The Great Storyteller

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

The bell rang. When Juho looked at the clock, he realized that the first period had just ended. The classroom became rowdy, and Mr. Moon left the room. Juho stared at his paper. He had not written a single word. There were about three hours left at that point, and there were a few half decent ideas floating around in his head. He needed something to bring it all together.

“There’s still time,” he murmured quietly.

‘It’s break time, so I should rest my mind for a little bit,’ he thought.

He leaned against the rigid backrest of his chair. While he was idly staring at the ceiling, he heard Seo Kwang getting out of his seat, leaving the classroom unhurriedly.

On the seat he left behind, there were bits of eraser dust and a sheet of gray paper. There was about ⅔ of the page written. Much like Juho, Seo Kwang had circled the word ‘plaster figure.’ He had chosen the same topic. Juho tried to think about what he had been doing while his friend was busy writing, but soon, gave up and closed his eyes to calm his mind.

‘My shoulders are too tense right now,’ he thought to himself. When he relaxed his shoulders, the rigidness of the backrest asserted itself. He was finally in a good place to write.

The bell rang again. As soon as he opened his eyes, the distant noise rushed back into his ears. Some were complaining about the contest lasting for another three hours. Some were asking one another if they could read each other’s paper, whereas some were busy protecting what they wrote.

Some were simply complaining for the sake of complaining. All of those different emotions and voices mingled into a big mound, and that mound was a form of protest. It was a protest against fading away as they were and a protest to be remembered. As a proof, Juho couldn’t help his eyes turning towards it.

“Now’s not the time.”

As he was about to gather himself again, he saw Seo Kwang walking into the classroom. Seeing how his sleeves were slightly wet, he must have gone to the restroom. He sat down at his seat and took a brief moment to think. Soon, he started writing again, hard at work.

His shoulders and elbows were moving. His body leaned slightly forward. He was concentrating. At a glance, he kind of looked like a runner in the moments right before the start of a race.

As Juho stared into his back, he remembered something, ‘I won the award.’

It was a fragment of a memory that had been worn out with only a small portion remaining. Inside, was Juho himself, taking the award as if he deserved it. At that time, he had already been bound to win the contest. It had been obvious. He had already been a professional writer by then. There had been some contestants who hadn’t even been close to being amateurs. To them, writing had been secondary, and they had been busy playing around with each other. Some contestants had even submitted blank pages. The classroom had been twice as noisy, and he had struggled twice as much to concentrate.

Back then, he had not been close to Seo Kwang. In fact, they had not even talked to each other. Just like he had been with Ina Jang, Juho was disappointed in his past self.

‘I see. Maybe, I’ve already disappointed myself,’ he thought to himself.

He glimpsed down at his slippers. They were slightly dirty. He felt like he had been careful when he first bought them, but now, that didn’t even matter.

Out of the blue, he thought that the sound of kids talking resembled the sound of rain. In his mind, his shoes were already wet. There was a puddle in front of his eyes. Without hesitation, he jumped in. The water splashed in all directions. It was refreshing.

He looked at his hand dripping with water and thought to himself, ‘I might as well have some fun while I’m at it.’

Then, he looked at his blank page. Faint excitement tingled the tips of his fingers. Now, he was in a really good place to write. On a line that stretched endlessly, he wrote his first sentence.

*

“OK, submit your papers now.”

His story came to an end at Mr. Moon’s announcement. Fortunately, the ending was not as absurd as the protagonist dying from a head injury by monkeys raining from the sky.

“Well, I managed to finish in time.”

He was relieved that he had written something and put up his hands in the air and stretched. After waiting for the wave of kids that flooded the front of the classroom, he finally walked up to Mr. Moon to submit his work.

Mr. Moon asked him, “You were serious this time, right?”

“I wrote with all my heart.”

Mr. Moon had been emphasizing the end to him, but by that point, he had given up on that persistent absurdity. For that reason, Juho often heard him grumbling about his teaching career. He did feel sorry for Mr. Moon, but there was nothing that could be done.

As he went back to his seat, Seo Kwang turned around with the backrest in between his legs. His hands were glowing red. Juho looked down at his own hands. They were the same.

“I really worked my butt off,” Seo Kwang said proudly. His concentration was actually quite impressive, even in Juho’s eyes. His shoulders had been moving throughout the duration of the contest. It had almost looked like he had been putting in the same amount of concentration he invested into reading. It explained the satisfied look on his face.

“How about you?” he asked.

Juho answered him while rubbing his fingers that still glowed red, “Me too.”

*

‘Clap, clap, clap.’

The kids clapped insincerely. It was time to give out the certificates and announce the class winner. Everyone was lukewarm, from the awardees to the clapping teachers and students. Juho was one of them. As a gesture of support, he threw his hands up in the air.

