Translator: – – Editor: – –
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
As Juho was about to head over to class, something caught his eyes in the corner of the hallway. It looked like a person who had been rolled up into a giant ball. Recognizing the appearance from behind, he struck up a conversation.
“What are you doing here?”
It was Seo Kwang.
“What are you doing?”
“I just had a flashback about my shameful past,” he shoved his fingers between his hair and ruffled it.
Seo Kwang was writhing violently.
“What brings you here?”
“I followed you.”
“Did you hear?”
“I did.”
Seo Kwang had been following Juho since he headed to the staffroom with the homeroom teacher. He had wanted to know the reason for Juho not winning the contest. He went into the staffroom and pretended to be waiting for a teacher as he eavesdropped on the conversation between the two.
It was hard to make out what the teacher was saying, but Seo Kwang was able to get a grasp of what they were talking about. After all, Juho’s compositions tended to be provocative.
He was relieved on one hand, but he couldn’t bear the shame of thinking even for a moment that he had surpassed Juho with skill. In the end, he ran out of the staffroom. He couldn’t help but writhe in shame as he blamed himself.
“I’m not sure what’s going on in your life, but hang in there.”
It was an irresponsible encouragement.
Seo Kwang remained crouched and said, “I was confused because of you. What did you write to be disqualified? Give it here.”
After a brief moment of thought, Juho asked, “How do I know you’re not going to run off with it?”
“What are you talking about?”
‘How provocative!’ After talking to the teacher, a small seed of hesitation sprouted in Juho’s mind.
The teacher had said it himself with a calm voice, “You did well. I enjoyed reading it.”
If Juho had been about the same age as the teacher, Seo Kwang wouldn’t have been so shocked. Juho was old. As old as he was, he had experience. He was different from Seo Kwang, who was still in his reckless youth. He had probably thought to himself, ‘If I work really hard, I’ll be able to write like him when I’m older.’
Juho thought about the time when Seo Kwang came over to his house. Seo Kwang hadn’t been calm. He had no idea that it took Juho thirty years of blood, sweat, and tears to get to where he is.
“It might be a bit overbearing for underage readers.”
At his words, Seo Kwang quietly stood up. Then, he put out his hand.
“I want to read it. Sincerely. You’ve got to follow the desires of your heart, right?”
That was what Juho had said when Seo Kwang first opened up about wanting to be a novelist.
Without saying anything further, he took his paper from the top of the pile and handed to Seo Kwang. He watched his paper reach Seo Kwang’s hand and went on his way.
Seo Kwang stayed in the hallway and leaned against the wall. He paused briefly. His hands were getting sweaty. He took a deep breath and looked at the paper. Along with a circle around the word ‘plaster figure,’ the page was filled with neatly written characters.
In a single breath, he read Juho’s heartfelt composition. The noise in the hallway faded away, and he heard the rustling sound of a bird in a distance.
“Ha”
That was the first thing he said after reading the paper.
‘This is it. This is the feeling.’
A sense of satisfaction filled him up from deep within. That was the reason why he read.
“This guy drives me nuts!”
The story was about a plaster figure who went on a journey to find his place in the zoo. It saw all kinds of things. Animals, people, love, peace, violence, murder… At the end, the plaster figure looked back at himself—his powerless self who could do nothing apart from getting moved around by others.
The next day, the plaster figure was found shattered to pieces, and the story came to a bitter end.
“What a rascal. He has guts to write something like this at school.”
The story had a dark tone to it. It was filled with sex between animals, murder and violence. Yet, there were characters who loved and longed for peace in the middle of it all. Everyone was different. They each lived accordingly with their opinions. There was no right answer. Nobody was better than the other. And, at the end of it, was the plaster figure itself.
“So, who’s the culprit of breaking the plaster figure?”
Seo Kwang imagined the figure shattered to pieces. Scattered debris. Broken shapes. There were no weapons of any sort within its proximity. The figure shattered its own shell. It broke the shell that was carved to look like somebody else and went on a journey to find its true identity. It was nothing like what it had been seeing. It was neither bonobo nor people. It never loved. It never knew peace. It was indifferent towards murder and violence.
Seo Kwang looked out of the window. The figure was probably still on its journey. It had probably not accomplished anything yet. He imagined it wandering about the streets.
He didn’t feel any pain.
“I’ll join you.”
He took a step toward the empty stairway.
*
“Sun Hwa won the award in our class.”
After gathering in the science room, the members started discussing the contest results amongst themselves. As Juho announced Seo Kwang had received the award, Bom responded as if she were looking to exchange results. She looked happy. Sun Hwa also proudly raised her hands in response, and Baron joined in.
“Did you get an award too, Baron?”
“I know how to write. I just don’t,” he answered brusquely. He might not say much, but he said what he needed to.
“We did an amazing job!” Bom exclaimed with joy. Every member did a remarkable job in their respective classes. After keeping his mouth closed, Seo Kwang said, “So, I guess that means the three of us are getting fried chicken.”
“I’m sharing it with Bom.”
At Sun Hwa’s words, Juho added at once, “Then who would be so generous as to share their chicken? Baron? Seo Kwang Kim?”
Nobody answered.
