Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
“I thought I’d have to sleep in my car! So, this is the world-famous bacon cooked by Kelley Coin himself.”
When Juho came downstairs in the morning, the first thing that he saw was the disgruntled look on Coin’s face and Jenkins making a fuss about Coin’s cooking. Instead of joining them, Juho walked over to the living room to join Susan. Having already eaten, she was enjoying herself a cup of tea on the couch.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked peacefully.
“Slept like a baby,” Juho replied, walking over to Coin, whose voice was starting to get louder. “I’d like some too, please.”
“Good morning!” Jenkins greeted the young author, and Juho nodded haphazardly. “So, I had dinner with a friend of mine, and he kept talking about boring stuff like film festivals. He just made it so obvious that he’s got a fat paycheck. That’s why eating with someone else in the industry gets tiring really quick,” the director said, biting into a tomato. As its red juice flowed down his wrist, Jenkins pulled out his tongue and pulled his hand up to his mouth, licking it.
“That’s disgusting.”
“What? It’s my hand.”
At that moment, a drop of hot oil from the pan splashed on Jenkins, making him jerk. However, Coin seemed indifferent about what had happened.
“I’ll go get the bread,” Juho said, removing himself from the situation so as not to get dragged into it.
“So, this is your writing space.”
After breakfast, Jenkins peeked his head in just as Coin went into his room. However, Coin didn’t even consider Jenkins a hindrance. Walking over to the door, the author started pushing the door close while Jenkins was still peeking his head in, choking the director. In the end, Juho stepped in to help Jenkins pull his head out of the door. A director who recklessly peeks his head into a closing door in the same place as an author who’s strong and ruthless could only mean one thing: Trouble.
“This place is filled to the brim with things,” Jenkins said, looking around the room, the coffee stains, the torn-up wallpaper and Coin’s untidy desk.
“Yet, I don’t see your next work,” the director said, smacking his lips and sitting on Coin’s bed. “You two have a lot in common,” he added, repeatedly tossing something up into the air and catching it.
Juho watched him quietly.
“Although, I could probably get a lot more information out of Mr. Woo here.”
“That’ll be four hundred dollars,” Coin said.
“Four hundred!? You mean this baseball!?”
Rolling the baseball around in his hands, Jenkins thought about the stark contrast between the two authors in front of his eyes. The director had been visiting the young author in his hotel room. Whenever Jenkins had visited, Juho had been writing either on a laptop or on manuscript paper. Writing was just about the only thing the director recalled Juho ever doing in his hotel room. Similarly, the director was also aware of Coin’s prolific character. However, there were also other things in his room, things that had nothing to do with writing, such as the baseball. By contrast, Juho seemed like someone who was investing his entire life into his writing, and Jenkins simply couldn’t understand that.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“What’s your net worth?” the director asked Coin, wondering if the difference came from their wealth.
“What!?”
Looking at Coin, who was blatantly expressing his discomfort, Jenkins was reminded that Yun Woo couldn’t possibly be poor. Pointing at Juho, the director asked, “You don’t wear any designer clothing, do you? That T-shirt of yours is made by some budget, casual clothing store, isn’t it?”
Looking down at the clothes he was wearing, Juho nodded.
“You don’t wear a watch or any sort of accessories, or own a car. On top of that, the hotel you were staying in isn’t exactly the best either. You don’t even collect anything, right? Shoes, toys, puzzles, bags, wallets, art pieces, medals, insects, etc. You don’t spend a penny on a hobby, if you even have one, that is.”
“Are people around you into collecting things like that, Mr. Jenkins?”
“You don’t have a hobby, do you?”
“I do,” Juho said, putting his brain to work in order to think of an answer. “I watch sports on TV, and I exercise regularly. I also enjoy reading and listening to music.”
“Do you gamble?”
“I do not.”
“Do you have a business?”
“Nope.”
“Then what do you do with your money? Maybe you don’t know what to do with it. In which case, I can teach you all about it!”
“What’s with you all of a sudden?”
“I’m worried for you, Mr. Woo! I didn’t realize there were authors like you!”
With that, Jenkins lay completely flat on Coin’s bed, repeatedly throwing the baseball right above his face and catching it. Catching the ball mid-air, Juho said, “I spend over ninety-percent of my yearly earnings, so don’t you worry.”
“Make sure you have enough saved up to get by until you’re done writing your next book. You can’t write anything if you’re homeless.”
“I’m aware,” Juho said, fully aware of what Coin was talking about.
