The Great Storyteller

Chapter 16 - The Sole Artist in a Literature Club (2)

Chapter 16: Chapter 16 – The Sole Artist in a Literature Club (2)

Translator: – – Editor: – –

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

“Not quite. I already knew that it was the Literature Club. I even turned in the application myself.”

“Then, what makes it a mistake?”

“Why do you keep asking?”

“Just applying what Mr. Moon taught us,” Juho replied light-heartedly. Of course, he had no intention to dig any further if Baron expressed discomfort. “Are you feeling uncomfortable?”

Juho saw the dry expression on Baron’s face. He didn’t seem to be uncomfortable or feeling like he was on the spot.

Baron let out a short sigh and continued, “More like hassled. Especially by you.”

“What did I do?”

Seeing how Juho was looking intently at him even before getting to the main point, Baron took a brief moment and continued, “If you’re different, you stick out.”

It was a rather random answer.

“And you’re alone when you’re running away. I had to try several times harder than others because of my color,” he added.

‘To not be left out,’ Juho heard something that Baron hadn’t said with his own lips.

Baron continued with his story, “Wearing a matching uniform wasn’t enough. Neither was eating the same food. If you want to blend in, one must see, listen, dislike and like the same things as everyone else. It wasn’t much of a challenge to laugh at something that wasn’t funny or criticize someone or something that I don’t dislike. It was tolerable. At the end of the day, I made friends and my school life became enjoyable.”

As he finished speaking, Baron scowled. He was revisiting a bad memory.

“There was a guy. I wasn’t close to him, but I knew what he looked like. He was an average Joe, and we ended up in the same class in our third year of middle school. I’m not sure if he was having a hard time adjusting to his new environment, but he was running away from it all before I knew it. On the other hand, I was fine. Honestly, I didn’t care about him. There were no issues, and then I graduated.”

Baron stopped for a brief moment before continuing, his voice cracking slightly, “But the other guy didn’t. I heard he died.”

The wind blew. The air was cold.

“When I heard that, I thought ‘What is this? Why did this have to happen? Should I have done something? What? How?’ I kept on thinking after coming up to high school. Before I knew it, a year had already passed. Still, I haven’t reached an answer.”

Meanwhile, Baron told Juho that he thought of a hobby that he’d been forgetting about, “I had a sudden realization and bought a sketchbook, but I didn’t really feel like joining an art club, let alone drawing by myself. So, I just went for it. However, as you know, things don’t usually work out if you jump in with your eyes covered.”

“What didn’t work out?”

Baron scratched his head at Juho’s question. With an absent-minded smile, he confessed his mistake.

“I thought the Literature Club was one of the lazy clubs.”

A lazy club, Juho and Seo Kwang thought the same thing at one point.

“Which means...”

“I wasn’t planning on being the sole artist in the club. All I wanted to do was draw while surrounded by other people who were busy with their study guides.”

A so-called lazy club meant any club that utilized their activity time for independent study sessions. Juho imagined Baron drawing by himself in such a club. Compared to the image he portrayed, he seemed rather timid.

“I tried to pull myself out, but Mr. Moon wouldn’t let me, saying that there weren’t enough members. Since I had nothing to lose, I confessed to him. ‘I’m not going to write. I’m going to draw.’ Do you know what he said?”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘That’s fine too.’”

Baron shook his head as if dumbfounded by what Mr. Moon had said.

“He really made me stick out like a sore thumb from the first day. I didn’t think the timid first years would come after me so proactively.”

‘Aha! Now it made sense as to why Baron was in the situation he was in.’

Baron probably wanted to make up for his past of wanting to be like everyone else. At the same time, he probably wanted to be forgiven. Yet, he had been left alone after all the time that had gone by and everything that took place in between.

At the end, he started pushing himself. He consciously tried to swim against the current. He consciously tried to be left alone. Only, the Literature Club didn’t leave him to do that to himself.

“You’ve hit the nail right on the head when you mentioned what a student wanted.”

He wasn’t the sole artist in the Literature Club. He was made so by Mr. Moon and the other members. At some point, Juho had asked everyone why they were trying so hard to get a writing sample from Baron. The answer had been simple, “He’s the only one in the club we haven’t gotten closer to.”

Juho looked at Baron as he sat still. Behind him stood the biggest tree in the school. It might look lonely, but underneath the dirt, there was a complex network of roots mingling with that of other trees.

“Although trees don’t even move...”

“What are you saying?”

“Over there.”

Right as Juho was about to explain, a voice came from behind them. Juho turned around to see ‘Baron girl.’ ‘That was a surprise.’ As Juho stared at her, she gave him a light nod.

“Thanks for the help.”

Then, she pulled out her hand. There was a loaf of bread in it. It was a piece of sponge cake from the cafeteria, the most expensive item in the shop.

“Oh, no! You don’t have to.”

“Thank you,” she repeated. Despite Juho turning down her gift, she remained insistent. When he finally took the bread, she turned around and walked back into the school building. It was a reward that had been completely unexpected.

“Would you like half?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah! That reminds me. Didn’t you receive a black plastic bag?”

“...I did.”

“That was from Bom.”

