WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Genius Writer Who Will Never Fall Again ◈
Chapter 23: To You, Who Will Be Sunny and Blue Tomorrow (2)
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There was such a thing as a person’s nature.
When I suggested the couple come clean to Ryu Cheong-a about everything, I could clearly see which choice they would make.
To them, Ryu Cheong-a had always been an easy tool to manipulate however they pleased.
A doll with no sense of self, who took their words as law.
They would surely choose a third option.
To bring Ryu Cheong-a completely under their control, they would tailor their conversation with me to their liking and paint me as the villain, all to isolate Ryu Cheong-a.
Even knowing all that, I did not stop them as they left.
‘Why?’
When I asked myself, the answer was probably that contradictory feelings lurked inside me.
I knew the Ryu Cheong-a who had no choice but to trust and cling to that couple.
I knew the Ryu Cheong-a who had reached such a terrible end.
That was why I wanted to see Ryu Cheong-a cast them off with her own hands before it was too late.
I wanted confirmation that Ryu Cheong-a could have had that future too.
This was the result.
Shhhhhhh.
The rain poured down.
I came outside after hearing a choked voice over the phone ask if I could meet her for just a moment.
The rain hammering against my large umbrella was unusually loud.
After splashing through puddles to the park, I found Ryu Cheong-a there.
She looked like someone who had resolved to part ways with something.
Ah. She cast them off on her own.
Even as I thought that, I was not as happy as I expected to be.
Was it because they looked so pitiful, soaked to the bone as the rain pounded them?
Or because her eyes, blankly raised toward me, could not focus?
Rather than satisfaction, a feeling that seemed to constrict my chest came first.
I barely managed to speak, but...
“What are you doing out here looking so pathetic? Without even an umbrella.”
For some reason, my voice came out hoarse.
* * *
Cheong-a’s mind felt somewhat blank.
She had stormed out in anger and gotten completely soaked. Thinking she could not go back now, she wandered aimlessly until she found a covered bench in the park and sat down.
Even then, Cheong-a remained curled up, clinging to a faint hope.
The foolish thought that the couple might come after her.
Of course, it did not take long to realize they would not.
What had they been expecting?
The more they thought about it, the more lost they felt. Not knowing what to do, they picked up their phone.
They always caused trouble, and now they were doing it again.
But Jae-kyung was the only person who knew the whole situation, and the only one who seemed capable of giving her an answer, so she called.
“I’m sorry. You were the only person I could think of, Writer.”
Jae-kyung stood before them.
But Cheong-a could not lift their head.
Even at a moment like this, the question of why would not leave them.
Jae-kyung had always been someone they could not understand. Now, they felt like someone Cheong-a knew nothing about at all.
So when faced with Jae-kyung, Cheong-a found herself at a loss for words.
What should they say first? What should they ask first?
After turning it over and over in their mind, one thing came to them that they needed to say.
“...I’m sorry. For making you go through something like that.”
The couple had clearly intended to use Jae-kyung. That was where the trouble had begun.
“They were obviously the kind of people who would do that, but I looked away and told myself they wouldn’t.”
Stumbling over the words, Cheong-a lowered their head.
A puddle had gathered by their feet.
Their reflection was too blurred to make out their expression.
“You must have been really shocked. It must have put you in a difficult position...”
What else were they supposed to say?
Their thoughts would not connect properly.
Then Jae-kyung suddenly spoke.
“Ryu Cheong-a, this isn’t something you need to apologize for. You didn’t know, and even if you had, it would have been beyond your power to intervene.”
Their shoulders flinched.
“This is something I should apologize for. I found out a little earlier what kind of people they were. And knowing that, I went to meet them.”
“...”
“It wasn’t for some grand cause or purpose. I just didn’t like people like that being involved in the production of my work. I needed to deal with them before they got involved, so they wouldn’t get in my way later.”
Only then did Cheong-a slowly lift their head.
It was strange.
