Chapter 309

***

Two weeks before the college entrance exam, high school seniors were given self-study time even during regular class hours. The idea was to let them work on their weak subjects.

Ding-dong-dang-dong.

“Woo-sung, it’s break time. Take a rest.”

“Ugh… Yeah. Must be spring fatigue.”

What are you talking about? It’s almost winter.

Shin Woo-sung, who had already decided on his university, showed no concern for the college entrance exam or his grades. The second-semester finals for seniors don’t even count, right? It’s typical of him to wear short sleeves even in the middle of winter.

Similarly, Lee Seung-hoon, who had also secured his spot, believed that only those who got into college based on grades alone, not athletic scholarships, could truly call themselves college students. He wrestled with his books until the very end.

These two are always such a contrast.

“President, where are you going?”

As Jin-hyeok left the classroom, Woo-sung’s question mark flew and stuck to his back.

“I’m going to the library.”

“But you’ve already read all the books there!”

“There’s still something I haven’t read.”

Woo-sung made a face that clearly said he didn’t get it.

Son Jin-hyeok aces every test. He even got a perfect score on the last mock exam, but everyone’s used to it by now. The teachers whisper among themselves, wondering what more they could possibly teach him.

“Seung-hoon, what do you think the president is reading? I’m not curious about the content, but the title is intriguing.”

“Just go to sleep.”

“The president said to take a rest.”

*

Poetry collections and school magazines.

I never paid attention to them, thinking there was nothing to learn.

But now, with the deadline looming, I’d even read a flea market catalog if it helped.

“Hoh? Why is this guy here?”

While flipping through the school magazine in the library, I found a familiar name.

「Choi Tae-yang: The Story of a Lonely Wrestler」

Wow, that title hits hard.

「…From the roots of a tree that survived barren soil and harsh winters, I felt a strong life force…」

Ha, look at this?

Not bad, huh?

「…When I left the forest, the wind blew.

A wind that carried both winter and spring was sweet.

It cooled my unset sweat and soothed my overheated engine.

After parting ways with my neighborhood brother Jin-hyeok, I returned home…」

Ugh, the emotions are overwhelming.

Who knew this guy had this side to him?

「…I fell ill.

The arrowroot wine I brewed was taken by my father.

He shared it with Grandpa Cheon Gil-ryong and other elders in the village.

I never got to taste that arrowroot wine, and I still wonder.

Who was that arrowroot for, anyway?

-The End-」

What kind of abrupt ending is that?

I don’t even know where to find the loneliness in this.

‘Sigh… I shouldn’t have read this.’

Still, I gained some confidence.

If Choi Tae-yang can write, then Son Jin-hyeok can’t lose.

When it comes to learning, mastering, and imitating, I’m confident I won’t lose to anyone in the world.

Even that airhead Dugu Elil has been mimicking humans pretty well lately.

– 【Returner, have you been to a place called a karaoke room?】

– “Yeah… Once.”

Was it in middle school?

We went as a family to celebrate Dad’s birthday.

Jin-hyeok had to cover Yoo-jin’s eyes and turn her head.

– 【It was quite enjoyable. I even created one in my world.】

– “What’s so good about it? Do you like singing?”

– 【Half-naked women appeared on the screen. Each one was a beauty with an otherworldly figure.】

Jin-hyeok knows.

That’s why he covered Yoo-jin’s eyes.

Now he understands why minors need a guardian to enter a karaoke room.

– “So you’re into this too, huh?”

– 【I had no desires. But after possessing your brother, those desires started to grow again. But those karaoke women… They covered their lower parts…】

Why do you sound disappointed?!

– 【They were women from another continent. I found out they’re a race called models from a country called Playboy…】

Crazy.

– 【In my world, I created them in real life, not just on screen. When music plays, they…】

That’s kind of enviable?

Isn’t this guy living in paradise despite being punished? Even the emperor’s forced labor would cry at this heavenly punishment.

– 【To create another world, I need reference material. Isn’t imitation the mother of creation? Disneyland and karaoke rooms are great references.】

After the college entrance exam, I planned to go to a karaoke room with friends, but maybe I should reconsider. Or find a place that only plays wholesome videos. Singing with friends would still be fun.

Anyway, if Dugu Elil can mimic humans, then Son Jin-hyeok can’t lose.

Shaking off the conversation with the shadow, I flipped through the book again.

‘Sigh… No wonder I’m not a poet.’

The emotional depth was too high for someone like Son Jin-hyeok to follow.

The sigh grew longer.

*

I stopped by the teacher’s office to ask the Korean literature teacher for help.

“Poetry is about capturing the emotions and thoughts inspired by nature or life in a concise, rhythmic language…”

I came to ask for tips on writing poetry, but why are you reading me the dictionary?

Trying to hide a yawn, I turned my head and caught sight of the calendar. The calendar, with a nail in its forehead, glared at me as if it wanted to eat me alive.

The submission deadline is next week.

Son Jin-hyeok, the company employee, rarely felt pressure except when writing reports close to the deadline. It felt like the stress from his past job was creeping back.

