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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 49: In the Same Boat
Everything has a beginning and an end.
People are no exception.
Maybe that’s why, when something comes to mind, it’s the start and the end that always appear first.
- Doesn’t seem like you have any particularly outstanding talent. But… you’re aware of your own limitations, and you know how to think things through. That means there’s still potential.
That was what Kimiyama-sensei said the first time he read one of my manuscripts.
It felt like a harsh judgment at the time, and I remember feeling a bit frustrated.
But looking back now… maybe it was actually generous.
He might have been awkward with his words, but he never lied.
He was humble about himself, but he never doubted who he was.
And because of that, he never doubted the potential he saw in me either—not even at the very end.
- Lift your head.
When I raised my gaze, the worn, haggard face of a middle-aged man filled my vision.
- Not once, from the beginning until now, have you ever disappointed me. And I’ll keep placing my hopes in you—until the very end.
Those words gave me the strength to carry hope, all the way to the end.
But there was one thing—one thing neither of us could have predicted.
That a pitiful, fragile life… would end up defying the natural flow of time and continue on.
Maybe it was because I went against the current of time in a way that wasn’t right.
Maybe it was because I myself was just too lacking.
Or maybe—it was both.
Whatever the reason, the hopes he entrusted to me, the dreams he carried for me—they all became twisted in the end.
“Writer Jung?”
“…Ah.”
＊ ＊ ＊
Jung Junhyuk snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the man standing in front of him.
Kimiyama Togo.
He was holding out his hand to Junhyuk.
He looked much younger than when Junhyuk had first met him in his previous life.
And ironically, that unfamiliar youthfulness made it easier for Junhyuk to separate the Togo from his memories and the Togo standing before him now.
Junhyuk slowly moved his hand to accept the gesture and opened his mouth.
“I—”
At that moment—
“Jung-kun, I was waiting over by the—hm?”
Homeroom teacher Matsumoto returned with the parking ticket in hand, only to find Ishida, Togo, and Junhyuk standing there in a strange, tense silence.
Before Matsumoto’s imagination could run wild—again—Junhyuk quickly jumped in to explain the situation.
“Ah, these gentlemen are the teachers who helped me study abroad in Japan. And this is my homeroom teacher here, Mr. Matsumoto.”
Ishida, recognizing Junhyuk’s cue, politely played along and greeted Matsumoto.
Matsumoto gave a slightly confused but courteous bow in return.
“Well, since the teachers seem to be busy, let’s save proper introductions for another time. We’ll take our leave now.”
Junhyuk gave a slight bow toward Ishida and Togo as he hurriedly pulled Matsumoto away.
“Are you okay, Jung-kun?”
Once they were in the car, Matsumoto glanced over from the driver’s seat to check Junhyuk’s expression.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“You’re looking really pale.”
“Oh, am I?”
Junhyuk looked at his reflection in the side mirror and gave a faint, dry chuckle.
“I’m fine. It was just for a moment.”
“If you say so. But if something’s wrong, you better speak up, okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Even if Togo lived in the same Tokyo, the odds of running into him like this were… unreal.
Even in Seoul, it’s rare to just bump into someone you know.
And Tokyo is way bigger.
From a statistical standpoint, the probability was practically zero.
“Looks like fate decided to play a hand.”
“...Yeah.”
That was what Junhyuk thought…
Until he found himself sitting across from Kimiyama Togo at a quiet, empty cafe.
＊ ＊ ＊
Strangely—no, inevitably—the very things you don’t want to happen are the ones that always end up happening.
After finishing a meeting at Avid Works about the 'Monogatari' drama CD, Jung Junhyuk was walking toward the train station.
Since it was the weekend, he figured the main roads would be packed with people, so he took a quieter side street instead.
That’s when he spotted a middle-aged man staggering, gripping a utility pole for support.
It was hard to tell who it was from behind, but the scene screamed: drunk.
Drinking in broad daylight?
Junhyuk normally avoided dealing with drunk people, but the weather was a problem.
In this kind of heat—under the blazing midday sun—collapsing outside could easily turn dangerous.
He hesitated, then cautiously approached the man and asked,
“Are you okay?”
“Ah, I’m fine—”
And then—
“Huh…? Jung-sensei?”
