Novelist Running Through Time

Chapter 78

TL: KSD

Is that because our esteemed author Gu Yubin quit writing out of jealousy towards me?

The smile that Gu Yubin had been wearing like a mask shattered.

The laughter vanished from her pale face, slowly replaced by shock.

It was a foolish expression, as if she couldnt believe what she had just heard.

Yes. It was a silly look.

Although it was a bit of a malicious psychology, I found it slightly amusing that Gu Yubin, who always stabbed my heart with a smiling face, couldnt hide her Im shocked expression.

So, although there was no mirror, I could somewhat imagine the expression I was wearing. It was probably a cold sneer.

Ah, because its a bit funny.

I half-covered my mouth with my hand, which had subtly risen in provocation towards Gu Yubin.

After all, without the need to belittle literature like that, couldnt you just inherit your mothers successful business and write as a hobby?

You, you were this kind of person

Right? If money is more important than literature, you could just do business and write novels at the same time. Why the need to cease writing? Whats the reason for giving up on novels?

I skillfully poked at Gu Yubins blind spots with my words.

Although I hate to admit it, the experiences of clashing with her in my memory helped me.

Its not that my verbal fighting skills improved by arguing with her. During our fights, I got to know very well what kind of person Gu Yubin was.

That knowledge became the sharpest weapon, tearing through Gu Yubins heart.

Could it be that you were scared?

That a much younger author was receiving attention you couldnt even compare to, taking away all the interest from people, even stealing your father away, and because it seemed impossible to beat me

Did you run away to business using your mother as an excuse and give up on literature?

Gu Yubins mask was completely stripped away. She glared at me with a venomous look as if she was going to devour me.

Even in this moment, the fact that she eerily resembled Gu Yuna made me feel slightly sad, but I didnt let her fierce gaze win and stabbed her with the final blow.

Ah, I didnt mean to insult you. Thats understandable.

But its a bit funny. If the dream was just to give up over this, bragging about it on TV up until now was just pretentious, right? Just being treated as a genius literary girl by those around you and pretending to be a genius pretending to be serious about literature

At least it seems like Yuna is more sincere about literature than you. But advising your younger sister to quit literature isnt that a bit much? Dont you think?

I wondered if it was a bit too harsh, but such attacks were commonplace between Gu Yubin and me, so I let it slide.

Even spewing venom in front of Gu Yubin felt familiar. It was like going back to the past.

Based on experience, it was now Gu Yubins turn, so I prepared myself with defenses.

That venomous look was familiar. After glaring at me for a long time, Gu Yubin slowly opened her mouth.

However, her voice was completely unfamiliar.

From Gu Yubins mouth, a voice mixed with sobs burst out.

It was a voice I had never heard before.

Having everything

How could you say such things

Like a sandcastle crumbling under the waves, Gu Yubins expression slowly collapsed.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, her lips quivered, and she spoke in a muffled voice.

I, I also wanted

To do well

She cries.

Gu Yubin is crying.

The unparalleled Gu Yubin is crying. The cruel witch is crying. My eyes couldnt bear to acknowledge that reality and looked away.

My wandering focus eventually came to a halt on a piece of clothing hanging in a corner of the room.

A school uniform.

The moment I saw that uniform, I realized.

The Gu Yubin who is sorrowfully crying in front of me now is not the Gu Yubin I know

But just a high school student who has given up on her precious dream and collapsed in despair.

Side EPAutomaton Murder Case

Adults see the answers.

They know how to succeed in this society.

So they push their children to follow that path.

The adult who succeeded by following that method pushes their back, saying, Just trust me, and the adult who followed but failed pushes their back, saying, You must achieve it.

The reason for pushing them is certainly love, but since no one intends to make the child understand that, this love becomes oppression.

Gu Yubin realized this logic at a very young age.

Not because she was an exceptionally intelligent child.

But because she heard about a friend who attended cram school until 11 PM, got slapped by their parents after failing a test, and then fell from the rooftop the next day.

Do people have to die for adults to understand?

After spending millions of won on school fees each year in a school city on Jeju Island, her mother returned to Seoul. Their spending became more modest, not exceeding ten million won a month on school fees.