Seeing the young author calm and unfazed, Jenkins interjected in a hurry, “Hold on! That’s important information! Do you guys even have a way of confirming any of this? Where are you guys investing!? Stock, perhaps? In that case, I’d be much obliged if you shared some information about them.”
“I’m not investing in anything. I got nothing to tell you.”
“You’re up to something shady, aren’t you?”
“You have a very active imagination, Mr. Jenkins.”
At that, Jenkins pulled back, narrowing his eyes and glaring up at the ceiling.
‘What’s he thinking now?’ Juho thought to himself, tossing the ball into the air just like Jenkins had done.
“Do you donate?”
At that moment, Juho dropped the ball, staring at it as it rolled on the floor.
“You do, don’t you!?” Jenkins asked with an unpleasant smile.
Standing awkwardly, Juho replied, “I don’t know.”
“Now, I get it.”
In the end, Juho sighed, realizing that the director had discovered what he did with his money. Meanwhile, Jenkins had his chin raised up high with confidence. However, it wasn’t long before that confident look turned into a puzzled one.
“That is admirable! Why didn’t I know about it?” Jenkins asked.
“Because I didn’t tell anyone about it.”
“Why not? What is there to hide?”
“It’s just never been brought up. Until today.”
“No, no. That’s not what I’m talking about. A celebrity like you HAS to be open about this so that other people can join in.”
That was very different from telling friends or acquaintances, however, and with an ambivalent look on his face, Juho replied, “I don’t wanna make a scene.”
“Even after doing something so admirable?”
“I’m just not looking for compliments. Anyway, it’s just something I decided for myself,” Juho said, picking up the baseball from the floor and putting it back where it had been originally. Meanwhile, Jenkins watched the young author.
“And how much longer do you think it’ll stay a secret?”
“What? Are you gonna go around telling people?”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just… You’re impossible to read.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Mr. Jenkins.”
Having been visiting the young author on a nearly daily basis, Jenkins giggled and said, “I just couldn’t resist! I was so curious about what kind of mind games you two were playing!”
“Is that why you’ve been visiting me almost every day?” Juho asked Jenkins, glancing over at Coin.
“Well, I know what I’m doing for the next month,” the director said, referring to Coin’s new book.
At which point, feeling liberated, Juho asked, “So, does that mean my book fell out of favor with you?”
That time, Jenkins looked toward Coin while waving his finger from side to side. “Oh, no, no. This is simply a matter of when the books came out. Coin’s came out later.”
“So what? You don’t think I want something from you, do you? If you do, you’re making a big mistake.”
Despite Coin’s seemingly threatening remark, Jenkins didn’t stop talking.
“If both books had come out at the same time, which book do you think I’d have held on to longer?”
“Who gives? Whichever one it is, it’s gotta be better than that third-class movie of yours.”
“OK, now, you just sound crazy. My movie? Third-class? That’s impossible!” Jenkins said. Then, he sprung up from the bed and shouted, “If you’d really thought my movie had done the original a disservice, you wouldn’t have sat there and not done anything about it. Oh, no. You’d have called and confronted me as soon as you watched the movie. In other words, I would have been the one hanging up on YOU!”
“It was trash. I’d rather eat rotten cabbage.”
Neither Jenkins nor Coin was letting up. The bickering went on until Juho went downstairs to get a cup of water and saw Susan out. Catching his breath, Jenkins said, “You know what? I admit. How long I take reading the same book doesn’t matter, whether a month or three months.”
Juho nodded. At which point, Juho saw a corner Jenkins’ mouth turn up.
“You two are about to compete for a literary award.”
“A literary award?” Juho asked, and the smile on the director’s face grew even bigger.
“That’s right. You’ll probably both end up getting nominated for the Nebula award this year. It’s always been one or the other up to this point, but this year, I can just feel it happening. Besides, there’s no way that you two WON’T get nominated, don’t you think?” Jenkins said, his eyes sparkling with interest. Juho scratched his head awkwardly. None of that felt real because the two authors had already reached a consensus. It had been a draw. Yet, now, there was suddenly a literary award involved.
“What’s with your faces? It’s been a hot topic among your readers,” Jenkins said, rubbing his hands together and adding, “This is a sight to behold. Coin vs. Yun Woo. The match of the century.”
Without saying a word, Juho looked toward Coin, who murmured, “I thought we already…”
“… Talked about this.”
“What?” Jenkins asked, looking at the two authors in turn. Then, as if he caught on to the situation, he rubbed his chin while looking at them with slight disdain.
“What good is it that you two agree on who the winner is? Do you two have any idea how many readers you have across the globe? The winner is whoever gets the award. What could be more convincing than that?”
