Novelist Running Through Time-Chapter 159

TL: KSD

I admit it.

Gu Yu-na’s emotions are slightly…

Oh, ever so slightly…

Not normal.

But that doesn’t mean Gu Yu-na lacks intelligence.

She is an intelligent novelist. Gu Yu-na’s literature is smart literature. The intricacy of her plots is something that’s hard to imitate.

Let’s not forget: Gu Yu-na made her name with detective novels.

Anyway, the Gu Yu-na I know is rational and wise. She just uses that brilliant intelligence in a slightly eccentric way. My Yu-na doesn’t bite people. Probably.

That’s why, as much as I trust Gu Yu-na’s intelligence, I was equally shocked by her ‘odd behavior’.

Her repeated attempts to secure the seat next to me? Understandable. A child overshadowed by a brilliant sibling and neglected by her mother might cling to her friends.

Constantly splitting her snacks in half to share with me? Insisting on taking selfies with cat filters? Also understandable in the same context.

But taking off the yellow furry hoodie?

Now that’s something beyond Gu Yu-na’s range of capabilities.

Dressing up in the sleek outfits trendy among today’s young people is something only the perfected version of Gu Yu-na, who’s absorbed all the knowledge of the universe, could pull off.

Yeah.

Not the Gu Yu-na sitting next to me now,

but the ‘Yu-na’ I left behind in my memories.

Only ‘Yu-na’ could perfectly pretend to be an ordinary person.

Even though the two are technically the same person, this was something that couldn’t happen in reality.

“Haah…”

As my emotions subsided, my reason returned.

The suspicious actions of the kids from the Creative Writing Department today, the sly giggles of the girls surrounding Gu Yu-na, and Gu Yu-na’s awkward fidgeting with her clothes…

All those clues pointed to this entire ordeal being some elaborate “prank” by the third-year students from the Creative Writing Department.

But reason and emotion belong to separate realms.

I couldn’t help but see ‘Yu-na’ in the casually dressed ‘Gu Yu-na’ sitting next to me, not in her yellow furry hoodie, but in stylish casual clothes.

The memory of her stirred something within me.

The emotions of that first realization when we saw each other as more than friends.

The softness of our fingers intertwined in the darkness of a movie theater.

The literary exchanges that felt like sharing halves of our souls.

Ten years of dating.

And then…

– This isn’t… breaking up.

– …

– You’re abandoning me.

Abandonment. And being abandoned.

The painfully twisted expression…

That expression from that day.

“Ah.”

All the buried pain locked away in gray photographs came alive again.

EP 10 – Starry Sky

Indigo twilight painted the sky. The clouds caught the last rays of the setting sun, and the wind carried the chill of the night. Nature’s clock declared that the day had come to an end.

“Aigoo…”

It had been an exhausting day.

Too much had happened.

Gyeongju World Cultural Expo, Gyeongju World, Gyeongju bread…

And Gyeongju, Gyeongju, Gyeongju…

It felt like I’d toured every single “Gyeongju-something” this world had to offer.

And that wasn’t an exaggeration. Gyeongju was a well-known destination for school trips, and as a result, the travel itineraries felt very standardized.

It was less of a historic tourist destination and more like an artificial attraction designed to cater to the kids who visit on school trips every year. Beside the relics of the thousand-year-old Silla Dynasty, you could sense the city government’s determined efforts to draw tourists in every detail.

What truly made me uncomfortable, however, wasn’t the itinerary but my companion.

I’d never felt so uncomfortable around Gu Yu-na before. She was supposed to be my reliable other half!

– That experience hall… Shall we go in together?

– How about you try going alone?

– That wasn’t a question.

– I’ll feed you this. Say ah~.

– That’s a bit…

– Open your mouth.

– Let’s stand in line here to take pictures.

– The line is too long…

– That wasn’t a suggestion; it was a statement.

It was truly a horrifying and dreadful experience.

However, what’s even more terrifying is the fact that I can’t distinguish whether the memories I’m recalling are from today or from decades ago.

Are the memories I’m bringing up from my time with ‘Yu-na’, or are they with ‘Gu Yu-na’? The two existences, barely held together by vague resolve, feel as if they’re slowly separating. It’s the torment of a time traveler.

I’ve always feared Gu Yu-bin, who resembled ‘Yu-na’. But not anymore. Now, I’m far more terrified of ‘Gu Yu-na’, who resembles ‘Yu-na’.

Gu Yu-na, dressed in sleek casual clothes, pierced through my psyche just by being there. I could see the sins I had committed.

Who is this person standing before me?

“Haa…”

Every time I felt this kind of disconnection, it seemed as if I were taking a step away from reality.