However, the dry childhood experienced in Jeju Island made Gu Yubin precocious.

What is success?

Can graduating from a prestigious university be called success? That belief wavers when seeing people who stand not just at the peak of the pyramid but even above it.

In elementary schools where tens of millions of won are required every semester, occasionally there emerge people whom even the parents cant stand against. Their name was chaebol.

Then, is a persons status determined the moment they are born? If so, why do parents make their children study? Even after graduating from prestigious universities, do they have to become servants to the wealthy? Whats the difference between a life spent striving until adulthood to become a servant and the life of livestock? According to that standard of success, isnt marrying into a chaebol family a greater success than studying hard? Isnt receiving a gift of one billion won by pleasing a rich person a greater success than saving a hundred million won through a lifetime of effort? Then whats the meaning of my effort?

The moment her thoughts reached that point, the young Gu Yubin arrived at a brutally cold truth.

To put it in lighter terms, it would be something like no matter how hard you try, your spoon determines everything.

To use a more serious expression, the moment one is not born into a chaebol family, almost all humans have to spend their lives offering their labor and income to the corporations owned by them, and every system in society, including education and the legal system, exists to protect this structure.

Even todays world is the best reached after countless alternatives proposed by many people have tragically failed. Shouting for change now is nothing more than beating a dead horse.

The moment she realized this, Gu Yubin felt everything was futile.

Scoring 100 on a test, being the top student in school, giving up all sorts of desires to study late into the night

It was all useless.

No matter what you do, you cant beat the people above.

No matter what you think, you cant catch up to the people ahead.

This world is like a giant, pure white sheet of paper, bleaching everyone born into it to make them part of that paper.

And even these thoughts have already been turned into novels by someone in this era.

Gu Yubin was born too late.

But still, her mother says. The world says.

Study, and win.

Trample down the person next to you.

You must win by any means. Thats how you succeed.

But does it really mean anything in the end?

Thats just the excuse of a loser.

Strive, and win.

Complain after youve won.

Its all for you.

I understand.

However, Gu Yubin had learned something she shouldnt have, making it impossible to simply follow along with those words.

This world is not a sweet and easy place where you can win by just being good at studying.

But how can one win?

How can I live as the human Gu Yubin, not just a cog in the machine? How can I own my life? How can I win?

Fortunately, the answer was close at hand.

Father.

Decades ago, he had conquered the proud French art scene and stood tall as a giant in the Korean literary world.

The daughter could find her fathers footsteps not in the family album but in history.

Such a person is called a great figure in history. Gu Hak-jun became a great figure on his own, through his talent and art alone, without anyone elses help.

Gu Yubin, the daughter of Gu Hak-jun, finally thought.

With this

I can win.

I can remain in history as the human Gu Yubin, not just a cog. I can fight and win against those born as victors!

That became Gu Yubins literature.

Thus, the genius literary girl was born.

Writing about the education from her mother that felt like abuse, the scars left by a childhood friends suicide, the sinister inferiority towards those born with a silver spoon, the frustration of not being able to follow her fathers brilliant talent, she wrote about deprivation and distortion.

Since the masses were ignorant enough to consider anything dark as artistic, they were thrilled by the fact that a cute girl appeared on camera writing dark literature and exalted her.

In this way, Gu Yubin walked the path of victory. Not the path her outdated mother wanted her to take, but the path she chose for herself, securing her own version of success.

Therefore, for Gu Yubin, literature was a dream to become great and victorious, a rebellion against her mother, a refuge from the agonizing studies, and the basis for maintaining high self-esteem.

And since humans are creatures that dream, rebel, seek refuge, and need to maintain self-esteem to survive, literature was indeed Gu Yubins life.

And on that very stage,

Gu Yubin was defeated.

A child, who came from a much lower place incomparable to herself, casually twisted her wrist and took away all the glory.

The moment she witnessed that writing, she painfully realized her defeat.

And now, the boy who writes clearly superior literature in every aspect is looking at her and saying,

Were you serious about literature?

The moment she heard those words, Gu Yubins heart shattered.

