The Great Storyteller

Chapter 40 – Pollen in the Air (3)

Translator: ShawnSuh Editor: SootyOwl

The chat regarding work was slowly coming to an end. The three rose from their seats and stood in front of the elevator that brought them to the restaurant. Nam Kyung and Juho waited for the elevator.

At that moment, Nabi said in passing, “Then, I’ll be waiting for the documents from your company, Nam Kyung. I’ll give you a call as soon as I get them.”

“Sounds good.”

“Like I said, introducing a book overseas requires a lot of time and effort. It’s a completely different process from domestic distribution.”

“Of course.”

“So, working with us exclusively is necessary to a certain extent.”

Juho looked at her, and she smiled.

“It sounds complicated, but think of it as a way to work more efficiently. You should be able to find the details in the documents I gave you earlier.”

Juho thought back to the past. There had been no deceit in her explanations. She wasn’t trying to trick him, and Nam Kyung also listened to her quietly.

‘Still, there’s no way around the sense of burden that comes from the word ‘exclusive,” Juho thought. ‘What would happen if the agency did something wrong? What if it went bankrupt overnight? What if they treated their authors like tools? What if they didn’t treat him with proper respect? What if he didn’t find out until it was too late? Of course, those were extreme scenarios that weren’t likely to happen, but it was proper to take everything into account when signing a contract. The other party was asking for an exclusive partnership as an insurance because they were also under similar assumptions.’

It was about his own work. It was going to be made into a book that would end up in the readers’ hands. That was what the contract was about. There was a weight to the matter that he hadn’t been aware of in the past. He had to be cautious. In the past, he had done exactly as Nabi said, and there had been no loss. Yet, he’d never gotten to have a lengthier conversation with her. He hadn’t discussed it in too much detail. He wanted to take a slightly different approach, so Juho looked at her briefly and said, “I’m not sure about that.”

Nabi asked quickly, “What are you not sure about?”

“Oh, I don’t mean that I can’t trust you. It’s just that I prefer to be cautious. I’ll take some time to think about this more on my own.”

Nam Kyung didn’t say anything about Juho’s decision. The choice was solely up to the author. An editor or agent was essential to exporting a book, but more than anything else, what really mattered was the author’s viewpoint. Nam Kyung didn’t want to be an editor who interfered with his author’s decision making process, no matter the age of the author. Besides, he had been realizing that Juho was a person who shouldn’t be judged by his age. He looked at Nabi and thought, ‘She probably knows by now.’

Her lips tightened, but she soon regained her composure.

“… Of course. I understand. That’s unfortunate.”

Despite her words, she didn’t seem like she was giving up.

*

It was his first vacation in a long time. Juho went to the park to see the woman with the guitar perform. She didn’t perform on a set schedule, so he had to rely on luck to catch her concert. Yet, neither Juho nor the woman demanded each other’s time. It must have been that their encounter had always been spontaneous by nature. After all, it wasn’t like they had agreed to meet on a certain day.

“La, la, lalala.”

There were still no lyrics. She was just an ordinary person who was too shy to speak her mind.

“La, la, la, lala.”

From her voice to her playing, she was average. Her clumsy playing was a plus. Still, Juho wandered about the park just in hopes of hearing her singing.

He gently moved his body to the rhythm as he cheered for her. The woman glanced at his direction, but that was it. She didn’t even wave her hand or smile. ‘Yep, that’s like her, as shy as ever,’ he thought.

---

“Hello, Mr. Woo.”

At that moment, a “nabi” (butterfly in Korean) flew towards him.

“Hi, you’re here.”

“Yes, I am. I’ve never had a meeting in a place like this.”

She looked around. They were at the inner part of the park, so it wasn’t all that crowded. Even the people who were there were mostly elderly. A woman was singing among them.

“I could’ve gone to you.”

“Oh no, I should be coming to you.”

Not too long after the meal, Juho received a call from her. As she gave him an update on the current progress, she asked, ‘When are you available?’ out of the blue as they were figuring out a meeting place.

“Anytime you want,” Juho answered. As a student, he didn’t have that many places he went to frequently. Then, he added, “How about a park? There’s a cafe, a restaurant, a zoo and a botanical garden. I think it’s a good place for a meeting.”

Nabi willingly accepted his suggestion.

“Well, this is a first.”

Juho felt anxious whenever a pattern from the past repeated itself. He felt like he would be walking the same path, repeating every mistake he had made. To him, it was possibly even more scary than death. He wasn’t afraid of failure. He simply wanted to be different from his old self.

