Novelist Running Through Time

It should be black.

The title ‘Cause of Death’ on a black cover.

In white font, not solemnly. Naturally and neatly.

That’s what this speaks of, the reason for death.

Lim Yang-wook thought so upon seeing ‘Cause of Death’.

This is about the reason a person died.

A story of a ist with an incurable disease reflecting on what led to their own death.

He is more human than anyone.

Which means he is desperate.

Unlike other s, he doesn’t ponder the meaning of life or his own existence. He doesn’t accept death calmly.

He attempts suicide. Overwhelmed by excessive misfortune. Unable to bear the weight of life any longer.

But it’s too precious to die here. It’s scary. It’s unjust.

So, he seeks out what led to his death.

It’s an everyday torment.

At the same time, it’s a torment created by humans.

Parents who abandoned him, unfriendly neighbors, peers who ostracized the orphan, customers who hurled abuse, a lover who left him, an indifferent teacher, a father-in-law who refused marriage, an arrogant drunkard, a cold critic, a driver who splashed water, a rude freshman, a nosy landlord, a passerby who bumped his shoulder, a thoughtless thug…

He thought his death was because of these things.

Everyday torment.

Numerous villains encountered since birth.

The pain endured, just living an ordinary life.

A hell where humans torment other humans.

He believed his will to live was gradually eroded by such things until he finally faced death.

That ‘will to live’ is precisely humanity.

A person who loses their humanity becomes a beast.

A beast takes up a knife for revenge and steps out the door.

Rather than dying alone and powerless, he decides to take a few of those enemies with him.

This cold era affirms that. Tongue-clicking at those who died unfairly, ‘Should have taken revenge instead,’ and applauding the exhilarating and unbridled dramas of vengeance.

In an era where justice is dead, one must fulfill their own justice. The protagonist resolves to do so and picks up the knife.

And the moment he steps out the door-

He faces a world where white snow is falling.

And a Christmas carol can be heard.

Silent night, holy night, and a night swallowed by darkness.

White snow falling from the night sky covers the world.

The world, buried in human darkness, is embraced by the white snow.

No one can count the snowflakes. The snow is infinite.

Even if the snow stops, it will cycle back and fall again.

Thus, the white snow eternally covers the dark world.

At that moment,

This , which had been depicting the gradual extinction of a being’s humanity, breaks everything and hatches from its shell.

From the conflict between humans, to the meeting between humans and the world.

From a tale of torment and revenge, to the crossroads of life and providence.

Thus.

After watching the snowfall for a long time, the protagonist puts down the knife and quietly returns home to face death.

The first time he tried to die, he resented everything, but the second time, he forgave everything.

Washing away all the ugliness, torment, and enemies that had tormented him with white snowflakes.

That’s how it ends.

Midnight, 12 o’clock.

As the song announcing the end of Christmas Eve and the start of Christmas Day plays, God is born, and a human dies.

Lim Yang-wook felt beauty in that ending.

He fell in love with an author whose face he didn’t even know.

So, with a bursting heart, he searched for the author.

“Really, is the author really a primary school student?”

“I’m telling you it’s true! In-seop is at school right now!”

Editor Lim Yang-wook, 36 years old.

An unbelievable miracle had come.

EP 1 – Cause of Death

A new semester begins.

It’s spring, with trees and flowers blooming vibrantly.

The children, now in 6th grade, go to their new classes. Some are anxious as they look at unfamiliar faces, while others run happily towards familiar ones.

The beginning of a guessing game.

New classrooms and new children. A new society is being formed there. If you don’t make friends at the beginning of the semester, school life becomes difficult.

So, the pretty ones group together, those who like idols group together, those who like soccer group together, and those who like otaku games group together.

Naturally, there are also children who don’t fit into any group.

His name is Moon In-seop. 13 years old(?).

He’s a person of interest surrounded by ominous rumors.

“That’s Seop-seop…”

“Shh! He might hear you!”

“On the last day before vacation, he called over some high school gangsters to deal with the kids who were bothering him…”

“My mom said he threw hot coffee on someone…”

“Right? That kid, his parents…”

“Don’t mess with him, or you’ll be in big trouble…”

It’s generally safer to stay away from those surrounded by such sinister rumors to survive in this harsh world.