Even so, I’ve been trying not to recognize myself as a time traveler.

The experience of going backward through time is excessively surreal. I fear the transcendent who comprehends ten years of this human world because it makes me feel like a pathetic fly trapped in the palm of Buddha’s hand.

The circumstances that threw me into the gaps of time, the anxiety that this world might be nothing more than an illusion, all of it terrifies me.

It’s only because literature remains constant that I anchor myself in this world, using it as both my lighthouse and my anchor…

But sometimes, even that foundation wavers.

And the one who shakes me so profoundly is clearly ‘Gu Yu-na’ wearing the guise of ‘Yu-na’. The two beings from different timelines overlapping exhausts me just by looking at them.

This is the guilt of a time traveler who can’t trust the world. And also…

No.

Let’s stop the self-flagellation here.

What’s important is that this ordeal is almost over.

The school trip is three days and two nights, and tonight is the second night.

That means I’ll be home tomorrow.

“Good. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

I mumbled to myself, trying to pull myself together, but inadvertently ended up causing trouble for some passersby.

“What…!”

“Huh.”

“Oh.”

The cheerful and chatty students walking past me suddenly deflated, wilting like spinach left in the sun.

They looked just like office workers on a Sunday evening…

“Ughhh…”

“So, it ends tomorrow…”

“I know… but did you really have to remind us, you cruel bastard…”

Looking back, Park Chang-woon rarely gave me literary advice. Not because he wasn’t a great novelist or teacher, but probably because I was already too stubborn and twisted as a writer.

However, Park Chang-woon taught me a lot about life’s attitude, and taking a page from his teachings, I chanted the magical phrase, “So what?” and ran away.

“Phew…!”

By shamelessly running off, I managed to avoid feeling guilt about having shattered the innocent middle schoolers’ spirits. Thank you, Park Chang-woon.

But the obstacles I had to face weren’t over yet…

“Kids! Gather at the auditorium!”

“Woohoo!”

Because the highlight of the school trip, the talent show, was still ahead.

* * *

The main event of the school trip was, without a doubt, the talent show. Especially at an arts school.

It wasn’t unusual for talent show performances from arts middle and high schools to be uploaded to YouTube and rack up hundreds of thousands of views.

At a school that teaches the arts, “stage experience” wasn’t just a casual pastime. It was a significant part of their education, and the school strongly encouraged it.

This was why Baekhak Arts Middle School insisted on school trips being organized by grade, not by class.

In any case, the talent show stage that the school, the teachers, and the students all anticipated was of an impressively high standard.

The piano, vocal music, orchestral, and wind instrument departments would often join forces to form an orchestra.

Meanwhile, the fiercely independent practical music department would form a rock band.

The Korean dance and ballet departments? No need to even mention them. What more explanation is needed when performance artists take the stage?

Even the theater and film department would screen films they’d spent weeks preparing, and sometimes they’d collaborate with the music department to perform musicals.

And as for our proud Creative Writing Department…!

“I will recite a poem.”

Of course, it’s poetry recitation.

“…”

“…”

“…”

A chilling silence engulfed the auditorium.

This was because, in today’s world, it’s hard to find people who enjoy poetry.

Isn’t it said that poetry books are only bought by poets themselves these days?

“In Japan, there is a traditional poetic form called haiku. It is the shortest poetic form in the world and is considered a form of lyrical literature. Regrettably, it is far more renowned globally than Korea’s traditional literature.”

Despite the cold silence, the student standing at the podium spoke with dignity-no, with literary dignity.

Surprisingly, the presenter on stage was none other than the indecisive, stammering class president who had once been swept up in the Soccer Club’s coup.

I couldn’t quite recall his name, but his perpetually timid demeanor left a strong impression. Seeing him speak so confidently on stage was nothing short of astonishing.

The class president went on to calmly explain how Japan’s haiku gained global recognition, the simplicity that captivated Western literary figures and philosophers, and its influence on modern American society.

This all took just three minutes.

And it was the Creative Writing Department’s turn to go first in the talent show lineup.

That’s right.

In just three minutes, the class president managed to decimate the entire third-year cohort of Baekhak Arts Middle School, who had been buzzing with excitement over the talent show.

The middle schoolers, who had seemed ready to burst with energy at any moment, sank under the weight of a brief lecture on literary history.

Amidst the icy silence, so oppressive that even yawning would require caution,

the class president finally wrapped up his lengthy prelude and began to dive into the main topic.

“On that note, I will recite a few haikus that capture the essence of Korean sentiment. I hope you enjoy them. Ahem…”

And then,

just as the class president was about to recite his haiku—

“Graaaghhh!”

A zombie leapt out from the audience and bit into the class president’s neck!

