Chapter 7 – The Old Comic Artist (3)
In the living room, where a lone refrigerator stood solemnly.
Three people sat around a low table on the floor.
The owner of this office (cum bachelor pad), Shin Pil-ho; the temporary assistant, Kang Min-hyuk.
And…
“Sir, is there any more kimchi?”
“…Sorry. We’re out.”
“What kind of house doesn’t even have kimchi?”
“This isn’t a house—it’s a studio.”
“Come on, it’s basically the same thing. Why be so picky?”
Oh Ji-heon’s son had tagged along too.
—“Sir, give me something to do too.”
—“You want to be a comic artist as well?”
—“Nope. Just bored.”
—“Then… why not go home and play if you’re bored?”
—“Hey, I’m offering to work—why say no?”
When Min-hyuk said he’d work as an assistant, Seung-heon decided to stick around and join in.
Pil-ho appreciated the sentiment, but if he was honest…
“Um… Seung-beom.”
“It’s Seung-heon. Why do you keep getting my name wrong?”
“Ahem… Seung-heon. Sorry, but do you really need to stay here?”
“Why? Am I bothering you?”
“Not bothering exactly… I just feel bad watching you suffer for no reason. You’re Ji-heon’s son—if something happened, I’d feel terrible…”
“It’s not hard.”
“Huh? Not hard? Why?”
“It’s fun being here. You cook ramen for us, Min-hyuk’s here, and watching comics get drawn is cool.”
Fun? Is this a kindergarten?
And you haven’t even drawn anything.
All you’ve done is erase—and badly at that, poking holes in the paper!
You tried cutting screentone and sliced the manuscript instead!
I told you to white-out a wrong line, and you smeared the stuff everywhere!
At this point, most people would hate comics.
Why the hell is he finding it fun?!
—of course, Pil-ho couldn’t yell that at his friend’s son.
So he just trembled, scratched his head, and tried to stay calm.
Just then,
“Sir, you’re not mad, right?”
“…Huh? Mad?”
“Yeah, your face is kinda red.”
“Ahaha, no. It’s just hot.”
“Then I can stay, right?”
“That’s not exactly…”
Pil-ho made an awkward face and glanced sideways at Min-hyuk.
He saw Min-hyuk quietly pouring water into everyone’s glasses.
‘They’re friends… how can two people be so different?’
Well, to be fair, Min-hyuk was the weird one to begin with.
Even for a middle schooler, normal kids are just… kids.
‘Patience. Patience. That’s life—one good thing always comes with one bad.’
In the end, Pil-ho sighed heavily and slurped down his ramen.
When they had scraped their bowls clean,
“Mr. Pil-ho.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll do the dishes. You cooked the ramen, after all.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. You said you’re busy—go work with Min-hyuk.”
“…Thanks.”
At least the kid’s nice.
“Let’s go, Min-hyuk.”
“Yes, teacher.”
Back in the studio, Min-hyuk sat down immediately and handed over a sheet of manuscript paper that had been sitting on the desk.
“Page 9—finished. Please check it.”
“Hmm…”
Pil-ho stared at the page for a long time, scratching his chin.
‘Who would ever guess a middle schooler did this?’
Clean, crisp inking—perfect facial lines flowing seamlessly.
Just this alone could pass for professional work.
Still, Pil-ho wanted to say something.
He wanted to feel like he was helping this genius, even a little.
“It’s all good, Min-hyuk, but… want to compare it to my manuscript?”
“Hmm… it feels subtly different somehow?”
“Can you tell what’s different?”
When Pil-ho showed him his own manuscript, Min-hyuk narrowed his eyes, then snapped his fingers with a clear pop.
“Ah, the line thickness is different.”
“That’s right. Objects in the foreground get thicker lines… background objects get thinner ones. That creates depth across the whole page.”
“Ooh, I see. Thank you, teacher!”
Min-hyuk’s mouth curved into a bright smile.
‘I didn’t know that one.’
A technique he’d never learned because he’d only ever done webtoons.
Unlike webtoons—where color and layer effects can create depth—print comics are limited to black and white.
Using line thickness like this was probably a technique born from that difference between the two mediums.
‘This is fun.’
Swish-swish!
Min-hyuk eagerly added lines to his own page, applying the technique Pil-ho had just taught him.
Almost instantly, the original drawing gained much more three-dimensionality.
