WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Potter

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Genius Writer Who Will Never Fall Again ◈

Chapter 1: People Are the Problem

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My gaze turned toward the window.

The pale winter sky hung like a framed picture, bare branches barely catching at its edge.

I turned back to reality.

A stark white hospital room. The faint scent of disinfectant. A needle in my arm. The metallic taste in my mouth.

After spending so long blankly staring at the ceiling with IV fluid dripping into me, I felt as if the blood in my veins had been replaced by chemicals, turning me into a formaldehyde doll.

Lethargy wrapped around my whole body, robbing me of even the will to struggle against the approaching death.

How had things come to this?

Whenever I looked back, even the moments that had been decent were painted in faded colors.

I had once been a fairly capable writer.

In drama and film circles, my name carried enough weight for people to say, “Ah, that writer!”

But only that much.

I could never become anything more.

What was the reason? Why?

After questioning myself, I finally admitted the truth I had denied all along, only now, before death's approaching shadow.

“People are the problem.”

“...Out of nowhere?”

“I was looking back on my life. Then I reached a conclusion. No matter how I think about it, the problem was trusting those bastards who aren't even fit to be called people.”

My throat felt raw.

I felt as though I might cough up blood, but perhaps that would be better.

“Hyung, remember? My debut work was pulling eleven percent ratings in its third week. It started at one percent, when no one expected anything from it, then climbed to eleven. It would at least have become a solid hit as it went on.”

“...I remember. The People of Star Village Island.”

“Yeah. The one that was taken off the air after the director was caught accepting sexual favors.”

Looking back, the signs had been strange from the start.

I should have known then.

“You were unlucky. But people recognized your talent then, and your next work...”

“My next work? The one that crashed because the male lead had an affair?”

“...”

“And that wasn't the end of it. Remember Geomgye Ilgun? The one I spent two whole years grinding myself down to write. The one you said would rewrite the Korean drama ratings record. The one that had nineteen percent ratings in its first week.”

“...I remember.”

“Right. The one that was scrapped because the female lead killed herself right after the drama started.”

A shadow deepened across Seong-hun's face.

I knew he wasn't the person I should be complaining to, but I couldn't stop talking.

“After that, every time, every moment. It all fell apart because of those damned animals in the entertainment industry. My effort, my accomplishments, they tore it all down.”

Disgusted with the drama industry, I went into film.

But within the umbrella of entertainment, the two industries were not all that different.

Only after realizing that did I understand there was no paradise where I fled. So I came back.

And I was betrayed until I withered away.

Abuse of power and unfair contracts were almost laughable.

Ego-driven actors strutting around were nothing more than temporary issues.

What I went through wasn't like that.

Sexual favors. Affairs. Suicide. Drugs. School violence.

Scandals of enormous proportions.

Simply because I had worked on the same projects as those people, I was repeatedly met with looks somewhere between pity and unease. I had to prove that I was innocent.

As I said, I was a writer whose name anyone would recognize.

But “Ah, that writer!” carried two meanings.

The person who used to write with such momentum.

The person whose work blew up in scandal every time he wrote something.

At some point, people treated me like I carried the plague.

I thought about it again and again.

Maybe it wasn't only their fault. Maybe I had made mistakes too.

If I blamed everything on others, I could never improve.

For the first time in my life, I went to church.

I went to pray that I would not hate my enemies.

But.

Even so, every moment.

After struggling to control my feelings, I always arrived at the same conclusion.

“Why? Why did it have to be me? How could this happen? How could a life be this fucked up?”

“...Jae-kyung.”

“This isn't how it should be. Why the fuck did all those normal bastards, whenever they worked with me, have to pay for every sin they'd committed in their whole lives at that exact time? It could've been a little later. It could've been a little earlier. But why... Hurk! Cough!”

“Hey! Don't shout! In your condition, you can't...”

“Just tell me to die. What good is any of this now?”

“...!”

Ah. I messed up.

Seong-hun's face twisted.

It was an expression that only appeared when he was truly angry.

I avoided his gaze.

“...Sorry. I said something I shouldn't have.”

“Good that you know. I was about to hit you.”

Even now, he was trying to calm himself. That was just like him.

Yeah. He had always been such a good person.

A kind man who couldn't give up on someone who spent every day throwing hysterical fits after falling terminally ill.

A hollow laugh escaped me.

“It's funny.”

“What is now?”

“I must've used up all my luck with people just by meeting you. My life was that shallow.”

“I was such an incredible catch, that's why. So at least for my sake, come back alive.”

Only then did Seong-hun smile.

His hand pressed gently against my shoulder.

Then came the familiar words of comfort.

“I'm a big-shot director now. Those actors who think they're all that? If I tell them to jump, they jump. So come back alive. Come back, and let's make something together. You and me, leaving our names in Korean film history. That's why we came this far.”

“The surgery's success rate is fifteen percent.”

“That's higher than your ratings.”

“My peak was nineteen percent. Don't sell me short.”

“My peak was ten million admissions. What can nineteen percent do?”

Only then did I manage to breathe again.

This damned body finally found its breath.

But the emotions boiling inside me refused to settle.

Maybe for the rest of this life.

...No, maybe even after I died, those resentful spirits would cling to me and torment me.

Seong-hun stood.

“Your surgery's tomorrow. Get plenty of rest. I'll bring tofu tomorrow.”

“What tofu? It's not like I got out of prison.”

“You're the one who said prison might've been better.”

“Seriously.”

I waved him away.

Only then, perhaps relieved, Seong-hun left the hospital room.

In the silence, my hand dropped to my side with a thud.

The gloom wrapped around my whole body so completely that my attempt to act fine felt ridiculous.

‘I'm sorry.’

