Became an American Retro Novelist - Chapter 147



Only Noblemtl

147.

After my birthday, I turned nineteen.

And from that day on, packages addressed to me began arriving one after another at my Stanford dorm.

Starting with the scalp, to Jiwoo and his mother, to Julia and Simon.

Birthday gifts came from friends in Los Angeles. Dupi sent me a set of dioramas he had made himself, Jiwoo and his mother sent me a cute sweater and jeans, Julia sent me typewriter paper and ink, and finally Simon sent me a book I had been wanting to read and a new fountain pen.

I called each person to thank them and check in on them as the gifts arrived. Fortunately, they all seemed to be doing well. And in the process, I realized anew what it feels like to be connected even when you’re far away.

Then, that weekend, the most anticipated ‘gift’ arrived at Stanford.

“poet-!”

As the bus pulled away, Alexa, who had been hidden behind it, raised her arms and waved them loudly from the other side of the road. She looked around the empty road and ran across, reaching me in front of the Renault Alliance, waving her hand slightly.

Light red lips and eyeliner, long blonde hair, and a hint of powder.

Perhaps because it had been almost a month since we last met, Alexa seemed more energetic. In addition, as if to show that she had graduated from high school and entered society, makeup was now beginning to roll off her face.

“Alexa, how are you?”

“Yeah! Of course! How about you? Is college life fun?”

“If it weren’t for the assignments, how’s the modeling job going?”

“Modeling is okay! It’s fun and everyone treats me well! Are the assignments difficult?”

She was a head shorter than me, and she smiled brightly and talked nonstop. I watched her and sneakily checked out the atmosphere before hugging Alexa. Then, as if she had been waiting for me, she hugged me back, and we spent a moment reaffirming each other’s existence.

Alexa spoke while nestled in my arms.

“······I missed you.”

“me too.”

“Let’s have some real fun today. Okay?”

“That’s right. I haven’t been here for long, so I don’t know what’s around here.”

“Wouldn’t it be fun to learn about them one by one? Like ‘About T’.”

Alexa smiles as if anything is fine.

And we started dating in our new car.

At Alexa’s request to know what I was like, I took her for a drive around Stanford and showed her around. After looking around the Romanesque buildings set amidst the magnificent natural scenery for a while, Alexa said this with genuine admiration.

“People who studied in such great places later go on to make things like televisions.”

“······Not everyone is like that.”

“Then who writes works that will remain in history?”

“That would be the same. You could probably use it even if you don’t go to college.”

As we were talking as usual, I suddenly burst out laughing. The way she reacted as if she was amazed at the university seemed refreshing and cute.

Well, I guess it’s understandable to think that way since the college entrance rate isn’t that high these days.

Of course, the date didn’t end with just seeing the college.

A few days ago, we looked at the map I had prepared in the glove box and headed to a nearby shopping district. We stopped by a cafe and each ordered a cup of coffee.

And the story Alexa told me there, on the contrary, was a field I knew nothing about.

“I really studied a lot about how models naturally smile when taking pictures. You have to learn how to use muscles that you’re not normally conscious of, and it was hard at first because I couldn’t do it well. Oh, it seems like it’s harder for male models to smile. The structure of their jaws is different from that of women’s or something.”

“Huh. Is that so?”

It was quite an interesting story.

When I heard that, I couldn’t help but chuckle, and Alexa burst out laughing.

“Poohahaha! This is so awkward!”

“······That, that’s it?”

“Yeah! This is seriously no joke! So cute~!”

“You think I’m cute, a man among men?”

“It’s a compliment. A compliment. This is the first time I’ve ever felt cute towards a boy.”

We spent some time talking about our experiences in each other’s worlds.

Actually, the story of the modeling industry that Alexa told me was quite interesting. I was impressed by their efforts to professionally learn how to use their faces, bodies, and even minds without being conscious of it, and to express them in the ideal form that the client demands.

And I told Alexa the same thing that happened to me.

First of all, I drank alcohol on the first day at school.

“Did you drink?!”

“······Uh, yeah.”

“Are you okay? Is it okay? You didn’t force yourself to eat it, did you?”

“······.”

I spoke for nothing.

When I saw Alexa’s expression suddenly change to one of concern, I felt a strange sense of guilt.

I wonder what her face will look like when she finds out that I drank so much beer that it shocked my upperclassmen, after almost three years of sobriety.

Anyway.

“I felt a bit burdened because everyone knew that I was ‘SEEN’ and treated me well.”

“Ah, is it because he’s already a debuting writer?”

