The Great Storyteller

Translator: – – Editor: – –

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

The black boy strode into the room. From the color of his name tag, it was apparent that he was a second year.

While everyone else was giving the upperclassman a blank stare, Juho remembered who he was. Coming to think of it, there had been a black student in his high school. They had never talked, but Juho remembered his looks and his brusque impression.

“Hello,” Juho said in midst of the silence. As he found his seat, the upperclassman looked at him. The rings arounds his eyes were paler.

“Hey.”

“You must be part of the Literature Club too.”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“I’m Juho Woo. Nice to meet you.”

It was a strange sight. He spoke fluent Korean, contrary to his looks. At Juho’s greeting, the rest snapped out of it and greeted the new guest.

“Baron Kim. Second year. You don’t have to be so tense.”

Baron looked stern. It was very unusual to be around a black upperclassman in Korea. The others were feeling like they were walking on eggshells, all except for Juho.

“Would you mind if I call you Baron?”

“If you want.”

Encouraged by Juho’s boldness, Seo Kwang began to ask Baron questions, indirectly, of course, “You and I have the same last name.”

“My father is Korean. I was born here.”

Baron didn’t seem to be bothered, but he didn’t seem friendly either. The silence returned. As if he were used to it, Baron took out a book from his bag.

It was the Literature Club after all. The members seemed to possess some level of interest in books. Juho looked intently at the book in Baron’s hand. Seeing how fidgety Seo Kwang was getting, it was getting obvious what book it was. Baron’s hand was clearly visible wrapped around the white book cover.

Fwoosh!

It was Mr. Moon, and that was the signal that the silence had come to an end.

“Mr. Moon!”

“Yea, yea! It’s me.”

Although the students welcomed him, Mr. Moon remained calm.

“Everyone’s here.”

“Is there only five of us in the club?”

“Makes roll call that much easier.”

Had there been no promotion or was that one of the lazy clubs? How many high school students liked books? There were only five people in that school who would join a literature club, including Juho.

Mr. Moon put down the pile of books in his hand and sat across from Baron. Then, he put everything he brought onto the table. At a glance, it was apparent what they were.

“I’m Song Hak Moon, the homeroom teacher for the Literature Club. Let’s have some fun.”

Fun… He seemed oddly excited. His attitude was different from the one he showed in class. It hadn’t been that long since Juho met him, but at the moment, he was livelier than ever.

“You seem much happier than you are in class,” said Seo Kwang.

Juho wasn’t the only person who thought Mr. Moon was different from the usual. Everyone looked at him, wondering what he was so excited about.

Mr. Moon spoke with a big smile. It was an innocent smile that you wouldn’t normally see in a teacher, “Of course! Teaching you guys is less fun than counting grains of sand in a desert. You don’t know the misery I go through every Sunday night do you? Dreading coming here.”

“Um…”

Of course they wouldn’t. He was the first teacher who had said such a thing so confidently. How did one react in that situation? Mr. Moon’s face was too vivid to move on with silly jokes.

Seo Kwang had a big smile on his face. It was sort of unexpected, but once he realized that the teacher was no different from him, he was able to identify with Mr. Moon.

“Haha!” Seo Kwang laughed out loud now.

“If I want to make a living, I have to be here. Life is too short to be living with such pain, but that doesn’t make teaching any more fun. That’s why I looked around the school to find something fun.”

“And that was the Literature Club?” asked Juho. This was one strange teacher.

“A compilation, to be exact. I found it at the school library.”

The books he had brought were compilations. ‘How curious,’ Juho didn’t know that he could find things like that at the school library.

“This, is the tradition of the Literature Club. All of the succeeding compilations are being kept at the school library. Thirty-four volumes in total. What we’re going to be working on is the thirty-fifth compilation.

“We’re making a compilation?” Sun Hwa asked.

The compilation books had varying titles and thickness. The content was probably different as well. It looked technical and difficult.

“It’s not all that hard. You’re only compiling the process.”

“So, are we writing something for the compilation?” Seo Kwang asked, expecting it to be the club’s primary activity, but Mr. Moon cringed.

“You’re not writing to put it into something. That’s not fun.”

“Then, what is it?”

“You can’t get the order mixed up. Compilations aren’t about the objective. They’re about the process. You’re leaving a trace behind.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Seo Kwang answered after raising his hand.

After some more thought, Mr. Moon started again, “Then, forget it.”

“Pardon?”

It made no sense.

“You don’t have to understand. Anyhow, we, as a Literature Club, will be doing activities that fit the club’s name. That should be enough.”

He definitely had no talent for teaching. This had been what Mr. Moon had been wanting to say all along, ‘The compilation will complete itself as we write along. In other words, the compilation is memory.’

“Then, what’s an activity that fits the name of our club?”

“Writing, of course. By the way, make sure you bring your pens and notebooks from now on.”

“Yes, sir…” Everyone replied ambiguously.