But this is no ordinary place.

This is a place ruled by the law of the jungle, where the strong prevail,

and the law of the strongest reigns.

A villain carrying such peculiar rumors is nothing more than prey to elevate the name of a swordsman.

“What are you so scared of?”

“Wow, Kim Min-jun!”

“Just look at him.”

“Hey…! If you mess with him, high school gangsters will come…”

“Really?”

“The most important thing is to have an unbreakable spirit.”

Kim Min-jun, striving to be the top dog of the 6th-grade class 2, rose to honor his family name.

He walks towards Moon In-seop without hesitation.

In his hand, he clenched a small piece of metal.

* * *

People don’t talk to themselves as much as one might think.

Especially letting their thoughts slip out unintentionally is just a convenient cliché found in s and dramas.

It’s a trick used by shallow writers who want to gloss over complex thoughts of characters with a single line of dialogue.

“A primary school student…?”

But such words slipped out of Lim Yang-wook’s mouth.

He couldn’t organize his thoughts otherwise. Absolutely not.

“A primary school student? A primary school student…”

A primary school student.

A young child aged 7 to 12. Definitely not an age to write s. Especially not ‘this kind’ of .

Lim Yang-wook is an editor with 10 years of experience. He even worked for 8 years at Korea’s largest publishing house. He has handled countless books.

The emotion he felt when he saw ‘Cause of Death’ was not just admiration. It was close to conviction.

This is beautiful. I can’t keep it to myself. It must be released to the world.

For that, he was even prepared to stake the last of his political life at the company.

Lim Yang-wook had already bet his resignation on the success or failure of this piece. It was that kind of writing.

So, it absolutely cannot.

Absolutely cannot be the work of a primary school student.

“I’m the principal. You’re from a publishing company?”

“Ah… I’m Lim Yang-wook, head of the Publishing Management Task Force Team. I came to discuss a publishing matter.”

Even while meeting the principal, the doubt didn’t leave him. Handing over his business card, asking for a student named Moon In-seop to be called, he wondered what on earth he was doing.

Meanwhile, the principal had different thoughts.

Good heavens! Baekhak Entertainment coming to publish a primary school student’s writing. It’s a well-known conglomerate!

This is a stroke of luck. A student in my school is a genius? My mouth is watering, my heart pounding.

Geniuses are useful. Young geniuses, even more so. They can be put to various uses. It’s a well-known fact.

You can take pictures with them to show off your connection, introduce them to high-ranking people for benefits, and if you can coax them into trusting you as a reliable adult, life becomes easier.

You can spread the word that the genius came from your school, package it as an achievement to report to the education office, and brag about being the person who taught this child.

This isn’t because the principal is a greedy person. When a human passes the age of 50, such judgments are made unconsciously.

The principal smiled broadly.

“It’s for the future of a child from our school, of course, I should help! I’ll call him right now.”

Soon, an announcement echoed throughout the school.

[Ah- Ah- Student Moon In-seop. Moon In-seop of 6th grade, class 2, please come to the principal’s office immediately.]

Lim Yang-wook and the principal waited with their respective expressions. One with doubt, the other with anticipation.

As the coffee set for the guest began to cool, a knock sounded at the principal’s office door.

Knock. Knock.

The principal responded.

“Ah! Please come in!”

The child the adults were looking for entered cautiously.

The principal, who had been smiling, suddenly froze.

Moon In-seop’s glasses were locked with a padlock.

“What did you call me for?”

“Uh… the reason the teacher called you is… no, your glasses…”

Lim Yang-wook couldn’t properly see Moon In-seop’s face.

Naturally, because of the lock on his glasses.

Thus, his first impression of Moon In-seop was formed by the boy’s actions, attire, and manner of speaking.

“What’s with those glasses?”

“Just a minor prank among friends.”

The child sat down on the sofa before the principal could even ask him to. He was not afraid of adults.

Moreover, the term ‘prank among friends’ hinted at ‘adults won’t do much even if you report it.’

He seemed to be sensitive to cold, as he wore a blanket over his shoulders, and there were signs of frequent biting on his nails and lips.

Cynical. Twisted. On guard.

