Chapter 25 – I Want to Serialize
In the middle of the day, inside a large café located along the main road coming out from Min-hyuk’s neighborhood.
In one quiet corner, Kang Min-hyuk and Go Gwang-jin sat facing each other.
In front of the youthful-looking Kang Min-hyuk was an iced Americano.
In front of Go Gwang-jin, who gave off the vibe of a gangster, sat an extremely sweet-looking strawberry smoothie that seemed like it could rot teeth on sight—an oddly striking contrast.
Gwang-jin took a sip through the straw and asked,
“So… you’re saying, Artist Kang, that you want to serialize in our magazine?”
“Yes. I remembered you told me last time to contact you anytime if I wanted. Was I wrong?”
At Min-hyuk’s straightforward reply, the corner of Gwang-jin’s mouth twitched involuntarily.
‘This kid really isn’t ordinary.’
What kind of middle schooler is this bold?
It almost felt like he was dealing with a seasoned veteran comic artist, not a kid.
Well, he had already sensed something like this back when Min-hyuk was assisting Shin Pil-ho.
Not only was his drawing skill far from average, but whenever they talked, the kid carried an aura of experience that didn’t match his age at all.
And that wasn’t all.
–Gwang-jin, if you get the chance, you really should grab Min-hyuk. That kid is the real deal.
Even his assigned artist, Shin Pil-ho, kept singing Kang Min-hyuk’s praises whenever he had the chance.
There were rumors that this little brat had played a huge role in the production of the short story <Comics Are First Love>, which had completely overturned everyone’s evaluation of Shin Pil-ho.
And on top of that…
‘The short story he drew for the Korea Animation High School competition was no joke either.’
Gulp.
To Gwang-jin’s eyes, Min-hyuk looked like a walking golden goblin.
Honestly, if he could, he’d get down on his knees, beg, and make him stamp the contract right this second.
Of course, realistically, that wasn’t possible.
Gwang-jin took a sip of his smoothie, gave an awkward smile, and said,
“Haha, yes, that’s right, Artist Kang Min-hyuk. Thank you so much for reaching out… really.”
“Just call me Min-hyuk comfortably. I prefer it that way too.”
“Alright, Min-hyuk. Thanks for contacting me. So… you really want to serialize in our magazine?”
“Yes, if possible.”
Min-hyuk shot him a gaze filled with pure seriousness.
Gwang-jin scratched his cheek and replied,
“I know you’re still in school… Are you sure you can handle serialization in the middle of that?”
“I can do it plenty. I’ve always been pretty fast with my hands.”
“Huuuh… right. I guess so.”
Gwang-jin stroked his chin.
‘This is 200% serious.’
A third-year middle schooler aiming to debut in a magazine comic.
Honestly, if any other kid had said this, he would’ve dismissed it as childish nonsense.
New Chance had been running for over twenty years, and countless artists had come through it—but never once had they accepted a middle schooler, not even a high schooler.
‘But… thinking about it, this timing might actually be a golden opportunity.’
Gwang-jin nodded slowly and said,
“Do you know the comic called <Aureka>?”
“<Aureka>? Of course I do. Why?”
“It’s going to end soon. Probably within the next two months or so.”
“Ah… really?”
Min-hyuk widened his eyes dramatically, putting on a surprised expression.
Of course…
‘So it really is ending around this time.’
He already knew roughly, but hearing it confirmed still felt different.
<Aureka>.
The flagship work that had kept New Chance, a magazine focused mainly on Korean comics, afloat and earning money.
Back when game fantasy genres hadn’t yet taken root, this comic boldly made it a massive hit as a comic book, later influencing countless web novels and webtoons. A truly legendary work.
–Ah shit, <Aureka> is ending?
–Wow, already?
In his previous life, he still vividly remembered feeling disappointed when <Aureka> concluded around this time.
But.
Now that he had regressed, Min-hyuk didn’t feel particularly sad about the news.
Because.
‘This… is a chance to secure a serialization contract with New Chance.’
