Became an American Retro Novelist - Chapter 143



Only Noblemtl

143.

I wasn’t originally a particularly extroverted person.

Even with Samantha and Jack, who were fellow teachers in my previous life, I only had a moderately close and somewhat superficial relationship.

Then, back in the 1980s, I made friends with whom I could truly share my feelings and care for one another, but even after that, I wasn’t the type to treat anyone else particularly kindly.

‘It was Malcolm, but we never got very close.’

Even though you expressed your interest, I was a little reluctant every time.

Having a long career as a teacher and a successful writer, I was used to dealing with people in a businesslike manner, but I was never a ‘people person’ like Alexa.

That is why there was one general principle of human relations that one had to think for oneself.

Absolutely, no matter what happens.

I don’t get involved with people who talk more than me.

Of course, that premise doesn’t apply unconditionally, as there are cases like Alexa where the line is kept to an appropriate level, but I have to say that I want to keep my distance from styles like Malcolm because of my personality.

‘When a friend who has more energy than me keeps chattering next to me, I feel somehow discouraged.’

So, if possible, I try not to get involved with those people first.

Even in college, where new relationships began, that thought didn’t change, so I vowed to myself that I would definitely distance myself from that friend who, as soon as he entered the classroom, raised his hand and said, “About T, who saw it?”

······It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, but I was scared because I felt ‘real madness’ for some reason.

“······.”

“······.”

There was an awkward silence as everyone waited, until one young white man raised his hand.

“me.”

“Would you like to be my friend?”

“good.”

Wow, what magic just happened.

You become friends so easily? Are you Moon Chang here?

Everyone was keeping their mouths shut, but the two people sitting next to each other started talking, as if they somehow got on the same frequency.

“What did you think of ‘About T: Coach’, which started serialization today?”

“That’s interesting. I think it’s something that female students would really like.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because it shows Tony’s fatherly love and appeals to him as a good husband. From an evolutionary psychology perspective, women tend to trust a man who can be a good father to their child.”

“Wow, that’s a great analysis.”

“for a moment······.”

Just then, the female student behind me stood up.

“I think that going too far into a psychological approach only confines our thinking to a one-dimensional level.”

“This is just an example. If you have any opinions, please let me know.”

“I’m saying this because I feel like Tony hasn’t even shown anything yet by coaching an elementary school football club, and I’m worried that he’s going too far in that direction.”

“But it would be cool if they showed us how to treat elementary school kids well.”

Another female student said.

······It was the 80s, too. Most people talked about marriage and children in a very everyday way.

‘In the future, that kind of atmosphere will decrease a lot.’

I listened to the story with my shoulders hunched as much as possible.

Then a black male student raised his hand.

“Hey guys. I have a question.”

“What is your name?”

“Xavier Saxton.”

“Yes, Xavier. What’s your question?”

“What is ‘About T’? It’s a novel I haven’t read.”

“Oh, it’s a teenage romance serialized in the newspaper. It’s written by a writer named ‘SEEN.’”

“‘SEEN’? I don’t know who you are, but judging from what you’re saying, you’re probably a genre writer. Is it worth talking about in such a heated manner?”

‘I’ll definitely have to deal with that guy later.’

Regardless of the means and methods.

I thought that half-jokingly.

But it wasn’t an incomprehensible behavior.

Not all the kids who came to Stanford were from California, and from that perspective, there were probably more kids who didn’t know the name ‘SEEN’.

Perhaps the three people who initially talked about ‘About T’ were special cases.

In this era, as well as in the future, there have always been many groups that tried to clearly draw the line between pure literature and genre literature and to belittle genre literature.

They said that pure literature was like the sheriff who protected America’s values, while genre literature was like the outlaws who only chased money.

‘Well, you could think of it that way. Maybe I should organize the poisoning trick I thought of for a mystery novel last time.’

I took out a pen and started writing random words on my notebook as I continued to listen to the story.

Just then, someone raised a hand.

“I have something to say.”

“Tell me your name.”

“Rebecca Wong.”

I heard a new voice and glanced over to see that it was an Asian female student like me. When I first came in, I thought I was the only Asian, but it seemed like another person had come in.

“I didn’t think the first novel I wrote after entering Stanford Creative Writing was a genre novel serialized in a newspaper. Is there anyone here who would like to talk about William Faulkner or Mark Twain? Who on earth is ‘God’ and why is he mentioned first?”

