TL: KSD

    The Novelist, Eisaku Siedehara.

    At the age of 71,

    Passed away due to longstanding colon cancer.

    “......”

    This is the last memory I have of Eisaku Siedehara. I may not remember which stocks rose or fell, but this much I remember clearly.

    Because, then and now, literature has been my everything.

    So, the sense of unease I feel right now is certainly no delusion.

    Eisaku Siedehara, died at the age of 73.

    He lived two more years before passing away.

    Why?

    Is it the butterfly effect caused by my small ripple? Or perhaps a mere coincidence of cellular-level cancer metastasis?

    Maybe a single careless word I said to him gave him the will to live.

    Or maybe his lingering regret over failing to win the Booker International Prize made him endure for two more years.

    But that’s something no one will ever know.

    It’s a story closer to fate than life.

    And fate is not within the realm of humans but rather that of gods.

    Unless it’s the very being that threw me into the river of time, there’s no solving the mystery entwined in Siedehara’s fate.

    Thus, the only truth humans can face is death. The death of a human being standing right before you. Anything beyond that fate cannot be known, nor understood.

    And so, Eisaku Siedehara has died.

    That’s all there is to it.

    EP 10 – Starry Sky

    Even I, who has experienced death once, did not know what lay beyond death. All I understood were the sensations, how death was cozier, quieter than expected, and the surreal experience of sinking slowly, as if throwing oneself into a black swamp. ?A?????O??????Е?S?

    Therefore, death still feels overwhelming and puzzling to me-

    -and frightening.

    So frightening that I wish I didn’t have to recall it.

    But the funeral hall kept bringing forth thoughts about death in my mind.

    Not about Siedehara’s death, but about my own.

    If I hadn’t traveled backward through time, but was simply thrown into the past with a young body, and my original world continued on as it was...

    Who would have come to my funeral?

    No, would a funeral even have been held?

    When a young man from an orphanage, with no family to care for him, dies, he’s usually treated as special waste, disappearing quietly.

    And that lonely death remains as the number ‘1’ in countless statistics, occasionally appearing as a six-second stock clip in news segments discussing the issue of young adults dying alone—fulfilling its purpose.

    If you’re born without parents, without family, without wealth, that’s how it goes. From the moment you’re born, far too much is already determined.

    But since I struggled and flailed for my entire life, a funeral may have been held, at least. I’m sorry to say, but 46-year-old manager Lim Yang-wook, who often visited to demand manuscripts from me, would likely have been the first to discover my body.

    After that, New Light Spring Orphanage would have been contacted, but probably no one would have come looking for me. I was ashamed of being from an orphanage, and I didn’t hide it either.

    But Yuna.

    Yuna would have come to my funeral.

    A genius writer in her early 20s, still not even an adult, a fragile young woman in her early 20s who had recently held a funeral for Professor Gu Hak-jun, who died in a car accident...

    She would have faced the memorial photo of a friend and ex-lover whom she had dated for ten years.

    “Ah......”

    What on earth had I done?

    A single tear ran down my cheek.

    The fact that I couldn’t undo whatever I had done to Yuna, the fact that the waves of time may have continued even after my death, and the fact that I could neither reverse it nor even know what happened—it all saddened me deeply.

    I missed Yuna.

    “I-In-seop...”

    Lim Yang-wook looked startled as he noticed my tears. Only then did I glance around and realize that more eyes than I had expected were fixed on me.

    When I think about it, my recent rise to prominence in Japan is quite a recent phenomenon. Unlike in Korea, my fame here hasn’t yet waned.

    Nearly every mourner was stealing glances at me, while the bereaved family looked at me with pity in their eyes, mixed with a faint expression of gratitude.

    Lim Yang-wook had informed me beforehand that Japanese funerals value quietness as a virtue, so I quickly wiped away my tears and adopted a somber expression.

    After that, a Buddhist monk began chanting sutras. I followed Lim Yang-wook to a corner of the room and sat down. Lim Yang-wook had told me that leaving at this point was not an option. I would need to remain seated for quite a long time.

    I briefly prayed for Author Siedehara, hoping that he too had somehow, like me, returned to his youth and been granted a chance to correct the mistakes of his past.

    And then, as was natural, my mind wandered, idly filling the time with thoughts.

    I feel a little guilty saying this, but my sadness over Siedehara’s death wasn’t enough to completely fill my heart.

    But that wasn’t the case for Kenji Matsumoto, sitting on the other side of the room.

    His heart was still overflowing with sorrow, and it spilled over as tears streaming down his face.

    Holding back sobs to avoid making a disturbance, he bit his lip and sniffled quietly—it was a pitiable sight.

    Kenji Matsumoto, director of the animated film Guitar.

