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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Great King Namsaeng
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Bloodied Geom Mojam arrived at Yeon Gaesomun's shrine on Jeongji Mountain.
"I've come to pay my respects, Elder."
As the years flashed by like a montage, the footsteps of the pursuing Tang soldiers grew louder.
"I'll see you soon."
Geom Mojam turned to face the Tang soldiers who had chased him down.
"There's nowhere left to run! Surrender!"
Geom Mojam mustered his last ounce of strength and shouted back at the Tang soldiers barking in clumsy Goguryeo.
"My name is Geom Mojam. I am Goguryeo!"
- END -
"It's over!"
I let out a triumphant yell at my monitor. The stray cat perched on the attic window frame bolted in fright.
"Oops!"
I clamped my mouth shut, remembering how much the landlady grandmother hated noise.
"Now I can finally drop the 'aspiring writer' label."
Tears of joy blurred my vision.
"I finally finished it."
I'd wrapped up Geom Mojam's War, which I'd started writing last year.
Unable to contain my excitement, I kicked back my chair, jumped to my feet, and bounced around.
"5,438 pages! Short of my 6,000-page goal, but this is the first time I've written something this long without stopping!"
I stomped my feet in glee, shouting at the top of my lungs.
"Once this gets published, they're all done for. All those jerks who looked down on me, the ones who said they'd eat their hands if I succeeded—none of them are getting off easy."
There were way too many people I wanted to get revenge on once I made it as a writer.
"My first love who laughed and left me! My lit club and senior colleagues who pointed fingers at me for writing web novels! My classmates who sneered that novels don't make money! And that damn editor-in-chief who gives me the cold shoulder every time I bring a manuscript! Just you wait—I'll succeed big time and make you all regret it."
My joy vanished with the thudding footsteps of the landlady grandmother climbing the stairs from below.
"That old lady complains about her knees hurting every day, but she sure moves fine when she's mad."
Moments later, a furious pounding shook the door. I took a deep breath, flung it open, and bowed my head.
"My apologies, Grandmother."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The editor-in-chief at that godforsaken Dream Dream Publishing was the type who wouldn't bleed even if pricked with a needle.
Of course, he was different with big-name authors. Last time, when Kim Sun-mo walked in, he teleported to her side.
But when I entered, he just lounged indifferently at his desk, not even glancing my way for over five minutes while pretending to work.
This time, though, he agreed to meet in the conference room.
My fantasy of maybe getting a promotion in his eyes shattered with his long sigh.
"Writer, so..."
He took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose like I was giving him a headache, then put them back on.
"How many times do I have to tell you? We don't handle historical fiction."
I bit back the urge to call bullshit and replied as politely as I could.
"But Park Cha-young's Ascending to the Heavens and Seonsu's Reborn as Superman are historical too."
"Ah, it's rude to bring up works we didn't sign."
His polite dismissal burned me up inside. He'd basically admitted they had no interest in contracting it.
"I've been worried lately."
"Because of my work?"
"We had high hopes for your last one, but the views were lower than expected."
"I'm sorry."
The editor sighed and glanced at the tablet in front of him.
"As I always say, you have the talent to write good stories. But you still need more experience, that's a fact."
"Give me a chance. If you don't like this one, I'll show you something else."
Desperation made me blurt out a lame plea.
Rent loomed dark in my mind. I just wanted to wrap up the contract talk somehow.
"We'll discuss it internally. I'll let you know once we decide."
His evasive glance confirmed it: I was screwed.
The poor reception of my last work must have hurt. That's why even bringing a finished manuscript didn't get me a firm yes.
As I sat there speechless in despair, the conference room door opened, and one of the editors poked his head in.
"She's here."
"Alright? Anyway, this one looks tough. See yourself out."
The editor stood without waiting for a goodbye and left. Through the half-open door, I saw him fawning over someone.
"Oh, Writer! How's your health? Don't overdo it. Let's head to the president's office."
I left the publisher empty-handed and sighed up at the sky.
"No way in without a fight."
I pulled out my phone and dropped a message in the group chat.
-What're you up to?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A few friends gathered, tilting glasses over sizzling braised eel.
But instead of comfort or help, they were just draining my wallet on booze and snacks.
"Hey! My best friend got roasted at the publisher—can't you say something nice instead of making me nauseous while eating?"
Jiman slammed down his soju glass, twisting the knife.
"I told you it wouldn't work."
"What?"
"Who cares about Goguryeo these days? Even your free serialization got no buzz."
"So I should write whatever people want?"
"The comments said to set it in Joseon, right? Why do you obsess over Goguryeo? Were you Goguryeo in a past life?"
"I don't write to sell and eat."
"Lack of talent?"
His blunt reality check made my blood boil.
"Anyway, I'm not giving up."
"Fine, but don't hold out false hope."
