The Girl Wants to Be Murdered

TL/Editor: Butter Cat

Status: 4/week mon-thurs

Illustrations: none

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〈 Chapter 108 〉 I Offer You My Utmost Respect (The End)

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I'll go back to heaven again.

that melts at a touch of the dawning day,

I'll go back to heaven again.

With the dusk, together, just we two,

at a sign from a cloud after playing on the slopes

I'll go back to heaven again.

At the end of my outing to this beautiful world

I'll go back and say: It was beautiful. . . .

[Back to Heaven] — Sim On(？？） Cheon Sang-byeong.

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—Click, clack.

".......Phew. It's all done."

My pinky finger pressed the Enter key.

With that, the typing that had continued for nearly an hour came to an end.

Yes.

Everything’s over.

The keyboard, where the 'ㄴ' and 'ㅈ' don't work anymore because I handled it too roughly.

My two eyes that swelled up from looking over the text multiple times to find typos caused by that.

The novel writing section(?) where, every time I pressed Enter, it would skip two lines, forcing me to go back and proofread what I had written.

(TL Note: Don’t got any knowledge on the interface of how writing novels work for authors in novelpia…)

My left eye, which had a vision of about 0.5 a few months ago, but now can't even see the top letters of the eye chart properly.

The migraines that come at least once every two weeks, feeling like they're scraping the inside of my head, and the two fingers that are half swollen from inflammation, making typing difficult.

All of it is over now.

Actually, it wasn’t always fun.

Hobbies should be something we derive joy from doing, but when it becomes a job, a routine, a compulsion, it’s no longer a hobby, but simply work.

Novel writing is also like that, so the struggles I faced probably weren’t something I alone felt.

But every time that happened, I was able to get back up thanks to the messages from some readers who cheered for the novel or urged me to release the next chapter.

My physical condition, and to be honest, my mental state had deteriorated so much that I think the quality of my writing, and many other things, fluctuated quite a bit.

In fact, the development at the beginning and the end of the novel changed so much that it could almost be considered a different story.

A kind of transition period, if you will.

I learned a lot, but that's why I think so many things have changed.

Well, still, if I were to go back to the past.

"Probably, I would be writing just the same."

Because I can't imagine myself not writing.

There's something called 'wanderlust'.

It refers to a fate of being unable to settle in one place, destined to wander here and there.

(TL Note: Original word is 역마살 (Yeokmasal), which is a concept in Korean where you are fated to be unable to settle in one place and forced to wander around.)

If so, a fate inevitably tied to 'writing.'

Perhaps that was my destiny.

In elementary school, no, was it middle school.

There was a time when I contemplated what life was, what kind of life I should live.

It was probably a thought born from being told to write down our dream jobs for our school records.

Soldier, police officer, firefighter, teacher, various colorless answers were born from the hands of many children.

"........"

And I remember staring at that blank space for a whole hour, unable to fill it.

In the end, I did fill it.

The dream job I wrote in that space was, 'To build a house in the countryside, live peacefully, and die.'

A dream, yes, that was my dream job.

By the way, I got scolded by the teacher and had to change it to something else.

The revised dream job I chose was a suitable 'researcher.'

I was praised for that then.

...Why though?

Anyway, after that, I thought long and hard.

About how I should live my life.

About the values and beliefs more important to me than life itself.

I pondered and pondered.

And the answer that came at the end

The words I proudly said in front of my best friend at the time were as follows.

'I will live a life where, even if given the chance to live again, I can confidently say I would live the same life.'

For the record, while saying that, I took my friend to a PC bang.

For the record, the exams were the next week. I didn't want to leave any regrets.

For the record, my friend bombed the exams.

Sorry.

As time passed, I met a friend who liked philosophy.

That friend said, 'That's something Nietzsche said.'

At the time, the only Nietzsche I knew was the one from that meme scribbled on the bathroom wall: 'God is dead. – Nietzsche'. 'Nietzsche, you are dead. – God'. And lastly, 'You’re both dead. – Cleaning Lady'. Because of that, I started looking into Nietzsche's beliefs and was quite surprised to learn that he had actually said something similar.

Of course, the context is different, but it was probably something like this.

"Is this life? Ah, it’s good. Then once more."

Of course, I used those words as an excuse to go to the PC bang.

When I told that to my friend, they were absolutely delighted.