I can’t just brush off homework; it’s not in my nature.

‘No slacking in my dictionary!’

***

On a Saturday afternoon, feeling like a lonely poet, I wandered alone by the waterway.

Some people suffer from the wind rustling the leaves, while others find inspiration in the stars brushing against the wind and write in one go?

‘Please, give me some inspiration, inspiration!’

The realm of creative writing without a set topic was like an unknown universe to Jin-hyeok.

‘Ah, crap… Did I take on the presidency for nothing?’

It’s been a while since a sophomore took over as president, so I can’t resign now.

If someone who’s already served their term resigns, they’ll just become a laughingstock. I’ve already given enough laughs for 6,000 keychains. No more needed.

Even as a kid, I struggled with writing assignments.

Back then, the only people I could ask were Mom and Dad.

But still…

Things are much better now.

“Yoo-jin!”

“Yeeeees! I’m comingggg!”

Yoo-jin, who was riding a bike with Jeong-won by the waterway, sped up and approached.

I taught her how to ride without training wheels, and with her good balance and strong legs, she quickly got the hang of it. She even tied her best friend, Achi the Bear, to the back with a strap.

Ssshhh-.

She’s pretty good at braking with her feet.

“Why aren’t you using the brakes? Are they broken?”

“It’s fun! If I brake like this, my feet get warm, and I like it.”

Is warmth a good thing?

Even though she’s ten, understanding Yoo-jin’s logic is still hard.

After making sure Jeong-won, who was riding with Geon-ma, was doing fine, Jin-hyeok stated his purpose.

“Can you help me out?”

I’ve peeked at Yoo-jin’s diary sometimes, and she has a knack for writing.

Maybe channeling a child’s emotions could work. After all, children’s poetry is still poetry.

“Ehehe, what can I do for you?”

“I need to write a poem for an assignment…”

Hmm, poetry is better than prose, I guess.

Nodding inwardly, Jin-hyeok handed her a notebook and pencil.

“Ahem. Let me think.”

Yoo-jin squinted her eyes like Cheon Gil-ryong before picking up a brush.

Hoh. The deep sigh rising from her stomach carried the weight of her ten-year life.

“Oppa, Grandpa Cheon Gil-ryong taught me that poetry needs a subject or theme. It’s called a poetic subject.”

“Poetic subject? I know that. So what?”

“You need a subject.”

“It’s just practice, so can’t you just write about something you like? I have a free theme too.”

“Hmm… Should I?”

Yoo-jin poked her tongue with the pencil and started writing.

“Grandpa Cheon Gil-ryong said, ‘Ohoho, Yoo-jin, you’ve already reached enlightenment.’”

What does that even mean?

Anyway.

Watching the pencil dance across the notebook, Jin-hyeok was shocked.

Isn’t that some serious speedwriting?

Even the cultural shock of someone encountering new technology wouldn’t be this intense.

Yoo-jin is truly a genius!

Right now, isn’t this the birth of a literary prodigy…?

「Title: Achi the Bear

Achi the Bear’s bottom is round like the moon

Walking with a wobbly bottom

Achi’s colorful pants are stained with dirt

He needs clean, fresh, confident new pants

My pretty ribbon pants are for girls

My baby brother’s diapers are gone now

Oppa’s tight pants don’t fit

Dad’s baggy pants are too loose

Achi is sad without colorful pants

He left home crying

Achi, come back

Dad shortened his pants for you」

This is a groundbreaking shock…

‘This is too otherworldly, isn’t it?’

And Achi is tied so tightly to the bike that he can’t even run away.

A literary prodigy? No, Yoo-jin is more suited to be an engineer.

“Oppa, how is it? Does it make you cry? Oppa? Oppa? Where did you go?”

Jin-hyeok had already disappeared.

I can’t be suffering from incontinence while still young.

Heading towards where Jeong-won was riding a tricycle with Geon-ma, Jin-hyeok sighed.

“Is there no one who can help me…?”

The sun was still in the western sky, but the impatient moon peeked out from the water’s surface.

The days are getting shorter by the day.

*

Dad, who had just returned from work, showed interest.

This was the last option Jin-hyeok wanted to choose.

He already knew what Dad’s sensibilities were like from elementary school.

Back then, he even ran away to the village hall with Jang Gun-i.

“Hahaha! You should talk to your literary dad about that!”

Still, he offered to help, and refusing would be unfilial, so they had a chat in the middle of the track.

Hehehe.

Even Geon-ma, the yellow dog, sat on the tricycle’s back seat, watching the Son family trio.

“Let’s see. Your dad is a humanities guy through and through, right? Poetry is about touching the heartstrings.”

At least it’s not about incontinence.

Well, it still sounded right, so Jin-hyeok nodded mechanically.

“Looking at the poets from my generation, can you really call that poetic sensibility? Seeing a mountain peak and thinking of breasts, or a flowing river and calling it a milk vein—what kind of sensibility is that? Ugh, I hate that. How many people would go, ‘Oh, I see’ while reading that? It just feels like the desires of some weird adolescent male projected onto paper. They call it poetic license, using metaphors and ambiguous expressions to sneak in weird lines.”