And he made no effort to hide it.

It wasn’t mere childish petulance. Rather, it was closer to a bold confidence.

Where does such confidence come from?

The answer was obvious.

Confidence in his own abilities.

This child is already a pro.

“My goodness…”

Lim Yang-wook intuitively accepted the fact that this child was the author of ‘Cause of Death’.

It wasn’t a rational judgment. But the atmosphere suggested it. No one else but this child could have written that . It was more a revelation than intuition.

Lim Yang-wook wasn’t the only one who felt this subtle emotion.

An inexplicable connection or perhaps destiny, beyond logic and reason.

The boy who felt such things slightly smiled.

He took off his glasses with the lock.

His lifeless eyes turned towards a past connection.

“Did you come from a publishing company?”

* * *

“Ah. I came from Baekhak Publishing.”

Neither an introduction nor a greeting, Lim Yang-wook said those ambiguous words and barged into my rooftop room.

That was my first encounter with editor Lim Yang-wook.

He kicked at the clothes and blankets scattered on the floor with his sock-covered feet and said,

“You live in a place like this?”

I think my pride was hurt by his words. I retorted, “What have you contributed to me living ‘in a place like this’?”

Looking back, the hierarchical relationship between an unknown ist and an editor from Baekhak Publishing was clear.

That’s why I couldn’t stop a stranger from entering my home uninvited.

And yet, to snap back immediately at his remark ‘You live in a place like this?’ was impulsive of me.

But Lim Yang-wook just smirked at my response.

“Your parents aren’t around?”

Not having parents wasn’t my fault. However, every time I heard that fact stated outright, I would freeze up as if I’d been caught in a major wrongdoing.

Lim Yang-wook saw me freeze and scolded me.

“Goodness, goodness. Then you should apply for a housing loan and enter the housing lottery, why are you wasting tens of thousands a month on a shabby monthly rental?”

Housing lottery? Housing loan? I had no idea what those were.

“You’re such a fool… I’ll cover any urgent expenses, so you should move out first.”

I asked him who he thought he was to say such things.

“You submitted a to the Baekhak Literary Award, didn’t you?”

I did.

“I’m in charge of that. You won the grand prize.”

I hugged Lim Yang-wook and jumped around like a madman.

It happened when I was 21.

Even after that, he had an unusual fondness for my writing.

While my books repeatedly failed in sales and everyone criticized my writing, Lim Yang-wook published them, silencing all objections.

Naturally, they didn’t sell well. After all, I wasn’t the kind of writer whose works sold well to begin with.

But Lim Yang-wook published my books despite all the criticism he received. When asked why, his answer was quite artistic.

“Money is secondary. Art comes first. And you, you’re art.”

He was someone who strangely loved my writing.

And within the flow of this peculiar time, all these events had become as if they never happened.

But perhaps his tastes were the same even in his youth.

Lim Yang-wook had sought me out first, again.

“Is it… really okay to do this?”

“It’s fine to skip school a few times in primary school, you know.”

We were on the second floor of a hamburger joint near the school. There was still a long way to go until school ended, but what did I care? School’s permission? I don’t recognize it. Moon In-seop, a 6th grader in primary school, isn’t afraid of skipping school without permission.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly a good kid when I was young either.”

Lim Yang-wook said self-deprecatingly while looking at his hamburger.

“I just played around without a care. It was the same when I was in high school. That’s why I ended up at a not-so-famous university.”

“Is that so?”

“I think I finally got my act together and studied hard in college. That’s when I really started to dream.”

“What kind of dream?”

Lim Yang-wook spoke as if reminiscing.

“To sell beautiful writing to the whole world.”

I knew.

That he had lost a friend in an accident when he was younger.

And that person used to write.

I knew because he had told me himself.

But now that was a thing of the past, so I changed the subject without showing any signs of knowing.

“How did you find my writing?”

“It was good. Very beautiful…”

“Beautiful enough to be published?”

“Of course! That’s why I came looking for you.”

“So, let’s do it.”

“What?”

“Let’s make a contract.”

Lim Yang-wook was startled.

A natural reaction, really.

“But how can you just decide something like that on the spot?”