“There were quite a few people who debuted, but I guess I’m a bit more famous······?”

“Yeah, ‘Shin’ is famous. A lot of people in the modeling industry also know him.”

“Ahem, anyway. Some people ask me for autographs, and there are a lot of discussions about my work. I thought that since I’m a genre writer, I wouldn’t be popular with people majoring in pure literature, but it’s also a bit surprising that that’s not the case.”

“Was it very burdensome?”

“huh?”

“I just felt that way.”

“If not, then I’d be lying. We’re all freshmen in the same college, but everyone treats us special.”

“Well, I guess so. But wouldn’t it be better if we just spend some time getting to know the real God and liking him more?”

“······.”

What the heck, this guy.

Are you an angel?

Even if it’s just a few words, he has a talent for making it sound really pretty. Thinking that it was something I wanted to learn, I continued to talk about my experiences during the few days at Stanford.

From what each class was like to how each child reacted.

Then the story of Edward Macmillan’s assignment came up.

“Music is the subject? Have you thought of the content?”

“I’m organizing it. Haven’t you ever had that experience? A melody floating around in your head, but you can’t remember what song it is, so you go, “Hmm, hmm,” and play it for other people, and eventually you figure it out by chance.”

“Yes, yes. Oh, when we were in the second grade? Malcolm kept humming it at school for a while and asked people if they knew this song. But no matter how much I listened to it, I couldn’t understand it, so I wondered what the heck the song was, but in fact, the melody was completely different, so everyone was dumbfounded!”

“oh.”

It was a good story.

Even if I recite the melody in my head, it doesn’t work because my singing skills aren’t good or my memory is distorted.

Let’s remember this well.

As I nodded my head, thinking that way, Alexa took a sip of her coffee and smiled.

“Ah, talking about songs makes me suddenly want to listen to songs.”

“Should we go listen to it later? I asked a senior and it seems like there’s a restaurant with a jukebox nearby.”

“······Didn’t you say you didn’t know what was around you?”

“I knew about it, but I haven’t been there myself. That means I don’t know what it’s like.”

“You’re well prepared.”

Alexa nodded, her cheeks slightly flushed.

***

The subsequent dates were really enjoyable.

We didn’t have anything special at this moment, but that allowed us to focus more on each other.

We watched a movie together and had a meal at a nearby diner, put some coins in the jukebox, and listened to a lot of music. Alexa picked Prince’s new song, “When Doves Cry,” and I played the Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back.” Everyone in the store enjoyed it and ate their food.

And after sending Alexa back on the bus not too late, I returned to the dormitory with a heavy heart.

It was a fun date. I wanted to keep going.

But since I wanted to pursue this relationship seriously, I decided to respect the Flair family, and more specifically, Mr. Flair, Alexa’s father.

If your daughter stays out late at night or sleeps out with her first boyfriend, you’ll definitely be worried.

‘But even now, it will be quite late when she gets home.’

Still, the tug-of-war between the desire to be together and the need to let go was thrilling.

Alexa, who seemed to be regretting it, approached me first and gave me a final hug, which made me realize that I was someone who could be excited again.

With that energy as my foundation, I sat down and thought.

‘Now it’s time to get to work. To do my job as a student.’

Meeting Alexa further expanded my thinking about this task.

At first, I was just going to use a structure where the main character finds a song and hums it, gradually recalling the song.

But what if we put one variable here?

As a sort of comical twist, what if the main character was so bad at singing that no one could understand him?

‘And what if the song sung by the main character is evaluated very well as ‘music’?’

So, if we ask the readers, what is music?

This is another direction that was derived from today’s conversation with Alexa.

Actually, the story I originally envisioned had a pretty serious tone.

The main character hums a song without even knowing its name.

Then he becomes curious. What was this song? He couldn’t think of it on his own, so he asked people around him, but they all said they didn’t know. The main character, who kept humming the song, eventually realizes the truth at a park he happened to visit.

It was a self-composed song that his first love had sung for him. And then, while they were dating, his first love cheated on him and left him.

The protagonist, who is once again confronted with the terrible memories he had forgotten because of music, feels bitter and smokes a cigarette. He tries to forget, but the song continues to linger in his ears.

‘The composition itself doesn’t seem too bad.’

Personally, I like the twist that gives the story a sense of emphasis at the turning point in the story.

I thought that a twist was a good element that made the story interesting, and I thought it was even more essential the shorter the novel was. Why is there a genre called ‘skete’ that intentionally emphasizes it?

