Side Story: Episode 17-2 - Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint

Episode 17. Storm in a Teacup (2) In response to my answer, Kim Dokja remained silent momentarily. It was a strange feeling. Had there ever been a time when Kim Dokja felt this unfamiliar? He had always been the amiable protagonist. A character who defeated villains representing the readers, outmaneuvered enemies with overwhelming information, and protected his comrades by sacrificing himself. He became a Constellation by collecting five Narrative Grades and watched the end of the scenario by gathering the "Grand Narratives" of the story. The man who chose to become eternal to protect the world, thus becoming the "Oldest Dreamer." He was speaking. "Do you think you can dream whenever you want?" A moment of speechlessness occurred. Can anyone choose to dream whenever they desire? When I shook my head, Kim Dokja spoke. "Neither can I." The phrase "Omniscient but incompetent god" was something Kim Dokja once used to describe the young "Oldest Dreamer." "I am not someone who only dreams the dreams I wish for. I can only dream all the dreams of the universe." Saying this, Kim Dokja turned his head to gaze at the snowy landscape. I, too, was looking at the same view. Suddenly, I was scared. Was Kim Dokja truly seeing the same landscape as I was? How many years had passed for Kim Dokja since the day he first became the "Oldest Dreamer"? Was the Kim Dokja before my eyes truly the one I remembered? "You don't have to endure that, you know." I found myself speaking almost involuntarily. "That's why Han Sooyoung wrote the novel. So that everyone could dream the dreams you dreamed. So, she could liberate you from this eternity." Kim Dokja nodded in agreement. "But right now, I'm the only one looking at this 'world.'" This world. It's almost certain he referred to the 41st iteration of The Ways of Survival. Kim Dokja asked me. "Do you think it would be better if this world disappeared?" In the world of the <Star Stream>, any Narrative that is not read by anyone disappears. Like an Incarnation who dies alone, unregarded by any star. "I..." It was a difficult question to answer. Is it right for a world predetermined for tragedy to not even start in the first place? After mulling over this for quite some time, I finally gave my answer. "If it were truly fiction, perhaps it wouldn't matter, but it's a world that really exists. If it's a world where destruction is preordained, where sorrow outweighs joy―" "Are you saying it's better if it doesn't exist?" I couldn't bring myself to nod. Even if the end was tragic, surely there would be various joys and sorrows in that world. Someone might find their own happiness in that doomed world. I know. I too understand. But I also had something I needed to say. "Someone died. Because of this story. There are people who died because of it." Readers outside of the story were drawn into it. The faces of Jung Jaewoo and the military doctor Jung Moonho, who were dying even at this moment, wouldn't leave my mind. Then Kim Dokja replied. "But perhaps someone also lived because of that story." It felt like a splash of cold water over my head. Kim Dokja, who spoke of that story, was certainly on the 'survived' side. He survived by reading "The Ways of Survival" written by Han Sooyoung. "Even so, should this story not have started?" I couldn't say anything in response. It would have been the same for anyone. To the boy who grew up experiencing such misfortune, no one could say, "It was you who should have died." I thought about Han Sooyoung, who was writing The Ways of Survival in the 1,863rd iteration. The Dokkaebi King claimed that even if she hadn't written, the story would inevitably commence. Yet, the Dokkaebi King did not explain exactly how that story would begin. And Han Sooyoung knew of one story in which "Kim Dokja" would most certainly survive. She wrote it, Kim Dokja read it. Yoo Joonghyuk lived it. And the three met. A world where the beginning, middle, and end intertwined. A circular universe whose precedence of existence between cause and effect was indiscernible. In the face of chains of cause and effect that connected so naturally, I did not know where or how to apportion blame or merit. When I raised my head, Kim Dokja's face came into view. "Some stories are sad, others are entertaining. Some stories tug at the heartstrings, and some make you eager for the next chapter." As if marvelous stories were