The Great Storyteller

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

“Take care of yourself.”

“Alright, be safe.”

Mr. Moon sent the students away and stayed behind, in the science room, on his own. There were five notebooks piled up on the desk, all submitted by the members. They were new and spotless.

He opened the notebook on the top of the pile. It was the time to listen to the voices of his young pupils.

‘My name is Sun Hwa Ahn. I’m 17 years old, and my blood type is B. I’m maintaining my grades at a higher tier, and my hobby is reading comic books. I enjoy comics. The reason why I joined the Literature Club instead of the Comic Club is that the Comic Club at our school is not a genuine club.’

From that point on, Sun Hwa wrote at good length on her complaints toward the school’s club management. Wasn’t it supposed to be a self-introduction?

About half of what she wrote was about comics. When it came to the things she liked, they were described in great detail.

‘I hope you can view me as a bright and healthy student! Thank you Mr. Moon!”

She was straightforward to the end. She had the courage to speak up about the things she liked. Mr. Moon was able to immediately picture Sun Hwa. Considering how it painted a fairly accurate picture of herself, that had been a decent self-introduction.

He picked up the second notebook. It was a similar notebook to Sun Hwa’s, and it wasn’t hard to guess who it belonged to.

‘My name is Bom Yoon. I’m 17, and my blood type is A. My hobby is reading. I like both comics and literature. I joined the Literature Club at the suggestion of a friend. Everyone here seems to have distinct personalities, so I look forward to being part of this club. Thank you Mr. Moon.’

That was it. There were traces of her erasing in the blank space. Timid and a woman of few words, it seemed like she was still working on introducing herself. Despite the length, it was easy to identify her characteristics. She was complimenting a group of people around her when she had barely met them. Her style was similar to Sun Hwa’s. Her self-introduction was focused more on the others than herself.

Perhaps she’s sensitive to her surroundings.

After some thought, Mr. Moon moved onto the next notebook. The name Seo Kwang Kim was visible.

‘To Mr. Moon.

This is Seo Kwang Kim. I’ve chosen the Literature Club as my first club after coming up to high school. The reason why I didn’t choose another club that could potentially look better on my school record is simply because I’m not interested in getting good grades. Nobody enjoys studying, but I seriously despise being forced to do something.

My parents call me immature. They say that I’m going to regret this in the future, but I know for a fact that regret isn’t going to be the only sentiment I feel when I look back to this moment.

I love books. That’s the reason why I joined the Literature Club. The first time I came to like books was the moment I shed a tear onto the page of a book. I’ve cried reading a book in the past. It was an amazing experience. Although I wasn’t listening to beautiful music or was able to see gorgeous colors, I was being moved from deep within.’

Mr. Moon related to Seo Kwang’s statement. You could never forget the moment of being moved by that thing called a book. Many people kept crying and laughing from stories left by great storytellers. A person could grow solely through that.

Seo Kwang described himself at the end in a single line, ‘Your pupil who’s in love with all of the stories in this world, Seo Kwang Kim.’

Next was Baron. When that kid showed up to the staffroom for the first time, Mr. Moon was honestly shocked.

“I want to draw.”

Mr. Moon replied, “I’m a literature teacher.”

Then, Baron answered, “I’m aware.”

‘Who would’ve thought a rebel could be so polite?’ Mr.Moon quickly gave him permission. ‘It was good to have at least one person around who liked to go against the flow. Others could find that a motivation to write.’

What kind of things would a artist pupil of a literature teacher draw?

Mr. Moon opened the sketchbook and smiled with satisfaction. It was a very familiar drawing, a bird in a white background. It immediately reminded him of a book cover, and he felt a small bit of relief. After reading that book, he had to feel something, whatever that might be.

Mr. Moon picked up the last notebook, Juho Woo’s. That kid was hard to read. He seemed innocent, but on the other hand, mature. He appeared to have a floaty kind of personality, but at the same time, he blended well with others. It was hard to tell if he was calm or just absent-minded.

‘Maybe his introduction will tell me.’

He turned the page.

“Oh man, this kid.”

Could that be better described as brilliant or off the wall? Mr. Moon chuckled at the title written on the first sentence.

‘About Grilled Mackerel.

Mackerel is referred to as the blue fish. Its clean, buttery-tasting meat is worthy of being called “the porkbelly of the sea.” If the fish is of high quality, all it needs is a little salt. Otherwise, it will require a bit of trimming. This is to eliminate the fishy smell.

Prepare some rice water or water with a little bit of soybean paste. Soak the fish for about ten minutes, then wash it in running water. The odor will disappear. If you add lemon or finely ground daikon radish and soy sauce, the fish becomes a delicacy.

I’m always eating grilled mackerel that’s been tidily prepared. Only, my father is not fond of that.

He dislikes the fact that the human hand is extinguishing even the essence of the ocean. Even if it were the fishiest smelling mackerel, he says that he prefers that over the mackerel that’s been prepared to people’s liking.

Standing next my father longing for the lost essence of the fish, I find myself subconsciously picturing him when he was full of the fragrance of life.

With a hope of having grilled mackerel for dinner tonight, I now bring this composition to an end.’

“Grilled Mackerel.”

‘I like it.’ Mr. Moon read Juho’s writing again. It was flawless as a self-introduction.

“I wouldn’t have know. This kid is very interesting. Are kids good at writing by default nowadays?” Murmured Mr. Moon as he thought of a young author in his head.

—

As Juho read in his room, he heard the front door opening. His mother was home.

“Welcome back.”

“You must be hungry. I’ll grill some mackerel.”