“...Kimiyama-sensei?”
By some absolutely ridiculous miracle of probability, Junhyuk had run into someone he knew.
In Tokyo, no less—or more precisely, in Chiba, the outskirts of Tokyo.
＊ ＊ ＊
“I have a chronic condition—it causes sudden dizziness now and then. Thanks to you, Jung-sensei, I was saved.”
There was a subtle pressure in that simple explanation—one that said, ‘don’t ask any more than this’.
Junhyuk picked up on it and nodded, smoothly changing the subject.
“You don’t need to be so formal. When you speak in honorifics, Kimiyama-sensei, it honestly makes me uncomfortable.”
“Then I won’t,”
Kimiyama nodded and immediately dropped back into his usual manner of speaking.
Seated across from him, Junhyuk slowly stood and held out his hand.
“I realized I never got the chance to properly introduce myself last time. I'm Jung Junhyuk. It's a pleasure.”
Kimiyama looked slightly puzzled at the formal gesture, but soon took his hand.
“Most writers use their pen names when introducing themselves. This is unusual.”
“…Is that so? I guess I just haven’t spent much time around other writers.”
“Well, there’s no real need to. Being a writer’s a solitary profession, after all.”
That was a line Junhyuk had heard more than once before. Familiar. He let out a quiet chuckle.
But that nostalgic smile vanished the moment Kimiyama spoke again.
“'D Note', 'Fullmetal Alchemist', and your new one—'Titan of Tremor'. I’ve enjoyed them all. You’ve done impressive work for someone your age.”
“…Thank you.”
Junhyuk averted his eyes as he answered. Kimiyama slowly stood.
“I’ve taken up too much of a young person’s time. I should get going.”
As Kimiyama rose, Junhyuk instinctively stepped in to support him.
“Ah—sorry.”
It was reflex—an old habit from his past life.
Embarrassed, Junhyuk gave a sheepish laugh.
“Let me take you home. With the heat these days, if your chronic dizziness gets mixed with heatstroke, that could be serious.”
As conflicted as he felt seeing Kimiyama again, Junhyuk couldn’t in good conscience leave someone in poor health to fend for themselves.
It wasn’t a big deal—just putting him in a taxi and dropping him off at his doorstep.
Wouldn’t take long.
Kimiyama’s house wasn’t far from the cafe—maybe a 30-minute ride by taxi.
Once they arrived at the gate, Kimiyama turned to Junhyuk.
“I’ve troubled you quite a bit today. If you’re not in a rush, why not come in for some tea?”
“That’s alr—”
Junhyuk began to politely decline, but a clear voice cut him off.
“Father?”
Junhyuk instinctively turned toward the voice.
There stood a girl with long, jet-black hair. Her sharp eyes immediately revealed whose daughter she must be.
Even in a standard summer school uniform, she looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine spread. There was an effortless, striking presence about her.
Junhyuk caught himself exhaling quietly. It reminded him of the first time he saw Hasegawa Kanna in class.
“Reiko, you’re back.”
Hearing Kimiyama speak her name, Junhyuk muttered under his breath, already half-expecting it.
Kimiyama Reiko.
- Why…? Of all people—why did it have to be the daughter of my teacher?
The daughter of Kimiyama Togo.
And the girl who, more than anyone, had every reason to hate him.
＊ ＊ ＊
In the end, after a chaotic three-way tangle, Jung Junhyuk somehow found himself at Kimiyama Togo’s house.
Togo led Junhyuk into his personal study.
As steam curled from the freshly poured tea, Togo leaned back on the sofa and looked at Junhyuk, who was scanning the bookshelf.
“Tell me you didn’t show up because you saw my daughter and fell for her at first sight, Mr. Jung.”
Junhyuk blinked.
‘Did he almost just call me ‘you brat’?’
Togo had said it so calmly that it would’ve gone unnoticed if Junhyuk hadn’t been listening carefully. Even though he’d corrected his words mid-sentence, the thorn was still there—sharp, unmistakably hostile.
“I’m sorry, but I prefer women who are a bit more... grown up.”
Junhyuk replied casually, eyes still fixed on the shelf.
Togo’s teeth ground together—very quietly.
“You’re a middle schooler, right? Guess you haven’t awakened to the charms of the opposite sex yet. And for the record, my daughter’s older than you.”