    Eisaku Siedehara had once handed over more than 2 billion yen to Director Matsumoto, who had boldly approached him seeking funding.

    In the end, Siedehara received more than his investment in return, but giving such a large sum to an unknown film director was practically an act of charity.

    A truly peculiar thing.

    To offer one’s wealth so freely to another simply because they are an artist.

    Eisaku Siedehara had given 2 billion yen to a director he had just met.

    Eisaku Siedehara had done everything he could, even tarnishing his own reputation, to promote the book of a neighboring country’s young writer who had damaged his dignity during the Booker International Prize competition.

    Why?@@@@

    It was a question I had wondered about before and continue to ponder even now, but I think I might finally understand.

    For art.

    So that even after he vanished from this world, he would be remembered forever.

    And when Gu Yuna calls me out, I have to go. It’s just how my body is wired. So, I hurriedly threw on some clothes and went outside, only to find Gu Yuna standing there like a ghost in the dimly lit street.

    “Yuna!”

    “Hi.”

    Startled, I rushed over to her, but her expression was anything but ordinary.

    More than surprise, concern came over me first.

    What’s going on? Did she have a big fight with her sister and run away?

    “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

    But, as always, the words that came out of Gu Yuna’s mouth were far beyond anything I could’ve expected.

    “You’re... going to the U.S., right?”

    “Yeah.”

    “If you go, you won’t be back for a few months, right?”

    “Well, yeah...”

    “Can’t you... not go?”

    Gu Yuna looked up at me like a puppy caught in the rain.

    My hands and feet started trembling.

    In her face, I saw something I recognized.

    Gu Yuna was now in her third year of middle school. The face I knew is slowly emerging. Like Gu Yu-bin.

    And I couldn’t say no to a request made with that face.

    “N-n-no, I can’t...”

    I barely managed to stammer out a rejection, but Gu Yuna pressed on with her momentum.

    “I’m not saying never go. Just... wait until after the school trip.”

    “What...?”

    “Can’t you postpone it until then?”

    School trip? It’s only a few weeks away. But if I postpone the schedule now, I’ll have to delay it for an entire quarter.

    And that would make things difficult for Lim Yang-wook as well. Wasn’t this U.S. trip already finalized with great effort?

    Obviously, it’s not possible!

    “Of course I can!”

    Damn it. My tongue betrayed me.

    But Yu-na smiled brightly, having succeeded in her tantrum.

    Seeing that smile, I found myself thinking – that’s enough.

    “I’ll go.”

    “Okay...”

    Gu Yuna disappeared into the dark night street.

    Like a ghost. Quietly, just like that.

    It felt like I’d been enchanted by a spirit.

    ***

    The reason why Gu Yuna stubbornly insisted on dragging Moon In to the school trip.

    Of course, it was–

    Because of writing.

    “Lately... it feels like it’s been so hard to see you at school.”

    Gu Yuna learns writing from Moon In. She’s practically his official pupil.

    But it’s become troublesome since Moon In keeps running off somewhere.

    “We can’t go to literary contests together like before, or even read novels at the library...”

    If they don’t spend time together, how could she possibly learn anything about writing?

    Of course, literature is taught at school, but Gu Yuna has already far surpassed that level.

    It’s because Moon In has already awakened her genius.

    And when it comes to teaching Gu Yuna, Moon In is even more qualified than Professor Gu Hak-jun.

    Gu Yuna doesn’t realize it, but Moon In is someone who spent 10 years teaching Gu Yuna and 10 years being taught by her in turn.

    As a result, whenever Gu Yuna tries to learn literature anywhere else, she finds it somewhat dull without Moon In’s guidance.

    “Learning about novels from other people... it feels a little boring. Same with Dad and my sister...”

    In short, she’s addicted to Moon In’s teaching style.

    But Min Hyo-min, the one listening to this, didn’t see it that way.

    “Huff... huff...!”

    “Why are you breathing like that?”

    “N-no! It’s nothing!”

    Min Hyo-min, whether read forward or backward, still Min Hyo-min, the adorable youngest member of the girl group Benivis.

    As a veteran of the entertainment industry, she prided herself on being an expert in romance! (Despite having no dating experience.)

    Thus, if dark clouds loomed over her friend’s love life, it was only natural that she would roll up her sleeves and take action.

    Unable to hold back her righteous indignation, Min Hyo-min sprang to her feet in determination.

    Bang!

    Slamming her hands on the desk in the club room, Min Hyo-min made a declaration to the world.

    “...This is love!”

    “What?”

    And so began the chaotic romance simulation of a clueless Gu Yuna, who doesn’t understand human hearts, and a love-starved idol suffering under a dating ban.

    *****

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