The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel

Dragging my ailing body, I dragged myself back to my near-collapsing shanty.

I carelessly stripped off my clothes, which were heavy and soaked from the rain. The old clothes had become ragged, drenched, torn, and dirty.

Next time I saw Mr. Wang, I must ask for some old clothes.

It was fortunate that I had kept my Joseon traditional clothes separate. They were expensive, and I only had one set. I had been leaving them at Mr. Wang’s fabric store, never expecting they would come in handy like this.

After hastily cleaning myself, I lay down on the makeshift straw mat bed.

My body screamed in pain, but my mind was clearer than ever. Perhaps this was what they meant when they said people became the strongest when they faced hope.

“Ending Conditions”

I shouted out for hope.

[Ending Condition: Capture the true heroine.]

The green pop-up window in front of me clearly displayed the ending condition in Korean. How long has it been since I’ve seen Korean writing? They said you cried over your homeland’s food when living abroad. Just seeing Korean writing moved me deeply.

“Status Window, Status, System”

There was no response. As expected, it only responded to the phrase ‘ending condition.’

“So, you’re only going to tell me how to leave this world? I’m so, so grateful. Really.”

I looked at the leaking ceiling. Did my sarcastic words escape through those gaps? I hoped they would reach the heavens.

“Capture the true heroine, huh? The ending condition is too much.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.

The true heroine. 眞 heroine. The real heroine.

In harem manga or novels, they used the term ‘true wife’ in fights over who the real wife was. But in visual novels, ‘true heroine’ had a slightly different meaning.

“Is there a hidden heroine?”

Hidden heroine. This was the most common usage of ‘true heroine’ in visual novels.

The developers first sold the game using the title heroine as the face of the work.

Even after clearing the title heroine’s route, gamers often started a second playthrough, wanting to explore other heroines.

In the second or third playthrough, they discovered an unexpected heroine with hidden backstories or twists.

Sometimes, these characters had deeper and more fulfilling stories than the title heroine.

Such characters were called the true heroines.

“Weren’t there only two heroines?”

There certainly were attractive female characters in the story, though not heroines. Could one of them be the true heroine?

“But the term ‘true heroine’ isn’t used just in that way.”

In games with only two heroines, one was often considered the true heroine.

If one character’s dislikeability was too high, the other was seen as the true heroine.

“If asked who I find less likable, honestly, I dislike both.”

A princess who screamed ‘Fueee’ at the protagonist or a woman who destroyed her husband’s family because she didn’t want to marry.

Their beauty was so unfairly overwhelming that it covered everything else. Both were disqualified as visual novel heroines.

So, it wasn’t about likability?

There was another case where the term ‘true heroine’ was used.

In a game with only two heroines, if one character received a significantly more important story, the heroine with the more substantial story was called the true heroine.

“How would I know who has the more important story?”

I had only cleared the princess’s story. I hadn’t cleared Moyong Sang-ah’s story. Damn this world.

I didn’t like the princess’s story, but I couldn’t conclude that Moyong Sang-ah was the true heroine without clearing her story to compare.

“Moyong Sang-ah being the true heroine is also a problem.”

Let’s say I faked my death perfectly, then suddenly reappeared.

‘Hehehe. Actually, I was alive. Won’t you see the true heroine ending with me?’

I wondered how I would react.

Would I tremble with feelings of betrayal, questioning why she had deceived me? Or worse, would she refuse to return her wealth and opt to bury me alive? The reaction to my reappearance, after having bid a proper farewell, was unpredictable.

Moreover, I was still regarded as a traitor in Joseon.

If I returned to the Moyong Family, Moyong Bi might capture me and send me to Joseon with Moyong Sang-ah. I would face execution, and Moyong Sang-ah would be sold as a slave under the false accusation of hiding my death.

Even with Moyong Sang-ah being the true heroine, I couldn’t simply return to the Moyong Family now.