Due to the limited page space in magazine comics, the number of artists who can serialize is always fixed at a certain amount.
Which meant—
Right now, with <Aureka>’s artist stepping down, was the perfect timing for someone new to charge in.
Min-hyuk looked straight at Gwang-jin and asked,
“Then… would it be possible for me to take that empty spot and… serialize, Editor Go?”
“…It’s not impossible. But.”
“But?”
Gwang-jin stroked his chin, then continued with a serious expression.
“It’s not like you can just say you want to serialize and it automatically happens. Your work has to go through the editorial meeting… and you’ll have to beat out all the other competitors there to secure the slot. Especially since you’d be stepping in to replace <Aureka>, the hurdles will be even higher.”
His tone was a bit harsh, almost pushing.
But this was Gwang-jin’s own way of showing consideration.
He respected Kang Min-hyuk.
As a talented new sprout, as an artist he genuinely wanted to work with someday.
But… precisely because of that, he had to be brutally honest.
Not everyone who draws a comic gets to serialize.
And in this particular case, the competition would be fiercer than ever.
He was sure the boy would feel disappointed hearing this—
“I already know that.”
“…? You already know?”
“Yes. I have to beat out all the other artists the other editors are bringing in to get the serialization spot, right? That’s obvious. I was prepared for at least that much from the beginning.”
“…Hmm, really?”
‘Seriously… is this kid actually a third-year middle schooler?’
Gwang-jin found himself nodding almost involuntarily at Min-hyuk’s direct, piercing words.
Then Min-hyuk asked again.
“Anyway, I’d like to submit. How many pages of manuscript should I send, and by when?”
“You need to prepare three chapters’ worth within a month and a half. It’s best to show the storyboard stage early and get feedback along the way.”
“Got it. I’ll do that. Also… Editor Go, do you have any advice that might help? Like tips for actually landing the serialization.”
“Advice, huh…”
Gwang-jin stroked his chin again before speaking.
“Since it’s the slot opening up after <Aureka> ends, a work that’s broadly appealing and has strong commercial potential will score the highest points.”
“Yes, and?”
“The artists you’ll be competing against are all sharpening their blades too. Honestly, as a middle schooler and a complete newcomer, you’re at a disadvantage in many ways. To be blunt, the odds of your work passing the meeting are pretty low.”
Min-hyuk stroked his own chin.
‘So I’m basically competing with shackles on.’
Right now, he was just a third-year middle schooler with zero serialization experience—an amateur.
From the editorial department’s perspective, even setting aside how fun the work was, they couldn’t help worrying about missed deadlines, personal issues, or other problems.
So what Min-hyuk had to do…
‘Was create a work so overwhelmingly superior that they had no choice but to pick him, regardless of all those drawbacks.’
And he had to do it against seasoned professional artists.
Frankly speaking, the road ahead looked pitch black.
But.
Thump! Thump!
Instead, Min-hyuk’s heart began pounding faster, and he had to grit his teeth to keep the corners of his mouth from curling up too obviously.
Because…
“This is going to be fun.”
“Hm? What?”
“I don’t hate situations like this.”
Min-hyuk looked straight at Gwang-jin with bright, sparkling eyes.
And in them, Gwang-jin didn’t see a naïve third-year middle schooler.
He saw the face of a veteran comic artist, burning with fierce fighting spirit.
Gwang-jin swallowed hard.
‘This kid really isn’t ordinary.’
He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them again and extended one hand forward.
“Anyway… looking forward to working with you. Please make something really good.”
“Don’t worry. I absolutely won’t disappoint you.”
Because there was a reason he had to secure this serialization no matter what.
A hot flame roared up inside Min-hyuk.
***
The next morning, inside a middle school classroom.
“So if you don’t properly understand the concept of the unit circle here, math is basically doomed from the start…”
Tap tap tap! Tap tap!
A male teacher wearing dragonfly-like glasses was enthusiastically scribbling white chalk across the blackboard while lecturing.
The kids in the front row listened with wide, attentive eyes.
