Ep524 - I Became a Drunkard in a Martial Arts Novel.

Everyone has pondered this question at least once in their life. What does God really look like? At this moment. Baek Woo-jin was witnessing the answer to that very question with his own eyes. Yet, he found it hard to accept that answer as definitive. Such thoughts dominated his mind. The man—or rather, the god—standing before him appeared as an idealized version of a writer, stubbornly confined to a room, endlessly groaning in the agony of creation. And that’s why it felt so out of place. A hero, a savior. Having taken on such heavy and cruel responsibilities twice, more than any other, he understood. No matter how hard one tries, humans cannot reach a perfect ideal. Even if one were to grow dozens or hundreds of times stronger, it would still be impossible. Because they are human. Sometimes swayed by emotions, sometimes trapped by rationality, sometimes driven by sentiment, and at times, malice. Countless visible and invisible factors tear down the ideal form. Only someone like Baek Woo-jin, who spent his life in anguish striving for ideals, could understand that. And he could see. How alien that being truly was. "It’s the first time I’ve seen someone so perfect that it feels unnatural." At Baek Woo-jin's first utterance upon entering, the man—or god—startled and turned his head. Then, raising his voice towards the uninvited intruder, Baek Woo-jin: "What... what the hell? When did you get here...!" To Baek Woo-jin, it was rather amusing. "Not much of an actor, are you?" It was spoken in a way that implied he was so focused that he hadn’t noticed someone entering. How laughable. Considering what kind of being he was, to claim he hadn’t noticed a mere human’s presence was absurd. Had that been true, upon hearing the words of using him again, Baek Woo-jin would have surely drawn his sword and slashed his neck. In a decidedly cold voice, Baek Woo-jin spoke again. "I’m not interested in playing along with your shoddy act. Or perhaps I should say, I’ve played along enough to be sick of it." The supposed third-rate writer put on a sulky face as he stood. "If I acted one more time, I might’ve ended up killing a god." His expression shifted after a moment's grumble. His eyes contained an inscrutable mystery, as if they could penetrate everything in existence, and the subtle smile on his lips exuded a confidence born of omnipotence. Just with that. ‘His entire demeanor changed.’ The pinnacle of filth and wretchedness had transformed into a distant being that humanity couldn’t possibly reach. And only then did he understand. What a god truly was. ‘Incomprehensible.’ An existence that does not allow itself to be analyzed and understood at heart. "It’s a little inappropriate to talk in the workshop, so let’s change the venue." Snap—! The god snapped his fingers. And the world instantly transformed. It felt less like moving to a different place and more like the surrounding space itself was rewritten. When Baek Woo-jin looked around, the changed space evoked both familiarity and strangeness. A cluttered small room. A dimly glowing screen. A dreary view of the gray wall of the building opposite through the window. Even a bed with a depressed center that caused back pain after just a short rest. It was Baek Woo-jin’s room. The only place he could return to during his days on Earth—a worn-out, shabby, humble room. Standing in the center, he looked around and sat down on the chair at the desk. Creak, creak—! The chair was so old that even a slight shift caused it to creak noisily, like lovers furiously entwined on a worn bed. "Wow… How did you live in a place like this?" "The premise is wrong." The question is not how he lived. "It’s that I had no choice but to live here." Forget the methods; this was the only place. This cheap house was the only place that could at least slightly free his stifled breaths. So he lived. That’s all. The god subtly curled a corner of his mouth as he spoke. "Compared to this time, it’s heaven now, isn’t it?" Only after hearing those words did Baek Woo-jin understand. What the god hoped to gain by bringing him to this place. Though the reason was unclear, it seemed the god wanted to evoke a sense of reverence or gratitude. In response, Baek Woo-jin laughed incredulously and replied. "You’re quite a funny guy." "......?" "Where in the world does a victim feel grateful to their kidnapper, you crazy bastard." No matter the outcome, the being before him was a kidnapper. The entity who dragged him unceremoniously into an unfamiliar world, subjecting him to all sorts of hardship. And he was supposed to thank him for that? "Even with a gun to my head, I wouldn’t thank you. So don’t even think about it." With emotions running high, he raised his middle finger defiantly and shouted firmly. "Screw you." The unexpected reaction caused the third-rate writer's brows to furrow slightly. '...He really means it, this guy.' It was baffling. In ten cases out of ten, a hundred cases out of a hundred, those who've completed their task and reflected on their miserable past lives usually offered a shard of reverence, albeit unconsciously. Yet, the only thing emanating from this man was pure anger. By now, the writer's mood began to sour. "Listen… didn't I give you a chance? You could have ended up dying in this pathetic little room after a life of hardship, but now you're living in a palace-like house with numerous women who are grateful to you." "So, what." "I mean, without the opportunity I provided you, do you really think you could have led such a life?" "..." For a brief moment, Baek Woo-jin had considered it. When his happiness was at its peak. Such a thought crossed his mind. 