‘That’s it.’

I had that thought for a moment, but I still kept my mouth shut.

What should I say, this has turned into an unexpectedly difficult situation.

Some people know ‘SEEN’ and some don’t.

In the midst of all this, it feels a bit odd to reveal ‘I’m a rookie!’ now.

I had already revealed my identity during the college entrance exam and graduation, so I thought I would just go on and say, “I am ‘SEEN’” at university, but from the very beginning, a pretty embarrassing event unfolded for me.

And luckily, there was a female student who defended ‘God’.

“The most successful writer in California right now.”

“In terms of genre?”

“Right. But you know, that distinction is really meaningless.”

That was true. There have been many writers who have walked a fine line between genre and purity, such as Isaac Asimov, Edgar Allan Poe, and Robert A. Heinlein. In the past, writers often wrote serialized works for the sake of money and were recognized posthumously.

‘Lolita is also a genre novel in a way.’

It feels like a ridiculous novel.

And I think there is one big reason for that trend······.

Anyway, since the story was still going on, I thought it would be better to stop thinking and just listen to what the kids were saying.

“Well, maybe I was a bit narrow-minded?”

The schoolgirl nodded in satisfaction as Rebecca agreed.

“What’s your name?”

“Jesse Morgan.”

“Nice to meet you, Jessie. And thanks for throwing stones at my narrow-mindedness.”

“Haha, no.”

“······Brilliant.”

Just then, the boy who had come in earlier and said, ‘About T, anyone who saw it? Raise your hand,’ stood up and clapped his hands. The pronunciation of his words, ‘Excellent,’ was very crisp.

And I felt like I couldn’t keep up with this weird excitement that was spreading among Stanford freshmen.

“Now that it’s come to this, why don’t you all introduce yourselves!”

Wow, that guy. Now he’s climbed up onto the desk.

Dead Poets Society? Oh Captain Ma Captain?

“My name is John Smith! I’m from New York! My favorite novel is Dune! One day, I dream of meeting the author, Frank Herbert, in person!”

······By the way, Mr. Frank Herbert died two years later. of pancreatic cancer.

“Okay! Rebecca Wong! Who is your favorite author?”

John Smith, a boy who seems to have a slightly literary and dramatic side to his father, Doofy Kingston.

How is his name John Smith? It’s the height of ordinary, yet his personality is like that.

And Rebecca responded with disgust at John’s actions of pointing at her.

“Uh, um. Sorry. I’ll tell you later when I have the chance······.”

“Then who else?! Yeah, over there! The guy sitting alone in the back there!”

Who? Me?

“Yeah! You! Who is your favorite author?”

“······Ah, the professor is here.”

Luckily, the timing was just right.

***

The orientation for creative writing was very simple, but very long.

The reason was simple: the school was so large that it covered 33 square kilometers.

Most students spent an entire semester just adjusting to school, so they had to spend the first semester of their freshman year following the curriculum provided by the school without any elective courses.

‘If it were the future, anything would be possible with just a smartphone.’

Just now, they even handed out a ‘map’.

The locations where each class was held in the first year were approximately within a five-kilometer radius. Most classes were held in the College of Arts and Sciences building, which was not far from the main quad, the center of the school, and students only went a little further to take non-major classes.

“Usually, students ride bicycles a lot on campus. If you contact the school administration office, you can purchase a bicycle at a price you want, so please refer to that, and uh······.”

The assistant professor stopped for a moment while continuing his explanation.

She looked to be in her early thirties, and after a while she continued explaining.

‘Luckily I bought a car.’

A bicycle? Exercise is something you do to survive, not something you do on purpose.

“Most of the amenities are located at the Panama Mall on the right side of the map. If you look closely, you’ll see a post office and a bookstore right next to it. Do you have any questions?”

“Where do you usually eat?”

John Smith said loudly.

“That’s a good question. If you look, there’s a student cafeteria nearby······.”

The explanation continued.

The assistant professor calmly explained how we would live from now on. While the sound of freshmen writing with their pens could be heard here and there, I also wrote down and organized the information that seemed necessary.

After the orientation that lasted nearly an hour, everyone was released.

“······.”

“······.”

“Ahem.”

Until just before orientation, everyone was talking about the ‘About T’ series, but in the meantime, things had calmed down and there was only an awkward atmosphere of checking each other’s mood.

In the midst of all this, I woke up first.

