Ch.30Chapter 30 – Her Origin (1)

If I were to look back on Yoo Seol-hwa’s childhood, I could say she lived a privileged life with nothing lacking.

As the granddaughter of a chaebol family, she received abundant love from her grandfather and could have anything she wanted.

Not only was she blessed with dazzling natural beauty, but through rigorous education from a young age, she possessed both literary and martial accomplishments, combining proper conduct and knowledge.

She was a genius with enough talent to sweep various national writing competitions and literary contests.

Though she was called a peony when sitting, a rose when standing, and a lily when walking, Seol-hwa was more commonly known as “the flower on the cliff” at school.

“…This writing is absolutely terrible. You have to read it countless times to understand the author’s intent, no different from a demonic scripture.”

There was only one thing that such a perfect person lacked.

Her personality.

It was in her nature to be unable to let go until she corrected what was wrong.

“There are too many commas making it hard to read, the line breaks are strange, and the author isn’t considering the information gap between reader and writer—they’re just telling a story only they understand.”

That was Yoo Seol-hwa’s first assessment after reading Han Do-hyeon’s novel, “Diamond Fist King,” the prequel version.

Her words contained not a single positive comment, almost like a reader leaving a 5,700-character comment explaining why they were dropping the story.

However,

“…But why is this so interesting?”

Han Do-hyeon’s novel had one thing different from others.

A beauty that transformed bleak, desperate reality into art—something not found in anyone else’s writing.

To be honest, it was not a mainstream novel, more like something a hipster would read. It was so chaotic that it required multiple readings, like an unrefined gemstone.

“No, that can’t be right. This work is completely far from what a proper novel should be.”

Seol-hwa shook her head vigorously while reading Han Do-hyeon’s writing. A strange novel that consistently did everything that “shouldn’t be done.”

– The protagonist Bi-wol’s story is incredibly bleak.

– How does the author know about reboiling flesh from corpses to eat, or knowledge about committing suicide with poisonous mushrooms?

– This novel ultimately ends with a gloomy conclusion.

– Why? Is this the author’s autobiographical novel?

She was underlining various parts with a red pen and making notes, listing all the disappointing aspects.

Writing style and atmosphere are like an author’s fingerprints, not easily changed.

Some writers excel at writing soft, fluffy marshmallow-like prose, while others craft words sharp as a well-honed blade.

“Miss Seol-hwa, what are your plans for dinner tonight?”

“…I have no plans.”

Seol-hwa responded indifferently to the white-haired butler who knocked and entered. Han Do-hyeon’s writing was so vivid that it caused acid reflux, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Like someone who had stayed up for several nights, she felt a metallic taste in her breath and the sensation of blood rushing backward through her body.

“Let me read it one more time. This is for analysis.”

That was the day Yoo Seol-hwa first suffered internal damage from reading Han Do-hyeon’s writing.

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What Yoo Seol-hwa liked about his writing was that he understood the desperately miserable reality.

Descriptions and settings that could only come from personal experience.

Things that might become barriers causing other readers to give up reading.

“…His name is Han Do-hyeon.”

Seol-hwa was a genius.

A special existence, similar to others but with slightly unusual aspects.

Therefore, she could understand Han Do-hyeon’s creative world better than anyone. Though not yet well-organized, his talent was tremendous enough that his strengths overwhelmed his weaknesses.

“Seeing that he hasn’t chosen a pen name, he probably hasn’t been writing for long.”

Yoo Seol-hwa looked at the words written in the right corner of the booklet.

XX Middle School, Year 1 Class 2, Han Do-hyeon.

A name that seemed familiar, not strange.

Seol-hwa was trying to picture what he looked like while mulling over the three-syllable name.

“Come to think of it, there was a handsome boy who was always sleeping during class.”

Perhaps it was during the sports festival where the entire class participated.

She suddenly remembered a boy who had reached out his hand to help her up when she fell while running and scraped her knee.

The fact that he looked at her with such sad eyes, unlike the greedy gazes of those who always wanted something from her or looked up to her because she was a chaebol’s granddaughter.

“I heard he had a bad reputation.”

Yoo Seol-hwa sighed deeply while thinking about Han Do-hyeon. She couldn’t tell which side was his true self.

Among the girls, he was known as a fox who relied on his good looks to flirt. She’d even heard about a girl who cried after being rejected by Han Do-hyeon.

“Could someone who writes such amazing work really have such a difficult personality?”

She thought it might be slander from a girl he had rejected. From what she occasionally heard, many students in the class schemed behind the scenes to win Han Do-hyeon’s attention.

Also, artists often have delicate emotional lines, making them somewhat twisted compared to ordinary people.

Even she, called a genius and prodigy in writing, would get angry and unable to cool down when she found flaws in others’ writing.

– He’s not trying to share his unpleasant experiences. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have made the protagonist the leader of the Heavenly Demon Divine Sect who saves others.

Seol-hwa slightly lowered the corners of her mouth while scanning her analysis of Bi-wol. Just by reading, she could roughly see what the author was thinking.

– He’s not writing for money, nor does he have a chosen people mentality of “my writing is different from others” without understanding the genre.

Writing had a relatively low barrier to entry, so many people started without proper professional awareness, like flies attracted to sweet food.

– This author is too negative in his thinking. It feels like he has no support pillar beside him.

Hug.

Before she knew it, Seol-hwa was hugging the booklet containing Do-hyeon’s novel as if it were a precious treasure.

Rolling around on her queen-sized bed, spacious enough for several people to lie down with room to spare, she suddenly had a thought.