She no longer has the strength to speak. All she can do now is cry like a child.

As a loser would.

I, I also

Wanted to do well

Gu Yubin lamented to the boy in a voice mixed with resentment and inferiority, as tears poured out like a dam had broken.

I cant beat you.

These words were both a declaration of defeat and a plea not to watch her pathetic state and just leave.

But the boy didnt leave; he just sat there quietly looking at Gu Yubin. Perhaps beyond that gaze was a talent Gu Yubin couldnt even begin to guess.

Truly detestable.

However, Gu Yubin had lost her reason to the extent that she couldnt even chase one boy out of the room, drowning in despair, and could only cry helplessly.

Then, the boy who shattered Gu Yubins dreams said,

You cant beat me?

The boy lifted the hammer again to shatter Gu Yubins thoughts.

Youve already beaten me.

What?

Because you were my teacher.

* * *

As I watched Gu Yubin cry miserably, I was momentarily perplexed, but gradually became solemn.

Because I understand her heart. As someone who writes novels myself.

Its not been just a day or two that Ive wanted to die for lacking talent. Failing to sell books, not winning awards, not making money, and not achieving dreams can drive a person insane.

Seeing Gu Yubin crying her heart out, looking just like Gu Yuna, reminded me of the day I announced our breakup to Gu Yuna. She must have looked exactly like this.

As my thoughts reached this point, a belated realization dawned on me.

How could someone as insignificant as me dare to ask anyone whether they were sincere about literature?

Literature is a diary that writes wounds and a driving force that enables us to live. It may mean different things to different people, but at least for Gu Yubin and me, our literature contained the aesthetics of deprivation and fulfillment.

Its only natural.

After all, I was a child who grew up reading Gu Yubins literature.

Staring blankly at Gu Yubins school uniform for a long time, I mustered the courage to look into Gu Yubins eyes and confessed.

It was something I had never honestly revealed to the Gu Yubin in my memories.

When I was young I grew up reading your novels.

You did?

I nodded silently and continued.

Since were from the same generation. How could I not read the books of a girl just a few years older than me, appearing on TV as a genius author?

I opened the book wondering just how good it could be, and thats how I became a fan.

Of course, the number of authors Im a fan of exceeds hundreds.

But anyone who has experienced fandom knows that having many favorites doesnt necessarily dilute the affection for each.

Because the timing is different. Admiring and relying on someone means that one has gone through a period so painful that theyve almost lost themselves.

Therefore, during the days when I was ecstatic and dependent on Gu Yubins books, it was as if Gu Yubin had granted me a favor, supporting my life.

How could I easily forget an author who so brightly colored a moment in my memory?

In September of my second year of middle school, one of the most difficult times in my life, I found the courage to live by reading Gu Yubins literature.

Of course, getting involved in unpleasant ways built up a lot of bad feelings, but in hindsight, I regret not being able to express my gratitude.

Time is terrifying like that. Once it passes, it never returns. The Gu Yubin in my memories, and Gu Yuna too.

Thus, not to regret this moment in the future, I put aside my embarrassment for a moment and shared my honest feelings.

So, lets stop with this weird talk about who won or lost. If it were about your literature, maybe, but to me, literature is something horizontal. Its not divided into upper and lower ranks, but its about how old literature mixes with the present and leads to the future.

So, youre also mixed in my literature, and I liked your writing in the past, so, so!

Throughout my story, Gu Yubin, her face still wet with tears, had a dreamy, dazed expression as if she was in a trance.

She must be out of her mind. Feeling like I was talking to a wall, I hastily wrapped up my words.

So, think again about ceasing to write! It would be a shame if both Yuna and I could no longer read author Gu Yubins writings.

Ill be going now.

I briefly greeted and stood up to leave. Even then, Gu Yubin was still staring blankly into space with a dazed expression.

But as I was about to leave the room, I heard hurried footsteps from behind.

And then, Gu Yubin grabbed my wrist.

Surprised, I turned around, and Gu Yubin asked me,

Um

Yes?

Is it true?

The truth is that I did grow up reading Gu Yubins books, but right now, whether it was true or not, it seemed like a big problem if I said it wasnt, so I nodded.

