Chapter 50

“Don’t you wonder why I called you?”

“To be honest, yes.”

“Actually, I didn’t know you existed until you appeared on the broadcast.”

“That’s quite understandable.”

I was just one of the many ordinary young writers, so it wasn’t particularly strange.

“Then I happened to see you on the broadcast and heard about your novel. It was very intriguing.”

“Really?”

“Yes. So I read it.”

“W-What did you think?”

“To be honest, it was a good novel.”

Lee Cheon felt a flicker of joy at the writer’s praise. However, the expression of the conversation that followed soon had to harden.

“It was well written.”

Well written. That meant it was subpar.

“Your expression has hardened. Was my evaluation disappointing?”

“N-No, not at all.”

“You don’t need to be so serious. This isn’t a sarcastic remark. Of course, it is a lacking novel. It shows the inexperience typical of a debut work and there are moments where emotions are too raw and direct.”

“I see.”

“And in a novelist’s writing, ultimately, one cannot help but reflect their own life. The life reflected in your writing is intense. While that might be fascinating as material, it is also difficult to escape the judgment of the strength of the material. A novelist must be unhappy, and you have therefore lived a blessed life.”

That statement was, frankly, hard to accept. I nearly lost control of my expression for a moment. Yes, perhaps my life might be considered blessed for a novelist. But within that, my human life was absent.

However, these were words from a respected elder. I couldn’t argue or get angry about it.

“I’m sorry. As I grow older, I tend to speak nonsense more often. If I made you feel bad, I apologize. It was an unpleasant remark.”

“It’s fine, really. You don’t have to apologize.”

“Your expression looked so grim, so I said that. No, it’s just a joke, so you don’t need to be so flustered. Ha ha.”

Lee Cheon released a laugh from the writer. He was quite a surprising person. I wondered if he could make jokes. I worried if I really couldn’t maintain my expression.

“However, that doesn’t mean I can deny the value of your novel. While the intensity of the material and the strength of the story play a large role, the writing itself is not lacking. That’s why I wanted to meet you. It’s my hobby to engage with promising young talents.”

So that was why I was called. It was a simpler reason than I expected. The questions I had earlier seemed to have little significance.

“You will become an even greater writer in the future. I guarantee it.”

But at those words from the writer, I felt pained. I couldn’t live up to that expectation since I had already lost my writing. For a moment, my expression nearly twisted, but I held it back.

Yes, the reason I came here was not solely because of Lee Cheon’s call. I recalled Ham Yejin’s advice. I should seek help.

Lee Cheon, as a writer, could be a great mentor.

“Actually, that’s not the case.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“…I’m currently preparing a new work.”

“Oh, is that so? It has been time for that. However?”

“…As you might know, I was originally a man. And due to an illness, I’ve become like this.”

Lee Cheon, the writer, briefly scanned me.

“Yes, I knew that. To be honest, I was intrigued because of your unfortunate story. However, I didn’t bring it up since I wasn’t sure if it would make you uncomfortable…”

“Regardless, I have something to say.”

“What is the problem?”

“…Since this change, I can no longer write properly. My writing has changed and deteriorated. Moreover, it’s not just a drop in quality; the atmosphere of the writing has completely changed. It has become the work of another writer. Therefore, I cannot meet your expectations.”

“Whoa, is that even possible?”

Lee Cheon’s expression shifted from surprise to one of understanding as he nodded.

“Indeed, your situation is not something easily explained in words. Moreover, becoming a woman must have brought about changes in the brain, so it’s entirely plausible.”

“…The reason I came here is also because of that. I wanted to seek guidance. Having written for a long time, you might have insight into such issues.”

At those words, Lee Cheon crossed his arms and closed his eyes, thinking. After a moment, he opened his mouth.

“When a person undergoes a shocking event, they are significantly affected. If influenced, a person cannot help but change. Your case is unique and rare, making it difficult to find similar examples, but if I were to make conjectures, I would assume it resembles those who have experienced shocking events. Do you know why I started writing?”

“I’m s-sorry. I don’t know.”

“It’s natural not to know. I haven’t mentioned it before.”

“In that case?”

“I felt a deep-rooted hatred when reading your work. But it wasn’t pure hatred. Within it was the love of an abandoned child, a child who knows nothing of love. Do you acknowledge that?”

“I… I’m not sure.”

“My writing is not much different. When you read my works, what did you think?”

“I thought… it was a rebuttal against women.”

“What rebuttal?”

“I thought it spoke of the irrationality, illogic, and irrationality of being a woman, and it referred to the falsehood of the nobility of the value of love.”

“That’s an interesting thought. I can’t entirely deny that was not my intention.”

“Does that mean there is another intention embedded?”

“I usually prefer to leave such things for the reader to decide, but to put it plainly, I suppose that could be the case. What I ultimately embedded in my writing is… love.”

“But it seems to me that love in your writings never succeeded or took on a desirable form…”

“Who can define the success of love and the rightness of its form? Such things are all illusions. I have been writing about love all along.”

It was a difficult subject. Was it simply because I had never experienced love that I couldn’t understand? Yet even while studying Lee Cheon’s writings, I had never encountered such discussions.

If that’s the case, this would mean that Lee Cheon had hidden a secret.

“You probably think of me as a single man.”

“Is that wrong?”

“It’s not exactly wrong. But naturally, I’m not a celibate. I, too, have obviously had relationships with women. It was back when I was still a rookie who couldn’t properly write a thing.”

I had thought he was someone who would spend his life without any relationships with women, but it seems my assumption was wrong. Someone who emphasized the non-existence of women in his writing had once had a relationship. Of course, he wasn’t the kind of writer who expressed misogyny in his works. His views on women were far removed from hatred.

“I thought I loved her. That was until she left me for another man.”

Lee Cheon was revealing a story he had never shared publicly until now. Naturally, I felt a sense of tension creeping back in.

“I initially thought that was understandable, but my anger grew over time. The writings from that period contained that hatred in them. I was still young then.”

“Are you talking about your early works?”

“No, I never published those works. If I had, I would have been torn apart instead of debuting.”

“I’m curious.”

“Anyway, during those years of writing only such pieces, an extraordinary event occurred.”

“What kind of event?”

“That woman came to me.”

Pausing briefly, Lee Cheon raised his glass.

“Would you pour me a drink?”

I grasped the heavy sake bottle with both hands and poured the drink into the writer’s glass. It felt slightly awkward, but it also felt a bit delicate to refuse.

“That woman had a daughter. With a trembling voice, she told me, ‘She is your daughter.’ Of course, it was an unbelievable story. The child looked nothing like me. But you know…”

It’s a funny story, indeed.

“Even knowing it was a lie, I pretended to believe it. The woman soon died. It seems she came to me after being cast aside by her husband. At that time, I was somewhat famous. I was the only place she had to reach out to.”

“…I see.”

“I didn’t tell anyone, but from that point on, that child became my daughter. And I became that child’s… father.”

What he had just mentioned was likely a story he had never shared with anyone else. I didn’t know why he was telling me this, but it was a story that couldn’t be taken lightly.

“Ah, of course, I didn’t raise her myself. Otherwise, I would have been found out. I entrusted her to someone I knew. I don’t think I visited her that often either. Well, that’s how it happened. It has been about thirty years now.”

“Do you still meet your daughter?”

“How wonderful that would have been.”

Lee Cheon raised his glass and took a drink, his expression strangely melancholic.

“The child has died. At sixteen. It was a car accident.”