Chapter 40: The Broadcast and the Bonds That Last

Tap, tap, tap.

The crisp sound of polished shoes echoed softly across the quiet studio floor as the studio lights slowly dimmed. On the silent stage, all that remained was a tranquil hush and the lingering echoes. I let go of my tension and carefully removed my mask, looking at Team Leader Kim Hansol as he approached.

His leisurely stride radiated composure. Ten steps away, nine, eight, seven... he stopped with one and a half steps to spare.

Our gazes met in the center of the empty air.

“I never imagined the author of my favorite book would be younger than my own son. And to have such keen insight into the market at such a young age! Haha. You have no idea how surprised I was.”

Team Leader Kim Hansol smiled gently and gestured exaggeratedly.

He shrugged his shoulders and rummaged through the bag slung over his side.

“I’ve read this book three times. First as a reader, second as part of my job, and finally as a father. It moved me, and it taught me about a market I’d never seen before. I don’t usually read genre fiction, but I bought every volume and read them all. How could a middle school student understand economics and a parent’s heart? All I can say is that it’s truly astonishing.”

Kim Hansol’s eyes grew wide, then narrowed suspiciously as he looked directly at my face.

“Thank you for reading my book.”

It was the first full-length novel I published after returning.

Set against the economic backdrop of the late 1990s, it was a healing story about the orphaned genius Yoo Hangyeol, who analyzed the economy and gradually became part of a powerful family.

Knowing he’d read the novel I’d poured my heart into filled me with quiet pride.

“You’ve got composure and manners too. Definitely different from the kids I’ve seen lately.”

I wondered what kind of expression he’d make if I told him my mental age was in the late thirties.

“It’s only because you’re looking kindly on me. I’m just a regular student, like the others.”

“Haha, that’s exactly why you’re different. Your parents must be very proud. Oh, look at me. I’m a fan. Would you sign this for me?”

He laughed heartily and offered me the book, asking for an autograph.

When I looked him up online, this guy was actually quite famous.

Yet here he was, calling himself my fan and asking for my signature.

Unlike when Uncle Yongdu, my dad’s colleague and friend, had once asked me, this request sent a different thrill through my heart.

Smiling warmly, I accepted the book.

“Of course. You’re my reader.”

“Under the autograph, could you write, ‘From Unreal Oppa to Kim Hansol’?”

“Yes.”

I gave a short reply, accepted his request, and with a quick flourish of my pen, I signed the first page using the character 柳 (willow, ‘Ryu’), which I’d taken for my signature.

[From Unreal Oppa to Kim Hansol. 1999. 10. XX. Tuesday.]

“Here you go.”

I finished the signature and handed the book back with careful hands.

Team Leader Kim Hansol took it from me, even more carefully than I had, as if afraid it might get damaged.

“Thank you.”

He checked the autograph inside the book and smiled brightly, like a child.

“I’ll put this on the top shelf in my study. I probably won’t take it down for a while—it’s just too precious.”

“It’s an honor to have my book displayed at your home.”

I answered with a light-hearted smile, matching Team Leader Kim Hansol’s tone.

“Haha, if you ever have the time, please get in touch. I’m not just saying this out of politeness. Contact me anytime.”

Team Leader Kim Hansol continued to speak to me formally to the end, handed me his business card, and then left the scene just like that.

“He seemed like a strict person at first, but he’s no different from a kid.”

I put the business card into my bag and turned to head for where my parents were waiting.

As I felt the texture of the Hahoe mask in my hand, I thought, people are remembered by their faces, but today, my signature became a good memory for someone.

In this way, I quietly folded another scene into my heart and moved on toward a new chapter.

***

Class 7, 3rd year, XX Middle School.

The moment lunchtime began, the kids raced around the classroom like wild ponies set free. Some lay sprawled on desks, playing the eraser-flipping game, while others folded paper airplanes and sent them soaring.

Between the desks, laughter over nothing in particular never stopped.

Sunlight slanted in through the windows, making a few kids feel drowsy for a moment.

“Hey, hey! Unreal Oppa’s coming out! He’ll be on TV the day after tomorrow!”

At the end of the hallway, Ko Daesik shouted as he ran in. Panting, he burst into the classroom, and every kid’s attention snapped to him.

“Who’s Unreal Oppa?”

Kids who didn’t read novels twisted their lips at the funny name ‘Unreal Oppa’ and let out a snicker.

“Isn’t Unreal Oppa the writer? The author of ‘Lord of the Smartphone’.”

Just then, a kid who recognized the pen name joined the conversation.

“See, you know! You ignorant bunch, read a book for once! How can you not know Unreal Oppa? Ridiculous!”

Ko Daesik scolded the kids who didn’t know, but flashed a wide grin at those who did, talking non-stop about what he’d heard.