“The princess might be the true heroine, it could be Moyong Sang-ah, or perhaps a third character. What am I supposed to do? Ugh.”

As I pondered, my bruised body cried out in pain once more. Fortunately, I had suffered no broken bones. At least the art of spitting up blood (토납술) proved useful in this situation.

Even if I identified the true heroine, there was still a problem.

Who would be charmed by a black-haired barbarian who had nothing?

“Even if I find the true heroine, I have no means to win her heart. How am I supposed to make the heroine fall for me?”

If it’s about winning her affection, I suppose I should make her fall in love with me. Would that resolve everything?

No, it was more probable that I needed to engage in additional storylines, since it was about winning over the true heroine. But was I capable of that right now?

The situation was maddening.

My body ached, and my thoughts were becoming clouded.

Hope was extended, yet the solution remained elusive in a maze.

I couldn’t continue in this manner. It was time to rest.

I decided to sleep, rejuvenate my body through the art of spitting up blood, and then reach a decision.

Setting aside my concerns, I laid down to alleviate my sore body.

“You. Why do you appear so worn out? What happened to your body?”

It was Mr. Wang’s fabric store. After three days of alternating between sleep and practicing the art of spitting up blood for recovery, I had arrived here.

“On my way back that day, I ran into those Cheongsapa rascals.”

“Ah, people were talking because the storyteller hadn’t been seen for three days. So that’s what happened. Any broken bones or knife wounds?”

“No, there’s some swelling, but I’ve mostly recovered.”

“That’s a relief. After the last storyteller was stabbed and died, the officers have been stirring up the market.”

“Yes, I noticed they weren’t using knives.”

I didn’t know if it was because of Yoon Dae-hyeop’s words or the officers, but thankfully, the Cheongsapa didn’t use knives.

“It’s good that it ended like that. Then, you haven’t eaten properly for a few days?”

Mr. Wang gestured towards some food set aside in the fabric store.

“It looks like you’ve ordered lunch.”

It had been a while since sunrise, but it wasn’t yet lunchtime.

I should probably accept some of the lunch he was offering. I was definitely hungry after not eating properly for three days.

“I don’t eat lunch. It’s usually brunch for me.”

“…What?”

What did he say? I was momentarily stunned by the unexpected term.

“Don’t you know brunch? It’s a meal between breakfast and lunch.”

“People usually call it brunch, don’t they?”

Couldn’t we at least compromise on calling it brunch?

“What’s brunch~? Who uses the term brunch these days? You speak well, but as a Joseon person, you use old terms.”

“Ha… I didn’t learn the term ‘brunch’ when I was studying the Central Plains language in Joseon.”

How many wuxia novels had I read, and where did ‘brunch’ even appear in them?

“Anyway, there’s an inn in front. They have a brunch time sale, selling leftover breakfast food with added lunch ingredients at a discount. I’ve been busy at lunchtime, so I ordered a lot for this time. Come in and eat with me.”

Mr. Wang gestured for me to come inside the fabric store.

“Yes, I’ll eat gratefully.”

Right. Brunch or time sale, what did it matter? Free food was the best.

“So, are you starting your storytelling work today? Can you bring out the overcoat too?”

After we finished our meal, Mr. Wang handed me some old clothes and asked,

“I don’t think I can work for a while, Mr. Wang. By any chance, do you know a good paper shop (紙廛) you could introduce me to?”

“A paper shop (紙廛)? Do you need paper?”

“Yes, I need to buy some recycled paper (還紙) and writing materials.”

Recycled paper was paper that had been used before. It was cheaper than new paper, though the quality was not as good.

“Recycled paper? What do you need that for?”

“I’m thinking about writing a book.”

That was the conclusion I had arrived at over the past three days.

I didn’t know who the true heroine was, nor how to win her over. But when the ending condition window appeared, it displayed a message.

[You have reached the minimum fame score. The ending condition is now open.]

