Chapter 12: Destiny is Inevitable (2)

Starting the next day, the studio became even more chaotic. It was because Teacher Park Chul-min had officially dived into the work for the new manga, Star Five. Consequently, the pupils—who now had to juggle two projects simultaneously—were run off their feet. Naturally, the relaxed mornings we’d briefly enjoyed vanished into thin air. However, knowing how vital this project was for the studio’s survival, no one complained.

Except for me, perhaps. My gripe was specifically with how Park Chul-min was drawing Star Five. While the dialogue was almost identical to the storyboard I’d handed over, the directing was completely different. I understood that the art style was his own, but seeing the dynamic compositions I’d labored over flattened into simple, static panels was disappointing. It might have been because of the era’s emphasis on plot over visual flair, or perhaps he simplified it because my storyboards were too complex for him to execute quickly. Regardless, the manga was out of my hands now. There was no point in nitpicking. It’s not like I’d created it as a lifelong passion project anyway.

On the bright side, I had more breathing room than the others. Yes, my workload as the “finishing man” had increased, but my hands had become significantly faster, leaving me with surplus time. I made sure not to let this show, though. I’d spent thirty years in the workforce, including my time in the military. I knew all too well that the world doesn’t necessarily reward those who work harder or better than everyone else. When I was younger, I’d worked myself to the bone to gain recognition, only to be saddled with more work while others exploited my efforts for free. In this era, that tendency was even more pronounced.

Indeed, whenever I finished a task early, the seniors would just dump more menial chores on me. So, I learned to pace myself in front of them, matching their speed exactly.

But things changed once everyone except Go Ju-bong and me went to sleep. Part of my reason for staying up was to let Ju-bong—who was perpetually sleep-deprived—get some rest, but the main reason was to work on my own project. Seeing my sister’s situation had given me a clear goal.

The first step was creating a new manga. However, squeezing in work during late-night hours meant progress was slow. I wasn’t Iron Man 28, after all; I couldn’t cut back on sleep indefinitely. So, I decided to focus solely on the drafting phase for now. I’d noticed that I usually had a three-hour window of relative peace in the early morning.

I had to decide on a genre. Perhaps because my first contribution here was sci-fi, I felt drawn to it again. What would be good for a single-volume hit? Currently, “Super Robot” series were beginning to emerge in Japan. Mazinger Z had already debuted there and would soon begin airing in Korea. Its popularity would be undeniable. Next year, Robot Taekwon V would be released in Korea and become a massive success. While it’s a culturally significant film for Korea, it would eventually be plagued by plagiarism controversies.

Given that, creating something with an original design right now didn’t seem like a bad idea. Of course, “original” just meant a hybrid of designs I remembered from the future. By the late 70s, Japan would be churning out revolutionary robot designs, and the famous Gundam would soon make its appearance. Come to think of it, if I don’t try this now, I might never get the chance. By the 80s, the Korean theatrical scene would be flooded with clones of Japanese robot anime. It felt meaningful to introduce a proper robot series before that happened.

If someone’s going to plagiarize, they might as well plagiarize mine, I thought. I chuckled to myself. I must be losing it. As I got lost in these idle thoughts, my heart raced with the strange sensation that I was standing at a turning point in history.

The genre: Super Robot. I pulled out one of the notebooks I’d bought at the neighborhood stationery store. Thanks to the money my sister gave me, I had some financial cushion, but I wasn’t going to waste it. I planned to use it for art supplies. Even in this era, high-quality tools imported from Japan were likely expensive. I’d need them when I reached the final manuscript stage, but for now, a notebook and a pencil were enough.

Design came first.

We were moving past the era of externally controlled robots like Iron Man 28 or Giant Robo and into the age of “pilot-manned” robots like Mazinger Z. To meet the readers’ needs, it was best to follow the current trend rather than being too far ahead of the time. I kept the weapons simple: a missile launcher mounted like a backpack, a massive sword (a trope that would later be huge in fantasy), and heavy-set arms and fists. For the face, I added three diagonal scars to give it a rugged, powerful impression. The resulting design looked pretty good.

The first impression was: “Shall we start by taking a hit?” I named it Iron X. In this era, adding a Z, V, or X made anything sound cool.

The combat pattern: keep them at bay with missiles, then finish them off with a flaming sword. It’s the classic Super Sentai formula, but it hadn’t fully solidified here yet. Whether it would be a hit or disappear into obscurity remained to be seen, but I wanted to leave room for a series.

The premise: A protagonist gets caught up in an incident and is chosen by an AI from the future that has come back to prevent the extinction of humanity. He then fights against enemies from space. It was a standard plot, but I planned to keep the tension high and hook the readers by giving the protagonist a major trial early on.

