The Great Storyteller-Chapter 330 - Language of God and a Violinist (3)

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

As Juho closed his laptop, the blue eyes followed the young author’s hands.

“Why are you here?” the young author asked.

“I said I was coming. We were grabbing dinner, remember?

Juho checked the time. About thirty minutes had past.

“I didn’t hear the door.”

“Because I didn’t ring the bell. Coin let me in.”

Then, Juho looked at Coin, who was leaning against the door frame with a cup of coffee from a certain coffee shop, fully dressed. At that, Juho made sense of the situation.

“Underwear, huh?”

“I got you some while I was out getting mine. Look,” Coin said, showing Juho the underwear with zebra stripes. At that, Juho glanced at Coin’s waist.

“What are you lookin’ at?”

“Nothing.”

“He knew exactly what he was looking for. It’s not entirely zebra-like, but it’ll have to do,” Jenkins said. Coin seemed to prefer a certain brand of underwear. Taking the white underwear with black lines running across it, Juho waved it and said, “It’s not a sheep.”

“A sheep?”

“Nothing. You’re early.”

“I wanted to sleep in for a little longer, but it turns out getting out of bed a little earlier isn’t all that bad.”

“Well, it’s not super early.”

“C’mon, I’m starving! Let’s go get some food!” Jenkins rushed the young author, glancing at his laptop.

“It’s kind of early for lunch, but sure,” Juho said as he rose from his seat to go to another room. Left alone, Jenkins and Coin didn’t say anything for a little while. Then, Jenkins took the sunglasses from his head and set them on the desk.

“Well, what do you think?” Coin asked. At which, the director lightly tapped the laptop with his fingers and said, “Seems like they just barely missed Mr. Woo in that video.”

The door had opened before the director had even rung the bell. Coin had been acting differently from usual. The room had been strangely quiet, and the host had been nowhere to be seen. Jenkins had started making sense of the situation as he stepped into the hotel room. Yun Woo had been writing, and the room had been dead silent. ‘Is this how he writes?’ he’d wondered. He had never been so upset that he couldn’t read Korean. Then, out of nowhere, he thought of the young author’s short story, ‘River,’ which had left him guessing where it had come from or where it was going. Licking his parched lips, Jenkins asked, “Well, what about you? Are you anxious at all?”

“Don’t be stupid, now,” Coin said, immersing himself in thought. The cup of coffee Jenkins had brought him was already half empty. Meanwhile, Jenkins walked around the author idly.

“A violin, huh,” Coin said.

“A violin?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you know Korean?”

“I know a few words.”

Thinking about the word written in Korean, Coin said, “Though it seems like he was seeing something completely different.”

Yun Woo’s writing process often involved seeing things that shouldn’t be seen. It was almost his fantasy was a paranormal experience.

“I’m ready. Shall we?”

At the young author’s voice, the two made their way out of the hotel room.

“This is some good stuff!” Jenkins shouted, raising his glass while looking at the drink with affection. Between the three people who were eating at the round table, the director was the only person drinking.

“I’m lovin’ this!”

Jenkins had been making quite the scene with each and every sip. Although Juho didn’t mind it at all, the other person didn’t seem too happy about it.

“The Gift of God to us all.”

“Will you shut up!?” Coin let out irritably, glaring at the director as if ready to hurt him at any given minute.

“Is it that good?” Juho asked in order to interject.

“Very! Would you like one for yourself?”

“No, thanks.”

Without imposing on the young author, Jenkins drank his wine quietly. However, because of his expressive nature, the silence didn’t last long.

“I gotta eat here more often. The food is amazing!”

“Coin’s recommendation.”

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” Coin grumbled, cutting himself a big piece of beef and bringing it up to his mouth. The slab of meat poured out what looked like blood at every slice of his knife, which reminded the young author that Coin was eating what used to be a living being. As Juho quietly ate his asparagus, Jenkins put the glass down and asked, “That was the sequel you were working on in the room, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you have fond memories of things related to violins?”

At that, Juho looked up at the two. At which point, Jenkins waved his knife in denial and said, “It just seemed like it had something to do with the man behind the myth, is all. I’d love to know more about anything that has to do with that man’s life.”