“So you have nothing to apologize to me for.”
It was clearly the same face and the same expression as always, yet it felt unfamiliar.
Was it because the umbrella cast a shadow over Jae-kyung?
They seemed especially dark somehow.
“I’m sorry I looked into your background. I won’t ask you to accept my apology. I don’t think I’m in any position to ask for that.”
Shhhhh.
The sound of rain rang in Cheong-a’s ears.
Jae-kyung’s quiet voice layered over it.
Cheong-a looked into Jae-kyung’s eyes.
They had vaguely heard that the eyes were windows to the heart.
Maybe that was true to some extent.
They sensed something there, and absurdly enough, relief surged within them.
‘They don’t hate me.’
They could tell.
And somehow, that alone softened their heart this much.
What a pathetic person they were.
They hated being disliked. They hated being unnecessary, so they clung to others, only to collapse when forced to face that reality.
And then they felt relief that someone still did not hate them.
Their self-loathing was so immense that Cheong-a pulled up the corners of their mouth.
They wondered if it might at least make them look playful.
They began firing off pointless questions.
“I ran away from home. What do I do now?”
“Go to a hotel. You’re not a child. You’re old enough to find your way around accommodations.”
“I think I need to change agencies. What do I do?”
“I know a place. I can introduce you, at least.”
“What about the final shoot? It’s already next week.”
“You’ll do fine. You’re a good actor.”
After asking such superficial questions, Cheong-a finally brought out the question inside them.
“What do I do now?”
Why was Cheong-a asking this person?
As they thought that, Jae-kyung approached.
Bending down, Jae-kyung handed them a small umbrella.
And in the words that came with it, Cheong-a realized something.
“You’ll do well.”
“At what?”
“At acting, at living, at anything.”
Jae-kyung had rather long eyelashes.
“You’ve done well enough, Ryu Cheong-a, and you’ll do even better from now on. Even without those people, there’ll be no shortage of people who love you, and you’ll have many happy experiences.”
Jae-kyung spoke with such certainty.
“You’re worth far more than those people. Much more. So you’ll manage just fine on your own.”
Jae-kyung was warmer toward others than Cheong-a had expected.
‘Ah.’
Why had this person occupied their thoughts so much?
Only now did the answer settle over them.
“You really believe in me, Writer.”
It had been that way from their first meeting.
Jae-kyung never openly showed admiration, but for some reason, they always seemed to believe Cheong-a could do something.
Yet Jae-kyung never said, “You have to do it,” or, “You have to prove it.”
Because Cheong-a only had to do what they could.
Because Jae-kyung acknowledged them for that alone.
“Work hard in moderation. If you collapse, the filming schedule gets messed up.”
Jae-kyung worried about Ryu Cheong-a, not Ryu Cheong-a’s usefulness.
At least, Cheong-a felt that this person would not offer kindness as though it were a reward that demanded something in return.
Perhaps that was what had occupied their thoughts all along.
They could resent someone immediately. They could condemn someone.
But Cheong-a was not cruel enough for that.
Instead, they lacked faith in themselves. To love themselves, they needed others.
That was why.
“Could you say it one more time?”
That was why Ryu Cheong-a was more suited than anyone to being a star.
Only through someone’s attention and admiration could they finally become beautiful, making them truly worthy of being called a star.
Born to become a star.
Desperately seeking the answer that would let them become one.
And the answer that returned came from someone who had watched that star for a long time.
“You’ll do well.”
The first admiration that would make the star shine finally reached them.
“You’ll do better than anyone else in this industry. You’ll rise to the very top and become greater than anyone.”
Only then could Cheong-a smile.
They were soaked through and looked as though they might burst into tears at any moment, but they did not fall apart.
Still, their eyes burned as they asked,
“...Do you happen to have a handkerchief?”
“You look like you need a towel more than that.”
“Ah...”
“I carry neither. Just cry and let the rain wash it away. I don’t think anyone will notice.”
