Chapter 33 – Stockpile, Stockpile, Stockpile
After stamping the contract at Jangsan Publishing House, everyone returned to their everyday lives.
“Auntie, two special sundae here!”
“Yeeees!”
Mrs. Hong Mi-seon went back to work at the gukbap restaurant she’d always worked at.
The slight change was that the tension that had once filled her face had been replaced with a faint smile… and
“I’m heading out first.”
“Aigoo, lucky you. Off to see your talented son, huh, unnie?”
“What are you even saying.”
The biggest difference was that she no longer had to push herself to work late into the night.
And as for Kang Min-hyuk…
“Zzz… huuuu…”
“Hey, someone wake Min-hyuk up. That snoring is insane.”
“Got it.”
During the day, he slept soundly (?) at school, and after classes let out…
“Let’s get started.”
“OK.”
Scratch scratch!
He shut himself in his room and continued the routine of grinding out manuscripts with Oh Seung-heon until his arms felt like they’d fall off.
And that wasn’t all.
<<Hey Min-hyuk, about this part of the storyboard… yeah, this emotion line feels a bit off when I read it—it kind of jumps out awkwardly—>>
“Ah, that part.”
Exchanging phone calls with his editor, Go Gwang-jin, to discuss and tweak the storyboard became a regular thing.
<<Let’s fight until launch! It’s really right around the corner now.>>
“Yes, we have to.”
Time passed and passed, and now only two weeks remained until launch.
What’s more, in this week’s issue of New Chance, Aureka had finally reached its conclusion.
At the end of that final episode, the following notice was inserted:
[Thank you so much for loving Aureka all this time.
Starting next week, Brave King by the new artist ‘David’ will begin serialization.]
A clear announcement that the new work I’d prepared was coming.
By the way, this pen name “David”…
-Min-hyuk, how about David?
-David? Why?
-You’re so young. And your previous work was Aureka. It gives off that David vs. Goliath vibe. What do you think?
“Hmm… Sure, let’s go with that.”
It was a pen name that Assistant Editor Go Gwang-jin had suggested for a somewhat silly reason. At the time, Min-hyuk thought it wasn’t bad and happily agreed.
But now that he actually saw it printed boldly in the magazine…
‘I’m going to look like such an arrogant prick.’
A new work stepping in to replace Aureka, written by a complete rookie, and with the pen name David on top of that.
All three elements combined—it was impossible to shake the feeling that it came off as incredibly cocky.
‘…I should’ve gone with something safer.’
But what could he do now? Even if it meant getting cursed out, he had to push forward.
The strange pressure that came with print serialization—something he’d never felt in the webtoon era—made his heart tighten for no reason.
‘I can do this well.’
Well, it’d be weirder if he wasn’t nervous.
Aureka.
Min-hyuk knew exactly what kind of impact that comic had on the Korean comic industry, and as a reader, he had genuinely loved it.
Back in high school, when the artist didn’t start a follow-up series, he’d even written a letter to the editorial department.
All sorts of complicated emotions swirled inside him.
Min-hyuk closed the magazine to calm his racing heart.
Then… he gripped the G-pen tightly on his desk and fixed his gaze on the manuscript paper.
‘No point getting hyped up and wasting energy. Just focus on what’s in front of me. Anyway, I need to stockpile as much as possible before I start school.’
It wasn’t urgent right this second.
He already had manuscripts finished up to Chapter 3, which meant he effectively had more than a month’s buffer.
‘Thank god New Chance is biweekly.’
Compared to the weekly webtoon deadlines he used to face… this wasn’t hardcore at all.
But “not urgent right now” only applied as long as his life stayed in its current state.
‘Once I start at Animation High, things are going to get busy.’
He hadn’t gone yet, so he didn’t know for sure, but given the purpose of a school like Animation High… the amount of assignments and projects they had to complete internally was apparently brutal.
When that time came, there was no way he’d be able to work as leisurely as he did now—so preparing in advance was the smart move.
And for that very reason, he’d already pulled out his secret weapon (?).