‘Language of God’ contained the end of the character, which involved the man creating a myth that got passed down for generation after generation. Perhaps, the director was thinking about mentioning the character in the movie.

“I can’t tell you anything on the kind of life he’d lead, unfortunately,” Juho said, fiddling around with his fork. Jenkins waited patiently for the young author to finish. “But, what I CAN tell you is what makes him such an important character.”

At that, Juho saw Jenkins’ lips twitch.

“The piece of writing that he leaves behind will probably outlive God.”

Within the novel, God’s lifespan was three-hundred years. Nothing lasted forever in that world. However, there were moments where things felt like they would last forever.

“Maybe it’ll be around forever. Who knows?” Juho said, revealing the mindset with which he had been writing, and added, “Do you think he’d like to know that?”

Would he welcome the his creation outlived its creator? Juho thought about the spirit of the character witnessing the result of his creation after his death. What would the expression on his face look like then?

“I’d say he would, at least a little,” Juho added. That was as much about the character he could share with the director. Although smacking his lips, clearly wanting to hear more, Jenkins didn’t cling to the young author and beg. Instead, he decided to approach things from a different angle.

“So, about Bird in ‘Language of God.'”

“Bird?” Coin said, retracing his memory of the novel. “You mean God?” he said, remembering the character Jenkins was referring to.

“Yes, him!”

Bird had been one of the characters who had lived in the same neighborhood as the protagonist, who eventually left on a journey in search of God. However, the truth was that God had been, was, and would always be nearby.

“I’ve been wrestling with the character for some time,” the director said.

While the series was still ongoing, Bird had served as an element of surprise. The fans had been ecstatic when the character’s identity had been revealed. Unfortunately for the director, that dynamic was no different from a magic trick that everyone already knew.

“But I still want to utilize him somehow. I want him to be special.”

“Do what you want. The script is different from the novel anyway,” Juho said with a piece of chicken in his mouth.

“But birds have special meanings in your books, Mr. Woo,” Jenkins said, trying desperately to get the young author to tell him more.

“There are birds in your other books too, and at this point, it’s practically your signature. Besides, I really like Bird in ‘Language of God.’ I wanna have a deeper understanding of the character.”

“There’s no correlation between my novels and what I think of birds. If you wanna know more about the character, then I suggest you read my novels.”

“C’mon, Mr. Woo. You know what I’m talking about,” Jenkins replied, sighing and adding, “At first, I was gonna ask you to take over the adaptation.”

“Yeah, right,” Coin said, sneering. Meanwhile, Juho ate his food quietly. Pouring himself another glass of wine, Jenkins said, “Well, we do have some of the best authors in the world taking part in the process, myself included.”

No matter how good or bad the result turned out, the director was confident that he would be content in the end.

“As for the cast, I’m planning on giving the role to an actor who packs a punch.”

“Is that so?” Juho asked.

“But I won’t say who.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Don’t care.”

“This is confidential, all right?”

Although nobody had asked him to, Jenkins kept offering pieces of information to the young author, as if Juho would reciprocate the effort eventually. After some thought, Juho said, “So, the thing about Bird is…”

“Yes!?”

“… He can’t fly.”

“Eh?”

“His name’s Bird for crying out loud. Yet, he can’t fly. Tragic, really.”

“But Bird is a person! More precisely, God! Isn’t it obvious that he wouldn’t fly!?” Jenkins said with his fingers on his temple. Then, his expression started to change slowly.

“Yet, you thought that was strange somehow? Sad, maybe? A bird that can’t fly. A character with which its creator empathizes. Is Bird yearning for freedom? Vertical sort of… No, that can’t be it. It has to be something dirtier…” the director said, thinking out loud. Then, he took his raggedy copy of ‘Language of God’ out and opened it.

“What a mess,” Coin said, abhorred by the state of the book, guzzling down his sparkling water as if letting his anger out on it.

“… But the actor was just so full of himself! He was just the opposite of the image he projected. Although he’s pretty infamous in Hollywood, a lot of people were against bringing him in. But, what could I do? I wanted him to take the role regardless, which meant having to play mind games with the guy throughout the entire filming process.”

As the meal went on, Jenkins, who was flushing bright red and reeking of alcohol, was starting to become more and more talkative. Unfortunately for Juho, that meant having to listen to his drunken rant against his will.