Then, Gu Yubin hesitated and fumbled with her words.

Im

Unable to continue, Gu Yubin suddenly bowed her head. From between the strands of hair that cascaded down, a voice leaked out.

Thank you.

Well, Ill be.

To think that I would ever hear words of gratitude from Gu Yubin in my life.

However, realizing belatedly that this Gu Yubin is not the Gu Yubin I knew, I responded with a smile filled with slight regret.

Its nothing.

No. Thank you, really. For saying that.

Her gratitude was immediately expressed in action. Gu Yubin suddenly knelt and hugged me.

As I was frozen in shock, Gu Yubin murmured to me in a calm voice.

Ill try to be brave once more. Thank you for believing in me.

Youre welcome.

Her voice was excessively reminiscent of the Gu Yuna I knew. But knowing that this voice belonged to Gu Yubin, not Gu Yuna, left me confused about the origin of this warmth.

At that moment, the sound of the door opening came from behind.

Gu Yuna was looking at us with a shocked expression.

* * *

The street beyond the window showed signs of a major commotion that had passed. The ground was cracked here and there, buildings were damaged, and bloodstains and pieces of metal that had yet to be cleaned up were scattered everywhere.

But what determines the atmosphere of a street is not the facilities but the people. The people walking the streets had regained their daily lives. Perhaps they had returned to their routines out of necessity for their livelihoods.

Whatever the reason, people went about their usual business: walking the streets, selling goods, drinking, driving carriages, causing a scene, singing, picking fights, and living. Thus, Baker Street had truly returned to its original state.

However, the scenery did not seem to easily return to normal in Sherlocks heart. His drooping tail was a clear indicator of the gloomy mood of my dear friend and Londons greatest detective, Sherlock Holmes.

Watson.

Sherlock asked in a melancholy voice.

I still cant forget the events of that day

Sherlock

Did we truly do the best we could?

Since this wasnt the first time Sherlock had asked me this question, I was able to give him the same response without hesitation.

Of course. If you hadnt uncovered the truth, we wouldnt have been able to protect the peaceful daily lives of the citizens. Perhaps even now, there would be clashes between protesters and the police outside, with blood and metal fragments flying everywhere

But even so, couldnt the world have changed for the better?

Sherlock

The massive protest by the automatons dissolved when Lady Rosa Luxemburgs schemes were exposed to the world. As beings who value logic above all, it was only natural for the automatons to immediately correct actions based on a mistaken cause.

Thus, the protest that seemed almost warlike in its intensity dissolved in a remarkably orderly fashion, allowing London to swiftly regain order. Everything had returned to normal.

Sherlock, who had exposed Lady Rosa Luxemburgs terrifying conspiracy, was naturally recognized as the hero who quelled the disturbance. However, no amount of medals or praise could ease Sherlocks mind.

The woman who leapt from the clock tower after drinking poison,

Rosa Luxemburgs last words had ensnared him.

-Stop right there! Lady Luxemburg!

I, too, had witnessed the truth of that day alongside Sherlock. Ironically, after a long battle that drove Lady Luxemburg to the edge of the clock tower, her last words were not about the revolution she had stirred but a defense against her crimes.

-Dear detective, Mr. Holmes. There is one thing wrong in your deduction.

-Stay where you are, Rosa! Its not too late!

-I have never committed murder.

-Dammit! You were supposed to atone for your sins while alive!

Amidst the howling wind and thunderous sky, Rosa Luxemburg stood precariously on the railing at the edge of the clock tower.

Despite our pleas, she gave a forlorn smile and swallowed the poison.

-He died for me, so I will die for him

And then, the sight of her descending form and the sound of machinery shattering. That was all we remembered.

Sherlock, who had calmed himself down by puffing on his hawthorn pipe, spoke to me.

Watson, would you hear out my deduction?

Of course.

Lady Rosa Luxemburg did not kill her lover, Mr. Smith the automaton.