‘It’s difficult to talk if the same story comes up again.’

At least I didn’t want to get involved in a situation where ‘SEEN’ was the topic of the conversation.

Anyway, it won’t be long before everyone naturally comes to know that I am a god, so if I add a word or two to ‘SEEN’s’ work here now, wouldn’t it lead to a very difficult situation later on?

After leaving the orientation hall, I drove around the neighborhood checking the map and had dinner at a nearby student cafeteria. I ordered a burger, which seemed like the safest thing to order, and it tasted okay, so I figured I wouldn’t have any trouble with food while attending this school.

After that, I drove back to the dormitory.

A dormitory located about 3 kilometers from the College of Arts and Sciences building.

I quickly got there, passing the bicycles running on the side of the road, and took out one of the trunk bags I had loaded in advance. It was stuff my mother had brought over from home, stuff she had been packing for me.

‘If we can just confirm one more thing, I think there won’t be any problems going to school.’

It was my roommate.

Stanford used a double room. It was a simple structure with two beds, two desks, and two closets. This meant that, whether I liked it or not, I had to live with a roommate for a year.

I suddenly remembered something from my past life.

‘I don’t quite remember the name.’

The first roommate I had when I entered Cal State University was a really ‘no-shower’ type of person, and I suffered greatly from the smell.

On the other hand, my roommate in my second year was incredibly clean-cut. She vacuumed three times a day and howled like a detective over a single hair.

‘But we all became close friends later on.’

Should I say that we started to hate each other?

But in the end, I didn’t adapt to those personal characteristics I mentioned earlier. I just endured them. And I must have had some parts that were hard for them to endure. They just didn’t tell me, just like I did.

So from the beginning, I thought it would be good if someone with a compatible personality came.

‘I wish there was someone who was quiet and respected my privacy.’

With that thought in my mind, I opened the door to room 303, where I was to move in, and I became frozen like a stone.

Rolled the dice and got a fumble. This is the low point of TRPGs.

“oh!”

A high-tension white boy looking back at me.

He must be almost 190cm tall. He’s close to 180cm tall, so I have to look up at him.

It was John Smith.

“Hello! I’m the friend you met in the classroom earlier!”

“Okay, hello. My name is Shin. Shin Han.”

“Oh, my God! Nice to meet you. I’m John Smith.”

John, who was unpacking, approached me and extended his hand. I shook his hand briefly.

“We’re getting assigned rooms with freshmen from the same department. That’s a good start. Have you read ‘About T’ by any chance?”

Okay, I read it.

I wrote about it there too.

‘I think we’ll be talking about this for a while.’

Wouldn’t it be better to tell this guy in advance?

No, no. If I did that, I thought that the rare high-tension nerd in this dorm would start screaming. For now, let’s check out the atmosphere to see what it would be like to live together in the future.

With that thought in mind, I lightly avoided the question and asked back.

“If you’re from New York, when did you read ‘About T’?”

“Oh, I came here about a month ago. And I read a lot of novels that were only published in this area, and I fell in love with the novel by the author of ‘SEEN.’ I especially enjoyed ‘Mother.’ What did you think of it?”

“······Well, I guess it was okay.”

“Right! Damn, I’ve never screamed while reading a novel in a hotel room in my life! I’m glad I went to Stanford! I got to discover such great novels and authors. Hehehe.”

“Oh, um. I see.”

“Why are you blushing?”

“It’s a family history.”

By the way.

This guy, if he’s been living in California for about a month, is he living pretty well off?

‘The hotel must have been quite expensive.’

As I was thinking that, the door opened again.

“Excuse me, can I ask you something?”

A black boy wearing a school jumper was standing outside the door.

“Yes! Ask!”

“Moon Chang and freshmen Shin Han and John Smith. Are you sure?”

“Yes! That’s right!”

“I’m Jeffrey Bergman, a third-year student at Moonchang. Nice to meet you. Um, what’s the big deal? I’m thinking about having a small welcome party for the freshmen later tonight. I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

“Of course I will go!”

“······I had a hard time sleeping last night, so I’m going to rest.”

When John and I gave conflicting answers, Jeffrey looked at me with a furrowed brow.

“Then that would be difficult. Actually, I’m throwing this party today because of you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. The rumor spread that ‘SEEN’ was coming to our school.”

“SEEN?”

John Smith, who was standing next to him, heard those words and his eyes lit up.

I wanted to go home.

End

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