Until the very end, all I did was make Seong-hun worry about me.

I had told him one lie.

The actual success rate of tomorrow's surgery was less than one percent.

It was practically the same as being told to die.

I could have endured more drug treatment and watched how things developed, but I didn't.

I didn't want to lie here any longer just to live another year or two.

In effect, I had chosen suicide.

If I came back alive?

Who knew. I didn't want to stake my future on such a flimsy hope.

To begin with, I had no desire to live longer.

Nothing had ever gone right in my godforsaken life.

All that filled me was the desire to stop here.

I flopped onto my back and stared at the ceiling.

Even that movement hurt.

Breathing hard, I looked back on the past once more.

‘Bastards.’

In the end, my life had been ruined by people.

No matter where my scattered thoughts led, they always converged on the same conclusion: people.

My only sin was being innocent.

No, could that even be called a sin?

Even if it was, I didn't want to think of it that way.

To be punished for being innocent. Wasn't that far too cruel a sentence for someone who had suffered as much as I had?

If even I sentenced myself, who in the world would comfort this pitiful me?

So I chose to stop.

I pitied myself more than anyone else in the world, giving myself the gift of eternal rest.

It was the only choice in my life, a life where I had never been able to choose anything, that could truly be mine.

I closed my eyes.

But I stayed awake through the night, and the next day, a nurse came to guide me.

I entered the operating room and underwent tests.

I had a feeling that process would be the last thing I remembered.

At last, I put on an oxygen mask.

The anesthetic was administered.

“Don't worry. We'll do everything we can.”

‘You don't need to.’

I never got the chance to say it.

The anesthetic was so strong that my consciousness sank into darkness.

At last, I.

Han Jae-kyung, so pitiful, was freed from a life full of resentment.

* * *

My ears rang dully.

An unfamiliar sensation wrapped around my entire body.

No, rather than unfamiliar, it felt old.

The disinfectant smell I had grown accustomed to during my hospital stay was gone, replaced by a diffuser. Even that felt strange.

Other aspects felt strange as well.

An office somewhere.

I was sitting across a desk from someone.

‘Director Jo?’

A potbellied, pockmarked toad.

The bastard whose sexual-favors scandal had thoroughly ruined my debut drama, The People of Star Village Island, was laughing heartily.

And beside me was Seong-hun, looking at least fifteen years younger than the last time I had seen him.

The two of them were laughing.

Only then did I remember what this scene was.

‘Ah. The first meeting.’

“Ha ha ha! It's great to meet such a fine writer! Hm? The writers I've been introduced to lately have all been a little... uncertain, you know? But this work, it just hits me! I think it'll really work out!”

“Ha ha ha! Our Jae-kyung has an incredible way with words! I can't say how relieved I am that someone like you will be guiding him, Director!”

“Ha ha ha! You really are something! But your father, the network executive...”

“Father's the same as ever. He mentions you sometimes too, Director Jo.”

It had to be a dream.

Or perhaps something like a life review.

This was the day I regretted most in my life, the day I got off on the wrong foot.

‘That's right...’

Seong-hun had been born with a TV-industry silver spoon.

His father was an executive at a terrestrial network, and his mother was one of the greatest stars of her generation.

He himself was a rookie director with enough aesthetic sense to win prizes at university film festivals.

That gave him a remarkably broad network in broadcasting.

That was why the director assigned to my debut project, despite being far above our station, was this toad, someone who had been doing quite well at the time.

Seong-hun had read my script, gotten excited, run around showing it to every director he knew, and eventually it reached Director Jo.

“This, this absolutely has to happen! We have to do it!”

“You'll do anything to promote me...”

“I'm telling you, it'll work! This script is guaranteed! Just wait! I'll send it around to the producers I know, and...”

It was good.

It felt good that the hyung who had always been my mentor since college recognized me. It felt good that his recognition had brought me into contact with a director of real standing. It felt good to believe I might become something.

I thought I would keep rising.

At the meeting I had come to with such excitement, I realized Director Jo was sincerely taking my script seriously, and my confidence soared through the roof.

At that first meeting, I had fawned over Director Jo as much as I possibly could.

Then I rushed the contract through as well.

‘I shouldn't have.’

Maybe that regret was why I was seeing this scene.

It wasn't as though I had ever undergone general anesthesia before.

It wasn't as though I had ever had a lucid dream in my life.

I never expected it to feel this real.

While Director Jo was deep in conversation with Seong-hun, they held out a hand to me.

“Oh dear, I've neglected our Writer Han too much. Anyway, we'll be working together from now on, won't we? Hm? I look forward to it. Let's keep our spirits up and make something fun together!”

What bullshit.

‘Bastard.’

No, he was worse than a dog.

That hand had spent decades placing actresses in roles in exchange for sexual favors, staining other people's dreams and youth.

When the scandal came to light, the number of victims who spoke up had easily entered double digits.

It made me sick.

More than anything, it was horrifying that he had destroyed my career by causing a scandal while my debut work was in production.

“Hey, hey. Jae-kyung, what are you doing? Why aren't you shaking his hand? Oh, goodness! Jae-kyung is really nervous! I'm so sorry, Director!”

Seong-hun made a big fuss.

“Ha ha ha! A beginner can be like that! Don't find me too intimidating, Writer Han!”

Director Jo waved their hand up and down, urging me to take it.

“Are you going to leave me hanging like this?”

Without thinking, I answered.

“Yes.”

“...What?”

Director Jo looked as though they thought they had heard wrong.

So I said it again.

“I can't shake that hand.”

Yeah.

I should have said that from the very beginning, that day.

Footnotes:

Tofu is traditionally given to someone leaving prison, jokingly symbolizing a clean start.

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