Chapter 2

I am a writer 002

Chapter 2

Canada.

After being discharged, I spent a night with a woman I met through a blind date, and it turned out she was pregnant.

In the end, we opted for a hasty marriage, and as a failed writer, I asked my senior Sung-yong if he could become an editor if he had nothing else to do.

He said I seemed to be good at coming up with themes and settings, which could be helpful to writers.

And I did feel proud of my abilities as an editor.

After all, all the writers I handled became successful.

Thanks to that, when my daughter Su-jung was about to start elementary school, I sent her to study abroad in Canada with her mother.

After sending my wife and daughter to Canada, I lived as a "goose father."

Since the job of an editor often required working day and night, I think the last time I saw them was three years ago.

At that time, she was in elementary school, and now she's in middle school, so she must have grown a lot.

"I really want to see them."

I checked the address I had written on my smartphone and headed to the house where my daughter and wife were living, speaking broken English.

We had been told that the in-laws would not provide any support after helping us find a house, so we bought a new apartment in my wife's name and used the money from selling it to rent a house.

I arrived in front of it.

I decided to keep my visit a secret.

I was curious about how they would react to seeing me, their long-lost husband and father.

Naturally, I thought my daughter Su-jung would run up to me with a joyful face to give me a hug.

Just like when she used to hug me after I had worked all night and came home, which would wash away all my fatigue.

That's when it happened.

The door to the house opened.

A girl who looked like a middle school student came out.

It was definitely Su-jung.

Su-jung came out with a bright smile, accompanied by her mother.

'She must have been getting along well with her mother.'

Just as I was about to approach, curious about how my long-lost daughter would react to seeing me,

Su-jung turned around and slowly came out, greeting brightly.

"I'm going to school, Mom, Dad!"

"Come back, Crystal."

I froze in my tracks.

What did Su-jung just say?

If my ears weren't deceiving me, she said "Dad."

For a moment, all my thoughts stopped.

With Dad right here, who on earth did she call "Dad"?

While I was in shock, Su-jung left in the opposite direction, presumably to go to school.

As I watched her leave, my gaze shifted to the left.

There, my wife and a tall, burly American were looking at each other affectionately, like a newly married couple.

"Shall we go inside and do some morning exercises?"

"Sure, Michael."

The burly American carried my wife like a princess and went inside.

"What the...?"

I showed a look of confusion.

I already knew the situation but had been pretending not to.

It was wrong.

I should have gone there immediately to correct the mistake, but I fled from the absurd reality.

To escape reality, I sought out soju.

The shock was too great to bear with a clear head.

But this soju isn't sold in convenience stores.

When I asked where the soju was, they said I had to go to a liquor store.

I followed the directions given by the convenience store clerk.

At the liquor store, I bought two bottles of soju for $5 each.

In Korea, it would cost less than 2,000 won, but here it was so expensive.

But the price didn't matter.

I just needed something to calm my mind.

I paid $10 for two bottles of soju and drank near the house where my wife and daughter were staying.

I quickly finished the two bottles of soju.

"Ah."

I wiped the soju that had trickled down the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.

With the alcohol in my system, I felt fearless.

I headed straight to the house where my wife and the American had gone.

Before going to the door, I looked inside through the window.

There, my wife and the American were smoking cigarettes, the smoke filling the room.

"When did that woman start smoking?!"

She had never touched a cigarette when we lived together.

But as they smoked, their expressions were strange.

Could they be on drugs?

It looked that way no matter how I looked at it.

If that was the case, I couldn't leave my daughter Su-jung with her.

The idea of my only daughter growing up with drug addicts was unbearable.

I went to the door and pressed the doorbell.

Ding-dong!

I heard someone ask in English who it was.

Ignoring it, I pressed the doorbell again.

Ding-dong!

No one came out even after the second ring.

I pressed it a third time.

Ding-dong!

Still no one came out.

They must be putting on some clothes.

But I didn't want to wait.

It was embarrassing for her to put on clothes after rolling around with another man.

What a shameless woman.

After pressing the doorbell three times and no one came out, I started pounding on the door.

Bang, bang, bang!

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Ignoring her, I pounded on the door again.

Bang, bang, bang!

Finally, the door opened.

Click.

My wife opened the door with an annoyed voice. When she saw me, her annoyance turned to surprise.

"Damn, who the hell... Huh! Honey?!"

My wife was startled to see me.

Looking at her, I couldn't help but laugh.

Was it the alcohol, or was I laughing out of anger?

I pointed to the inside of the house with my finger and smiled.

"Honey? You're joking. Your honey is in there, isn't he?"

The burly American, who I had seen earlier, came out wearing a bathrobe.

My wife glanced back and then looked at me again.

"Honey, that's... "

She seemed to be trying to make an excuse.

Actually, I might have forgiven her for cheating.

But not for drugs.

I couldn't let my beloved only daughter Su-jung grow up with drug addicts.