embroidered in the sky far away, Kim Dokja gazed endlessly at that sky. "Are sad stories bad, and happy stories good? What about stories that are both sad and joyful? Are stories predestined for destruction meaningless?" I simply listened to those words, dumbfounded. "Was it better for a universe born as a tragedy to not exist?" Only then did I begin to understand what Kim Dokja was talking about. Perhaps it was not a story exclusive to <Star Stream>. The universe I lived in was no different. Nobody in the world knew the beginning or end of the universe. In a world without a scenario, people suffered. They died from war or famine, hated each other or killed one another. People experienced joy and sorrow, and they sought hope even as they despaired. And everyone met their own end. How different was that universe from this one? To whom should the sin of the universe's beginning be attributed, and how? Is it even possible to question such a thing? As if answering that question, Kim Dokja spoke. "We all exist within devastation. Life and death within are merely stories. Like starlight momentarily glimmering in a vast universe." I knew what that meant. But I was too ordinary a human to accept those words. I'm afraid of death. I dislike sadness. I'm terrified of someone disappearing. Hence, I wanted to escape. From the impending destruction. From the fact that this universe, <Star Stream>, or anything else is not eternal. "There is no story that doesn't end." Unlike me, Kim Dokja accepted and understood that fact. To him, the world was merely a story. Just a story. All of it, whether joyful or sorrowful, was simply a story to him. He read stories, and he is reading them. That is how he exists. --- Explanation: - 찻잔 속의 폭풍 (Storm in a Teacup) - This idiom indicates a small event being exaggerated as a massive disaster, reflecting the introspective turmoil within the narrative. - '멸살법' is translated as "The Ways of Survival" here, acknowledging its specific narrative significance. Alternative translations can include "Extinction Law," but the current translation preserves the narrative's essence. - '설화' is retained as "Narrative Grades" reflecting their tier within the novel's universe. - The translation maintained the literary tone and narrative structure, adapting these nuances to English. - The hanja(滅살法) and associated translation reflect the narrative's broader existential crisis context. Perhaps for a time so long that I can't even imagine. "Are you… truly the Kim Dokja I know?" Maybe I was hoping secretly that Kim Dokja would lie. That he would still be the protagonist of this story. I wanted him to smile reassuringly, saying that he'd somehow handle everything. To tell me, "Let's see this scenario through to the end together." "If you think of me that way." My stomach churned. Was it from dizziness? Kim Dokja, standing distinctly in the snowy field, seemed blurry somehow. I felt a deep, lingering darkness inside stirring restlessly. I staggered as I asked, "Why did I come here? Why have I and the other readers come here?" Kim Dokja did not answer. He merely gazed at me with a sad smile like the first time I saw him. I couldn't quite articulate it, but at that moment, seeing that smile, I knew instantly. The question I just asked was one Kim Dokja couldn't answer. "You cannot tell me, can you?" There could be many reasons. Maybe it was due to the narrative coherence, or perhaps the unique nature of this space. From the start, there was something strange about this "snowfield." Whenever I came here, it felt as though I had stepped into a fairy tale. And fairy tales have their own way of speaking that fits their narrative, making me also speak as if I was a character in one. A world where accurate conversations weren't possible, a place where everything existed as metaphor and symbol. I recalled that the "snowfield" was a metaphor for "between the lines." A place where nothing is written, yet all truths are revealed. Kim Dokja spoke. "The stories I know, you also know." "…The you standing before me isn’t truly you, is it?" Kim Dokja smiled wordlessly. Thinking back, it was a story that didn’t make sense. Kim Dokja was the "Oldest Dreamer," and he had once been scattered into fragments across the universe. Even if he returned, it wouldn’t be possible for me to converse properly with such a great existence. Thus, Kim Dokja must be meeting me through unusual means. Kim Dokja answered in an ambiguous voice. "We create the