“Oh Seung-heon, how many pages are you finishing today?”
“Me? I think I can at least get to page 9.”
“OK.”
When Min-hyuk turned his head to ask, Seung-heon—who had been sitting at the small table trimming screen tones—blinked and answered.
And the reason this guy was here doing all this…
- Hey, Oh Seung-heon. Let’s make this official and sign a contract.
- Contract? What, you’re actually gonna pay me for assisting?
- Yeah. You’ve debuted now. Can’t keep making you work for free.
- Yesss! Dude, am I about to make bank or what?
- Bank my ass…
After passing the review and getting approved, he finally had the talk with Seung-heon—who’d been helping out for free all this time—about properly paying him.
Thanks to that, after school let out…
No—after “work” ended…
Seung-heon would either come straight to Min-hyuk’s house, or Min-hyuk would head over to Seung-heon’s, and they’d work together like this every day.
And maybe because he was actually getting paid now…
“Hey, Kang Min-hyuk. What happens to Jeon Gang-pae in the next chapter?”
“Right. He gets it from Kim Bin-woo.”
“Oh, for real? That’s gonna be fun. When he gets beat up, shouldn’t we have him hit back exactly the same way Kim Bin-woo beat him before? Like… mirror the direction and everything?”
“Hmm… That’s actually not bad.”
“Right? Told you.”
At some point, Seung-heon stopped just doing grunt work.
He started actively throwing out ideas even during storyboarding.
And because he’d been reading comics for so long…
Some of his suggestions were genuinely pretty good.
For Min-hyuk, it was a huge plus in many ways.
‘Things are going smoothly. Really smoothly.’
…
…
Eat. Work. Go to school.
Those three things repeated day after day.
And finally… launch day was right around the corner.
***
Scratch scratch!
In the middle of their usual intense manuscript session at Min-hyuk’s house—
Min-hyuk glanced at the wall clock and spoke up.
“Hey, Oh Seung-heon. You should head out now. Mom’s gonna be home soon.”
“Oh, really? But what about the work? We’re not done yet.”
“It’s fine. I’ll finish the rest.”
“You sure? You’re not gonna dock my pay, right?”
“Of course not. This much is on hyung-nim.”
“Krrrrrr, that’s our Kang Min-hyuk.”
Seung-heon smirked, stood up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and headed out to the living room.
But just as Min-hyuk followed him to the door to see him off—
“Kang Min-hyuk.”
Seung-heon, who had just slipped on his shoes, suddenly turned around with an unusually serious expression and spoke in a low tone that didn’t suit him at all.
“What?”
“…”
“Why’d you call me?”
When Min-hyuk asked again, Seung-heon pursed his lips like he was about to say something important, then just waved his hand dismissively.
“Ugh… never mind. I’m out.”
Slam!
He hurriedly shut the door and practically ran away.
“What the…?”
What was he about to say? Leaving me hanging like that, what a jerk.
Min-hyuk tilted his head in confusion and went back to his room.
He started cleaning up the small table Seung-heon had been using when—
“Hm?”
Underneath, a practice sketchbook had fallen on the floor.
It looked unfamiliar, so it must’ve been something Seung-heon dropped.
Min-hyuk picked it up to make sure whose it was and flipped through a few pages.
And then…
It was packed with doodles.
Crooked, messy lines.
Terrible fundamentals.
The drawings had a very avant-garde, pop-art vibe—clearly not the work of someone skilled at first glance.
“Oh Seung-heon, this guy doodled too?”
Heh, kinda cute.
Min-hyuk snorted softly through his nose and kept flipping.
The doodles went on endlessly.
And not just that—
There were places where he’d roughly divided panels with pencil and even drawn actual comic pages.
He’d written in dialogue line by line.
In some spots, you could see real seriousness in the practice.
“…What the hell?”
Page after page, as Min-hyuk turned them, the amusement slowly drained from his face, replaced by something much more serious.
Because…
He himself had gone through exactly the same process Oh Seung-heon was experiencing right now, back in the distant past.