“So, how did you sort things out with him?”

“Why, I let him have it, of course!” Jenkins said, throwing his hands in the air.

“I pointed out all of his flaws in front of people. I could’ve beat around the bush a little bit, but I didn’t, so I could give the guy a taste of his own medicine. In the end, he stormed out of the set, and our staff members barely managed to convince him to do one more take. I’m telling you, that day was a mess. Voices were raised, fingers were pointed, people were cursing up a storm… Oh, I stayed out of all that, of course. It’s undignifying.”

When Juho looked to Coin, he was flipping the director off, waving his middle finger in front of him. At which point, Jenkins started cackling while holding his sides.

“OK. Frankly, I don’t dislike actors and actresses who are full of themselves. Whenever they act out, that gives me a reason to treat them the same way.”

“Doesn’t it get stressful?”

“Of course, it does! I often find myself asking why I’m doing this. But, in the end, I always come back to the same answer: As long as the movie turns out OK, as long as they can deliver the performance I’m looking for, as long as my choice of casting them pays off somehow in the end. If anything, it’s the actors the higher-ups are trying to force into the movies that bother me. There’s nothing more annoying than that. Trust me.”

“Why waste time comparing them? They’re all garbage for all I care,” Coin said, his nostrils flaring as he added, “I hate ’em all, from people trying to take shortcuts to the cocky ones. I can’t stand the latter in particular.”

“Are you sure you don’t just hate people in general?” Jenkins asked, clearly drunk but stating the truth nevertheless. At which point, Juho chuckled quietly.

“I didn’t like you either, you know,” Coin told the young author poignantly.

“Me?”

“Ah! Right! You flew all the way to Korea just to see him!” Jenkins said, staring into the air and nodding. Just like he had said, Coin had definitely been upset at Juho back then, to say the least. Although Coin and Jenkins had a noticeably different attitude toward the young author, something told Juho that they might have a lot more in common with each other than they realized.

“You were outranked by Yun Woo back then, right? Yes, I remember reading about it. I think I remember his books doing even better than yours too. Is that why you went all the way to Korea? That’s some dedication.”

At that, Juho rolled his eyes and looked away, playing coy, and Coin sneered and replied, “Hmph! This is why I can’t hold a conversation with people who only focus on details. This kid and I? Our positions are a worlds apart. Ask anybody, and I guarantee you that they’ll agree. Every single one of them.”

“So, you do acknowledge that you lost, partly? Well, good for you, Yun Woo.”

“You don’t seem to understand the proper time to talk about that subject.”

“You mean now? Mm, that’s some good wine.”

At that moment, as Jenkins put his glasses down, Coin reached over and held the director by the collar at a frightening speed. Juho blinked, both taken aback and impressed at the same time. However, it didn’t seem like the best time to admire how fast Coin was. Then, the author raised his fist as if ready to punch the director in the face at any given minute, and Jenkins’ eyes widened.

“Hold on, hold on.”

“Now that I got a good look at you, I know your kind. It was some animal… ah. Human.”

“You’re choki–ng-”

“So, going back to what I said about the proper time, let me remind you of when that is. That would be now.”

“OK! I surrender!” Jenkins shouted desperately. Coin had a strength that matched his intimidating appearance. Although the director was confident that a broken nose couldn’t take away from his good looks, that didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted to have a broken nose. Before that became a reality, Juho held Coin by his arm.

“Wuss.”

Thankfully, Coin didn’t seem like he intended on going any further. As Jenkins opened his eyes, which he had closed by reflex, Juho breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ve said this before, but I’m gonna say it again: Couldn’t you look less serious when you’re pretending to hit someone? It’s hard to tell if someone’s joking when they’re waving their fist around like that, especially if that person’s Kelley Coin.”

“That’s what makes it fun, isn’t it? Ah! Would you look at that? He stopped running his mouth!”

“Are you OK?” Juho asked Jenkins, who was covering his face, which was flushing an even brighter red than before, with both of his hands.

“That was exhilarating,” the director said, sounding as though laughing awkwardly or drunk. Relieved, Juho went back to his seat.

“Why don’t you tell us more about that pickpocket gang you hung out with?” Jenkins asked fearlessly as soon as he felt more at ease. Meanwhile, Juho ate his pretzel quietly.