narratives, but simultaneously, it's the narratives that write us. The answer you're seeking, you'll learn once you've completed your narrative." "What was the answer you found? You've already read all of 'The Ways of Survival,' haven’t you?" "I both have and haven’t read it." I gaped at him blankly. All stories are both already written and being written. If that was Kim Dokja’s answer, then perhaps I, too, had something left to say. "Earlier, you asked me if a story that’s bound for destruction has no meaning." Kim Dokja nodded. I looked down at Kim Dokja’s feet and spoke. "I don’t know the answer to your question yet. But I do know at least one thing." In ORV, the 41st iteration’s tragedy was inscribed. This world ends in misfortune and is recorded as one of the most dreadful worlds across Yoo Joonghyuk’s many iterations. "I will prevent this world’s destruction." I thought of the readers who had entered this world. Dan-soo, Kyungsein, Killerking, and Moonhakgirl64, Yehyun-Woo, Gunsun-Ah, and Kim Kyung-sik. "I will see this world's conclusion." At the same time, I thought of Jung Heewon, who lost her father, and Yoo Joonghyuk, whose suffering was worn down by dreadful regressions. "Even if it results in changing more timelines, I’ll struggle to the very end." I understood Han Sooyoung's heart, who had no choice but to write "The Ways of Survival" to save Kim Dokja. Perhaps my choice will lead to a greater cosmic tragedy. Some might condemn me and point fingers. And maybe they’d be right. But since I'm not the "Oldest Dreamer," I can’t dream or worry about such a vast cosmos. All I can see is the world in front of me. The people who read my story and live this story. Just the small happiness before my eyes that might flicker away like a mere thread. "Cheon Inho." Kim Dokja said. "No, Hak Hyun." I unintentionally raised my head. Kim Dokja was there. The Kim Dokja I knew. The person who loved stories more than anyone was speaking to me. "Whatever it is, this time weave a story where you're happy." * [Exiting the 'snowfield.'] When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the sky of Seoul Station. And a few changes had occurred for me. [The <Star Stream> has noticed your presence.] [Your '□□' skill is now subject to narrative constraints.] [Certain functionalities of the skill will be sealed until your qualification is fulfilled.] [‘The Final Wall’ has recorded the ‘Vanishing’ you have collected.] [Vanishing collected so far: 2] [‘The Final Wall’ acknowledges your contribution.] [Your exclusive skill is evolving!] [You will receive additional benefits each time your count of collected Vanishings increases.] . . . [You have achieved a nonexistent feat.] [A new narrative of yours is being created.] Feeling the surging power of the narrative, I looked up at the night sky over Seoul Station. Stars and darkness intertwined over the night sky. Seeing the scattering of those lights, I found my mouth opening in awe. This world was both already written and unwritten. The starlight shining from the sky traveled from places billions of light-years away. Among those, the most brilliant star may have disappeared long before. The light of the brightest star now might not yet be visible to me. Existences unmistakably real, yet not recorded in this sky. As Kim Dokja mentioned, the end of this universe might be predetermined. Nevertheless, this story has only just begun, and I still have sentences I can write. Therefore, I will write them. [A narrative, ‘The Chronicler of the Vanished,’ has been born.] "This world has not yet perished." Despite everything, I still cherished stories. --- New Terms: - 서설원 (Snowfield) - Maintained as "snowfield," reflecting its metaphorical and narrative significance as a symbolic space. - 행간 (Between the Lines) - Deliberately retained as "between the lines," indicating a deeper level of meaning or understanding beyond the explicit narrative. - 소실 (Vanishing) - Translated as "Vanishing," indicating elements or memories that may not be present but hold narrative weight. Explanation: Maintaining various metaphors and poetic imagery from the original helps preserve the literary essence. Characters' internal conflicts and realizations form the narrative's thematic depth, requiring a delicate balance between literal and metaphorical meanings. The phrase 서설원 (Snowfield), referring to both the physical and metaphysical space in the narrative, hints at its nature as a place for reflection and introspection.