“Sure.”

Juho felt awkward about speaking to his parents in casual language. For some time, he had been speaking to them properly. His parents were thinking that their son had grown up after moving up to high school.

“What about father?”

“He must be busy at work. He said he’ll be late.”

His mother took off her work clothes and immediately started cooking in the kitchen. As soon as she walked into the kitchen, there was vigor in the house. Rustling, the sound of chopping, smell of fish… All those came together and transformed into a mouth-watering smell. With hands of experience, she had quickly filled the dinner table. She hadn’t been doing that for mere a day or two. It was precise, and skillful. All Juho could do was to place the utensils on the table or scooping rice into the bowls.

“Thank you for the food.”

Juho took some the white mackerel meat from the plate and put it in his mouth. The meat was just buttery enough, giving it a smooth texture. It was perfectly combined with rice. He felt like he could eat an entire bowl just with the mackerel.

“Is everything OK at school?”

“Of course.”

“Has there been anything interesting lately?”

As usual, she calmly asked about her son’s day. Naturally, Juho told his mother about what had happened that day. It was mostly about what he had talked about with his friends or funny things his teachers had said. When it came to the club activity in the science room, Juho only picked things that his mother might laugh at. In response, Juho’s mother started sharing about her day and the things that happened between the neighbors.

“It’s impossible to have a conversation with that lady. It’s like she’s from another dimension.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah! She even talks like a baby.”

Then, she impersonated the lady’s speech. Her lisp was rather funny. After they had finished talking, she added these words as always, “There are things that should stay within the family. Just because I said what I said, you can’t be going around telling your friends. You know what I mean?”

“I understand.”

Her concern for her son was habitual. After cleaning up, she cut up some persimmons. They were sweet and pleasant. After Juho took a bite from a soft piece of persimmon, his mother asked, “How are you feeling these days?”

To that unexpected question, Juho asked back, “What do you mean?”

“You’re famous now. Your books are selling well. Are you excited?”

Juho’s mother said it playfully, but Juho wasn’t that naive. He sensed concern behind her words. It had to be something about her son becoming arrogant from the unexpected success. There had been moments like that in the past. His mother would carefully ask Juho a question after dinner, and back then, her immature son found her concern to be a hassle.

His parents had to have been caught off guard by their son’s success. They probably weren’t sure of how to raise him properly in such a situation. Coming to think of it, Juho’s parents had always done their best to encourage him. He was solely responsible for neglecting their words and choosing not to listen. A child was not some creature that grew according to how its parents raised it. The reason Juho’s life came to such an end was because of his choices.

“It is exciting.”

“Still, you know that you shouldn’t be too excited, right? Things could fall apart at any moment.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been putting all my money into the savings account.”

“Great, that’s my son! You’re the spice of my life.”

Juho reassured his mother, and for the first time in a while, he spent time with her in front of a TV.

“Honey, the mackerel is too fishy. Do we have any lemon?”

“It’s a fish. It’s supposed to smell like that. We don’t have any, so you’ll just have to eat it.”

Coming in late from work, Juho’s father had to get an earful from his wife after complaining about the mackerel.

—

“Hey, play a different song. Something exciting.”

“Got it.”

The music filled the classroom. It had been a trend to listen to music during recess using the computer in the classroom. The song selection usually varied depending on who was sitting in front of the podium, but it was generally pop.

The class president held the mouse today, and unlike other days, he played a music video of a foreign pop singer. Seeing the sexy dance moves, the boys cheered and whistled. Even the girls joined in. ‘Take me.’ The sound of laughter mingled with the music.

While bobbing his head to the intro of the song, Juho realized that he felt like the lyrics were being translated simultaneously and focused on listening.

“Why do you look so serious listening to a song?”

“I had something to think about.”

While he enjoyed the song, Seo Kwang saw Juho with a serious face and laughed. Juho paid no attention and kept listening. After testing himself for several days, Juho realized that his head was able to translate any language after some time. It wasn’t just English.

Click.

The phenomenon began with a sound that rang out in Juho’s head. It was bizarre. He remembered seeing some five or seven year old prodigies on TV. Those kids learned several languages on their own and shocked the adults around them. Were those kids learning languages by using the same ability as Juho?

“Hey, there’s something going on outside,” Seo Kwang said with his eyes fixed on the hallway.

“Huh?”

By the time Juho had stopped thinking and reconnected with reality, there was a sharp scream. The music stopped, and the kids came out of their class one by one. Seo Kwang and Juho also left their seats to see what was happening. Kids who were walking on the hallway stopped and approached the scene. There was nothing at the center of the crowd standing in a circle.

“What’s going on?”

“I can’t really see.”

The kids closed in to get a better look. All of a sudden, the circle broke apart and split open like Moses splitting the red sea. There were screams occasionally. It was neither a god, nor a person that walked through the opening of the crowd. It was a centipede, with more legs than anyone could count.

“Oh, my! It’s huge!”

“That is so gross!”

“Somebody, kill it.”

The centipede was busy moving around between the kids’ feet. From the centipede’s perspective, that group of kids probably had more legs. The centipede had to have probably realized it by now,

‘I shouldn’t have come here.’

Due to the school being close to a mountain, Juho heard a teacher saying that centipedes were a common find. The first years were on a high alert because a centipede had appeared before them. The school being in Seoul, most kids probably weren’t used to seeing centipedes right in front of their eyes.

“It might be poisonous.”

Squirming what looked like either a head or tail, the centipede came closer. It was a threat. That thing was dangerous.

“Let’s kill it!”

<Smelly-Grilled Mackerel> The End