“Then why didn’t you ask me if I really am the author of the manuscript? You could have questioned how a primary school student could write something like that.”

“Well…”

“It’s a feeling, right?”

“Yes. It’s that kind of feeling…”

“I just got the feeling too. I’ll sign a contract with you, Team Leader Lim Yang-wook.”

I made that decision. And then I sipped my cola through a straw, carefree like a child.

Lim Yang-wook watched me and reprimanded as if I was being ridiculous.

“You don’t even know what a contract entails… Who agrees to one without even reading it! Kid!”

“Should I ask the orphanage teachers about it?”

“That would be right, wouldn’t it?”

“So, how can you trust the orphanage teachers?”

“Uh…”

“Even if you show the contract to the teachers, how can they spot any hidden toxic clauses a big corporation might have included? And it’s not like the orphanage is going to hire a lawyer just for me.”

“That’s… true?”

“Orphans usually get shortchanged even when they do part-time jobs. It’s just the reality.”

Lim Yang-wook seemed to be gradually getting used to me.

Suddenly, I thought I might finally be able to satisfy a long-standing curiosity.

Why did he like my writing so much?

I asked Lim Yang-wook, not the inscrutable and thick-skinned 46-year-old executive director, but the somewhat easy-going and sly 36-year-old team leader.

“So, what did you like about my ?”

“Hmm. That’s a tough question.”

Lim Yang-wook took a moment to think.

In that time, I managed to eat four pieces of French fries.

“You said my was beautiful, right?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s say beauty is like light.”

“Yes.”

“For there to be light, there must be darkness.”

“You have such a philosophy, I see.”

“Yes. That darkness matched my code. Loneliness, pain, deprivation, poverty – you described these not overly tragically, but as something fateful and ordinary…”

He hesitated for a moment.

“…Actually, I’m also from an Orphanage.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t ever tell anyone.”

So that’s how it was.

That’s how it became.

That’s how it happened…

* * *

“Well, that’s how it went!”

Baek Seol was flustered. What nonsense was this balding boss spouting now?

“You just stamped the contract there and then?”

“That kid, since he didn’t have a seal, just signed it.”

“You didn’t do any particular verification to confirm he’s the real author?”

“From what I saw, he seemed like the author.”

Baek Seol would probably turn red with anger if she spoke out, but at times like this, she sometimes thought, ‘This is why he messed up projects.’

However, Lim Yang-wook casually hummed a tune, sat at his desk, and leaned back in his chair.

He then put on an eye mask and stretched out.

“Company tour is in the afternoon, so Baek Seol, you might as well rest your eyes until then.”

“…I just came to work, you know?”

“So what? Are you going to keep scrutinizing manuscripts in the inbox like you usually do? We’ve already decided on the author we’re going to focus on.”

“You didn’t even ask for my opinion!”

“You, a new employee, want to make decisions? Really now. Back in my day, you had to make coffee for about 25 years before you were allowed to touch a manuscript.”

Baek Seol stormed off in frustration and started organizing the scattered manuscripts around the office.

The office was a mess due to the numerous manuscripts brought in from various places in the hope of finding a gem of a writer.

Suddenly, a thought struck her.

“By the way, Team Leader.”

“Your team leader is sleeping.”

“Author Moon? Is it right to call him that? Anyway, won’t that friend run away seeing the office in this state when he comes?”

Lim Yang-wook startled and lifted his eye mask.

Piles of manuscripts everywhere, dust bunnies rolling on the floor, coffee creamers and paper cups overflowing in the trash bin.

It was hard to tell if this was an office or a garbage dump. Familiar as it was to him, it would be a shocking scene for anyone else.

“Ah.”

Lim Yang-wook quickly got up and started looking for a broom and dustpan. He had to make this pigsty of an office at least somewhat presentable before the young genius arrived.

“Hurry up! Clean it up!”

“You were just sleeping, now why this sudden rush?”

Knock. Knock.

Following the knock, the door opens.

“Is this where Team Leader Lim Yang-wook-”

Their eyes met as Lim Yang-wook, who was frantically stuffing trash into a garbage bag, and Moon In-seop stood in the doorway.

The balding team leader smiled wryly.

“Welcome.”

“I think I’ll just leave.”

“No, you can’t.”