The possibility that my assignment novel, *The Confessions of Brother Lawrence*, might be published in an anthology by the state university.
"Well, for now, just keep it between us."
I barely managed to calm down the two people who were overly excited by this new piece of news.
"Didn't you say you were joining the creative writing club? Is *School Scene* coming out this month?"
"The school's going to flip out again."
"Phew, Eugene, at this rate, you're going to drift off to a place we can't even reach…"
Seeing Adele and Ned gushing with more excitement than I felt brought an involuntary smile to my face.
"Let's just eat."
The three of us grabbed our cafeteria trays as usual and sat at an outdoor table.
"…Chicken nuggets again?"
"That's our school cafeteria for you."
Ned and Adele shoveled the food into their mouths like they were eating livestock feed.
"What's wrong? It's pretty good."
I scraped my tray clean and finished by crunching into a crisp green apple.
Adele stared at me curiously.
"…You've been eating really well lately?"
"Have I?"
"Don't play dumb. You used to be the one complaining the most about the cafeteria food."
Now that she mentioned it… I guess that's true.
American school cafeteria food is what it is, after all.
"Maybe it's because I started working out? Everything tastes good now."
Maybe it's because I'm in the middle of a growth spurt—eat and turn around, and I'm hungry again.
"Hmm."
*Crunch, crunch.*
Adele watched me devour the apple down to the core and said,
"You've gotten taller, haven't you?"
"Have I?"
Even before my regression, I wasn't exactly short.
But I wondered if exercising hard might make me grow a bit more—right then,
"Wow, bro! Look who it is!"
I turned at the high-energy voice and saw Aiden holding a camera, filming us.
"Aiden, put the camera away."
"I'm not filming you, Adele. Eugene, genius writer, look over here!"
Aiden pointed the camera at me, making a big fuss.
Adele clicked her tongue in disbelief, while Ned was freaking out with envy.
"Hey, Aiden's subscribers! It's Eugene, our Korean cute boy… no, now he's the Korean genius! Eugene, say hi!"
"Hi, hope you have a great day."
I finished off the rest of my apple with a big bite, and Ned and Adele burst into giggles.
"Oh, so polite as always! Everyone's curious about our literary boy's writing, right? But I can't exactly read it here…"
Aiden grinned and held up last month's issue of the school magazine, *School Scene*, to the camera.
"You all know our school paper, *School Scene*, right? Eugene's story is in here, so make sure to check it out! It'll be available at the open house event!"
"…"
"Oh, and this isn't a hidden ad—it's an upfront ad! The editorial team asked me to promote it, hehe."
After shouting out for subscriptions, likes, and notifications,
Aiden turned off the camera and casually plopped down at our table.
"Hey, bro. You know I haven't read a novel in, like, a hundred years? But that twist was insane—Brother John being the culprit—"
"He's not the culprit."
"…What? Adele, seriously? Wait a sec."
"Pfft, dude, what did you even read?"
The sight of my friends gathered around the outdoor table under the bright sunlight…
'How should I put it? It feels so… dazzling.'
Of course, compared to my memories—back when I was in my mid-30s—it's a bit tacky.
Ned, who later became a successful graphic novel artist and dressed pretty stylishly, is now just a nerd in horn-rimmed glasses and checkered shirts.
Adele, who used to flaunt her long hair and chic looks, is currently a tomboy in hoodies and baggy jeans.
'Wasn't it around prom?'
I remember her showing up transformed into a stunning beauty, shocking everyone.
That's when people realized Adele was actually gorgeous.
'Aiden's doing fine now, though.'
I recall him becoming a famous YouTuber and looking like a legit celebrity.
"But I guess it's because they're young."
"Huh? What are you saying, Eugene?"
Adele tilted her head at my comment.
"No, I mean you guys."
"…?"
All three pairs of eyes turned to me.
"There's something about being young—it's like you all shine without even trying."
"…"
For a moment, it got quiet.
"Ugh, Eugene, did you know you just sounded like an old man?"
Adele shuddered.
"Lord, did you awaken Eugene only to turn him into a geezer?"
Ned shook his head dramatically.
"Eugene, can I give you some honest advice?"
Aiden, unusually serious, spoke up.
"Advice? What?"
"No, I mean, it's great seeing you brighter and expressing yourself like this—it really is. But…"
Aiden let out a sigh.
"Seriously, you might want to hold back on the talking a bit."
"…Huh?"
"I mean, when you're quiet, you've got this mysterious, handsome literary boy vibe, but the second you open your mouth, it's all old man—"
"Plus health nut."
"And a bit of a nag…"
…These jerks.
The three of them gleefully teased me.
"Hehe, let's do another collab next time!"
After Aiden left, the table quieted down for a bit.
"Hey, Eugene."
I turned at the sound of someone calling my name.
Standing there was a girl with a Barbie-doll-like, glamorous look—
"Whoa, Amber! It's Amber Brown!"
"…!"
Amber Brown.
The most popular girl in the 10th grade. Ned and Adele's eyes nearly popped out of their heads.
"You're Eugene, right? I read your story, and it was so good."
"Oh… thanks."
I replied, a little flustered.
She smiled brightly and held out her phone.
"Can I get your number? Or we could swap WhatsApp IDs."
"…?"
My two friends stared at me with expressions that screamed, *Did that just happen?*
---
The past few days have been insanely busy.
Because of that, I barely went jogging and only managed to go out with Dad once.
'I should take him out more on the weekend.'
Anyway,
The first thing I did this week was—
'I revised the manuscript for *Peter Pan of a Ruined World*.'
