Chapter 6 – The Old Cartoonist (2)
"Andrew, what have you been up to lately?"
"Me? Same as always. Working on a new series?"
"Still not thinking about getting married?"
"Are you planning to stay single forever?"
"How are you? Are you doing okay?"
"Just doing whatever keeps the lights on."
Those conversations with old friends replayed endlessly in Andrew's mind.
A cartoonist in his forties.
Worse—a cartoonist who had never truly made it.
It was a miserable existence.
He worked himself to exhaustion, yet had nothing saved.
Day after day, he shut himself inside a tiny studio, drawing manuscript after manuscript.
His back constantly ached.
New wrinkles appeared every year.
One by one, his friends drifted away.
When they met, their conversations revolved around real estate, investments, marriage, and raising children.
Andrew had nothing to contribute.
All he could do was complain.
Complain about the editorial department that had butchered his work.
Complain about the Korean comics industry.
Complain about readers who insisted the industry's collapse was entirely caused by rental comic shops.
Complain about successful artists who acted as though he didn't exist.
Complain about Japan for driving up the price of screentones.
Complain about a government that treated comics as something to suppress instead of support.
Curse.
Curse.
Curse.
Eventually, a person who spent all day cursing was left with nothing but bitterness, resentment, and poison.
They swelled with anger like a pufferfish.
"...I'm not that pathetic."
He muttered to himself.
"I may not live an ordinary life like everyone else... but I'm still making a living doing what I love."
***
"So... you're William Oh's sons?"
"No. I'm his son. This is my friend."
"Ah... I see."
Andrew looked at the two boys standing before him.
Ironically...
They were another result of his inflated pride.
***
A few days earlier—
"Hey, Andrew."
"What?"
"My son wanted to meet you."
"...Me?"
"His friend wants to become a comic artist. I thought maybe you could give him some advice."
Andrew had sighed.
"...Fine. Tell them to come."
Damn...
Why did I agree to this?
Andrew... are you an idiot?
Your manuscript has holes everywhere because your assistants all quit, and you're worried about keeping your pride?
Still...
He was an old bachelor.
No matter how miserable his life became, he hated embarrassing himself in front of other people.
If he didn't maintain at least a little dignity...
He felt like he'd completely fall apart.
The manuscript can wait.
Future Andrew can deal with it.
"Haha... come in."
The boys entered the studio.
Andrew pulled out one of the empty assistant chairs and crossed his arms.
"So...
One of you wants to become a cartoonist?"
"Not me."
Ethan pointed beside him.
"Him."
Andrew turned toward the quiet middle-school student.
Neatly dressed.
Calm expression.
Clear eyes.
No chance.
He could tell immediately.
That face doesn't belong to a cartoonist.
Cartoonists were people who constantly reflected on life.
People who questioned everything.
People who had suffered enough to see the world differently.
Someone with such a clean, innocent face...
Surely hadn't experienced enough.
He's probably just another kid who doesn't want to study.
How could someone like that survive this industry?
As someone with years of experience...
Andrew felt obligated to stop him before it was too late.
"This job isn't nearly as glamorous as you think..."
He was about to begin his lecture.
Then—
"Are you the author of Life at the Bottom?"
"...Huh?"
Andrew blinked.
The boy calmly pulled a worn volume from his bag.
Life at the Bottom — Volume 1
The sight immediately froze him.
That series...
Had once been his greatest pride.
It had won the Rookie of the Year Award from the Korean Cartoonists Association.
It had also become the chain that dragged him into years of failure.
The story followed a man born into poverty during the 1970s as he struggled to climb out of the bottom of society.
It earned Andrew recognition.
But recognition didn't pay the bills.
Each volume sold barely 3,000 copies.
Sales steadily declined.
Originally planned for ten volumes...
It had been forcibly shortened to only five after pressure from the editorial department.
Even now...
Remembering it made his stomach twist.
Those bastards...
They shouldn't have serialized it if they were going to cut it apart.
Still...
That wasn't what mattered.
The real surprise was—
How did this kid know this comic?
It wasn't a series children normally read.
Andrew scratched his head awkwardly.
"You've... actually read it?"
"My name is Johan Seo."
"...Huh?"
"I'm Johan Seo, Mr. Andrew Shin."
"...Ah...
Sorry."
Confident little brat...
Then Johan smiled politely.
"As someone hoping to become a comic artist, reading Life at the Bottom felt natural."
"I enjoyed it."
"The directing was excellent."
"It deserved every award it received."
"..."
Andrew stared silently.
Johan continued.
"The story explores the desires and frustrations of adults while constantly exposing the contradictions hidden beneath the protagonist's ambitions through the supporting cast."
"The characterization is remarkable."
"The artwork and penwork perfectly match the atmosphere."
"However..."
He paused.
"I believe the tone simply wasn't suitable for a traditional boys' manga magazine."
"..."
Beside him—
Ethan scratched his eyebrow.
What is he talking about?
Did he seriously read that boring comic?
The complete set had been sitting untouched on the bookshelf at home for years.
His father had bought it out of sympathy.
Ethan had tried reading it once.
It was slow.
Heavy.
Impossible to understand.
Yet Johan...
Spoke as though he had completely dissected it.
Then Johan dropped another bomb.
"If the editorial department hadn't forced it to end early..."
"It would've become an even better series."
"As a reader..."
"I'm genuinely disappointed."
Andrew's eyes widened.
"...What did you just say?"
"It ended too early."
"The story was clearly preparing to expand after the protagonists got married."
"Then it would've explored the conflict between the protagonist and his childhood friend, who eventually succeeded at a rival company."
"..."
Andrew froze.
How...?
How does he know that?
Those weren't random guesses.
That had actually been his original outline.
