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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 3: God of Comics?
Scratch-Scratch.
The sound of pencil scraping paper didn’t stop.
Everyone sat with paper and pens in front of them, but all were frozen, staring somewhere else.
The scratching sound came from only one person.
After several minutes of being completely absorbed in drawing, the boy finally let out a sigh and stopped.
“Hey, Junhyuk? Mind showing me what you’ve got for a sec?”
“Uh, sure.”
Jung Junhyuk, who had been feverishly sketching, handed over his paper.
The art teacher gulped hard, looking down at the drawing, sensing something unusual about the density and detail.
“Huh, whoa… an elementary schooler with this level of draftsmanship...?”
Elementary school art classes are usually nothing special.
They’re designed to spark kids’ interest or keep things fun, like a kind of play.
But this kid, who looked like he’d actually learned art, held his pencil with an uncommon posture and, as soon as he got the paper, started moving the pencil wildly.
And then, using a cheap pencil from a store called Daiso, he finished a near-perfect still-life sketch. In less than thirty minutes.
To produce such a flawless draft in such a short time, you’d normally need serious experience.
But it’s impossible that this kid had drawn thousands or tens of thousands of sketches at such a young age.
Talent.
There’s no other word for it.
“Holy! Holy! Holy! Finally, the sun of the art world rises in Korea…!”
The teacher dreamed of a rising sun in Korea’s art scene, which historically hasn’t been as passionate about the arts compared to other countries.
But the kid himself was thinking only about one thing.
‘I should be drawing comics…’
＊ ＊ ＊
Ah, I ended up drawing way too hard without even realizing it.
I sneaked out a sigh while watching the art teacher hold up my paper, repeatedly making strange sounds of amazement.
Jung Junhyuk, currently 12 years old. Real age unknown.
To sum up this complicated situation in one sentence—
I’ve gone back to my childhood.
At first, I thought maybe I’d fallen into some delusion from watching too many comics.
But after waking up in this world’s mornings several times, I had no choice but to admit this was something rare—something real.
Here’s what I’ve figured out over the past few confusing days—
First, I don’t really remember much about what happened in the past.
It’s not that my memory’s trash—like an amoeba or a goldfish—but when it comes to details like which stocks would go up or where land prices would soar because of redevelopment, I just can’t seem to remember any of it.
For someone like me, who actually made money from stocks before, having fuzzy memories of these details has to be intentional.
Who did it? I don’t know.
After all, time travel or regression is such an insane thing that trying to figure out who’s behind it seems pointless.
That said, it doesn’t seem like my entire past life was stripped away while traveling back in time.
“Holy! Holy! Junhyuk! The fate of the Korean art world is in your hands! There are several competitions going on right now... Oh! But first, your parents…”
My experience with drawing remains intact.
Even before entering the white room, I was confident in my quick hands, but after not sleeping or eating and just drawing in the white room, I improved drastically.
And one more thing—besides my drawing experience, there’s another precious leftover.
Rustle—
The comics drawn in this notebook…
They’re the same ones I saw in the white room.
＊ ＊ ＊
It’s currently 2006.
“As I thought, nothing.”
I checked over and over, but I confirmed that the comics I had seen in that white room were never actually published.
Just to be sure, I searched for other comics that should have come out by now—but nothing showed up.
By this point, my theory turned into certainty.
The comics and novels I read there were all from a parallel world—a so-called parallel universe.
If not, maybe it was just a dream or some kind of illusion.
“Well, whatever.”
What’s the point in naming the surreal?
“Still, it’s a bit disappointing. There were some really good comics there.”
I never counted exactly, but the comics on the shelves numbered from thousands to nearly tens of thousands.
Were all of them good? Of course not.
But among them were works so good they made me want to scream.
As a comic reader, editor, and once an aspiring artist myself, it felt like a shame that others couldn’t see those comics.
“Tch…”
Maybe because I realized I’d never be able to read those comics again, the urge to reread them—those comics I binge-read countless times in the white room—well, that urge suddenly hit me.
Scratch-Scratch.
While drawing in my notebook, recalling those comics with a heavy heart, a sudden idea struck me.
“If they’re works that don’t exist in this world...”
Why not draw them myself?
People need to know about these comics. Not knowing them is a loss.
From realization to resolve, from resolve to action—it didn’t take long at all.
“Dad, I want to draw comics, can I have some allowance?”
The next morning, at breakfast with my younger sister and dad all sitting together, I confidently (more or less) asked dad for some money.