Wow, Jin-hyeok’s mouth fell open.

This was unexpected.

He always thought Dad was just another guy with adolescent male sensibilities.

“But still, people like it when sensuality is added. Imagining the scenes and atmosphere, the brain gets subtly soaked, dopamine is released, Parkinson’s is prevented, and—”

Is this based on any evidence?

While wiping his youngest brother’s snot, Jin-hyeok raised an eyebrow.

“You need to balance emotion and sensuality to capture both body and soul—no, to captivate them.”

I have no idea what this guy is talking about.

Jeong-won, do you understand?

He gave his brother a look, but Jeong-won just sniffled with a blank expression.

“Jeong-won, while Dad and I talk, why don’t you go over to your sister?”

“Okay, ehehe.”

Drrrrr.

As the tricycle wheels made noise, Yoo-jin, who was making a crown out of leaves for Achi, waved at her brother.

With the little one gone, Son Kwang-yeon continued as if he’d been waiting. He moved his index finger as if drawing on the track.

“Ahem! Emotion and sensuality, that’s what it’s all about.”

“What’s that?”

Jin-hyeok leaned toward his dad.

“When you see a dazzlingly bright moon, think of your lover’s smile, or when you hear the sound of water, imagine soaking in it up to your pelvis—that kind of thing. How about it? Visual, auditory—it’s all about synesthetic imagery. But there’s also something else, something—you know, that something—that scene, that—you get it, right?”

I know what you’re saying, but…

I asked for practical advice, not a lecture.

And honestly, I don’t see the difference between what Dad criticized in other poets and what he’s saying now.

Seeing his son’s blank expression, Son Kwang-yeon sighed.

“Sigh, do I need to explain more? Listen carefully—like a well-crafted porcelain, the curves should be smooth and provocative, expressing the beauty of firm, smooth lines in a refined, not vulgar way—”

Stop!

Dad’s starting to say weird things again!

The lecture was veering into inappropriate territory, so Jin-hyeok covered his ears and stood up.

Drrrrr.

Just then, Jeong-won, who had turned around at the track, was coming back.

Good. I’ll use my brother as an excuse to leave.

Cupping his hands, he shouted.

“Jeong-won! See that entrance over there? Want to race me there?”

“Okay, ehehe.”

Watching Jeong-won pedal adorably, Son Kwang-yeon stroked his chin. He was still sitting on the ground.

“Wow, our youngest rides so well. But Jin-hyeok, is a tricycle front-wheel drive?”

Is this the same guy who was talking about sensuality and synesthesia?

Adults really ask the most random questions. Or maybe Dad just has the ability to switch topics quickly.

Maybe Jin-hyeok just hasn’t experienced enough of the adult world to understand.

“That term is usually used for cars with engines, right?”

“Really? So is that pedal-driven?”

While pondering this pointless question, Jeong-won arrived.

Even though he’s like a god to his brother, the world of competition is cold. Jeong-won, a natural-born competitor, didn’t slow down and shouted.

“Ready, set, go!”

“Let’s go!”

“Boys?”

Son Kwang-yeon, who secretly enjoyed spending time with his sons, also got up.

Then.

Clunk.

The tricycle wheel mercilessly ran over Son Kwang-yeon’s foot.

“Ouch!”

Dad grabbed his foot and sat back down, but the two sons, knowing he was exaggerating, focused on the race.

A father’s pain is a child’s joy.

Glancing back, Jeong-won smirked. It was a sly smile that didn’t suit a five-year-old.

“Ehehe, Daddy’s a dummy.”

“Ah! That brat just ran over me!”

Son Kwang-yeon swung his fist in the air.

Jin-hyeok, jogging lightly after his brother, felt a tingle on his scalp.

Ohhh.

So this is the inspiration I’ve only heard about!

「Title: My Brother’s Bicycle is Patricidal

This damn tricycle is killing my dad…」

Sigh, what is this?

I haven’t even started, and I’m already losing my mind.

Ah, crap, what am I supposed to write?!

***

It’s been over a year since the three siblings started sharing a room.

Yoo-jin sleeps with Achi on the bed, while Jin-hyeok holds Jeong-won on the floor.

Yoo-jin has her own room, and Jeong-won is still young enough to seek Mom’s embrace, but these two always sneak into Jin-hyeok’s room at bedtime.

It’s not like we’re living in poverty in a one-room apartment.

It’s an environment that forces you to become a model youth.

“Eung-ah. Are we going on a boat tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sleep well, and we’ll go. Good boy. Sleep tight.”

Cooooo.

After confirming his siblings were asleep, Jin-hyeok steadied his breathing.

With a desperate heart, he called out.

‘Come out.’

【What is it.】

‘Can you write poetry?’

【Is this a contract?】

Ugh, Yoo-jin, Dad, even Dugu Elil—they’re all transparent, so transparent.