haven’t been.

He got his skull cracked open and crossed a river of tears.

And so our family headed into town.

In my father’s fifteen-year-old car, a Roman, rattling the whole way.

Ah!

I was nervous too.

The money-spending that starts today.

I intended to earn like a deer and spend like a wolf. (TL Note: a twist on the Korean proverb “earn like a dog, spend like a minister” — scrape money together by any humble means, then spend it with dignity. Tae-san swaps the animals: earn meekly, then blow it like a predator.)

(End of Chapter 9)