"What...?"
Genesis is on hiatus?
The curse slipped from the high school student's lips as he stared at the latest issue of Nuri Comics in disbelief. His brows knitted together, and he bit down hard on his lip.
Then a voice came from behind him.
"Watch your mouth, punk."
"But Grandpa, Genesis is on hiatus!"
"So what?" the old bookstore owner replied. "It says someone else is filling in this issue."
"Oh, come on... You really don't know anything."
The boy rubbed the back of his head after being scolded and let out a long sigh.
Genesis.
The only fantasy comic still generating respectable sales in the dying Korean comic industry.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that nine out of every ten people who bought Nuri Comics did so because of Genesis.
Why did Genesis have to go on hiatus?
And to make matters worse...
Why did it have to be him?
The moment he saw the two-character name—
Andrew Shin.
His breathing stopped.
Andrew.
A comic artist known for winning a prestigious rookie award.
His artwork was so realistic that it felt strangely unsettling, while his stories were often dark and emotionally heavy. On top of that, his plots could be so difficult to follow that readers often finished a chapter without fully understanding what they had just read.
"Are they seriously trying to put this magazine out of business?"
Even if he accepted that Genesis needed a break...
Even if, as an aspiring comic artist himself, he understood how exhausting serialization could be...
Why...
Why did Andrew have to be the one replacing it?
"Haa..."
He scratched his head.
"Grandpa, can I read it here?"
"If you're not buying it, don't make a mess of the magazine."
"Yeah, yeah."
Flip.
The boy opened Nuri Comics.
I'll read it...
Then I'll complain about it as much as I want.
He began flipping through the pages.
Where is Andrew's comic...?
His hand suddenly stopped.
Printed beneath the title—
Pages Of Us
A young man stood atop a giant manuscript page, quietly looking down at a girl with a lonely expression.
"...Huh?"
The boy blinked.
"The art..."
"It feels different."
The overall style was unmistakably Andrew's.
Yet somehow...
It looked far more refined.
The linework was cleaner.
The use of black ink felt more balanced.
The highlights and shadows gave the characters greater depth.
Each change was subtle—
Almost too subtle to notice on its own.
Yet together, they created the strange impression that someone else's touch had been added to the artwork.
Maybe...
He put extra effort into the cover.
The boy clicked his tongue.
It's still Andrew's comic.
I've fallen for this kind of thing before.
No matter how good the cover looked...
It didn't mean the story would be any different.
He narrowed his eyes and turned the page.
Flip.
Another page.
Flip.
Another.
Then—
"...Huh?"
His eyes slowly widened.
The irritation on his face gradually disappeared.
His fingers continued turning the pages.
One after another.
Without realizing it...
He had stopped looking for reasons to criticize it.
He had become absorbed in the story itself.
His pupils trembled.
"..."
"...What is this...?"
***
"You're really good at drawing comics."
"Do you want to become a comic artist?"
That single question—
Spoken during an elementary school class—
Changed the boy's life forever.
"U-Um..."
"...Yeah."
His face turned bright red as he nodded.
The girl smiled and held out a notebook.
"Then sign it."
"When you become famous someday, you can't pretend you don't know me."
"O-Okay."
With trembling hands, the shy little boy signed his name.
For a child who had no friends because of his timid personality...
A child who spent every day quietly filling notebooks with doodles...
Those simple words felt like the greatest blessing in the world.
After that day, the two quickly became friends.
They drew comics together.
They talked about stories together.
They laughed together.
And before he realized it, he had made many more friends.
Every day was filled with happiness.
It felt as though he were floating through life.
All because of comics.
To him...
Comics had saved his life.
Or at least...
That's what he believed.
Until that day.
"...You're moving?"
"Yeah..."
The girl lowered her head slightly before forcing a smile.
"It's because of my dad's job."
"He got transferred."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she looked up at him again.
"But don't worry."
"I'll come see you."
"When you become a great comic artist."
The words were spoken with the innocence of a child.
Yet they etched themselves deeply into the boy's heart.
When I become a great comic artist...
I'll see her again.
The promise she left behind became the reason he kept moving forward.
But before long...
It also became his curse.
***
"Hey!"
"Want to play soccer?"