“No way… it can’t be.”
Min-hyuk scratched his head and tilted it again, puzzled.
***
Around 7 p.m., on the roadside sidewalk.
Four men and women were walking along the road, chatting noisily.
“What are you planning to do next, Min-ji-ssi?”
“Ah, I’m thinking of trying my hand at educational comics for a bit.”
“Educational comics… yeah, that’s not a bad path. If you ever need an introduction at Jangsan Publishing, just contact me anytime.”
“Really?”
Leading the conversation at the very front was a man in his mid-30s, smiling faintly.
Skin so pale it bordered on ghostly, limbs so thin they looked skeletal.
His identity: the flagship artist of New Chance, the man who had been called the undisputed number one in the Korean comic industry for years—the creator of <Aureka>, Yang Jae-han.
Last week, after finally concluding <Aureka>…
This was the group dinner with his studio assistants on the way home.
How much time passed?
Anyang Station appeared ahead.
“Phew… then let’s part ways here.”
When Yang Jae-han turned his head to speak, one assistant spoke up, voice trembling.
“Jae-han seonsaengnim… are you really not going to draw anymore? If you did… I’d work really, really hard as your assistant.”
“…Min-ji-ssi. Why do you have to say things like that again?”
“But I really liked our studio. We have so many memories, and I’m sure if you started a new series, it would do really well too.”
The other assistants looked awkward but kept stealing glances at Jae-han.
They didn’t say it out loud, but they were probably thinking the same thing.
Jae-han scratched the back of his head sheepishly, then lifted only the corners of his mouth in a small smile.
“I know you mean well, Min-ji-ssi, but I’ve decided to stop. For years my body and mind have been completely exhausted, and the passion I used to have for drawing comics… or even my love for this industry… it’s mostly gone now.”
“…B-but…”
“Even if the studio disappears, we can still see each other often, right? Let’s keep in touch.”
“Understood… seonsaengnim…”
“Come on, Min-ji-ssi, let’s go. Seonsaengnim, we’ll head in now.”
“Yes, get home safely, everyone.”
At Jae-han’s nod, the assistants all filed into the subway station together.
Min-ji, still reluctant to part, kept glancing back over her shoulder.
Once they had all disappeared from sight…
“Huuu…”
Yang Jae-han stared blankly into the empty air for a moment, then turned and started walking.
‘It’s really over now.’
Step. Step.
With every footfall, a strange mix of relief and emptiness made his heart waver.
<Aureka>
The work that had reigned as New Chance’s flagship title for a full eight years, bringing him both wealth and fame.
But while serializing it, Jae-han had felt…
‘I was sick of it.’
Finish one serialization, start the next. Finish, start again.
Doing that nonstop for eight years… there wasn’t a single part of his body—arms, legs, knees—that hadn’t developed some chronic pain. He lived soaked in constant fatigue.
A life that didn’t feel like living.
And in that endless cycle, the blazing passion for comics that had once erupted like a volcano had burned out completely—leaving only ashes.
To the point where he never wanted to draw again.
‘Should I use the savings to open a fried chicken place? Or maybe a campsite—I heard those can be pretty decent…’
After working nonstop for eight years, suddenly not having to anymore…
Was that why?
Jae-han muttered to himself with a bitter smile.
While walking toward home like that—
“Hm?”
His steps came to a halt in front of a small neighborhood bookstore tucked in an alley.
Because on the wall outside…
A poster had been pasted up with the following text:
[New Chance, New Series Launch!
Super rookie artist ‘David’ with <Brave King>!
Launching with the resolve to take down the Goliath called Aureka!]
“…David? Goliath? Seriously.”
Come to think of it, he’d heard there was some internal buzz at the publishing house about the next big thing to follow Aureka’s conclusion.
‘How ridiculous.’
Yang Jae-han let out a snort and scratched his chin…
‘Well… I’ve got nothing else to do anyway. Might as well see how impressive this “genius” work really is.’
And with that, he stepped straight into the bookstore.