Chapter 5 – The Old Cartoonist (1)
♪ Bam bam bam... Parara bam... ♪
♪ Bam! Bam bam... Parara bam... ♪
Strange electronic music blasted from the computer speakers as Ethan pounded away at the keyboard.
It was 2005's legendary fighting game—
GetAmped.
Turn into a gorilla and throw your opponents off buildings.
Knock them down with a baseball bat.
Punch them into the abyss.
Shove them over the edge.
Everything in the game revolved around one simple objective:
Make the other guy fall.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Ethan's bald-headed character wildly swung his fists.
A second later, an enemy smashed him with a baseball bat, sending his eyeballs flying before his character tumbled off the rooftop.
"...Damn."
Scratching his head in frustration, Ethan looked over.
"Hey, Johan. Your turn."
Normally, Johan would've jumped over and grabbed the keyboard immediately.
Instead—
"You keep playing."
"...Really?"
"Yeah."
Scratch.
Scratch.
Johan sat at the small table beside the bed, endlessly sketching inside a notebook.
His pencil never stopped moving.
He looked so focused that it almost seemed as if he wanted to tear the paper apart.
Watching him, Ethan felt a little uneasy.
What's gotten into him...?
Ever since yesterday, Johan had been talking about becoming a cartoonist, attending an animation high school...
And now he couldn't stop drawing.
Even stranger...
He's actually really good.
The drawings covering the notebook were far beyond something a beginner could produce.
Ethan had known Johan for years.
Yet he'd never once seen him draw.
"Johan..."
"Hm?"
"Have you always been good at drawing?"
"I've been drawing for a long time."
"I seriously never knew."
"You never paid attention."
"...Sorry."
After scratching his forehead, Ethan asked again,
"So you're really serious about becoming a cartoonist?"
"I've never been more serious."
"..."
"You sure you weren't possessed by a ghost or something?"
Johan waved him off without looking up.
"Stop worrying about me. Go play your game."
"...It's not fun anymore."
With a sigh, Ethan shut the game off.
Then he quietly walked over and watched Johan draw.
"You're practicing for that contest?"
"Yeah."
"Think you can actually win?"
"It won't be easy."
"But you're still entering?"
"That's why I'm practicing."
Johan let out a quiet sigh.
This won't be easy...
***
"If you don't win, you'll give up comics forever?"
"That's right."
"Then prove it."
That was the promise he'd made to Alysa.
Win...
Or give up.
He had already debuted as a professional webtoon artist in his previous life.
He had won Blue House's rookie contest and earned a serialization.
If someone like him couldn't beat a group of middle school students...
Then maybe he really didn't deserve to become a cartoonist.
Still...
What kind of insane contest is this?
It was only 2005.
Webtoons barely existed.
The competition required contestants to complete a 16-page comic—the same length as a professional weekly manga chapter.
Except...
Contestants only had eight hours.
The topic wouldn't even be announced until the competition started.
That meant they'd have to create a complete story on the spot.
Fortunately, Johan had years of experience writing weekly webtoons.
Short-form storytelling wasn't the problem.
"...Confidence alone won't be enough."
"I have to win first place."
There was no second option.
If he wanted to overwhelm everyone else...
Speed would decide everything.
How quickly could he produce a manuscript worthy of professional serialization?
That was the real challenge.
Unfortunately...
I've never worked traditionally before.
He was a webtoon artist.
Everything had been digital.
He'd never seriously used G-pens, ink bottles, screentones, or professional comic paper.
He could learn...
But learning required money.
***
"You said you'd prepare everything yourself."
"I'll only help you register and drive you there."
Thinking back to Alysa's words made Johan smile bitterly.
A craftsman never blames his tools?
Anyone who said that had clearly never worked professionally.
Professional tools mattered.
Even after cutting every unnecessary expense, he'd still need nearly 100,000 won just to buy the basics.
Putting down his pencil, Johan glanced at Ethan.
"Hey."
"What?"
"Can you lend me 100,000 won?"
"...Do I look rich?"
"I had to ask."
"You've got some nerve."
"I need supplies."
"Pens, screentones, comic paper... everything."
"It'll cost at least a hundred thousand."
Ethan blinked.
"...Or we could just forget all that and play another round of GetAmped."
"I'm not playing."
Johan narrowed his eyes.
He's exactly the same.