“Whatever happened to film festivals?” Coin asked, mocking the director.
Putting his hand in his pockets, Jenkins said, “Don’t play coy with me now. You swept every major literary award out there yourself. Think about it. How can you not wanna win when the award is sitting right in front of your eyes? Well? What do you think?”
Jenkins darted back and forth between the two authors with a look of anticipation. Coin, meanwhile, remained unfazed.
“I guess that is true.”
“I thought so. You’re an honest man, Mr. Woo.”
Then, after looking intently at the director for a brief moment, Juho said, “Remind me of why you’re here?”
“What kind of question is that? I thought we were over this.”
“If the winner gets determined at the award ceremony, then you could have gone there instead. Why come here? What’s there to see?”
Jenkins remained silent for a good while. Then, tilting his head, he replied, “I guess I knew where the real match was?”
“Well, whoever ends up being the winner, it’s already been decided. I hate to break it to you, Mr. Jenkins, but you’re a tad too late,” Juho said.
“But I’m sure it won’t stay between you two. So? What happened? Who lost?”
“Enough talk. You owe me four hundred dollars,” Coin said.
“You meant that?!”
‘The award ceremony, huh,” Juho thought to himself, looking out the window at the Sun.
—
“They’re getting nominated,” Nabi said, looking at the nominees for the Nebula Award, who had been decided a month before. In that list, were Coin and Yun Woo. Although they were both preliminary nominees at the moment, everyone knew that it was highly unlikely that either of the authors would be eliminated. The two were practically the final nominees, competing for the same award in the end. Both fans and people in the industry alike, everyone was already starting to place their bets.
“I vote Yun Woo.”
“But he’s up against Kelley Coin.”
Nabi looked at her coworkers, who were clearly talking about the award. To be frank, Nabi thought that the young author had nothing to lose even if he were to lose. After all, the opponent was none other than Kelley Coin. Their rivalry wasn’t something that had been formed overnight. Readers had been keeping their eyes on the two authors’ mysterious friendship and rivalry. ‘This is a chance,’ Nabi thought to herself while looking at the document on the screen of her laptop. After doing some calculations, she picked up her phone in order to ask the person directly involved in the competition.
“Yes, Mr. Woo. Are you free today by any chance?”
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
“I thought I’d have to sleep in my car! So, this is the world-famous bacon cooked by Kelley Coin himself.”
When Juho came downstairs in the morning, the first thing that he saw was the disgruntled look on Coin’s face and Jenkins making a fuss about Coin’s cooking. Instead of joining them, Juho walked over to the living room to join Susan. Having already eaten, she was enjoying herself a cup of tea on the couch.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked peacefully.
“Slept like a baby,” Juho replied, walking over to Coin, whose voice was starting to get louder. “I’d like some too, please.”
“Good morning!” Jenkins greeted the young author, and Juho nodded haphazardly. “So, I had dinner with a friend of mine, and he kept talking about boring stuff like film festivals. He just made it so obvious that he’s got a fat paycheck. That’s why eating with someone else in the industry gets tiring really quick,” the director said, biting into a tomato. As its red juice flowed down his wrist, Jenkins pulled out his tongue and pulled his hand up to his mouth, licking it.
“That’s disgusting.”
“What? It’s my hand.”
At that moment, a drop of hot oil from the pan splashed on Jenkins, making him jerk. However, Coin seemed indifferent about what had happened.
“I’ll go get the bread,” Juho said, removing himself from the situation so as not to get dragged into it.
“So, this is your writing space.”
After breakfast, Jenkins peeked his head in just as Coin went into his room. However, Coin didn’t even consider Jenkins a hindrance. Walking over to the door, the author started pushing the door close while Jenkins was still peeking his head in, choking the director. In the end, Juho stepped in to help Jenkins pull his head out of the door. A director who recklessly peeks his head into a closing door in the same place as an author who’s strong and ruthless could only mean one thing: Trouble.
“This place is filled to the brim with things,” Jenkins said, looking around the room, the coffee stains, the torn-up wallpaper and Coin’s untidy desk.
“Yet, I don’t see your next work,” the director said, smacking his lips and sitting on Coin’s bed. “You two have a lot in common,” he added, repeatedly tossing something up into the air and catching it.
Juho watched him quietly.
“Although, I could probably get a lot more information out of Mr. Woo here.”
“That’ll be four hundred dollars,” Coin said.
“Four hundred!? You mean this baseball!?”