Cheong-a let out a hollow laugh.
They lowered their head.
Covering their face with the hand holding the umbrella, their shoulders shook.
With the corners of their mouth twisted, they cried their heart out.
The rain grew heavier.
It was a humid, clammy day that made their shoulders droop, but fortunately, it was also a day that could hide the sound of crying.
* * *
The office of Rough Side, a media outlet more notorious than famous for covering entertainment gossip.
In this den of corruption, the rain outside and the clatter of keyboards intertwined, stirring the damp silence.
The monsoon season brought a particular gloom.
In the air that made one’s shoulders sag and mood sink for no reason, a man spoke.
“Jang-mi.”
“Yes, Senior.”
“You know that saying about how the road to hell is paved with good intentions?”
What was Choo Hyuk-jae going on about now?
Pyo Jang-mi, Hyuk-jae’s junior, felt vaguely uncomfortable as they answered.
“I do. Why?”
“I was just wondering what would happen if you turned it around.”
“Turned it around?”
“If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, wouldn’t the road to good intentions be paved with hell?”
Hyuk-jae looked deeply entertained.
Sipping warm coffee as he rubbed a fingertip over the Enter key, every movement carried an unsettling sort of anticipation.
Yet the words coming from his mouth were impossible to understand.
“Have you been reading books lately?”
“I’m looking at something more interesting than that.”
“What?”
“People. And their duality.”
“Your favorite things.”
“Exactly. So it got me thinking. I thought this person was definitely someone who would pave their own path with good intentions and lead someone else into hell. Their words certainly carried that implication. But when I actually looked...”
Then he added the word “really.”
“The things they do make them seem like someone crawling into hell of their own accord, just to reach good intentions somehow.”
“...Who are you talking about?”
“Someone interesting.”
Jang-mi gave up on understanding at that point.
Hyuk-jae was not an easy person to understand in the first place, and there was nothing to gain from understanding him.
It was more comfortable to let most of his words go in one ear and out the other.
As though he did not care about that reaction, Hyuk-jae continued.
“It got me thinking again.”
“...”
“Is helping others such a painful path that, to keep from giving up as you walk it, you need to brainwash yourself into believing you’re doing it for your own sake?”
Then he added,
“If someone wants to reach good intentions even by doing that, they ought to be noble, but...”
Hyuk-jae sank into the back of his chair.
“Why do they seem so much more driven by spite than noble? That’s what I’m curious about.”
A lazy smile spread across his lips.
“There’s definitely something underneath it. A reason they act that way. But I can’t figure out what it is. Honestly, I don’t even know whether they’re a good person or a bad one.”
Tap. Tap.
He kept pressing the Enter key, adding blank paragraphs to an empty Word document.
In truth, almost no one at this media outlet, including Jang-mi, was particularly sentimental.
How could people who picked at others’ flesh for traffic be sentimental?
Hyuk-jae was simply especially strange.
So there was only one question.
“Is it article material?”
Hyuk-jae answered playfully.
“If I get close to them, enough will come out to make you puke.”
“Introduce me.”
“No. They’re mine.”
Tap!
Hyuk-jae closed the Word document.
Then, as he had for the past few days, he checked his smartphone out of habit.
It might not be the right way to put it, but he looked like a boy waiting for a message from someone he liked.
The sight gave Jang-mi chills for some reason.
That was when it happened.
Ding!
An alert appeared on Hyuk-jae’s phone, and his eyes lit up.
“It’s here.”
“What is?”
“The signal that the train to hell is leaving.”
This time, his words were clear.
Jang-mi did not even pause to breathe.
“Share the article.”
But Hyuk-jae was merciless.
“No. It’s mine.”
Trembling with excitement, Hyuk-jae opened Word again.
And so, an article was written.
Enter.
[The shocking ugly truth of the entertainment industry: Evidence emerges of an ugly couple using their adopted child for an entertainment business...]
An article that would set online opinion boiling was released into the world.
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