It was all their plan. Mr. Smith sacrificed himself to change the world, and Rosa was merely the executor of the plan they made together. Thus, theres no perpetrator in the automaton murder case, just two accomplices who incited a revolution or rebellion

Isnt the only evidence Lady Luxemburgs last words?

I wont dwell on the fact that Mr. Smith was intellectual enough to evade the law, maintain property rights, and operate three factories. Theres a simpler basis. Think, Watson. Who would give everything for someone unrelated?

If love was the cause of it all, then the case is clearly explained. Mr. Smith, wanting rights as a human, used Lady Luxemburg, and the automaton lover who was in sympathy with him did the same. So, if

Unable to bear seeing Sherlock in distress, I shouted.

What does it matter! Sherlock! Whether Mr. Smiths death was by murder or his own sacrifice for a revolution! You are the hero who saved London from chaos! Why torment yourself over this!

No! Its different!

Shockingly, even the composed Sherlock yelled back at me.

I am a private detective, not a public official! Yet, I have proclaimed myself an apostle of justice for the sake of public good and the intellectual curiosity that enlivens my life. It would be a lie to say I dont enjoy the honor that comes from my detective work. However

Sherlock pondered with a voice heavy with fear.

If Lady Rosa Luxemburgs actions were not a mere crime like murder, but indeed a deed done in conspiracy with Mr. Smith to change the world?

The judgment and assessment of that are not for a private detective like me but for history. Perhaps, I might have inadvertently obstructed a significant advancement in history.

Sherlock

Thats what torments me.

Sherlocks cat ears drooped lifelessly. Careful not to step on his sprawled tail, I cautiously walked over and placed my hand on Sherlocks shoulder.

You just did what you had to do.

So many times Ive said that might have been a mistake-

Living in this world!

My voice rose, a growl mixing in. As Sherlock looked at me in surprise, I openly shared my experiences from the battlefields of Afghanistan.

Living in this world means constantly facing such difficult choices.

Thats all there is to it. No one has the duty or the right to change the world.

We are all tiny fish floundering in a vast ocean, following the current.

All we can see is not the entire ocean but merely a murky glimpse just a foot ahead.

Sometimes I forget that my respected friend Sherlock is much younger than me, captivated only by the brilliance of his intellect that can fascinate many. I may declare myself his fervent acolyte, but right now, Sherlock seemed like a young soldier I first saw in Afghanistan, devastated by taking a life.

And as a surgeon, it was my duty to lift such souls back onto the path of life. This was crucial not just for physical ailments but for mental struggles as well.

Thus, the words that flowed from my mouth were not derived from the knowledge I had learned, but from the sincerity that welled up from my experiences.

You, me, and Lady Rosa, too. We were just people trying to act on what we believed in.

Its the intertwining of such people that changes the world, not that anyone can change the world for the better. Arent everyones answers so different?

So, whats important is to keep moving forward without breaking. The virtue lies not in what is achieved, but in moving forward steadfastly without breaking.

Being so dejected isnt like you! You are Londons greatest detective, and arent there so many mysteries out there waiting for you?

I prayed that my words of comfort would heal Sherlocks heart, even if just a little. Fortunately, Sherlock seemed to have regained his characteristic confident smile, even if just slightly.

Is that so

Sherlock, puffing on his hawthorn pipe, blew away the deep concerns in his heart along with the smoke. Then, he thanked me with a refreshed laugh.

Thank you, Watson.

I smiled back in response to his smile.

If youre grateful, how about you quit the pipe for a while?

Hm. Ill quit for a bit.

For about 3 hours?

Perhaps a bit longer than that.

Then 4 hours?

It seems it will be shorter than that.

Hand over the pipe.

Ah

Thus, Sherlock Holmes and his assistant John Watson set off into the streets of London, bickering amicably. After all, the world still awaited them with countless unsolved mysteries.

However, in the detectives office, now darkened,

At one corner of the desk, the music box that Lady Rosa Luxemburg had kept with her until the end, began to play a melancholy tune as it slowly opened. It must have been a mechanical error. The name of that error is love.

The creaking figures stood up and began to spin, surrendering themselves to the melody.

A human and a machine gazing at each other, dancing.

Forever, as long as the spring does not wind down.

*****

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