Rolling the baseball around in his hands, Jenkins thought about the stark contrast between the two authors in front of his eyes. The director had been visiting the young author in his hotel room. Whenever Jenkins had visited, Juho had been writing either on a laptop or on manuscript paper. Writing was just about the only thing the director recalled Juho ever doing in his hotel room. Similarly, the director was also aware of Coin’s prolific character. However, there were also other things in his room, things that had nothing to do with writing, such as the baseball. By contrast, Juho seemed like someone who was investing his entire life into his writing, and Jenkins simply couldn’t understand that.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“What’s your net worth?” the director asked Coin, wondering if the difference came from their wealth.
“What!?”
Looking at Coin, who was blatantly expressing his discomfort, Jenkins was reminded that Yun Woo couldn’t possibly be poor. Pointing at Juho, the director asked, “You don’t wear any designer clothing, do you? That T-shirt of yours is made by some budget, casual clothing store, isn’t it?”
Looking down at the clothes he was wearing, Juho nodded.
“You don’t wear a watch or any sort of accessories, or own a car. On top of that, the hotel you were staying in isn’t exactly the best either. You don’t even collect anything, right? Shoes, toys, puzzles, bags, wallets, art pieces, medals, insects, etc. You don’t spend a penny on a hobby, if you even have one, that is.”
“Are people around you into collecting things like that, Mr. Jenkins?”
“You don’t have a hobby, do you?”
“I do,” Juho said, putting his brain to work in order to think of an answer. “I watch sports on TV, and I exercise regularly. I also enjoy reading and listening to music.”
“Do you gamble?”
“I do not.”
“Do you have a business?”
“Nope.”
“Then what do you do with your money? Maybe you don’t know what to do with it. In which case, I can teach you all about it!”
“What’s with you all of a sudden?”
“I’m worried for you, Mr. Woo! I didn’t realize there were authors like you!”
With that, Jenkins lay completely flat on Coin’s bed, repeatedly throwing the baseball right above his face and catching it. Catching the ball mid-air, Juho said, “I spend over ninety-percent of my yearly earnings, so don’t you worry.”
“Make sure you have enough saved up to get by until you’re done writing your next book. You can’t write anything if you’re homeless.”
“I’m aware,” Juho said, fully aware of what Coin was talking about.
Seeing the young author calm and unfazed, Jenkins interjected in a hurry, “Hold on! That’s important information! Do you guys even have a way of confirming any of this? Where are you guys investing!? Stock, perhaps? In that case, I’d be much obliged if you shared some information about them.”
“I’m not investing in anything. I got nothing to tell you.”
“You’re up to something shady, aren’t you?”
“You have a very active imagination, Mr. Jenkins.”
At that, Jenkins pulled back, narrowing his eyes and glaring up at the ceiling.
‘What’s he thinking now?’ Juho thought to himself, tossing the ball into the air just like Jenkins had done.
“Do you donate?”
At that moment, Juho dropped the ball, staring at it as it rolled on the floor.
“You do, don’t you!?” Jenkins asked with an unpleasant smile.
Standing awkwardly, Juho replied, “I don’t know.”
“Now, I get it.”
In the end, Juho sighed, realizing that the director had discovered what he did with his money. Meanwhile, Jenkins had his chin raised up high with confidence. However, it wasn’t long before that confident look turned into a puzzled one.
“That is admirable! Why didn’t I know about it?” Jenkins asked.
“Because I didn’t tell anyone about it.”
“Why not? What is there to hide?”
“It’s just never been brought up. Until today.”
“No, no. That’s not what I’m talking about. A celebrity like you HAS to be open about this so that other people can join in.”
That was very different from telling friends or acquaintances, however, and with an ambivalent look on his face, Juho replied, “I don’t wanna make a scene.”
“Even after doing something so admirable?”
“I’m just not looking for compliments. Anyway, it’s just something I decided for myself,” Juho said, picking up the baseball from the floor and putting it back where it had been originally. Meanwhile, Jenkins watched the young author.
“And how much longer do you think it’ll stay a secret?”
“What? Are you gonna go around telling people?”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just… You’re impossible to read.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Mr. Jenkins.”
Having been visiting the young author on a nearly daily basis, Jenkins giggled and said, “I just couldn’t resist! I was so curious about what kind of mind games you two were playing!”
“Is that why you’ve been visiting me almost every day?” Juho asked Jenkins, glancing over at Coin.
“Well, I know what I’m doing for the next month,” the director said, referring to Coin’s new book.
At which point, feeling liberated, Juho asked, “So, does that mean my book fell out of favor with you?”