“Last , but not least, the winner of this essay contest is…”

The teacher took his time. The students kept their eyes fixed on his lips in anticipation. Whether they had tried or not, all contestants were probably hoping secretly that their name was called. That was the effect an award had. Whether one had fought for it or not, he longed for it.

Similarly, Juho was listening for the winner with similar anticipation.

Soon, the teacher announced, “Seo Kwang Kim!”

It was Seo Kwang.

“Huh?” he answered with confusion. It sounded like he was wondering why his name was being called.

“Come get your award!”

“…Pardon?”

He couldn’t grasp this situation. He turned back to see Juho clapping for him with a peaceful look on his face. He had been certain that Juho was going to be the winner. Even with the white certificate in his hands, he stood absent-mindedly.

He had all sorts of thoughts in his mind.

‘Did Juho not keep his promise? Did he go easy on me? No, he’s not like that. Then, what’s this certificate doing in my hand? Why? Wait… could it be? Did I really beat Juho with my own skills…?’

“Juho Woo.”

The teacher called for Juho. It was the very name Seo Kwang had been waiting for, and he prepared to clap for him.

“Follow me to the staffroom.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seo Kwang was confused. He needed somebody to explain the situation to him. He looked back at Juho, but he was simply smiling awkwardly.

Leaving his confused friend behind, Juho followed the teacher to the staffroom. There were teachers in charge of the first-years. Students who had business with their teachers were allowed to come in freely. There was a laughter. A teacher and students had to be sharing a joke.

It was quite different from where Juho was.

He observed the teacher’s desk. There was a attendance book, and fittingly, a math textbook. Next to them was a pile of papers from the essay contest.

“Juho Woo.”

Juho turned his head at the teacher’s voice. He saw his familiar face. He was the math teacher who was not into books. For that, Juho felt distant from him both in the past and present.

“Do you have something you want to say to the school?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you struggling with something?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you being bullied?”

“No.”

Although he knew that the teacher already knew the answers to his questions, Juho answered him sincerely – no. From the time Juho walked into the staffroom, the teacher had a dumbfounded look on his face.

At once, Juho set aside his anticipation. He must have gone too far, after all.

“Then what’s this about?”

The teacher pulled out a page that Juho was well acquainted with. A crooked circle was surrounding the word ‘plaster figure.’ It was definitely his, and he answered as he saw it, “It’s my essay.”

“No, that’s not what I asked. I’m talking about this. What’s this?”

He asked pointing towards the middle of Juho’s essay. Again, Juho answered as he saw it, “That’s what I wrote.”

“That’s right. You wrote this. Just to make sure, nobody forced you to write this, right?”

“No, I wrote it.”

The teacher nodded. Then he read one of the sentences out loud. Perhaps he was conscious of his surroundings. His voice was just loud enough for Juho to hear.

“A pair of bonobos were having sex. They entwined their bodies for the sake of peace. Gender or numbers were not a priority…skipping over. I always watch them. The moment they reach the climax…”

What he read was the intro. It was the part where a bonobo in a zoo was narrating from the perspective of a plaster figure in front of its cage. In the places the teacher skipped over, there was a description of the intercourse in greater detail. Juho did wonder if he would be able to get away with what he wrote, but he had decided not to change it. He had made a promise with a friend after all.

“Artistic, isn’t it?”

“Right. It’s a shame that the school couldn’t embrace your artistic value.”

He stood straight and asked a serious question. It seemed like he was finally about to get to the point, “Do you watch a lot of porn?”

“I do enjoy watching ‘Animal Kingdom’ a lot.”

Bonobo. Primate pongid. Mammal. The protagonist definitely explained Juho’s fondness towards the show. The teacher decided to watch the show himself after work.

“You’re in the Literature Club, right? Mr. Moon was very satisfied with what you wrote.”

“That’s a good news.”

‘Good thing I’m not going to have to listen to him grumble,’ he thought.

“I did enjoy reading your paper. I can tell that you’re a good writer, but you won’t get an award. You understand, right? We display winning essays in the hallway. Your paper is not suited for that, unfortunately. For kids your age, your paper does pack a punch both in terms of content and your skills.”

Juho nodded lightly.

During a brief pause, the sound of laughter came from behind him. It was an innocent laughter.

“Think about your grades too. You’re an amazing writer, but why is it that your linguistics grade is suffering?”

“I think I did well, at least in my own way.”

“That’s not enough.”

Compared to his grades in the past, Juho was doing much better. Yet, it must have not been enough to satisfy his homeroom teacher. Satisfying someone was a difficult task. After briefly asking how Juho was doing, the teacher let him go.

“Pass this out to the kids while you’re at it.”

Of course, he didn’t send him out empty handed. Juho left the staffroom with a pile of gray leaves of paper, and he let out a faint sigh.

‘Now, the only person left is Seo Kwang. I better give him an explanation,’ he thought.

<With All His Heart (3)> The End