Pil-ho, watching quietly from the side, felt the corners of his mouth lift.
‘This kid’s a total sponge.’
It was frightening talent.
It wasn’t just that he was skilled and fast.
He was always ready to accept advice, and he improved at an alarming rate.
The work that used to require two assistants was now being surpassed in speed by this single kid—it didn’t make sense.
‘So this is what they call a genius.’
No need for further words.
It had taken Pil-ho himself a solid year just to draw decent lines.
If this kid wasn’t a genius, then who was?
Pil-ho’s hand trembled slightly as he stared at the manuscript. Just then, Min-hyuk asked,
“Is there a problem with the page, teacher?”
“…No. It’s perfectly done. The line quality is good. Just keep doing it like this.”
“Yes, sir!”
Thump-thump.
Pil-ho patted him on the shoulder.
Min-hyuk’s mouth curved upward too.
‘I definitely made the right choice coming here.’
What he needed right now was the full process and know-how of finishing a print comic manuscript—inking, screentone, everything.
Here, he didn’t have to worry about getting materials, and there was Shin Pil-ho… a pretty decent teacher.
—When filling in blacks, think about where the hair and screentone will go. Keeping consistent space is key.
—No need to brute-force it with a pen. Just swipe it with a brush.
—Since black areas will cover them later, you don’t need to detail lines that’ll get hidden.
—Before starting inking, think about the order of operations. That’s the most important part.
He was realizing anew how vastly different the workflows were between webtoons and print comics.
If he’d tried to figure all this out alone, it would have taken months—maybe half a year.
But he’d crammed it all in within days from Shin Pil-ho. It was an enormous gain.
Of course, Pil-ho avoided missing his deadline thanks to him too—this was a true win-win.
‘Well… it’s about time to move to the next step.’
Min-hyuk let out a breath through his nose, looked at Pil-ho again, and asked,
“Teacher, could I ask one small favor?”
“A favor? What is it?”
“Could you teach me screentone work too?”
“You sure? You’re already helping plenty just with inking…”
“Come on—I want to learn. When else would I get a chance to learn from someone as great as you?”
At those words,
‘Great… teacher?’
Tingle.
Shin Pil-ho scratched the tip of his nose for no reason, an embarrassed expression on his face.
‘This kid’s really going places.’
Overwhelming skill far beyond his age.
An eye for recognizing a great teacher (?) like me.
The willingness to challenge new things without hesitation.
Watching Min-hyuk, Pil-ho felt an inexplicable fire ignite in his chest.
If a kid like this grew up and jumped into the industry, maybe this hopeless Korean comic market could actually change—that kind of hope.
Pil-ho sniffled and said,
“Yeah! Of course I’ll teach you!”
He clenched his fist and shouted.
Just then—
Crash! Bang! Clang!
A loud racket came from the living room, and both turned their heads.
Then a voice rang out.
“Ah, I broke a plate. Sorry, sir!”
“…”
Ah… that kid was still here.
The hope that had filled Pil-ho’s face was once again tinged with faint despair.
***
“Done done doooone! It’s finally overrrr!”
In one corner of the studio, Shin Pil-ho raised a well-sealed mailing envelope high and cheered.
“Phew… good work.”
Kang Min-hyuk, sitting beside him, let out a deep sigh.
“Krrgh, that was tough. Sir, since we worked hard, you’re buying us something, right?”
Oh Seung-heon stretched and grinned at Pil-ho.
Pil-ho and Min-hyuk simultaneously glared at Seung-heon.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“…Ahem, it’s nothing.”
“And you, Min-hyuk?”
“Nothing, nothing—just looking. Don’t mind me.”
Who exactly had it tough?
—“Seung-heon! I told you not to touch the screentone!”
—“But I was trying to help…”
—“No! What if you stick it in the wrong place?!”
—“Is this spot supposed to get white-out?”
—“That’s black ink! I even wrote ‘black’ on it!”
—“Aha!”
—“Aha my ass!”
For the past two weeks, all they remembered was Seung-heon causing accidents… and them cleaning up after him.
He caused trouble and felt bad about it?
No—that smile was way too bright for that.
How to put it… by now most people would’ve quit from boredom or frustration, but unfortunately, Seung-heon was the type with great persistence despite being terrible at everything.