Even in his previous life...
Whenever Johan had struggled—
When he'd hated working at the corporation.
When he'd quit to pursue comics.
Whenever he'd called Ethan feeling hopeless...
Ethan always replied with something simple.
"Let's grab a drink."
"Come on. Let's go play some games."
He never offered profound advice.
He simply stayed beside him.
In his own clumsy way...
That had always been enough.
Still...
That wasn't today's problem.
"I have to win."
"If I don't..."
"I'm finished."
Ethan stared blankly.
Has he completely lost it...?
***
"Hmm..."
"One hundred thousand won..."
"What if I secretly took some money from Dad's wallet?"
Johan immediately frowned.
"I'm asking to borrow money."
"So why are you talking about stealing?"
"You said it was urgent."
"..."
Honestly...
If he became desperate enough...
Even Johan had briefly considered asking Alysa for money.
But stealing?
Not happening.
"There has to be another way..."
Ethan stretched lazily across the floor.
Meanwhile...
Johan absentmindedly continued sketching.
Then suddenly—
"Oh!"
"I remember!"
He jumped to his feet.
Ethan nearly fell over.
"What now?"
"My dad has a friend."
"So?"
"He's a cartoonist."
"...Okay?"
"Why don't you ask him if he'll lend you some supplies?"
"If he's a professional, he should have plenty."
Johan froze.
"...A cartoonist?"
"Yeah."
"So your solution is..."
"...to empty a poor cartoonist's pockets?"
Ethan blinked.
"Wait..."
"Cartoonists are poor?"
Johan laughed bitterly.
"Very poor."
Ethan looked confused.
"Then why are you trying to become one?"
Because webtoons are about to change everything...
But there was no point explaining that.
Instead...
Johan sighed.
Ethan scratched his head.
"If borrowing doesn't work..."
"...I'll bring him a gift."
"A gift?"
"You don't have money."
"Who said gifts have to cost money?"
"What are you gonna give him?"
"A coupon?"
Johan slowly smiled.
"No."
"I'll give him exactly what a cartoonist wants most."
The corners of his lips curled upward.
If this works...
I'll have every supply I need.
***
Meanwhile...
Sunlight streamed through the dusty windows of a cramped studio apartment.
Three worn desks lined the wall.
Ink bottles.
G-pens.
Rulers.
Stacks of manuscript paper.
Everything needed to create comics lay scattered across the room.
Creak.
The door opened.
A gaunt man in his forties walked inside.
"Yaaawn..."
His faded short-sleeved shirt hung loosely from his thin frame.
His pale face suggested someone who rarely saw daylight.
His name was...
Andrew Shin.
A struggling manga artist working for the biweekly magazine New Chance.
As he entered the studio, he looked around.
The room was empty.
Only a single note rested on one of the desks.
We're sorry, sir.
We just can't keep doing this anymore.
— Your assistants
Andrew sighed deeply.
"They ran away again..."
He collapsed into his chair.
Lighting a cigarette, he stared blankly at the ceiling.
"...Damn this life."
Smoke slowly filled the room.
This was already the fifth assistant who had quit.
He wasn't even angry anymore.
After all...
How could anyone survive on 600,000 won a month while working over ten hours a day?
Even Andrew understood why they left.
His own income wasn't much better.
Thirty thousand won per page.
Sixteen pages a week.
Four weeks a month.
Barely enough to survive after rent and utilities.
And royalties?
Those were practically nonexistent.
Even bestselling comics rarely sold more than thirty thousand copies.
"...I never imagined it'd end up like this."
Once...
He'd dreamed of becoming another Akira Toriyama.
Another Osamu Tezuka.
Another Lee Hyun-se.
Another Heo Young-man.
He wanted fame.
Success.
Character merchandise.
A happy family.
A comfortable life.
Instead...
"...Maybe I should've just worked in a factory."
His cigarette had nearly burned down to the filter when—
Ding dong! Ding dong!
The doorbell rang.
Andrewstood up.
"Who could that be?"
One of the assistants returning?
He opened the door.
Standing outside...
Were two middle school boys.
"...Who are you?"
One of them smiled brightly.
"Hello, sir!"
"My father sent us."
"...Your father?"
"Who?"
"You remember William Oh, don't you?"
"..."
Andrew's eyes widened.
"...Ah."
Now he remembered.