'Should I be grateful for ultimately finding happiness?' Initially, the thought that it wouldn't be so bad to think so crossed his mind, but then he rejected it. "Why should that be thanks to you?" Upon reflection, he realized. "It's thanks to me." He had no reason to feel even a hint of gratitude towards the god. "...What?" As the god asked in a deflated voice, Baek Woo-jin answered. "I actually thought about it for a moment before meeting you here. What kind of life would I have led on Earth if I hadn't been dragged into this world." Compared to the palace-like house he had in the martial arts world, the shabby one-room apartment felt pitiful. If he had continued living here, what would have become of him? 'It would have been tough.' He would probably sing tunes of wanting to die daily in his relentless struggles. Would his life have ended in this stifling little room? To this, Baek Woo-jin had a clear answer. 'That wasn’t it.' Despite the humble start, Baek Woo-jin felt certain that he would have escaped this small room and found success. Though maybe not as a hero of another world or a martial arts legend, he was sure he could lead a life deserving respect from others. Oddly enough, the evidence lay in the person before him who looked at him like he was some madman. With a confident demeanor, he continued. "I'm the kind of talent that would catch your eye." Why was he dragged into a foreign world to endure such hardship? He pondered this fundamental question deeply. Was it truly because of the lengthy 5,700-character comment or message that he incurred divine wrath? Initially, that seemed to be the only explanation, but he soon realized it wasn't clear enough. After all. 'He's a third-rate writer.' Putting aside his divine status, his opponent was just a third-rate writer. Surely, countless readers had unleashed torrents of criticism and turned away, and Baek Woo-jin was just one of many. Just an average reader who echoed the same sentiments others had, without a particularly new insult. 'Then why me?' Why out of so many people, was he chosen? "You must have seen the biggest potential in me." Is there any reader who is satisfied with a story where the hero or savior is defeated in the end? Certainly not. Unless perhaps the protagonist was the demon king and the hero played the villain's role. Thus, the third-rate writer must have been selective. Choosing candidates who could guide his failing work to a proper conclusion. Being chosen by such a person was proof that, in some way, he was an exceptional human. "So shouldn’t you be thanking me?" "......" The god, watching Baek Woo-jin’s bold declaration—with his hand resting on his hip—came to a realization. 'This guy's even crazier than I thought.' . . . He had chosen a genuine lunatic as the protagonist. What was more surprising was that everything he said was true. And. 'If I continue this conversation, I might end up respecting him.' His heart, stirred by the madman's words, began to feel gratitude, which he found utterly displeasing. For a god should only be revered by humans, not feel it towards them. Having been swept up by Baek Woo-jin’s dazzling rhetoric once, the god waved his hand dismissively and answered with irritation. "...Enough. Talking to you at length holds no meaning." Casting an emotionless gaze towards Baek Woo-jin, he inquired. "State your wish." Even a god had no right to drag a person from another world and use them without compensation. Fair remuneration for fair effort. If a god didn't honor this, a fundamental law that ought to be upheld could be shattered. "A wish, you say." Finally, the moment of his long-awaited wish had arrived. Baek Woo-jin revealed the desire he had harbored even before ascending to this place. "Stop interfering with the world I live in." The god's eyebrow twitched at this. "By that, you mean…." "Don’t even think about writing sequels or spin-offs. Just end it." Regardless of whether it's in the form of a spin-off or a sequel. Any story that appears to have concluded could be continued at will. Of course, forcing a story to continue can lead to its own set of difficulties. But the key point is this: If the author wishes, there's always an opportunity to meddle again. The reason Baek Woo-jin came to meet the god was to ensure that no such possibilities remained. At this, the man responded immediately. "That's a wish I cannot grant." Creating stories isn't just a hobby for him. It is a divine power. Stories that overflow from the tip of his pen and form whole worlds. This is how he has created countless worlds. And now, suddenly, a mere human attempts to obstruct a god's power. What audacity…. "Change it." Baek Woo-jin's firm word cut through his thoughts. "Not a wish that can’t be granted." He paused for a moment and drew the sword that hung by his side. A blade that scattered a piercingly blue light. Its tip pointed directly at the god. "What is this…." In all his thousands of years, He had never experienced being threatened by a human's sword. While he was dumbfounded, Baek Woo-jin continued. "Make it a wish you have to grant." The human's arrogant declaration left the god's face looking utterly contorted in disbelief. --- **Author’s Note** I'll see you in the next chapter. Thank you always for reading. Have a restful night. (_ _)