The boy didn't even look up.
"N-No..."
"I have to finish this."
As the years passed into middle school...
Then high school...
While other boys spent their afternoons playing with friends, he buried himself in comics.
He believed he had to become a great comic artist.
Only then could he keep the promise they had made.
Only then could he meet her again.
But reality was cruel.
"Ugh..."
One rejection.
Then another.
He lost contest after contest.
Publishers rejected every submission.
He tore up finished manuscripts.
He threw away pen after pen.
His father slapped him for refusing to give up on comics and prepare for college.
His mother cried every day as she watched her son slowly destroy himself.
I have to become a great comic artist.
Only then...
Only then can I see her again.
Why doesn't anyone understand me?
He screamed.
He broke down.
He lashed out at the world.
Eventually...
He ran away from home.
During the day, he worked as a day laborer.
At night, he drew comics until sunrise.
How many years of hell passed?
Even he no longer knew.
***
"Congratulations, Author."
"We look forward to working with you."
"...Editor."
"Yes?"
"...Do you think..."
His voice trembled.
"...I can become a great comic artist?"
It was winter.
He was twenty-nine years old.
After winning a comic contest, he had finally made his debut.
His dream had finally come true.
But...
The girl never came.
I still haven't become a great comic artist...
So he continued drawing.
He drew one comic after another.
He pushed his mind and body to their limits, determined to create even greater works.
Years passed.
Eventually...
He became one of the magazine's flagship artists.
"Congratulations, Author!"
"You've sold over one million copies!"
"Please accept this bouquet."
The flowers were placed in his hands.
He stared at them quietly.
"...Am I..."
"...A great comic artist now?"
The editor laughed.
"What kind of question is that?"
"Of course you are."
But...
The girl never came.
Why...?
Am I still not a great comic artist?
Or...
Did she simply forget the promise we made that day?
Every day he waited.
A letter.
An email.
Anything.
Nothing ever arrived.
The silence slowly hollowed him out.
Then one day...
A single thought crept into his heart.
What if...
Everything I've done...
Has been meaningless?
What if all these years...
Had been nothing more than an obsession?
What if he had spent his entire life clinging to the careless words of a child?
"AAAAAAAH!!"
A scream tore through the room.
Alcohol bottles.
Cigarette butts.
Tears.
Panic attacks.
Self-inflicted wounds.
His life slowly fell apart.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The pounding on the door grew louder.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Author!"
"Are you in there?"
The editor visited his apartment more and more often.
He had lost his direction.
He wandered aimlessly through life, unable to find his way forward.
It hurt.
Why...
Why am I living such a painful life...?
A bitter smile spread across his face.
I never should have started drawing comics.
If I had never picked up a pen...
None of this would have happened.
The words he had once believed were a blessing...
Gradually became a curse.
The promise that had pushed him forward turned into chains.
Chains that bound him to comics.
Chains he could never escape.
How much more time passed?
He didn't know.
Then one day...
While asleep at his desk inside his studio—
A familiar voice reached his ears.
"Hey."
"What are you doing?"
His eyes slowly opened.
Standing before him...
Was the girl.
No...
Not the girl herself.
A drawing of the girl.
She stood quietly within the manuscript pages.
Then she smiled.
"Come on."
"Let's go play."
She reached out her hand.
Tap.
The moment their hands met—
She gently pulled him into the world inside the manuscript.
Together, they walked through his memories.
"Let's have you draw the promotional comic for the school festival!"
He remembered spending days drawing comics for the festival.
He remembered the joy on his classmates' faces as they read them.
"I'm sorry..."
"I was a terrible father."
After he won a contest, his drunken father embraced him tightly.
For the first time in years...
He cried.
"Author!"
"I'm such a huge fan!"
"How did you come up with that character?"
Readers who loved his comics.
Letters filled with encouragement.
Warm smiles.
Heartfelt gratitude.
One precious memory after another filled his heart.
Hand in hand with the girl...
He continued running through them.
Memory after memory.
Step after step.
As they traveled farther...
His body grew heavier.
Each step became more difficult than the last.
Even so...
He never let go of her hand.
Finally—
They arrived at the end of that endless journey.
A world of pure white stretched out before them.