Once the direction was set, I immediately started storyboarding. My hand moved at an incredible speed, as if possessed, trying to capture the images flooding my mind. Before I knew it, the pencil lead was worn down to a nub.

“······.”

Reluctantly, I paused and began sharpening the pencil with a small knife. I only had three pencils—the one I’d been using at the studio and two more I’d bought just in case. A pencil sharpener would be nice, I thought, but I didn’t want to use an expensive, finicky mechanical pencil either.

Just then—

“Are you finished with the work?”

Lee Ki-chul had woken up and was approaching me with groggy eyes.

“Ah, yes. I’m done.” “Then why aren’t you sleeping?” “Just practicing some drawing.”

I replied while quickly shoving my notebook to the side. Ki-chul blinked at me and then walked over to his desk. What is he doing? I watched as he pulled a heavy, silver metallic object from his bottom drawer. He placed it carefully on my desk.

“Here. Use this.”

It was a pencil sharpener. An American-made Boston brand sharpener. Wow, I haven’t seen one of these in forever. I remembered seeing one at a wealthy friend’s house when I was a kid. Seeing my wide-eyed expression, Ki-chul offered an uncharacteristic explanation.

“The Teacher bought it for me as a gift when I took over the drafting duties.” “I haven’t seen one of these in a long—” “What?” “I mean… I’ve never seen anything like this. I’m shocked.” “Is that so?”

He even demonstrated how to use it. “There, all done.”

That look in his eyes… it was the look of someone who desperately wanted to show off. This guy actually has a side like this? I realized it was a moment for some tactical reaction. I put on an exaggerated look of wonder.

“Ahaha! That’s amazing.” “Yes. It’s an incredible piece of equipment.”

Finally, Ki-chul looked satisfied. To be honest, I wasn’t lying about being amazed—I just didn’t expect to see such an antique again. As for the usage, I’d spent years using those train-shaped sharpeners in the past.

“You can use it if you need to.” “Isn’t this expensive?” “Very. Ridiculously so.”

He seemed to put extra emphasis on the “ridiculously.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t…” “It’s fine for you.”

He scratched his head and started heading back to his room. “Put it back in my bottom drawer when you’re done.” “Ah, yes. Thank you.” “Right.”

He opened his door, then paused. “Ah, the bathroom.” He turned around and headed for the outer door. He always seemed like a man without flaws, but he’s actually a bit of a klutz. Probably because he’s half-asleep.

But why did he say it’s “fine for me”? I tilted my head but then just shrugged. No point in overanalyzing the words of a sleepy man. I tried out the Boston sharpener. Performance-wise, it wasn’t as good as a modern sharpener, but it was better than a knife. I quickly sharpened my three pencils and got back to my storyboards.

A few days later.

After an grueling stretch of work, the first volume of Star Five was finally delivered to the publisher. Perhaps the manga was good, because the president of the publishing company and a female employee actually visited the studio in person. Part of the reason was that the studio didn’t have a phone yet, but for the president to come personally meant the internal reaction among the staff must have been significant.

Because of this, the president’s excited voice had been drifting out of the Teacher’s office for quite some time.

“Teacher, Star Five was truly fantastic! All my employees took turns reading it, and the response was incredible.” “Is that so?” Park Chul-min’s voice remained calm.

“Yes! We’ll have to see the market reaction first, of course, but it would be such a shame if a manga like this ended after only two volumes.” “I produced it with a two-volume limit in mind from the start, so I can’t change it right now.” “Yes, yes, of course I understand. But if the initial sales are good, would you consider extending the story?” “That… well, let’s cross that bridge when we get there.” “Oh, thank you, thank you!”

The president was practically vibrating with excitement. I wondered if he was overreacting before seeing the market data. To be honest, since I’d created the story, I was nervous about how the readers would actually take it.

“The typesetting is already done, and the manuscripts are at the printer. As soon as they’re ready, they’ll be distributed starting with the Seoul wholesalers.” “That’s fast this time.” “Of course! We have high expectations. One of my employees is a huge fan of Babel II—you know that series, right? The one I mentioned before.” “Yes, I actually went out and read it.” “Ah, I see. Well, he said your manga was even more interesting than Babel II!” “Really?” “Yes! He’s a cold-hearted guy who doesn’t even lie to my face. Well, he’s my younger brother, so that’s probably why.”

He let out a hearty laugh. So it was nepotism after all.

“And, if you’ll excuse the question… did you write the story for this one yourself, Teacher?” “No, the story came from an outside source.” “Ah, I see.”

The publisher’s president left a lingering, curious silence after that.

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