As screams erupted from the crowd, the class president, with a stream of crimson liquid spurting from his neck, let out an adorable shriek and collapsed to the floor.

“Eek!”

The zombie, having devoured the class president in a brutal display, stood on stage, catching its breath as it looked down at the audience.

Click! The lights went out.

Darkness consumed the auditorium.

When the lights came back on, they were dim and red, reminiscent of blood.

Under the blood-like glow,

dozens of zombies had appeared on stage.

And then, a heavy dubstep beat began to play!

Kyaaaak-!

The audience, realizing what was happening, erupted into cheers as the dancers in zombie makeup started moving to the occult-themed electric beats.

That’s right.

This was Baekhak Arts Middle School’s ultimate ace:

The stage of the Practical Music Department.

“Class president…! Great job!”

“Sniff… I worked so hard on those haikus, but I didn’t even get to recite them. I was supposed to read them before getting bitten…”

Watching the class president slink off the stage to join the Creative Writing Department’s seats, it became clear this was all part of a planned performance.

Of course, without careful planning, there’s no way such a seamless transition between acts would have been possible. The performance was nearly professional in quality.

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And that’s no exaggeration.

One look at the stage said it all.

“So… is that it for us?”

“Well, it’s the Creative Writing Department. What did you expect? Just grab some popcorn.”

Unlike the Creative Writing Department, the weakest link in the talent show, the Practical Dance Department kids were absolutely killing it on stage.

At some point, police officers rushed in to subdue the zombies, joining the fray with choreography that resembled an intense battle scene.

The nickname of Baekhak Arts Middle School and Baekhak Arts High School naturally came to mind:

‘The Idol Training Academy.’

The two schools under the Baekhak Arts Foundation weren’t exactly prestigious. They were relatively new institutions with little history, relying solely on their financial resources to get by.

However, under the influence of Baekhak Entertainment and its trainees, the Baekhak Arts Foundation had transformed into a mecca for idol trainees.

There are so many aspiring idols that the school’s leadership is practically desperate to recruit students pursuing fine arts instead of popular arts.

But to put it another way, this means Baekhak Arts Middle School is already at the top in the field of popular arts.

Only the most talented kids are accepted into Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Practical Dance Department, where a faculty with more expertise than any other school trains these young geniuses and prodigies.

As a result, the performances of Baekhak Arts Middle School’s Practical Dance Department had already reached a professional level.

“Hmm…”

In other words, from an adult’s perspective, their performances could seem excessively provocative and improper.

That’s how it looked to me as well.

To borrow Gu Hak-jun’s words to describe their performance: it’s the extreme union of capitalism and sexualism. That was his assessment of the idol industry.

Of course, as a university professor, Gu Hak-jun phrased it more diplomatically, but to put it bluntly, he was essentially calling it a business where people make money by dancing in skimpy outfits.

I have to admit that I used to think the same way.

The image of a middle school dance team performing in crop tops and hot pants in front of my eyes now certainly went against conventional societal norms.

In the past, the spirit of the traditional scholar buried deep in my DNA would have awakened, and I would have unconsciously frowned.

This is inappropriate behavior for kids their age.

But now, it’s different.

Having spent nearly three years with one foot in the entertainment industry and at Baekhak Arts Middle School, I’ve come to see things differently.

Those kids aren’t just dancing in crop tops and hot pants.

They’re dancing in crop tops and hot pants while grinding their knee joints to dust and performing routines that take over ten hours to memorize.

And the reason is obvious, they’re doing it to achieve their dreams.

And that, for their age, is a commendable thing.

The provocation on stage isn’t a result of the students’ own deviant behavior.

It’s simply because their role models, the people they aspire to become, present themselves that way.

And those role models, the idols, didn’t adopt that provocative image on their own. It was because the audience, the public, wanted it.

Therefore, it’s incredibly unfair for the same audience, who demanded these elements, to criticize the performers for them. Isn’t it hypocritical to complain about something they themselves asked for?

Of course, the immaturity of kids who are eager to grow up quickly might contribute to it in some way.

But the primary reason, as always, is their dreams.

As a fellow artist, I can no longer bring myself to criticize these students for their passion as they chase after their aspirations.

But now, I see something else.

Noticing my gaze, Gu Yu-na, sitting next to me, asked,

“Why are you watching so intently?”

She was asking if I enjoyed watching the Dance Department kids perform.

I could have feigned embarrassment to give Gu Yu-na a moment of laughter.

But I wasn’t in the mood for jokes right now.

“How many of them do you think will actually achieve their dreams?”

“…”

Gu Yu-na answered coldly, but with unflinching accuracy.

“If even one of them makes it, it’ll be a miracle.”

*****

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