When I told them that the Übermensch Nietzsche spoke of was like Superman, they were so ecstatic that they almost killed me.

Hehe, why.

If you say, "Oh, Übermensch. You mean Superman?" in front of someone who likes Nietzsche, they'll love it.

Try it sometime.

I won't take responsibility for what happens after, though.

It's similar to saying, "Wow, you play the bass well. But why are there only four strings?" to someone who plays the bass guitar.

Or perhaps it would be like asking, "Wow, so what kind of job can you get with a philosophy degree?" to a philosophy major.

Well.

If you were to ask me if I’ve grown tired of writing, I would firmly say no.

Even if I went back to the past, I would write just the same, and if I did go back, I would want to write even better.

Of course, after investing in Bitcoin first.

Bitcoin is god, and I am invincible?

(TL Note: This is a meme started by some anon in a Korean community ‘Foreign Stock Minor Gallery’.)

Anyway, while reading my past writings, I couldn't help but think, 'Wow, who wrote this crap? Ah, it was me.' But I decided to let it be, thinking of it as respect for my inexperienced past self.

Actually, there was also the fact that I didn't want to rewrite it

…Just kidding.

I’ve learned a lot.

And, I probably lost a lot too.

If you ask if I regret the things I’ve lost, I might say I'm a little sad, but because what I’ve gained is so much greater, I don’t think I have any regrets.

"Because—"

The messages, lessons, and emotions that the readers left me were something that couldn't be exchanged for any value.

From some, I received encouragement.

From some, I received lessons.

From some, I received passion.

The fact that a single piece of writing I wrote could move people's hearts.

The emotion and joy that it brought me were beyond words.

Someone who only ever reads now writes.

Isn't that quite an interesting experience?

A joy that I alone can possess, something that cannot be exchanged for anything.

Everything about the author is revealed in their novel.

And I am probably no exception to that.

In every single piece, every sentence, every word, in the process of choosing and arranging them, everything about the author is exposed.

What they want to say, what they want to convey, what their values are.

I was able to convey what I wanted to say through writing novels, and for that, I am satisfied.

A stranger is willing to listen to your ramblings, and instead of having to pay them to do it, they’re paying *you*?

Isn't this totally sweet?

Try writing, try writing.

"Ugh, now, onto the next."

Crack, I stretched.

Straightening my back, which had developed scoliosis, I prepared for what would be the last typing session

If it’s going to be the final chapter, it needs to have a fun or exciting ending, or at least a tear-jerker, right?

—Tap.

"....I have to finish it."

I grabbed the keyboard again.

The novel is over.

But it’s not completely over.

Probably, according to my destiny, I will write a novel again.

I don't know what that novel will be like, but I think I’ll be able to incorporate everything I’ve experienced while writing this novel into it.

There is no such thing as a permanent end.

Only repeating beginnings exist.

I don't know when I’ll upload the next novel.

I have the content all thought out, but for about a month, it might be difficult due to personal reasons.

First, I need to go to the hospital, and I have to take care of the things I've been putting off one by one.

But, I will return someday.

Even if I end up wandering aimlessly here and there, I know where my home is.

Even if I just watch from afar, I will come back to this place someday.

Because this place, for me, is like the place where I was born.

"Well then, this is the end. The real end, the true end."

In my favorite movie, 'The Truman Show,' they start the day's greeting with the following words.

'In case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night.'

They say it in such a roundabout way, when ‘Have a good day,’ would have sufficed.

But well, since I will definitely come back here later.

No matter what happens, I will definitely come back here.

So, let's end with something other than such ominous words.

Just, something very ordinary.

Words that everyone says all the time.

Ordinary, yet meaningful when reflected upon.

Words with a deep resonance.

Here.

"I'll be back."

When I return, I'll bring Melona ice cream.

(TL Note: Melona is a popular ice cream bar in Korea.)

This is the end.

The real, end.

And, a new beginning.

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The Girl Wants To Be Murdered.

107 chapters of serialization.

A record from May 30th, 2021 to November 10th, 2021.

It started simply because I had nothing better to do, ended up strangely finishing one novel, and ended in the writer's section with the single-minded determination to write the novel I truly wanted to write.

"I Am Dying, As I Have Lived, Beyond My Means" (TL Note: Oscar Wilde.)

The End (Completed?)

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