“I took a taxi to go to the bookstore, but when I heard the ad on the radio, I turned around and went back! He’s coming out wearing a Hahoe mask. The atmosphere was intense! Isn’t that cool? Totally mysterious. My idol.”

Still catching his breath, Ko Daesik excitedly hyped up the Unreal Oppa broadcast.

“Wow, he’s a real hardcore fan.”

Warm sunlight stretched across the floor, falling on my face.

A deep smile played at my lips.

Seriously, what a good guy—impossible to dislike.

Seeing him talk about it like it was his own story gave me courage.

“Thanks, Ko Daesik. I’ll keep working hard.”

I spoke quietly, then turned my gaze away from Ko Daesik to admire the white clouds floating in the sky. Watching the billowing clouds gave my mind a moment of peace.

[‘A Genius Adopted by a Chaebol Family’ author Unreal Oppa. First public reveal in Korea!!]

[It will be unveiled on ‘Speaking of Economics’!! Tuesday night at 8, don’t miss it.]

News of Unreal Oppa’s appearance spread through the airwaves and reached people everywhere.

┗ Oh!! Are they finally revealing who it is?

┗ Who could it be?! I’m really curious.

┗ I’d bet my entire fortune it’s an economic expert or a professor.

┗ The world sure has changed, even people who just write genre fiction are on national TV now.

┗ What’s up with that killjoy up there?!

┗ Let it be, he’s just a bitter soul. Probably a jealous, unknown writer—ignore him. Kinda sad, really.

┗ Yeah.

┗ Stirring the pot like a pro, lol.

The news of my national TV appearance stirred up the community. Good comments, bad comments—they all showed how much attention I was getting.

Surrounded by this intense interest, I waited for eight o’clock in the evening.

“Oppa, it’s eight! Mom says come downstairs!!”

How long had I been waiting? My little sister’s voice called from the living room on the first floor.

“I’m coming down.”

When I got downstairs, the lights in the living room were off, leaving it dim. My whole family was gathered, focused on the TV screen.

On the table, there were snacks and tea prepared, along with a plate of apples Mom had cut up.

[Hello, viewers. I’m your host, Kim Sanggyun. Today, we bring you a special broadcast. We have a very notable guest in the studio tonight.]

Soon, a familiar face appeared on screen.

Our family sat in a circle around the TV, watching together.

“I can only see Oppa. What’s with that Hahoe mask?”

Kkakak.

Seeing me on TV in the Hahoe mask sent Da-hye, Mom, and Dad into gales of laughter. I thought I looked pretty cool, so why were they laughing so hard? I didn’t get it.

“I think I look cool enough.”

I pouted slightly, voicing my complaint.

But my eyes never left the screen.

At the bottom of the screen, my pen name ‘Unreal Oppa’ appeared.

— The economy grows as it reflects on the flow of the past. But the past is just a story, and the ending of that story doesn’t guarantee the present. I see economics as a narrative in motion. The plot changes, the characters change, and the era always demands new conflicts and answers.

My masked appearance was truly mysterious.

Watching myself on screen, I kept sneaking glances at my family’s reactions.

Da-hye hadn’t stopped laughing from the start.

— Wouldn’t such a claim end up excluding those in traditional industries?

— Not at all. Traditional industries are the opening chapters of the story. It’s not that they disappear, just as a sentence’s structure or point of view must change to keep a reader’s interest, industrial structures must also change with the times. Not fixed, but told in a narrative that matches the reader’s era…

Speaking with a writer’s mindset wasn’t easy.

The character the program wanted from me was ‘the author’, so I racked my brains to craft my own script. Ugh.

If I had to go back, I’d never do it twice.

“How can our son speak so well? Where did he learn that? Our Seunghyun. Anyone would think you’re a professor.”

Mom, holding her spoon, watched the TV silently, then clapped her hands in delight and spoke with a lively voice.

“You explained things simply, spoke clearly, too. Being an author made you a better speaker. I can’t even keep up with you now.”

Dad, arms crossed, recalled the recording of the show.

He’d been so proud then.

“Ah, when did our son get so grown up?”

Mom spoke quietly, eyes glistening with tears. The feelings she couldn’t put into words reached me all the same.

“Great job, son.”

“Thank you.”

My parents knew very well how much I’d studied and worked to appear on TV. After school, I’d sit at the computer, writing and working on my script, and they always watched from a distance.

Knowing that, it was no surprise to see their eyes grow moist.

I was grateful to my parents, who’d sacrificed their twenties to raise my sister and me.

“Mom, Mom. Isn’t it amazing having a real author in our house? Right?!”

Da-hye’s voice drifted softly through the air. In that quiet, her words felt especially warm.

“Haha, that’s right. Who would’ve thought our family would have such a wonderful writer?”

Dad laughed, patting my shoulder. Then, quietly, he put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Feeling the faint tremble in his hand, I smiled silently.

Mom, Dad, I love you.

And to my one and only sister, Da-hye.

I love you too. Forever.