No ordinary reader could have predicted it.
Is this kid really only in middle school...?
His posture.
His confidence.
His choice of words.
Rather than speaking to a child...
Andrew felt as though he was speaking to another professional.
***
"Mr. Andrew."
"May I ask one favor?"
"What is it?"
"A signature."
"..."
Only then did Andrew notice Life at the Bottom still resting in Johan's hands.
"Hand it over."
"Yes."
Andrew uncapped a marker.
"What's your name again?"
"Johan Seo."
He quickly signed the first page before returning the volume.
"Thank you very much."
Johan bowed politely.
For some reason...
Andrew smiled.
There really are middle-school kids reading my comics...
He suddenly felt embarrassed for judging the boy so quickly.
Clearing his throat, he asked,
"So...
You said you wanted to become a comic artist."
"What exactly can I help you with?"
"You're not here just for an autograph, are you?"
"I could answer questions...
Maybe even introduce you to an editor."
Johan slowly looked around the studio.
Then he asked,
"Sir...
Where are your assistants?"
"..."
Andrew hesitated.
Only then did he remember his miserable situation.
"Ah...
They all had something to do today."
"It's nothing important."
"Don't worry about it."
"Hm..."
Johan looked around once more.
"Did they all quit?"
"..."
Andrew's eyes widened.
The question struck painfully close to the truth.
Of course...
Johan knew.
Because before his regression—
He had spent years working in the webtoon industry.
He had heard countless stories from veteran artists about this exact era.
A chain-smoking artist.
An empty studio.
It's obvious.
Andrew forced an awkward smile.
"...Forget that."
"If you have questions, ask."
"I'll help however I can."
Johan smiled.
"I actually came because I need your help."
"My help?"
"Could you let me work here as an assistant?"
"...What?"
Deep wrinkles formed across Andrew's forehead.
***
"Hm..."
"You drew all of this?"
Rustle.
Rustle.
Andrew slowly flipped through Johan's sketchbook.
"Yes."
"If it's not good enough, I'll improve."
"Sir..."
Ethan spoke from the side.
"He's really good."
Andrew couldn't deny it.
The proportions were excellent.
The line confidence was natural.
Most kids this age only drew faces because they were easier.
Very few practiced full anatomy, clothing folds, perspective, and complete figures.
But Johan...
Had already moved beyond that stage.
Honestly...
His fundamentals might even be better than mine.
Jealousy stirred deep inside him.
Only another artist could truly understand what it felt like to witness genuine talent.
He finally asked,
"...You're serious?"
"Yes."
"I can't stay long."
"Just two weeks."
"I'd like to help with pen work and screentones."
"You've done assistant work before?"
"No."
"But you can teach me."
"And you don't have to pay me."
"..."
Arrogant?
Confident?
Andrew couldn't decide.
He scratched his head.
"Your parents know about this?"
"Yes."
"I told them everything."
There wasn't the slightest hesitation.
Andrew immediately realized—
The boy meant every word.
"...You really are something."
After thinking for several moments...
He finally sighed.
"Fine."
"Let's try it."
"But if you can't keep up..."
"I won't force it."
"Professional work isn't easy."
"Thank you."
"I'll be in your care..."
He bowed respectfully.
"Teacher."
Andrew smiled bitterly.
"Call me whatever you like."
***
"If you grip the pen too tightly..."
"The lines become stiff."
"Relax."
"Press firmly..."
"And let it glide."
"Yes."
Johan lowered the G-pen onto a blank sheet.
This really is different.
Drawing traditionally felt nothing like working digitally.
Every stroke required carefully controlling the ink.
Too much—
And blobs formed.
Too little—
And the line broke apart.
The resistance of the metal nib constantly changed.
Ink splattered whenever he lost concentration.
"The G-pen was designed to emphasize line variation."
"You need enough pressure to make the strokes come alive."
"I understand."
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Long lines.
Short lines.
Curved lines.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Several dozen minutes passed.
I'm improving.
Johan could already feel the lines becoming cleaner.
The only problem—
My arm...
The pressure required by a G-pen was far greater than drawing on a tablet.
And right now...
He possessed the body of a third-year middle-school student.
Not the body of the thirty-four-year-old professional he once was.
Still...
He smiled.
This is fun.
The smell of fresh ink.
The rough texture of manuscript paper.
The weight of a traditional pen.
Everything felt new.
Everything felt exciting.
Coming here was the right decision.
To dominate the upcoming Korean Comics Competition...
Traditional techniques were essential.
Unlike digital work—
Mistakes couldn't simply be erased.
Every stroke mattered.
If he mastered these fundamentals...
He could display far more than half of his true ability.
Two weeks here...
That's all I need.
I'll take first place.
And afterward—
Maybe Mr. Andrew will even let me borrow some reference materials.
The corner of Johan's mouth lifted.
To other assistants...
This studio was a miserable workplace.
To him—
It was a priceless classroom.
Andrew watched quietly before nodding.
"Practice for another thirty minutes."
"Then I'll let you ink an actual manuscript."
Johan blinked.
"Already?"
Andrew scratched his chin.
Terrifying...
He's only practiced for half an hour...
How is he adapting this quickly?
He waved dismissively.
"If you make mistakes..."
"We'll redraw it."
"Thank you, Teacher."
"...Teacher still sounds strange."
"Just call me Mister."
"But you're my teacher..."
"I don't mind."
"Now keep practicing."
"I have sketches to finish."
"Yes, Teacher."
"I just told you not to call me that..."
Andrew sighed as he turned back toward his desk.
Then—
"Excuse me..."
He stopped.
"Hm?"
Ethan was still standing there.
Looking completely lost.
"You haven't gone home yet?"
Ethan smiled awkwardly.
"Is there something you need too?"