“Kind of quiet, don’t you think?”
“It’s a trend nowadays to have a whole chicken to yourself. Sorry, bud.”
“A trend, you say.”
“I had no idea you guys were so trendy.”
As Seo Kwang and Sun Hwa quarrelled, there was a sound of the door opening. A mouth watering aroma filled the science room. Mr. Moon had brought fried chicken as he’d promised. He almost looked heroic holding bags of fried chicken in his hands. The two stopped their quarreling and cheered out loud. Juho clapped gently.
“I brought fried chicken.”
He put down the bags of chicken onto the desk. It seemed like more than enough for three people, and Juho counted six boxes.
“I brought some for the participants too. Let’s dig in.”
“Mr. Moon, you’re the trendiest person in this room.”
That day, the Literature Club became one with fried chicken.
*
The sky was especially blue. The clouds were slowly floating by. The sun was busy at work, trying to shine its light through the clouds. Juho looked up to the clear sky until his neck hurt. There was faint scent of sunscreen. It was Bom. Sun Hwa and Bom sat together, applying sunscreen to their faces. Their movements seemed adept.
Baron was with his sketchbook under the shade of a tree, and Seo Kwang was watching the ants passing by.
At that moment, Juho saw Mr. Moon from afar, walking towards the club members.
“Mr. Moon, why are we meeting in the yard?”
“We’re running today,” he said nonchalantly.
There were other activities taking place in the schoolyard, like badminton or soccer. The Literature Club had reserved a portion of the yard. There were straight lines drawn on the ground, so it was a good place for a sprint race.
“Why are we running?”
“Is this an endurance training?”
Sun Hwa and Seo Kwang had asked simultaneously. Mr. Moon put his hand over his eyes to protect them from the bright sunlight and answered. “From this moment on, you will sprint from here to there. Run until you’re out of breath, and then we’ll immediately pick up our pens. Write whatever sentence comes to mind first. Make sure it’s full of life.”
It was a creative teaching method.
Though he didn’t exercise regularly, Juho was looking forward to running for the first time in a very long time. Again, Mr. Moon emphasized that it was a sprint race. Immediately after the race, the members would pick up their pens and begin writing.
‘What kind of things would this race bring out?’ Juho wondered curiously.
“Stretch your bodies first. National Exercise, go.”
While he drew the starting and finish lines on the ground, the members stretched. In contrast to the awkward movements of the first-years, Baron went through the National Exercise with swift and controlled movements.
“Are you running too, Baron?”
“We’ll see. I wanted to stretch just in case.”
Soon, Mr. Moon came back and told Baron, “Everyone’s going to be running in pairs, but you’re more than welcome to run on your own.”
“I’ll do it.”
Just like that, everyone participated in the race. Seeing everyone turning their wrist and ankles after finishing stretching, Mr. Moon said, “Now, why don’t we start the race? Juho. Seo Kwang.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hi.”
First up were Juho and Seo Kwang. The two stood next to each other in front of the white starting line.
Once the cloud had passed the sun, the grains of sand sparkled brightly. When Juho moved his feet around, feeling the sand underneath, a dust cloud rose. There were sounds of the other clubs sharing the schoolyard. They were chanting here and there.
“Are you a good runner?” Seo Kwang asked.
It was obvious that he was probing his opponent, and Juho answered with a faint smile, “I’m alright. You?”
“I’m alright too.”
There was an odd tension between the two. Mr. Moon had a silver whistle of mysterious origin in his hand, and Sun Hwa cheered on loudly, “Woohoo!”
At her cheering, the students playing badminton looked in her direction.
While the two were waiting for a starting signal, a soccer ball rolled toward them, and Seo Kwang gently kicked it away. It flew in a good direction.
While that was happening, Juho took the time to stretch some more.
“By the way, what should I write? Something like ‘my heart is thumping?’”
“We’ll see when we get to the finish line.”
‘What comes out will depend on our condition when we reach the finish line,’ thought Juho.
The two positioned themselves. The white finish line was visible from afar.
‘All I need to do is run. No thoughts. With everything I got,’ he reminded himself.
Mr .Moon put his whistle to his mouth.
“Ready?”
Go!
The whistle blew loudly. The signal resembled a scream, and the moment he heard it, Juho flexed his legs and bolted off.
He felt his sight getting narrower by the second. Seo Kwang wasn’t even visible. The shape of his surroundings distorted, and his body started wobbling. Yet, he saw one thing.
The white line.
‘Run, run, run, with everything you got,’ Juho thought to himself every moment his foot touched the ground. The seconds before reaching the finish line, he heard Seo Kwang catching up to him and thought to himself, ‘I don’t want to lose.’
“Goal!” somebody shouted.
When Juho reached the finish line, he couldn’t see anything. There was nothing but heavy breathing.
Juho slowed down for some time after he had gone past the finish line. His sides were in pain, and his thighs were sore. When he leaned forward, his heart thumped out of control. His wet, sweaty hair covered his sight. That moment, he heard Mr. Moon’s voice, “Start writing!”
He grabbed the piece of paper that was next to the finish line. It was slightly crumpled, but he paid no attention. Then, he scribbled, “I’m dying.”
<With All His Heart (4)> The End