Since Bom had been knocked out of the game before Seo Kwang even had time to speak, Juho spread the news for his friend.

“I figured,” Baron answered in a low voice.

Baron was confused by the first years coming after him with such gusto. Now, there was another first-year in front of him who was well-prepared.

Juho bit a piece of his sponge cake and said, “Would you like to make a bet?

“A bet?” Baron asked at the unexpected offer.

After swallowing the cake, Juho continued, “On whether or not the sponge-cake girl makes a friend or not.”

“What?”

Baron was flustered. It happened because of his classmate who had been randomly called ‘the sponge-cake girl.’

As if it were no big deal, Juho continued, “Isn’t that why you’re paying attention to her? Because she’s alone?”

“When did I ever pay attention to her?”

“I saw your eyes following her just now.”

Just as Baron was about to respond in anger, Juho raised his hand and stopped him.

“Let’s make a bet. Let’s see if the sponge-cake girl makes a friend within a week.”

“...A week is kind of pushing it.”

There were already cliques in every class. Kids with similar interests came together and shared various hobbies. It wasn’t an easy task to be part of a group that had already been solidified, let alone within a week! There was no chance.

“So, let’s make the bet. I’m betting that she makes a friend. If I lose, I’ll make sure the first years leave you alone.”

“...and if you win?”

“A sample of your writing, obviously.”

Baron hesitated. He was having trouble figuring out that first year calmly munching away at his sponge cake. He thought of the time when Juho’s gaze was fixated on him as words flowed out of his lips like water.

“This is not a trick, is it?”

“I promise that I’ll keep myself from interacting with the sponge-cake girl in any way. I can write a note as evidence if you want.”

Baron thought for a moment. A first year who kept on offering him a comic book, a first year who left him a bag full of snacks in secret, a first year who aroused his curiosity, and then a first year who emanated confidence.

“Fine,” Baron answered.

*

The first time Baron realized that he was different from everyone around him was in kindergarten. Baron met kids his age for the first time then. He was excited about kindergarten. Holding his mother’s hand, he went into the kindergarten building.

There was curiosity in the eyes of the kids looking at Baron. That was when Baron learned what people looked like when they saw something different from what he saw. Some kids moved away while other kids took the initiative to approach him.

It wasn’t a bad feeling. Baron himself had been curious about other kids his age. He was looking forward to the process of getting to know them. They started talking, and soon, they became friends.

One day, a teacher from another class approached Baron’s mother, “There’s been a complaint from a parent regarding a black child.”

It wasn’t hard to guess what the parents were complaining about. These were parents who were anxious about their children being exposed to potentially negative influences. Even as a young boy, Baron was able to understand that.

Eventually, Baron left that kindergarten. The next place he went to was an art institute.

There were countless colors and people. A college student wearing red shoes, a housewife with a blue grocery bag, a corporate worker wearing a navy blue tie, an elementary school student with a yellow hairband, they were all different from each other in occupation, age and appearance. Baron grew closer to those people. He enjoyed that he got to draw and paint with different people. It wasn’t until recently that he revisited what that felt like.

“Literature Club.”

There were countless words and first years with diverse personalities. Baron thought of Juho. He was an interesting one. The moment he looked into Juho’s world, Baron was not the same as he used to be. Countless words came out of Juho’s lips as he simply stared into Baron. Baron was intimidated by that strange sensation. He thought and he changed.

Being alone made one stick out. The only person who stuck out was Baron himself. It was his dark skin that made him stick out like a sore thumb. That was the only thing that separated him from others, but Juho didn’t have to force himself around it.

He took the book in his hand and brushed it across with his other hand. There was a drawing of a bird. ‘The Trace of a Bird.’ It was a book at the height of its popularity. At any bookstore, that was the best-selling book. It was always being displayed at the most visible spot.

Frankly, Baron had bought the book with the intention of mocking the author. Although the world claimed him to be a genius, Baron thought that it would be no more than some high school composition about shallow emotions. The public worshipped him, and Baron had been disgusted by it.

“It was shocking.”

It was a shock indeed. Yun Woo’s book dug relentlessly into its reader’s mind.

‘How is this possible? What’s worse is that he’s even a year younger than I am. Why am I being affected by this stupid book so much?’ thought Baron.

He finished the book in no time. The moment he closed the book, Baron felt something hot in his chest. He had never shed a tear from reading a book. To Baron, that tear felt all the more foreign. Even when he heard the news about the passing of his friend in middle school, Baron didn’t respond with tears. Still, he cried. Then, he felt refreshed.

After calming his heart, he opened the book once again.

Baron stopped in his tracks on the eye-catching cover. There were two sparrows sitting on a thick, gray telephone pole. Although it was a common sight, Baron found it to be awkward for some reason.

“If I end up writing...”

‘... I want to write a story of a little sparrow that goes in search for a tree to sit on. For the birds that are tired of sitting on a telephone pole, I’ll make a tree for them to rest on. I’ll plant a sturdy tree filled with many branches.’

“Of course, it was always ‘if.’”

Baron continued on his way. Then, he thought, ‘It would have been fun to have that average Joe in the club.’

<The Sole Artist in a Literature Club (2)> The End