‘Well… at least we finished without missing deadline. That’s something.’
Thanks to those two (accurately, one of them), he’d get paid, and he’d avoided getting chewed out by the editorial department.
Plus, in a few days… the new assistants he’d managed to find would start coming in.
He’d definitely overcome a major crisis thanks to these two.
“Alright, I’m treating today. What do you want? Meat? Sashimi?”
“Meat, obviously. Right, Min-hyuk?”
“Yeah, pork belly’s the truth.”
Min-hyuk and Seung-heon answered in perfect sync, and Pil-ho let out a small laugh.
“Then let’s go. We’ll stop by the post office on the way to mail this, then stuff ourselves at the barbecue place nearby.”
“Yeeesss!”
“Thank you!”
The three headed out with light steps, clomping down the stairs of the old villa.
“Hey, hey, slow down.”
“Hurry up, sir.”
“Man…”
Seung-heon and Min-hyuk shot out first and reached the lobby on the first floor.
Just then—
“…Oof!”
Seung-heon, who had dashed ahead, collided with something and fell backward onto his butt.
“Huh?”
Min-hyuk stopped and looked up.
There, blocking the lobby entrance, stood a man.
His eyes widened for a moment, then blinked.
No wonder.
The man blocking the lobby looked, well…
‘A thug?’
Jeans and a bomber jacket.
A muscular inverted-triangle build you could spot from a mile away, tanned copper skin, and a buzz cut.
Plus a grim, unfriendly expression that screamed “bad news.”
He looked exactly like a gangster straight out of a crime noir film…
Slurp, slurp.
One hand in his pocket, the other sucking on a Melona ice cream bar, staring down at Seung-heon.
“…Uh-oh.”
This is bad.
Seung-heon’s body stiffened as the man took a bite of the Melona and spoke.
“Kid, you shouldn’t run around in places like this.”
“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to!”
Seung-heon shook his head frantically.
‘What do I do?’
Run? Or call the cops?
Min-hyuk scratched his forehead and sighed deeply just as—
“Huh… wait a second…?”
Shin Pil-ho, who had finally caught up, blinked at the scene.
“S-sirrr…”
Seung-heon stared desperately, sending an S.O.S. signal. Pil-ho rolled his eyes between the “gangster” and Seung-heon, let out a deep sigh, and said,
“Editor Go… people misunderstand when you dress like that.”
Huh? Editor?
Seung-heon and Min-hyuk blinked. The “gangster”—now called Editor Go—finished swallowing the Melona, flicked the stick, and replied,
“Shut up. It’s comfortable—what’s the problem? Writer Pil-ho worries too much about what others think.”
“Phew…”
Min-hyuk poked Pil-ho in the side and whispered,
“Teacher, you know him?”
“Ah, kids—say hello. This is Go Gwang-jin, the editor in charge of my work.”
An editor? With that look…?
Min-hyuk hid his shock and nodded reflexively.
Gwang-jin blinked and asked,
“Are they… your nephews or something?”
“Something like that.”
Pil-ho scratched his head, then—as if remembering something—snapped his fingers and pulled out the envelope he’d tucked under his arm.
“Oh, right. Did you come to pick this up?”
“Hm? What’s this?”
“What else? The manuscript. This week’s pages.”
“But deadline’s still three days away?”
“Somehow finished early.”
Pil-ho scratched his head awkwardly and glanced sideways.
Even without words, Min-hyuk knew the expression.
‘Thanks.’
Min-hyuk’s mouth twitched into a small smile.
Just then—
Thumbs up!
Seung-heon proudly raised his thumb, puffing out his chest.
‘Why are you the one looking proud?’
Min-hyuk wanted to call him out, but it wasn’t important.
Gwang-jin’s mouth curved upward (which somehow looked scarier) as he said,
“Oh? So you’ve got a few days free now?”
“I guess… why?”
Pil-ho asked warily.
Thump!
Gwang-jin placed a hand on his shoulder and said cheerfully,
“Writer Pil-ho, you know I love you, right?”
“Just say it—you’re making me nervous. What is it…?”
“Ahem! Writer Pil-ho, how about a short story? Sixteen pages. Deadline… two days should be plenty, right?”
“Huh?”
Pil-ho’s eyes widened in shock.
‘Hmm…’
This could be interesting.
Min-hyuk, watching from behind, felt the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly.