Novelist Running Through Time
Chapter 176

TL: KSD

The world is not made of numbers.

The world is composed of human beings, beings who are incalculable, capricious, mostly emotional, and simultaneously the creators of countless variables.

Every now and then, highly educated experts forget this obvious truth and end up making a complete mess.

Just like the famous British professor Isaac NewX who lost his entire fortune into stocks, or the renowned Korean professor Gu HakX who lost 100 million won in Dogecoin.

It was the same with ‘Starry Sky’.

Although the two scoundrels who wrote it treated the Hugo Award as if it were some kind of bonus, the record set by that book did not just remain as ink on paper.

That record leapt into reality and triggered numerous changes.

“Congratulations! CEO!”

The crown of Deputy COO Kim Geun-tae’s bowed head, offered up before Baek Seol, was one such example of those changes.

Side EP – A Lucky Day

Deputy COO Kim Geun-tae of Baekhak Publishing had long served as Head of the Book Distribution Division, and was someone who clearly understood how this company operated.

And Baekhak Publishing was a company like a trophy, built to showcase brand value and cultural influence, and to please the Chairman, even at the cost of massive deficits.

In such a company, a young CEO spouting off about global business and U.S. expansion, no matter what else she brought to the table, was bound to be treated as a rookie.

And this was…

A more familiar cliché than one might expect.

If you’re a working professional in Korea, there’s no way you wouldn’t know about this seasonal event that visits every so often.

The outline of this event goes as follows:

1. A royal parachute drop into an otherwise smoothly running company.

2. A young and passionate executive team (who treat the existing executives like morons) launching some kind of global venture.

3. A massive failure followed by a change in leadership.

There are also sub-events like “death games to select a new person in charge” and “cooking the books to prevent a stock price crash”, but the moral of this story always remains the same:

There is a reason why things don’t work out.

Did the existing executives of Baekhak Publishing never dream of entering the U.S. market? Of course they did.

Any true publisher harbors the romantic dream of “reviving the industry” in their hearts.

But dreams are high and reality is a sewer.

They punched numbers into calculators, dipped their toes in with courage. But even then, it looked hopeless, so they didn’t go ahead with it.

U.S. expansion? They’re barely making it through this quarter’s deficit, so what kind of nonsense is that?

-No matter how clueless someone might be, still, this is too much…

-She’s just so young. Let her try whatevers he wants. It won’t work anyway. Haha.

-When the new face tanks the business and steps down, the Deputy COO will get promoted to clean up. We’ll support him then. That’s all.

Thus, the seasoned Baekhak men assumed that Baek Seol was someone who would soon be gone.

Bringing in a new face for the sake of pretending to innovate is nothing new. The new face messing everything up and getting kicked out is also nothing new.

Then, the empty seat would inevitably be filled by an experienced old hand to clean up the mess. So those who fancied themselves as people with foresight quickly aligned themselves with the Deputy COO.

And those who had a precise read on the political situation already knew that Baek Seol was a kind of puppet, and went about doing their own thing.

But that puppet came back with a Hugo Award.

“Ah…!”

Deputy COO Kim Geun-tae, who had been responsible for all the neglect and isolation poured upon Baek Seol, who had been conversing with plants in the CEO’s office, now had to shout, “Damn it, I believed in you!”

“As expected…! People who’ve studied abroad really are different!”

“Uh, ehehe… N-no…”

“You’ve resolved Baekhak Publishing’s long-cherished project in one stroke!”

For reference, Deputy COO Kim Geun-tae’s daughter is three years younger than Baek Seol.

Making a living was indeed this hard.

* * *

The Hugo Award was a sacred relic endowed with divine power, enough to transform Baek Seol, who had been something like a succulent plant for ornamental use in the CEO’s office, into a living deity.

And even without the Hugo Award, the revenue Baekhak Publishing raked in this quarter from book sales was colossal.

The number of zeroes was on another level.

After all, the idea that an economic recession could be resolved through overseas market expansion was a self-evident truth even known by the imperial powers of the 19th century. The British didn’t march into India with guns and swords for no reason.

However, after Japan’s economic policy, which involved taking Korea with guns and then throwing a tantrum trying to take over China, backfired like an atomic bomb, the key to next-generation economic policy became this:

How do you expand markets without guns and swords?

Countless experiments have been conducted to solve this conundrum: trigger a financial crisis if free trade doesn’t go your way, purge those with poor urban development performance, build missile bases near someone else’s capital city, and so on…

But such methods are only applicable at the national level.

Private companies, which lack lobbyist-level financial power like Wall Street, a reserve currency like the dollar, or even a military force like the People’s Liberation Army, have to resort to far more pitiful means.

For example, getting someone drunk on whiskey, be it a manager or a journalist.

That’s usually called sales.

In that sense, Lim Yang-wook’s “sales”, where he knocked over senior managers from Japanese and American publishing giants with nothing but persuasive speech, formed a three-nation alliance to enter the U.S. market, and strategically maneuvered to win a Hugo Award, was at the level of divine mastery.

“Wow… Seriously impressive. Truly amazing.”

The people at Baekhak Publishing weren’t fools.

There were (almost) none who believed that the success of ‘Starry Sky’ in America was due to some sacred lineage possessed by Baek Seol.

Everyone knew who the real protagonist was.

“Lim Yang-wook… I acknowledge you.”

Woo Ki-tae, the Head of the Publishing Planning Department, was a senior from several classes above Lim Yang-wook. When he was working as an assistant manager, Lim entered the company as a regular staff member.

Woo had seen Lim, a graduate from a regional university, go head-to-head with alumni from prestigious schools. He had seen Lim slowly worn down, pushed here and there.

And when Lim Yang-wook and the reformist group in the Publishing Planning Department were miserably ruined and kicked out of the company, Woo Ki-tae had merely clicked his tongue and stood by as a spectator.

But both men knew that someone of that rank could never be a purely innocent spectator. Woo Ki-tae bore some responsibility for Lim Yang-wook’s downfall.

So, the fact that the words “I acknowledge you” came from Woo’s mouth must have tasted bitter and sharp.

The moment he finished speaking, Woo rinsed his mouth with strong soju.

But the bitterness had yet to fade, as he swayed in his seat, unable to keep his balance.

It was Lim Yang-wook who caught his large frame just as he seemed about to fall off his chair.

“Sunbae. Pull yourself together.”

“Ah- I’m totally fine. I’m completely sober…”

“You’re completely drunk, clearly…”

From Lim Yang-wook’s perspective, Woo Ki-tae was already beyond saving.

The words that followed proved it.

“Hey- You know what my kids said? They’re saying Lim Yang-wook must’ve reached enlightenment in the underground parking lot. That they’re going to do wall-facing meditation there too and return enlightened…”

“Who said that?”

“Huh? Min-cheol? Min-cheol said it…”

“Mm. I see.”

One more name was added to Lim Yang-wook’s hit list.

Whether he knew of that terrifying inner thought or not, Woo Ki-tae continued to stagger drunkenly.

The stench of alcohol radiating from Woo’s body was far worse than the oden broth scent filling the pojangmacha.

What could have made this man this drunk?

The inferiority complex of being surpassed by a once-friendly junior?

The fear of having to now walk on eggshells around someone they drove out?

Or perhaps the despair of being unable to accept that they were wrong and Lim Yang-wook was right?

Who could say?

Unless they were him, Lim Yang-wook could never know how they felt.

Just as they would never understand what Lim had been thinking for two years while enduring in that underground parking lot…

“Ah… Yang-wook-ah…”

The kind of senior-junior relationship that could never be reconnected was finally able to exchange a fragment of sincerity, but only far away from the company, and only with the help of alcohol.

“I’m sorry, I really am…”

“……”

“I was wrong, okay? I did something truly awful to you…”

But a truth spoken in drunkenness belongs strictly to the realm outside the company. It’s not a matter of contracts that can be trusted, but rather part of the ambiguous, fallible relationship between people.

And once someone turns thirty, they no longer trust people. Under that premise, any sincerity exchanged becomes faulty sincerity, unreliable to both the one expressing it and the one receiving it.

So Lim Yang-wook gave a reply just as faulty. A response like a cheap plastic toy from Daiso.

“Ah, it’s fine. Please sober up, sunbae. You need to get home.”

“Right-right. Gotta go see the family…”

“I’ll get you a taxi. Still living in the same place as before?”

“No, I moved…”

“Tell me your address… Oh wow. You moved to a nice place.”

Lim Yang-wook bowed his head until the taxi carrying Woo Ki-tae disappeared from view. Even though the man was a department head, someone above him in rank, he just did it. Like back in his rookie days when the company was strict with discipline…

But the proud smile that once adorned the face of young new employee Lim Yang-wook, when he would rise from a deep ninety-degree bow, was nowhere to be found on Department Head Lim Yang-wook now.

When he raised his head after bowing, Lim Yang-wook’s expression was dry.

Apathetic, businesslike. At a glance, he even looked worn out.

It was a remarkably dispassionate demeanor for someone hailed as the greatest salesman in the company’s history.

But then again, Lim Yang-wook wasn’t thirty anymore, he was closer to forty. His body couldn’t take it like before.

He had to go home and collapse in bed if he wanted to be able to wake up tomorrow morning.

Wrapped in such fatigue, he boarded the subway for the commute home.

Thankfully, it was late at night, so he was able to sit.

“……”

He swayed like a floating water plant, entrusting his body to the rhythm of the subway, staring at the bizarre human spectacle that never disappeared from Line 1 even in the dead of night,

And then, Lim Yang-wook suddenly realized that what had just happened wasn’t something ordinary.

It was, by no means, a normal occurrence.

Because it was the very thing he had longed for with all his heart while enduring those two years in the underground parking lot.

“Ah.”

A delayed wave of realization struck him.

He had finally…

He had received an apology from those cruel seniors who had driven him out of the company, an apology that admitted they were wrong, that he was right, and that they were sorry.

So now the angels were supposed to descend, fireworks were supposed to explode, and the world in his view should have lit up in dazzling colors with a “Congratulations!” banner floating in the air.

Surely, that’s how it was supposed to be.

“Ah……”

Lim Yang-wook had endured two years in the underground parking lot while clinging to nothing but this day. And the long hours of humiliation had come back to him with even greater success.

Lim Yang-wook had become a hero of the company, and the people who had driven him out had become obsolete relics. He had even completed his revenge with his own hands.

But the angels didn’t descend, and the world didn’t shine in multicolored light.

The world seen through Lim Yang-wook’s eyes was still the same Line 1, where a drunk staggered around aimlessly.

Why was that?

He didn’t know.

Had his emotions dried up?

To find out, Lim Yang-wook took out a text message he had received earlier today at 2:32 p.m. and checked it again.

-Congratulations.

Executive Director Kim Myung-woon, the right-hand man of Baek Do-hyun, had sent a message confirming Lim Yang-wook’s promotion to an executive position.

Since Baek Do-hyun was the Head of the HR Support Team in the Strategic Planning Division at headquarters, there was no way the information could be wrong. It meant they had backed him.

But even when he looked at that, his heart didn’t race.

Why was that?

“Haa…”

To describe it in literary terms, it felt as if he had become a regressor whose emotions had dried up after tens of thousands of repeated regressions.

Lim Yang-wook muttered the kind of thing such a regressor might typically say.

“Just got lucky…”

But suddenly, he had a foreboding certainty: if he returned to his empty home like this, he wouldn’t be able to shake off this restless feeling all night.

So Lim Yang-wook, in a deliberately childish tone, sent a message to his younger friend.

-Hey In-seop. Mind if I crash at your studio tonight?

The answer was obviously going to be OK. Lim Yang-wook was already debating what kind of late-night snack to bring over.

Yeah. Jokbal would be good. He could grab some warm jokbal and a few dumplings, then brag about his promotion to executive. That might help lighten his mood a bit.

But upon seeing the reply that came back right away,

Lim Yang-wook felt something like a heartbeat stir within the chest of the “regressor whose emotions had dried up from repeating regressions tens of thousands of times.”

Only, it wasn’t a pleasant kind of stirring.

-I’m going to stop writing for a while.

No wonder it had seemed like such a strangely lucky day.

*****

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