That time, Jenkins looked toward Coin while waving his finger from side to side. “Oh, no, no. This is simply a matter of when the books came out. Coin’s came out later.”
“So what? You don’t think I want something from you, do you? If you do, you’re making a big mistake.”
Despite Coin’s seemingly threatening remark, Jenkins didn’t stop talking.
“If both books had come out at the same time, which book do you think I’d have held on to longer?”
“Who gives? Whichever one it is, it’s gotta be better than that third-class movie of yours.”
“OK, now, you just sound crazy. My movie? Third-class? That’s impossible!” Jenkins said. Then, he sprung up from the bed and shouted, “If you’d really thought my movie had done the original a disservice, you wouldn’t have sat there and not done anything about it. Oh, no. You’d have called and confronted me as soon as you watched the movie. In other words, I would have been the one hanging up on YOU!”
“It was trash. I’d rather eat rotten cabbage.”
Neither Jenkins nor Coin was letting up. The bickering went on until Juho went downstairs to get a cup of water and saw Susan out. Catching his breath, Jenkins said, “You know what? I admit. How long I take reading the same book doesn’t matter, whether a month or three months.”
Juho nodded. At which point, Juho saw a corner Jenkins’ mouth turn up.
“You two are about to compete for a literary award.”
“A literary award?” Juho asked, and the smile on the director’s face grew even bigger.
“That’s right. You’ll probably both end up getting nominated for the Nebula award this year. It’s always been one or the other up to this point, but this year, I can just feel it happening. Besides, there’s no way that you two WON’T get nominated, don’t you think?” Jenkins said, his eyes sparkling with interest. Juho scratched his head awkwardly. None of that felt real because the two authors had already reached a consensus. It had been a draw. Yet, now, there was suddenly a literary award involved.
“What’s with your faces? It’s been a hot topic among your readers,” Jenkins said, rubbing his hands together and adding, “This is a sight to behold. Coin vs. Yun Woo. The match of the century.”
Without saying a word, Juho looked toward Coin, who murmured, “I thought we already…”
“… Talked about this.”
“What?” Jenkins asked, looking at the two authors in turn. Then, as if he caught on to the situation, he rubbed his chin while looking at them with slight disdain.
“What good is it that you two agree on who the winner is? Do you two have any idea how many readers you have across the globe? The winner is whoever gets the award. What could be more convincing than that?”
“Whatever happened to film festivals?” Coin asked, mocking the director.
Putting his hand in his pockets, Jenkins said, “Don’t play coy with me now. You swept every major literary award out there yourself. Think about it. How can you not wanna win when the award is sitting right in front of your eyes? Well? What do you think?”
Jenkins darted back and forth between the two authors with a look of anticipation. Coin, meanwhile, remained unfazed.
“I guess that is true.”
“I thought so. You’re an honest man, Mr. Woo.”
Then, after looking intently at the director for a brief moment, Juho said, “Remind me of why you’re here?”
“What kind of question is that? I thought we were over this.”
“If the winner gets determined at the award ceremony, then you could have gone there instead. Why come here? What’s there to see?”
Jenkins remained silent for a good while. Then, tilting his head, he replied, “I guess I knew where the real match was?”
“Well, whoever ends up being the winner, it’s already been decided. I hate to break it to you, Mr. Jenkins, but you’re a tad too late,” Juho said.
“But I’m sure it won’t stay between you two. So? What happened? Who lost?”
“Enough talk. You owe me four hundred dollars,” Coin said.
“You meant that?!”
‘The award ceremony, huh,” Juho thought to himself, looking out the window at the Sun.
—
“They’re getting nominated,” Nabi said, looking at the nominees for the Nebula Award, who had been decided a month before. In that list, were Coin and Yun Woo. Although they were both preliminary nominees at the moment, everyone knew that it was highly unlikely that either of the authors would be eliminated. The two were practically the final nominees, competing for the same award in the end. Both fans and people in the industry alike, everyone was already starting to place their bets.
“I vote Yun Woo.”
“But he’s up against Kelley Coin.”
Nabi looked at her coworkers, who were clearly talking about the award. To be frank, Nabi thought that the young author had nothing to lose even if he were to lose. After all, the opponent was none other than Kelley Coin. Their rivalry wasn’t something that had been formed overnight. Readers had been keeping their eyes on the two authors’ mysterious friendship and rivalry. ‘This is a chance,’ Nabi thought to herself while looking at the document on the screen of her laptop. After doing some calculations, she picked up her phone in order to ask the person directly involved in the competition.
“Yes, Mr. Woo. Are you free today by any chance?”
