Episode 1: The Chaebol's 10th-Circle Swordmaster's Return
What is Literature?
This was the first major class I attended after enrolling in the Department of Creative Writing.
I recall a particular moment in that class. The professor said, "No one really knows what literature is. Yet, we still engage in it. It's like loving someone you don't know, or living life without knowing what tomorrow brings."
Wow, damn!
If I could go back to that time, I would slap myself hard. How could I have continued writing after hearing such nonsense?
But back then, I was young and passionate.
We do literature even if we don't know what it is! I was enthralled by this nonsensical, almost scriptural statement and began writing.
And I was a bit lucky.
Newcomer Award for Short Stories
Lee HakHyun (23)
I won a newcomer competition held by a literary magazine and became the first among my peers to debut as a writer, while still a student. It was the best time of my life. I vividly remember the envy of my classmates, especially YoungHwan and that brat Yuna. The only sincere congratulations came from SeongGuk.
I thought I was something special, shoulders back with pride.
But it didn’t take long to realize that in South Korea, there are about 20,000 writers like me, half of whom never get a first commission, and the rest barely make a living working part-time at convenience stores. I was somewhat fortunate to receive offers for my first three novels, but that was it.
After that, I began to wonder what literature really was. Eight years into writing, I still don't know what literature is. If I don't understand it after eight years, maybe I never will.
Maybe that's why…
I don't do literature anymore.
"...Where am I?"
I wondered.
"Could it be… another transmigration?"
An unfamiliar background, an unfamiliar land.
In my first life, I lived as a Swordmaster.
In my second, a 10th-Circle Archmage.
And now, it’s the third one.
"This time, am I in a chaebol family?!"
TL/N: A chaebol (/ˈtʃeɪbɒl, ˈdʒɛbəl/; Korean: 재벌; lit. "rich family" or "financial clique"; Korean pronunciation: [tɕɛ̝. bʌl]) is a large industrial South Korean conglomerate run and controlled by an individual or family. A chaebol often consists of multiple diversified affiliates, controlled by a person or group.
But, I just write web novels.
No one knows this yet, though.
*
When I first entered the Department of Creative Writing, there was something I heard a lot. Seniors, their breath reeking of cheap soju, would always say this after reading my writing.
"You can't write like this."
Not "well-written" nor "poorly written," but "you can't write like this."
What kind of writing is that?
Is it even writing?
"Writer, you can't write like this."
Eight years later, I heard the same words, now from an editor.
It's better hearing it from a pretty editor than a drunk senior, though.
A beautiful woman with her hair tied back elegantly, Ji EunYu, the editor from Dragon Management.
"What's the problem?"
"Your sentences are too archaic."
"I added lots of onomatopoeias and mimetic words as you requested. Look, 'Shupapapat!' or 'Kuqwakwakwang!'"
"That's not the issue. Look at the characters' dialogues. Are you Shakespeare or what?"
Suddenly, I was compared to the great British playwright. It's flattering, but she's being sarcastic.
"Look at this scene where the protagonist goes to battle with his men. In typical web novels, they'd say, 'Let's go.'"
Right, that’s the usual way.
"But you wrote it like this, 'Lions, put wings on your heels and bring the enemies to me.'"
Yes, that was me.
"Think about it. Who would want to read such dialogue while commuting on the subway?"
"But isn't the setting medieval?"
"Writer."
I dread that word now.
"The readers are Korean. What did I say to think about first when writing?"
"The readers."
"You know this, and yet you write like this?"
I had no answer.
"And here, the beginning. In the first episode, you either have a return, pick up an item, or gain a power. Anyway, do something. I told you this before."
"But the natural progression..."
"What natural progression?"
"The readers need to empathize with the protagonist's misfortune..."
"Writer, what do you think is the easiest emotion for Koreans to empathize with?"
I couldn't find an answer, so Ji EunYu gave me a hint.
"It seems life is easy for you. I’m always exhausted because of overtime."
Suddenly, I thought I knew the answer.
"...Misfortune?"
"Right. So, you don’t need to waste three episodes on the protagonist's backstory. Just write 'I graduated from a third-rate university and worked at a convenience store,' and Koreans will cry their eyes out."
I didn’t think that was right.
But even if it didn't seem right, I couldn't argue.
At least regarding web novels, Ji EunYu was always right.
"Web Novels for Literary Writers" Seminar
Ten months ago, I attended this event and was introduced to Dragon Management through a literary circle contact.
He introduced me like a broker trying to adopt out a bad-tempered beagle.
"Haha, but our writer here is a promising young talent in the literary world."
"We always welcome talented literary writers."
"Then, I'll be in your care."
The editor-in-chief at Dragon Management treated me respectfully, as if to preserve my dignity.
'Literary writer,' they called me.
Normally, I would not have been flattered, but that day, I felt a surge of pride. What was I thinking?
"So, should I write like J.K. Rowling, Stephen King, or maybe Lee Yeongdo?"
...Another embarrassing moment in my life.
If someone heard, they might have thought I was the leading figure of Korean literature.
"Well, there's a seminar starting soon, maybe you could..."
"I'm Lee HakHyun. Just trust me."
"Excuse me?"
"I don’t necessarily think Harry Potter or The Lord of the Rings are allegorically brilliant."
"Allegory?"
"But I guess I'll have to compromise, right? After all, that’s what fantasy is about."
"No, writer, um, let's just start with the seminar..."
"Dragon Raja is about right, isn't it? See you in three weeks."
Looking back, I realize I was out of my mind.
I remember the literary circle broker patting my shoulder, saying, "As expected of our writer," and the bewildered editor-in-chief shaking his head.
Those people must have been enjoying it inside. Damn.
After that, I went off the grid for three weeks and finished the first volume of my work.
I still have nightmares about the novel I wrote back then.
+
"The Philosopher Orc" — Lee HakHyun
[No Return] [No System] [No Catharsis]
+
I don't even want to talk about it. As you can guess from the title, the viewership for that work was lower than the average IQ of orcs.
Viewership... didn't even reach double digits? Why!
Even writers who don’t know grammar get over 20,000 views. Why not me!
The denial of reality started after my second and third works, written in a rush, received no attention and were buried.
"Ignorant readers!"
What kind of stories are trending that mine isn’t read?
I stopped writing and began reading other authors' works.
"Extraordinary Return,"
"Reincarnated Sword Saint,"
"The Supporting Character Hides IQ,"
"The World After the Fall."
I couldn't accept it.
In every aspect, whether it was the sentence structure, thematic consciousness, or black humor, these trash novels were inferior to mine.
How can such novels be popular!
How can I!
During this time, the first comment was posted on the prologue of a novel I wrote. Eagerly, I checked it, and the comment was—
—"Are you a LitWrit Pest?"
I later learned that the term was a derogatory blend of "Literature Writing" and "Pest."
How did they know?
I started a keyboard battle and became a member of a web novel community. There, I found many who, like me, had tried and failed in web novels. It made denying reality much easier.
—"Haha, have you seen the ending of 'The World After the Fall'? Damn, I regret paying for it!!!"
—"Modern web novels are all trash, right?"
—"Right, right, right."
—"How can such trash even get into top ranks?"
After a week of fasting and immersion, someone visited my house.
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