I wanted to snap back at his snide reply, but the other friends silently nodded along with their glasses raised. It only fueled my rage more.
"A writer shouldn't chase trends. You have to walk your own path quietly."
The response was ice-cold. Nam-il, quietly sipping in the corner, spoke up.
"I agree with Jiman."
"Goguryeo won't sell?"
Nam-il shrugged and set down his empty glass.
"I've read tons of web novels."
"Free ones, probably."
Ignoring Jiman's jab, Nam-il continued.
"You need a hook right at the start to pull readers in and keep them going. Then they pay when free chapters end. But yours starts too slow. Try wuxia or fantasy now. Or do Joseon like the readers want."
"You know how much I love Goguryeo—why say that?"
My shout drew stares from everyone in the bar. Jiman chimed in.
"It's 'cause you're a Yeon."
"What?"
"Yeon Taehwan—aren't you biased toward Yeon Gaesomun 'cause of your name?"
I snorted at the absurdity.
"That make sense? Same surname, different roots!"
"It does. You dig into Goguryeo when everyone says no, and all you write is pro-Yeon Gaesomun stuff."
"I'm not taking sides. And Yeon Gaesomun saved Goguryeo—he's a hero."
"He ruined the country."
"It was fine while he was alive."
"His kids wrecked it. Who was it? Yeon..."
"Namsaeng."
Jiman nodded at my answer.
"Right. Him and his brothers fought and destroyed the kingdom. Father's fault too."
"How's that on Yeon Gaesomun?"
"He killed the king and propped up a puppet."
"The king and ministers tried to kill him first—he struck preemptively."
"Still, Goguryeo couldn't fight properly when Tang invaded."
"They won."
"It fell right after he died."
"That's on the kids."
"Didn't he know they'd fight? If not, incompetent. If he did and ignored it, worse."
"How could he predict the future?"
"Leaders must. Yeon Gaesomun wasn't a hero—he was a dictator who doomed Goguryeo."
"Nonsense."
"I thought he was a hero as a kid too. But now..."
Jiman grimaced and added,
"He's just a dictator, nothing more or less."
"How can you say that!"
"History is about results. Good intentions don't matter if the outcome sucks. Right?"
Unable to retort properly, I watched Taeseop order more eel in silence.
No solace from friends either, I parted ways after one more round.
"They'll probably ask me to pay again. Jerks. Won't even back me up."
Out on the street, I had nowhere to go.
"Landlady's already mad about late rent and my noise, family's all 'stop writing crap and earn money'."
After a long lamenting walk, I reached a subway station.
"Jeongji Mountain Station entrance?"
I suddenly recalled ending my novel at Yeon Gaesomun's shrine on Jeongji Mountain. A tale from a very old shaman.
"No one knows his grave—shrine my ass."
I hadn't taken it seriously due to lack of credibility.
No reason to build one so far south from Pyongyang back then.
I'd remembered it as intriguing and used it for the finale.
"Shall I check it out?"
The shaman had sketched it on a cafe napkin when I was skeptical.
"Follow the stairs up to the memorial tower, shrine's behind it. Overflowing with spiritual energy—even shamans visit quietly."
"Uh-huh."
I'd brushed it off then. Now, grasping at straws, I wanted to pray.
"Exit 9, memorial tower behind Jeongji Mountain Park, right?"
I headed out Exit 9, following signs to Jeongji Mountain Park along the sidewalk.
At the park, I caught my breath.
"Memorial tower's there."
Statues posed in front of the towering spire.
"Small path beside it, then stairs?"
I climbed wooden steps like a hiking trail, mats of palm fronds underfoot. Something loomed in the dark.
"Found it."
A tiny shrine, dwarfed by the memorial tower.
"Not even old—cement with a tin roof. Hell, barely bigger than a doghouse with some exaggeration."
I pushed the door, half-expecting it locked. It creaked open surprisingly. Phone light on.
"Anyone here?"
Obviously empty. Just an ancient painting on the wall.
"Nothing but this one picture."
A folk painting of an armored general, oddly with five swords at his belt.
Depicting Yeon Gaesomun carrying five swords, probably.
As I turned to leave, something caught my eye in the shadows.
"What's that?"
Startled, I shone my light. A dusty wooden horse.
"What the...?"
It looked like cheap amusement park junk. I sighed. Booze-fueled whimsy hit.
"Wanna ride?"
No one around. I climbed on, raised a hand, and yelled,
"Charge! Advance! Pursue the enemy!"
Giggling like an idiot, then wind howled.
"Wh-what!"
How in a sealed shrine? I scanned around—a vortex swirled overhead.
The madly spinning whirlpool sucked in me and the wooden horse.
"Ow!"
My head slammed the roof before being pulled in.
This ridiculous death, darkness rushed in.
Consciousness faded.