“Age is relative. I mean... maybe. Depends how you look at it.”
There’s no winning against a doting father.
Same goes for arguing with the daughter of one.
Junhyuk knew that firsthand.
‘Some things never change.’
Even if time rewinds or barrels ahead, there are things that remain untouched. A parent’s love might be one of them.
“You must love your daughter very much.”
“Any parent treasures their child. That’s just how it is.”
With Reiko on his mind, Junhyuk instinctively picked out a book from the shelf titled Kimiyama Reiko.
“That’s something she wrote back in middle school.”
Togo said with a proud, faint smile.
“Unlike me, she was a talented one.”
Was.
The word slipped out low and quiet, nearly inaudible—but Junhyuk heard it. He didn’t press.
Even in their past life, Togo had never spoken of it—not once.
“If there’s a book you’re interested in, feel free to borrow it. There’s some of mine as well, if you're curious.”
“I’ve already read them.”
That made Togo raise an eyebrow.
“Kind of an odd fit for someone who draws shounen manga. Which one did you enjoy most?”
There was a tinge of mischief in the question.
A touch of envy, too—for someone so young to have created works with both literary merit and mass appeal.
Togo’s books were biting social commentaries, and not the kind young readers—or even many adults—would find easy to access. Especially not a foreign teen like Junhyuk.
Predictably, Junhyuk didn’t answer right away.
Togo almost took the silence as proof and was about to move on—
“As for manga—Dogs of the Square. And for novels, No One Knows. Those two left the deepest impression.”
Togo froze, mouth slightly open.
Dogs of the Square had been discontinued mid-serialization due to outside pressure. Even physical copies were rare.
No One Knows was a novel that skewered the political apathy of the Japanese public and exposed corruption in the political sphere—another work that had been suppressed.
“Dogs of the Square was serialized before I was born. But its portrayal of a corrupt capitalist society, political scandal, media manipulation—all told through the defiant monologue of the protagonist—left a lasting impression.”
Junhyuk continued.
“I’ve only read about the period in history books, but it feels like that kind of work could only have come from a time that turbulent.”
“And?”
Togo leaned in, listening more closely.
Junhyuk went on to offer his personal takes—analysis, impressions, reflections. Their exchange turned naturally into a spirited discussion.
Time passed.
The once-blazing sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. The tea, once hot and fragrant, had cooled to a still calm.
“I should be heading back now.”
Junhyuk drained the rest of the cold tea and set the cup down.
“Next time, stay for dinner at least.”
“Sure. If the opportunity comes.”
Togo looked like he wasn’t ready to part ways just yet, but Junhyuk rose without meeting his eyes.
“I really enjoyed our conversation today.”
He hesitated for a beat, then gave a polite bow and turned to leave.
Togo silently watched his retreating figure disappear into the dusk.
＊ ＊ ＊
Step, Step.
As I trudged along the alley with a heavy heart, it felt—oddly enough—like I was walking through a dark tunnel.
The reason was obvious. I'd just come face-to-face with a teacher I had no right to face again after all this time.
For some people, certain relationships are better left untouched.
I probably have that kind of connection to Kimiyama-sensei.
The only thing I could offer was my absence—staying uninvolved. That bitter realization weighed on me as I kept walking.
Then—
“—Wait!”
Just as the voice rang out, I felt a tug on my arm.
Panting hard—
Haa, Haa.
—the one grabbing my arm was none other than Kimiyama Reiko.
Even as she struggled for breath, she forced out her words.
“Are... are you really Wakayama Jun?”
Caught off guard, I nodded.
Immediately, both her hands gripped my arm tighter.
“My dad told me... he said you were a genius. If you really are—then please, help me. No—Please, I’m begging you.”
Her desperate cry echoed down the alley.
“Help me write again. Every time I try, the page just turns pitch black… I can’t write anymore.”
It was sudden, rambling, out of nowhere—but I understood.
The words she once spat at me with eyes full of resentment in my previous life.
- Why did you even end up like me…?
Only now did I finally understand what she meant.
“Ah…”
So that’s what it was. That’s what she meant all along. That’s why—
“You were just like me.”
Kimiyama Reiko—she too had lived a life where she could no longer create.
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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