“Here.”
Even though it was out of the blue, Dad didn’t ask any questions—he just pulled a 10,000 won bill from his wallet.
“Can you give me 5,000 won more? Manuscript paper’s pricey.”
“Hm… just this once. Use the rest to get some snacks for Jinhee, okay?”
“Oh! One more bill? Thanks a bunch~”
I thanked dad as he handed me another 10,000 won bill, then left the house with my sister.
Annoying as it was, I had to go to school—even if I didn’t plan to study.
I dropped off my sister at the kindergarten attached to the school and headed straight for my classroom.
I couldn’t work on my manuscript there, but wasting time doing nothing was a bigger loss.
I opened a blank notebook and started working on the comic’s storyboard.
No matter how many times I’d seen the finished work, or how well I memorized the scenes while reading, memory is limited.
The longer I waited, the blurrier the scenes became.
I had to sketch the scenes while they were still fresh in my mind.
After school, I ran to an art supply store a bit away from school to buy nib pens, ink, manuscript paper, and screentones—the tools comic artists use.
After picking up my sister from kindergarten, I went home, glanced at the TV for a moment, then dove back into drawing.
“Ugh... I really want to go digital…”
While working on the manuscript, I painfully realized how convenient modern tech really is.
Analog feels? Not bad. There’s a unique charm in analog, whether for comics or illustrations.
Even now, some artists stick to analog because of that delicate touch it offers, no matter how advanced digital gets.
But in terms of easy corrections, digital is unbeatable.
Of course, even now, programs like Clip Studio Paint are wildly popular among comic artists. Still, I don’t use them because—
“It’s expensive… Well, if I used it for life, maybe it wouldn’t be that pricey… but still…”
If I were a working adult earning my own money, maybe it’d be different. But right now, the money I spend comes through my dad’s hands.
And Clip Studio Paint isn’t exactly something a dad would buy on a whim just because his elementary school kid suddenly wants to draw.
Plus, there’s the cost of the tablet to hook up to the PC… That’s not exactly pocket change.
So, I’m stuck grinding it out, sweating over paper and ink.
“Ahhh! Ink spilled!”
It’s a little... no, a lot of hassle, but what can you do?
＊ ＊ ＊
“Ah, Dad… can you send this as an overseas package for me?”
Jung Wooseok let out a quiet sigh as he looked at his son, who was holding out an envelope with sunken, exhausted eyes.
“You stayed up all night drawing manga again, didn’t you? You know that’s not helping you grow.”
“It’s the weekend. I’m gonna sleep all day anyway.”
“Didn’t Jinhee say she wanted to play with you today?”
“Oh yeah, I did promise her… It’s fine. Even when I’m asleep, she just climbs on me, jumps around, yanks my hair—she manages just fine on her own.”
Was that really okay? He wanted to ask but didn’t bother.
What could he say to a son who, instead of him working on Saturdays, took good care of his little sister?
Losing their mom at a young age and living with their dad, the boy had never once complained and had been responsibly looking after his sister—something truly admirable.
“So, you just need to stick the address for Japan on it, right?”
“Yeah. I wrote the address all there. Just need to send it.”
“You still remember Japanese pretty well.”
The reason Jung Wooseok hadn’t said anything about his son reading manga all day was because all the manga were original Japanese editions.
He had lived in Japan for a few years when he was young because of his job, and now his son read those books in the Japanese he learned back then.
Knowing even one foreign language comes in handy anywhere.
If you don’t use a language, you forget it—but since his son was constantly around Japanese, reading original works, he stayed sharp.
That’s how he avoided becoming the “dumb kid” from all the jokes people made in the 2000s about reading manga.
“Just take pride in how hard you worked. Don’t get too discouraged if it doesn’t turn out well.”
Though he loved manga, he was still just a fifth grader.
Jung Wooseok, knowing that becoming a professional manga artist wasn’t easy, gave his son a reality check in advance.
But Jung Junhyuk just yawned and answered half-heartedly.
“Yeah~”
He stumbled into his room, and Wooseok chuckled quietly.
“I hope all that hard work pays off.”
＊ ＊ ＊
Any parent would feel that way.
Wishing for their child’s success is only natural.
But—
“Sir! Absolutely—absolutely! Jun must draw manga! He’s not just a genius—he’s a god! A god, I tell you! The god of manga! If Junhyuk doesn’t draw manga, it’s a crime! Yes, a crime against art itself!”
He never imagined he’d get such a fierce reaction.
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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