When I looked at it with a clear mind, the parts that needed fixing jumped out at me.
After finishing the sentence-level revisions…
"Phew, dude, when did you even start writing this?"
I sent it to my best friend, Ned Miller, who's something of an SF nerd.
Ned, who'd stayed up from last night until dawn reading it, was buzzing with excitement.
"That's your first reaction?"
"No, no, I'm seriously curious!"
He shot up from sprawling on my bed like it was his own.
I sighed lightly and explained the *Science & Fantasy* contest.
"…Wait, so you're saying you started writing it that day you left while I was waiting—"
"Because I wanted to meet Bishop."
"Huh? Bishop?"
I showed him the contest poster image on my phone.
Ned let out a shrill scream.
"Whoa, insane!"
"So you get why I wrote it?"
He nodded like crazy.
"So, your thoughts?"
At the word "thoughts," Ned let out a dramatic "Oof."
"It was killer. So much fun. I couldn't even breathe while reading it."
"Sounds like the same vibe as last time?"
"No, I'm serious! Uh, how do I put this?"
Ned's take was this:
"The idea of a plague where adults die… it's interesting, but it didn't feel super original."
He'd seen similar setups in apocalyptic novels before.
"But the main character being the only adult to survive because his growth stopped?"
Ned let out another "Oof."
"That hits hard."
I couldn't help but laugh at his over-the-top reaction.
"And Peter, the main character—he's so heartbreaking. Kind of like me. Maybe that's why? I really got into it."
"…"
How do I put this?
Hearing it from him makes it all sound a bit cheap, but…
The truth is, the more flawed and human a protagonist is,
The more readers connect with them—an unchanging rule, perhaps.
Ned rambled on passionately for a while after that.
"Heh, I might end up liking Peter Pandit more than Peter Parker."
…That's quite an honor.
After a solid 10 minutes,
"So, to sum up, it's got plenty of genre fiction fun, but what sets it apart is how it focuses on Peter's human struggles—is that it?"
Summarizing his rant, Ned's jaw dropped.
"…Whoa."
"What?"
"Eugene, you just gave me chills again. I thought you'd only awakened your writing skills… but have you actually turned into a genius?"
I chuckled at his exaggerated reaction.
"Your chills are always popping up. Is your reflex broken or something?"
Still, I'm glad he enjoyed it.
No matter how experienced I am, showing someone a first draft always makes me nervous.
"Oh, I've got a few questions."
I asked Ned for his input and tweaked a few parts that had been bugging me.
Right there, I finished all the sentence- and word-level edits.
I logged into the *Science & Fantasy* site to submit the manuscript, but…
"Hmm, I'm torn."
"About what?"
I pointed to a spot on the laptop screen.
[Author Name]
"Can't you just write 'Eugene Kwon'…? Oh, are you thinking of a pen name?"
Ned added that it's pretty common in the genre scene.
It's partly because of the image a writer's name carries,
"Wasn't it James Tiptree Jr.? That hardcore SF writer everyone thought was a 50-year-old CIA agent, but turned out to be a woman?"
I shrugged at Ned's comment.
"She was a woman, and she did work for the CIA. She was also an Air Force pilot."
"What, really?"
It's also about separating personal life from writing life.
Some writers even have multiple pen names for different genres.
And one more thing—
"Too much fame doesn't help with writing."
There's a huge gap between 'a high schooler who writes decently at school' and 'a high school SF writer debuting commercially.'
"Oof, what, are you already worried about getting too famous?"
Ned snickered,
But this was a lesson I'd learned during my regression, living as a bestseller author for three months.
'Every day was a whirlwind of glamorous parties, events, and drinks.'
I didn't realize it then,
But maybe those three months of excess were the biggest reason I had a stroke.
Physical health aside, I'd completely lost my mental balance back then.
Everyone looked up to me, praised my writing.
People I'd never have dared approach otherwise—
Great writers, Hollywood directors, actors, even big-shot politicians—sitting with me, chatting.
…More than the alcohol, I was drunk on that fact.
'There was that time the U.S. President tweeted he was reading my book, and it blew up.'
It was thrilling at the time,
But looking back, I was chasing an empty illusion.
More than anything—
'I wasn't equipped to handle that kind of fame.'
Swept away by the current, floundering in a sea of fantasy,
The saltwater filling my mouth was so sweet I didn't realize it was poison.
"Well, keeping your balance is key."
Ned's muttering was spot-on.
For a writer, losing inner stability is incredibly dangerous.
Not just me—countless famous writers get swept up and never recover.
'I saw it so many times as an editor, didn't I?'
So this time, I need to be the one controlling the pace.
Not getting ruined by fame, but revealing myself on my terms.
'That means limiting who knows my pen name.'
My family, Ned, and Adele should be enough.
And I'd only communicate with the publisher via email, of course.
When I voiced that resolve, Ned nodded.
"Got it. I'll take your pen name to the grave."
"Can you swear it?"
"On Peter Parker's name."
"Then I trust you."
Ned giggled at my reply and asked,
"So, what's your pen name gonna be?"
We put our heads together for a bit.
"Wait, wait! I've got an idea!"
Ned, suddenly inspired, rattled off some weird pen names.
Book Knight, Page Turner, Sci-Fi Sentinel, and—
"Nobel Ninja is a hard no."
"Why? It's killer!"
"…"
In the end,
I rearranged the letters of my name, Eugene Kwon,
And settled on—
[Egon K]
Egon K.
That became my SF-exclusive pen name.
---