A development that hits you in the back of the head by overturning the premise of the story that had been developing interestingly.

And both of the plans that came to mind have it.

One is cheerful, the other brings a bitter smile.

‘Which way should I go?’

I was in trouble.

***

A week later.

Edward MacMillan returned to the professor’s office with a short story assignment submitted by a freshman, and there was an uncontrollable smile on his face. One could not deny that even if one said that the corners of his mouth were watering,

A novel by a freshman who hasn’t yet properly received Stanford’s teachings.

It made me feel good to think about the kind of free-spirited writing they had been doing. I even made sure to schedule my next shift to make sure this moment was clear.

Edward ‘asked’ the graduate student to bring him some bread to eat with his coffee, then sat down, his excitement subsiding.

And then I started reading the novels slowly, starting from the top.

The material is ‘music’.

Accordingly, each freshman put in his or her best effort to write a short story of 1,000 words.

Some were typewritten, some were handwritten. Either way, they had a raw flavor that couldn’t be found in bound books.

While slowly turning each page and lightly checking the letters, Edward found an interesting font and smiled without realizing it.

‘Hardboiled Nine Thousand?’

Since he had lived for nearly 20 years with only an interest in novels and writing, he was surprisingly able to tell what model of typewriter it was just by looking at the font.

Hardboiled Nine Thousand.

It was a masterpiece among masterpieces, but it was not something that could be easily found in this day and age. And when Edward checked who had written about it, he thought it was indeed fitting.

‘It’s Shin Han.’

Of course, he did not intentionally leave out the writings of students he found most interesting. That was an action that did not fit with his philosophy.

However, he discovered a novel written in the exact same font right after.

“huh?”

He opened his eyes wide for a moment, checked, then turned over a copy of the novel that had been stapled and put it back where it belonged.

He was not mistaken. Both novels were written by Shin Han. He looked at the first page of each, wondering what it was, and soon Edward was so dumbfounded that he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Heh heh, this guy······.”

God wrote two different novels for one assignment and submitted them as is.

In the history of Stanford’s literary community, at least during Edward MacMillan’s tenure, this had never happened.

A student who behaves differently from other freshmen.

Could it be because he is already an active writer ‘SEEN’ working in California?

But Edward, although he found his attitude amusing, did not feel like giving him more points for this behavior. The reason was simple. It was purely his own choice to write two novels on the same subject.

‘You can’t give extra points for that.’

With that in mind, Edward neatly organized the reports submitted by the students, and then slowly began to read the novel on top again. Just then, a graduate student came over with coffee and set it down with a cake, and everything was perfectly ready.

First novel.

To conclude, it was an ordinary, featureless, and passable piece of writing.

‘It’s not bad, though.’

I should say that there is no part that is particularly gripping in terms of the story. I wrote about an artist who performs on the streets, and I think they were too conscious of the fact that the subject matter was ‘music’, so there were no sharp parts, but it was somewhat boring.

Most of the novels that followed were of similar quality.

‘Is there anything that pops out?’

In fact, this innocent and somewhat hardened taste is a characteristic of freshmen’s writing, so it was enjoyable just to read it.

But even among them, there are some that can be written by freshmen, in a style that ignores existing ideas and just scribbles out random thoughts.

And as he continued to turn the pages, Edward came across a passage that fit the direction he had just been thinking about.

It was written by a freshman, John Smith.

I remember him because he was so tall and energetic.

He wrote about the journey of a primitive man who was looking for the coolest ‘Rock’ in the world. After overcoming various hardships and threats, the narrator reached a destination where there was a band that played ‘Rock music’. Then, as if it were an epilogue, an explanation of the origin of rock music followed. It was a really ridiculous story, but the flow itself was quite funny.

‘Still, I guess I have to give this the lowest score.’

It’s kind of interesting, but I thought it didn’t qualify as a novel.

It was just a simple pun. The explanation of the origin of rock also felt unconvincing, and even from a purely reader’s perspective, it felt like they were just playing around with people.

But, if you look at it as an attempt at something groundbreaking, it was impressive in its own way.

As he continued to review each novel in this manner, Edward’s gaze soon lingered on one novel.

‘Hmm, umm, that thing.’

A title that seems so hastily made that it’s almost ridiculous.

It was the first of two novels that Shin had submitted as an assignment.

Contrary to the uninspiring title, the first sentence, typewritten, was quite impressive.

“‘Hmm, umm, what song was this?’

The sound of the horn rising and falling once. And a melody played in my head.

“Ugh.”

It seems that God has been using ‘humming’ as a material.

End

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