Fame score and money score.

These were the metrics needed to win over the princess and Moyong Sang-ah in the story. For the princess, it was fame; for Moyong Sang-ah, it was money. This was one of the aspects of the game I had criticized.

What would happen if the protagonist completed the main story with the princess without worrying about the fame score?

I conducted an experiment to provide feedback. The result was that the princess left the protagonist and married another man with high fame.

How could she just disappear after looking at him so lovingly?

I would understand if the main story didn’t unlock due to a low fame score. But for the same storyline to proceed regardless of the fame score, with only the ending changing, was ridiculous.

She even sent a wedding invitation to the protagonist.

What kind of mockery was that?

However, since I was now in this world, that fact had become a beacon of hope.

I didn’t know who the true heroine was, but even on a second playthrough, the game UI hadn’t changed. This meant that these scores were still crucial for reaching the ending.

Searching for the true heroine was too uncertain. How could I, wandering the vast Central Plains, know who the true heroine was? But money and fame were different.

Even if I didn’t find the true heroine, accumulating enough money and fame would eventually draw her to me.

“A book? Are you planning to write a storybook?”

“Yes, I’d like to try writing a storybook.”

Traveling the country as a storyteller would only make me known as a famous storyteller in a county or province.

Would that be enough to achieve the fame score needed to attract the true heroine?

It was uncertain. What was certain was that no wuxia novel ever mentioned a storyteller who, famous for storytelling, surpassed the greatest swordsman, the devil of martial arts, the emperor of swords, or the leader of the martial arts alliance.

“A storybook written by a Joseon storyteller… That’s certainly intriguing.”

After much deliberation, the conclusion returned to writing a novel.

Of course, the fact that I couldn’t immediately make money from a book didn’t change.

But fame might be different.

The novels in this world were rigid and uninteresting. Most were written for moral teachings or biographies of great figures.

Once a book became famous, it would spread on its own. It was a way for my fame to resonate without moving an inch.

I would build fame and wealth through a novel.

And then the true heroine would come to me.

Right now, this was the only attempt I could make to win over the true heroine.

“Yes, if it turns out well, I’ll show it to you.”

“Alright. Go out of the fabric store, turn right, and keep going; you’ll find Yang’s paper shop. Mention my name, and they’ll give you a discount.”

“Thank you.”

I thanked Mr. Wang and left the fabric store.

“Even after scraping together every penny, this is all I could manage.”

Mr. Wang’s recommendation, my haggling, and the money I dug up from a corner of my shanty.

All I managed to acquire was this indistinct ink, indistinguishable from proper ink or just soot water. Instead of recycled paper, I had weed paper (雜草紙) made by mixing weeds with recycled paper.

The brush was nearly threadbare, and I couldn’t even find a proper inkstone; I had to make do with grinding ink on a rough stone.

“I can barely make one book with this.”

Yellowish, low-quality paper. Ink full of impurities and dull in color.

One book made from these materials.

And with it, I aimed to spread my fame across the country.

A wry smile escaped me.

I knew it was a foolish endeavor, even by my own admission.

It was like a person lost in pitch darkness, blindly following the first glimmer of light they saw.

Even though I had been transmigrated, this was still a very real world.

To think that writing just one book would raise my fame. If someone in the heavens were watching, they would surely laugh.

But right now, I wanted to cling to this tiny hope.

Living without hope was not living; it was decaying.

I didn’t want to decay in this world.

This irrational and illogical act seemed to give me hope.

Just like how writing web novels brought comfort to my weary self from my office job.

A writing attempt to avoid decay.

A narrative penned by me, thrown into this world, seeking hope.

Then, what should I write to find hope in this world?

“Let’s write a wuxia novel.”

A wuxia world without heroes.

The North Star of Mount Tai in the martial world.

The revered Wudang of the South.

A protagonist from the Wudang Sect.

The theme would be:

“What is the essence of heroism?”