“If I could write together with this boy, wouldn’t we create something amazing…?”

Co-authorship.

At that time, Yoo Seol-hwa didn’t know that writing was an act of clashing one’s ego against the page, often leading to fights and parts that neither could compromise on.

“I’m sure he’ll like it too!”

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After confidently thinking she would correct Han Do-hyeon’s writing and receive praise and envy, the first words she heard from him were:

“So what?”

That was definitely the sentence.

“W-what? Are you saying that to me?”

Seol-hwa couldn’t hide her embarrassment at the conversation going exactly opposite to her expectations.

She had never been so coldly rejected by anyone in her life.

“Yeah, who do you think you are to criticize someone else’s writing?”

A cold, icy voice and a gaze expressing displeasure. Anyone could feel the sensation of having unwisely disturbed a sleeping lion.

“I won gold at last year’s writing competition and grand prize at the national writing contest!”

That was the excuse she managed to come up with. At this rate, Han Do-hyeon’s talent would fade away.

But,

“So you learned that winning awards gives you the right to freely criticize others’ writing?”

“……”

“Just as every finger hurts when bitten, every work is precious to its author. Watch what you say.”

He was more stubborn than she expected. Someone who already had the proper attitude as a writer.

“Yes, thinking about it, you might be right…”

Faced with such an attitude, Seol-hwa had no choice but to nod and respect Han Do-hyeon’s opinion.

“Then, can you tell me why this protagonist needed to have such a past?”

It was something she had been wondering about.

Why adopt such a cruel setting?

He could have aimed for something more mainstream rather than using such a minor theme, which might have made him more popular.

The encouragement award could have become a gold award.

“This child is like a monster. Born with the karma of the Star of Heavenly Murder, he’s a character who cannot survive without killing.”

Han Do-hyeon calmly explained the setting of Bi-wol to her. Here, Seol-hwa should have realized something was wrong.

“So that’s why you wrote about a village suffering from famine in the first scene? The swarm of locusts filling the sky is the cause of everything?”

“That’s right. I think the Heavenly Demon is a character who punishes the heavens that cannot hear the wailing of the people. That’s why I made the sky dark.”

“Hmm… the direction is quite good.”

It’s a difficult direction for a mere middle school student to come up with. Connecting the material and the main thread of the story.

“Then, is it necessary to include content about committing suicide with poisonous mushrooms or reboiling dead human or animal corpses to eat? I find it too gloomy.”

“People will do anything when cornered.”

Seol-hwa continued to resolve her curiosities by asking Han Do-hyeon questions. She even took notes of his answers, wondering how he could write with such a color.

“Harsh environments transform even good people into taking extreme actions. But you probably wouldn’t know that.”

Pause. Seol-hwa’s hand froze as she realized this wasn’t something that should come from a middle schooler’s mouth.

“W-who says I don’t know?”

What should she do in this situation? It was something she hadn’t learned despite numerous early education programs.

“I know that much too! Despite appearances, I’ve received thorough successor training from a young age, so I’ve studied countless cases of how people change when they fall into despair…”

“…So in the end, you’ve never experienced it yourself.”

“……”

Han Do-hyeon slightly pulled down the collar he had raised, showing the marks on his neck.

His scars revealed what kind of life he had lived until now. They were red scars like a palette mixed with self-harm, domestic violence, and self-destructive behaviors.

“I just… thought you had the talent to write better, and I felt sorry that you keep writing negative stories. I’m sorry.”

Seeing that, Seol-hwa thought she should apologize. Anyone could see she had touched a painful wound.

“No need to apologize. Everyone makes mistakes.”

Rather, Han Do-hyeon’s calm expression and the way he casually raised his collar again bothered her.

“And I didn’t even know…”

It was all her oversight.

It was a mistake to think of him as just a somewhat handsome boy who wrote well.

“Hey, are you crying now? Stop it. Stop.”

“I-I’m sorry… waaah…”

“I-I just wanted to be friends with you…”

Originally, she had wanted to thank him for helping her up during the sports festival.

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That’s how the distance between her and Han Do-hyeon rapidly closed. Using a notebook to share their worldviews and settings, they gradually spent more time together.

Before they knew it, their interest in each other developed into romantic feelings, and after confessing, they became a couple who seemed to have a future full of happiness.

“Today I’ll make rolled eggs that Do-hyeon likes~!”

Seol-hwa was on her way back after stopping by the market in front of her house to buy ingredients for making side dishes that Han Do-hyeon liked.

Just as she exhaled with a refreshed and joyful feeling,

“Huh? Why is there a child over there…”

Her eyes rolled with a sensation of time stopping.

A summer scene where cicadas were chirping, hotter than any other day. A young child was standing on the crosswalk.

At the moment the traffic light changed from green to red.

Screech!!

The child ran and the car sped madly.

And Seol-hwa rushed in.

Thud.

The sound of reinforced glass cracking.

The smell of burning tires from suddenly applying the brakes.

The sensation of warm blood splattering on the black asphalt.

‘Ah, I haven’t told Do-hyeon happy birthday yet…’

She immediately couldn’t breathe.

Her whole body was burning with pain, but she couldn’t move even a finger.

In her darkening vision, there was a young child crying while looking at Yoo Seol-hwa.

At least I’m dying after saving someone.

I thought I had finally found someone precious.

Now that I could finally achieve my dream of becoming a writer together.

The ending that came to Seol-hwa, who had lived half her life looking only at Han Do-hyeon, was a traffic accident.

A misfortune called a hit-and-run where the perpetrator fled.

In that despair, she slowly closed her eyes.