I firmly cut off her excuse.

"Enough, let's get a divorce. And I'm taking Su-jung with me."

When I said I was taking Su-jung, my wife's expression suddenly changed.

"What, why are you taking Su-jung?"

My wife looked at me as if I was the one who was unreasonable.

Who was supposed to be the one feeling unreasonable, and why was she making that face?

"What? I worked hard to send her to study abroad in Canada and provided for her life. If I don't take her, who will? Can you raise Su-jung?"

Suddenly, my wife countered.

"Can you?"

"What?"

"This house was bought with the money from selling the house your father-in-law bought us. You barely cover the rent, and after paying the monthly rent, you have almost nothing left."

Pittance.

I had worked overtime and drank for over ten years to earn that pittance.

My wife was comparing my efforts to raise her and Su-jung to a pittance.

It was really despicable.

I pointed at the drug addict American again.

"Is that so? Then did you get all the money for food, clothes, and other expenses from that drug addict in there?"

"Michael is not a drug addict!"

In this situation, my wife was defending the burly American, Michael, instead of begging on her knees.

I was furious.

"Shut up! I saw everything through the window. You sent her abroad to study, but she's doing drugs. You're not fit to be a mother."

"What about you? Besides, she's not even your daughter."

When I said she wasn't fit to be a mother, she made a shocking statement.

Not my daughter?

I looked at her in disbelief.

"What, what are you talking about?"

"Think about it. You used contraception properly, so how could that child be yours?"

That was strange.

I clearly used contraception on the night I met my wife through a blind date.

What could I do?

She said it was my daughter, so I assumed there was a problem with the contraception.

But now she says it's not my daughter?

I argued, saying it was absurd.

"Then why did you say it was my daughter back then?"

"Did you think you'd end up as a pot-bellied uncle? Back then, you were quite handsome. Better than Young-gon."

Young-gon.

She must be talking about Oh Young-gon.

After we started dating, my wife said she had a stalker chasing her, and I dealt with that thug.

I confirmed if it was the same person.

"Young-gon? The stalker Oh Young-gon who chased you?"

"Oh, you remember that?"

A sense of unease washed over me.

"Could it be that Su-jung is his child?"

"Yes, that's why you don't have the right to be her father. So, just go."

If Su-jung was Oh Young-gon's child...

My mind went blank.

Was this what it felt like to lose one's mind?

My head felt empty, and I could only laugh.

"Ha, hahaha!"

Tears streamed down my face as I laughed, my head thrown back.

Questions flooded my mind, questions I asked myself.

'Why did I give up on my dream of being a writer? Why did I live as a subordinate for 15 years?'

The 15 years I spent giving up everything because of Su-jung became meaningless.

Meaninglessness led to despair, and despair brought me back to my senses.

Laughing like a madman, my eyes snapped open.

I clenched my right hand and swung it at my wife.

"You crazy bitch!"

Smack!

"Ah!"

My wife fell to the side with a slap.

Seeing this, Michael charged at me like a bull.

"You bastard, what are you doing?!"

Punch!

I pushed him away with my shoulder, using my size to my advantage.

Thanks to that, I fell backward.

Getting up, I felt the pain but was more focused on not forgiving those bastards.

"Ugh! You American bastard!"

A physical fight broke out between the American and me.

We swung our fists at each other.

Then, suddenly,

Punch!

"Ugh!"

I was hit on the back of my head with something blunt.

The shock was so great that I fell forward.

As I fell, a burning sensation, probably blood, gushed from the back of my head.

The blood from the back of my head obscured my vision.

My vision turned red and slowly narrowed, and the sounds around me grew faint.

The sounds of the two bastards panicking over my fallen body.

"What, what do we do?"

"Let's bury him!"

I closed my eyes.

As I closed my eyes, I thought,

'Did I give up on being a writer for this? What was the reason for living as a subordinate for 15 years?'

At that moment, I remembered what writer Jang Baek said the last time we met.

"Actually, I'm a fan of writer Lee Jun-kyung, so I'm disappointed I can't read your works."

'Writer Lee Jun-kyung.'

If I could go back, I would want to be a writer, not a subordinate editor.

Just as I was feeling regret for my short and uneventful life,

I heard a male voice, not the voices of the two bastards, which were fading away.

"Article 12: Respect for the author's personality rights. 'The subordinate' must respect 'the superior's' personality rights, correctly indicate the author's name, and obtain 'the superior's' consent for any necessary changes to the work."

This was clearly a clause from a contract between a writer and a publisher, specifically from the contract of the Blue Forest Publishing Company.

Hearing this, I was startled and shouted.

"What, who's reciting contract terms here?!"

Then I opened my eyes.

I saw the surprised faces of my senior Sung-yong and the trashy Yang Section Chief from 15 years ago.

That's right.

When I opened my eyes, I was back 15 years.

Back to the time when I was a 'superior' for the first and last time in my life.

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