He didn’t understand how he had been able to come back to the past. It was a miracle and impossible to understand. However, there were countless unseen things in the world. Many things existed without an explanation or without being discovered. For that reason, people had the privilege of imagination.

Because of that, he had to do whatever he could with everything he got. The moment he let his guard down, he could spiral down the same destiny.

“When we’re outside, I’ll call you Juho.”

At her voice, he snapped out of it and nodded.

“Please, be comfortable.”

“Oh no, you’re still my client,” she explained that she addresses all of her authors with respect.

“Is that like a rule?”

“It’s nothing fancy like that. I’m just expressing my respect. I’m fond of their occupation.”

Her expression softened as she said the word ‘fond.’ She almost looked like she was in love.

“I believe you.”

“Yes. I love books too, but what I really love is the occupation of an author. That’s how I got into this field. I had enough respect for them to base my career around it.”

Normally, it was appropriate for the superior to address his worker with respect. It was a basic code when individuals met. Yet, that basic code was often overlooked.

“Do you talk to other people who are younger than you like that?”

“Of course. It’s basic courtesy, regardless of age.”

It was especially apparent when dealing with students. Most of the time, they had no experience in business because they hadn’t gone out into the world yet. People usually didn’t address students with respect. Whenever an adult called for a student with a school uniform, it was always in a casual manner. The students were used to that culture themselves. No student would take offense to an adult for not addressing him the way they address their fellow adults.

‘Even if I weren’t an author, she’d probably treat me the same way,’ he thought. There was a brief silence. At that moment, the woman with the guitar started singing again, and Nabi commented, “Her songs are unique.”

“I agree. There are no titles or lyrics, but I enjoy them.”

The songs were sloppy and mostly humming, but they weren’t offensive. That was because there was nothing artificial about them. There was a type of writing that was similar. The sentences were awkward, and the content was crude, but the heart wavered like the ocean. It was the purity that drew Juho and the elderly in the park near. In that small space, she sang with all of her heart.

“She must be wanting to say something,” he said.

“Huh?”

“The reason you enjoy her songs so much?”

“Oh, right…”

Nabi wouldn’t be able to understand. She knew nothing about Juho’s situation although both Juho and the woman with the guitar had something in common. They both wanted to send a message. Juho stood up from his place, and waved at the woman with the guitar before leaving her behind. Their eyes met for a brief moment, but she didn’t stop singing. He saw a glimpse of her professional mind.

“I think this spot should do.”

Juho and Nabi went into a small cafe in the park. They each ordered a drink. There were no other customers, so there were plenty of seats. The two sat on the innermost seat. There were parents and children walking by from time to time. They all seemed to be in a good mood, and Nabi started the conversation after taking a sip of her drink.

“The reason why I wanted us to meet today was because I wanted to hear more about your book.”

She wanted to know more about Juho as a person. An agent wasn’t only responsible for books but also its authors. They had to know about their authors to some extent. ‘What kind of person is Yun Woo?’ she became curious. As she talked with an author about his book, she naturally learned more about the them.

She continued, “There isn’t a whole lot of information about you out there, so I’m quite curious.”

“If you put it that way, I’m not sure what to say frankly. Did you have a question?”

“I have tons. May I?”

Juho nodded with a smile.

“It’s about ‘The Trace of a Bird.’”

As soon as he gave her the permission, she asked the questions that had been burning in her heart as a reader.

“In the book, the characters are almost always out and about in the dark. Burying a dead bird, a visit from the older brother… Yun himself kind of has an inner darkness. I wanted to know why you had set everything to take place at night.”

“At night.”

“Yes.”

She asked about the setting of the book. Juho thought briefly, but it hadn’t been an intentional choice. He had decided to write ‘The Trace of a Bird’ because he had thought of an ending for the story. It had almost shimmered before his eyes. For that reason, he had written his way toward that vision. In other words, the inspiration behind the night setting came from him impulsively wanting to isolate the protagonist. He wasn’t the type to write out an outline for the plot of his book. There was always something unexpected in the process. Even if an author planned his entire process from A to Z, something always turned out differently in the end.

‘Coming to think of it, maybe there was another reason for choosing the setting to be at night,’ he thought to himself.

“Honestly, it was mostly an impulsive decision.”

“Impulsive?”

“Yes, it just came out.”

“Then what did you like about that impulsive idea?’