From the middle rows onward, half the class stared blankly out the window or zoned out with glassy expressions.
And at the very back—
There were the athletes openly napping, Oh Seung-heon, and…
Scritch scratch!
‘Huuuuum…’
Kang Min-hyuk was racking his brain, desperately trying to come up with ideas for a new work to submit to New Chance, his pencil scratching nonstop across the sketchbook.
‘This isn’t a simple problem at all.’
His head was starting to heat up.
Ever since the meeting with Editor Go Gwang-jin yesterday, he had thrown himself into brainstorming.
The issue was that what he was aiming for this time was the vacancy left by <Aureka>, New Chance’s flagship title.
‘Something broadly appealing, something that fits perfectly in a shonen magazine…’
That meant the protagonist should be a middle or high school male character, and ideally, it would be good to include game-like elements similar to what <Aureka> had.
A few safe, conventional ideas immediately came to mind…
But none of them felt quite right.
A high school protagonist who gets sucked into a game world and struggles desperately to escape…
The kind of cliché that’s already overused in game fantasy.
‘Well, it’s not bad, but this won’t cut it.’
Surely, the other artists competing for this slot were already thinking up similar concepts.
If he wanted to beat out the competition and secure the serialization in New Chance, a safe, ordinary work like that wouldn’t do.
‘Something familiar yet fresh. Something broadly appealing but instantly eye-catching…’
He knew.
He knew full well that this was no different from declaring he was going to make a hot iced Americano.
But what could he do?
He had to pull it off—secure the serialization spot in New Chance, and ease the burden on Hong Mi-seon even a little.
How long had he been agonizing like this?
“Salute to the teacher!”
“Goodbye!”
Before he knew it, school dismissal time had arrived.
As usual, he was walking home with Oh Seung-heon.
“Why do you look like that?”
“Ah… I’m preparing a new work, but I just can’t come up with a decent premise.”
“New work? Wait, are you planning to submit to New Chance?”
“Yeah, I’m going to try. They said there’s an open slot because <Aureka> is ending.”
“Ooooh! Then tell me the ideas you’ve got so far. This hyung will listen and give you an evaluation.”
They walked along, chattering away for who knows how long.
“Hmm… yeah, they’re all way too safe. They don’t seem boring, but at the same time, none of them really hit you hard, you know?”
“Yeah.”
When Seung-heon nodded in agreement, Min-hyuk squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then let out a shallow sigh.
‘Damn, he’s only saying things that are completely right.’
Wait—does “being hit” mean getting beaten up?
Surprisingly(?), no, that wasn’t it.
Oh Seung-heon might be a bit hyper and have a mouth like a feather duster…
But thanks to his long experience reading comics, his eye for quality was actually quite sharp.
–Hey, can’t you fix the ending of chapter 1 a little? Something about it… just doesn’t quite hit right.
Back in his previous life, when he was preparing for the Bluehouse contest, he had received quite a lot of useful feedback from this very guy.
That’s why, even though Min-hyuk fully agreed with everything Seung-heon said, the frustration only grew deeper.
“Don’t you have any ideas?”
“If I did, I’d be the one drawing it.”
“Fair enough…”
It really wasn’t easy.
Min-hyuk stared blankly up at the sky and let out another sigh.
At that moment, Seung-heon patted his shoulder a couple of times and grinned.
“Hey, I just had a great idea.”
“What is it?”
“Let’s go to the comic café. If we read a ton of stuff there… something might suddenly come to you, right?”
“…You just want to go, don’t you?”
“Ahem… well, maybe half of it is that.”
Min-hyuk fell into thought for a moment.
‘The comic café, huh…’
Reading a bunch of other works might indeed spark something unexpectedly.
‘And… there might be a very important person there who could help me.’
As soon as one particular person came to mind, the corner of Min-hyuk’s mouth lifted slightly.
“…Alright. Let’s go.”
“OK! You won’t regret it—I promise.”
And so the two of them turned their steps… heading toward their usual hideout, the comic café ‘Best Nation.