The questions stopped once they realized that there wasn’t going to be a decent answer no matter how substantial the questions were. Mr. Moon seemed to be comforted by the fact that there were no more question being asked. It was getting tiresome to think about whether or not a teacher could behave in such a way. Besides, a teacher like Mr. Moon wasn’t that bad, surprisingly.

As Mr. Moon was about to wrap up his orientation, he randomly pointed at Baron.

“I almost forgot. There’s a person who hates writing among our members. I don’t like to force people to do things, so I let him in. I won’t leave him to be lazy, so don’t complain too much. Speaking of which, is there anybody else in this group who hates writing? Does anybody have the guts to say that after joining a literature club? Is there anyone who’s twisted on the inside? Now would be the time to speak up. I’ll be glad to let you have the floor.”

Despite the message, his tone was pleasant. Thanks to Mr. Moon, the situation was delayed.

Sun Hwa thought to herself,

‘You refuse to write in a literature club? What was the teacher thinking letting somebody like that into the club? Why is that upperclassman here anyway?’

“Then, what’s Baron going to be doing?” Juho asked Mr.Moon.

An answer came from behind him, “I’m going to be drawing.”

Juho thought to himself,

‘Drawing. I guess that’s kind of romantic. I was expecting something like “I’m going to be on my study guide.”‘

He looked at Baron and asked again, “How come?”

“Because I want to.”

By now, everyone knew better than asking questions like that. Baron didn’t feel like explaining himself, even if it meant giving a ridiculous answer.

Juho gladly left him be.

“Then, you must be the only art club member in here.”

“…take it as you will.”

Baron looked at Juho with annoyance. Not just Baron, but everyone else.

“So, no one else is refusing to write?” Mr. Moon confirmed again, and obviously, the result remained the same.

Clap!

He shifted the mood with his clap and went straight into teaching.

“Now, I’ll be teaching you the basics of writing. Have you heard of the phrase ‘damoon-dadok-dasangryang?’”

“Um.”

“To put it another way, it means that in order to write well, one must listen a lot, read a lot, and think a lot,” Mr. Moon explained before anybody had the time to answer.

To listen a lot, read a lot and think a lot. That was the secret to writing well according to Ouyang Xiu of China. It came up often during interviews with authors, but it was often said by the authors to make themselves look better. It was rather idiotic.

“It’s very easy to write well.”

“How?”

“You just write a lot.”

“Egh.”

It was the sound of disappoint. Paying no attention, Mr. Moon carried on, “Do you know what the very first story is when somebody picks up a pen? It’s his personal story. A composition, at the end of the day, is a story from a person who writes to be read by another person. The closest person to you is yourself, so naturally, you end up writing about your personal story.”

Mr. Moon opened his palm. There was nothing on it.

“We have to write a lot. It’s the only way to get better. There’s a limit to sticking to your own story. What do you do when the inventory is low?”

“You borrow from another person.

Satisfied with Juho’s answer, Mr.Moon smiled.

“That’s right. You borrow things like an eraser or a pencil from your friend next to you all the time. So we have to borrow raw materials.”

“How do we do that?”

“You listen, you read, and you think. Start a conversation if that doesn’t cut it. Give them something to eat. Bug them if necessary. Pull it out of them.”

What does one write about? Sometime it’s found internally, other times externally. Let’s say that somebody stepped on a rock. There are some who simply kick it away and carry on, but there are some who listen to the person, their thoughts and feelings to create a story.”

“Let’s start with taking an interest in your surroundings. Speaking of which, who sticks out the most?”

“Who sticks ou…!”

“A person.”

All eyes were focused on one person. It had to be Baron. He had been the center of attention until a moment ago. Recognizing that attention again, he frowned. He already had an intimidating appearance, but he looked even scarier. Mr. Moon appeared to be happy that his lesson was flowing according to his thoughts and continued, “The minority is bound to stick out. As a homeroom teacher, I’ll give you a mission. There’s no time requirement. This is also a training to be a good writer.”

“Mission?”

Ignoring Sun Hwa’s dumbfounded murmur, Mr. Moon continued, “Get yourselves a composition from that strange upperclassman. It doesn’t matter what. The only condition is that Baron has to write and submit it in person.”

Juho was impressed. A person was bound to be on his toes if he tried to get something from another person. Thinking of ways to get Baron’s writing, one would naturally use their eyes and ears. In the process, the chance of growing closer to Baron increased. This entire time, Juho had been thinking that Mr. Moon had no talent in teaching. Yet, that was brilliant.

“Ha!?” Baron seemed dumbfounded.

“You may do what you wish now. You can look at your study guide if you want.”

After dropping the bomb, Mr. Moon leisurely made his way out of the science room.

“Come find me in the staffroom if anything comes up,” he added.

The students who were left behind looked at each other in agreement.

‘Let’s not say anything for now. Let’s do our own thing.’

The End.