Nothing existed there except the two of them.
The girl quietly turned toward him.
"So..."
"Do you still regret drawing comics?"
"..."
The question echoed through the empty white world.
The man—
No.
The boy who still lived inside him—
Looked into her bright, sparkling eyes.
His lips trembled.
No words came out.
Only tears.
At that very moment...
He finally understood.
The reason he had continued drawing...
Had never been because of the promise.
Maybe...
Just maybe...
He had always loved comics from the very beginning.
The boy—
No.
The man slowly shook his head.
Hot tears streamed down his face and fell from his chin.
"...Yeah."
"Then... that's enough."
The girl adjusted the backpack on her shoulders and smiled brightly.
And then—
A brilliant white light enveloped everything.
Whoosh!
In an instant, the girl's body scattered into thousands...
Then tens of thousands...
Of manuscript pages that filled the endless white world.
Every page was a comic he had drawn.
The manuscript that had received countless fan letters from readers.
The work that had won the contest and allowed him to make his debut.
The comics he had drawn in high school...
In middle school...
Even the crude little comics he had first shown the girl back in elementary school.
One after another, they filled the empty space until they completely buried him beneath them.
Yet somehow...
A smile spread across the man's face.
Buried beneath the countless pages, he gazed into the endless white sky as though he had finally realized something.
Then he quietly whispered,
"Ah..."
"...It was you."
His entire world...
Had always been covered with comics.
...
...
...
How much time had passed?
No one knew.
***
"Korea Comics Awards!"
"Author, please come to the stage!"
Inside a grand, beautifully decorated event hall, a man in a neatly tailored suit—now well into his thirties—walked onto the stage with a warm smile, accepting a bouquet of flowers and a commemorative plaque.
His father and mother sat among the audience with tears in their eyes.
His fellow comic artists.
His editors.
Everyone who had walked alongside him throughout his career watched him with proud smiles.
Standing before the microphone, the man bowed his head.
"First of all..."
"Thank you very much for this award."
"I'd also like to thank my editor, the publishing director, and everyone else who helped me receive this honor."
"And..."
As he continued his acceptance speech, his eyes slowly swept across the audience.
It was as though he were searching for someone.
Beyond the memories of his childhood.
Perhaps...
He believed the blessing that had brought him this far might still be waiting for him.
But...
No matter where he looked—
She wasn't there.
"All right, all right! Let's head to the after-party! You're coming too, Author?"
The man laughed softly.
"Haha... I think I'll have dinner with my parents first."
"Then join us afterward! We'll go ahead and get started!"
"Of course. The second round is on me, so just wait for me."
"Seriously? Then you have to come!"
Laughter echoed through the hallway as his fellow comic artists and editors walked away together.
A moment later, the man followed behind them at a leisurely pace.
Then—
"Excuse me..."
A familiar voice came from beside him.
Time seemed to slow.
The man quietly turned his head.
Standing there was a neatly dressed woman with long hair.
She looked at him with an awkward smile.
"...Do you remember me?"
"..."
The little girl who had once blessed him—
The little girl he had mistaken for a curse—
Had grown into a woman.
The man stood there silently.
His eyes widened.
His lips trembled.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, a gentle smile slowly spread across his face.
He gave a small nod before speaking, carefully savoring every word.
"...Tell me."
"Do you think I kept my promise?"
The woman smiled.
It was the same warm smile he remembered from long ago.
Then she quietly answered—
"I came looking for you."
"I did."
Pages Of Us
— End —
Once again...
Back inside the bookstore.
"...Huh?"
The high school student stood frozen.
His mouth hung open.
His eyes blinked repeatedly as though he had yet to return to reality.
The elderly bookstore owner glanced over at him.
"What's wrong?"
"N-No, Grandpa..."
"This..."
"This was drawn by Andrew..."
"But..."
"No..."
He couldn't find the words.
"What are you mumbling about?"
"If you're buying it, buy it."
"If not, put it back before you ruin the magazine."
The boy's body trembled slightly.
...This is insane.
It had taken him less than five minutes to read.
Yet somehow...
It felt as though he had lived inside that story himself.
Was it lingering emotion?
A sense of emptiness?
Or simply being overwhelmed?
He couldn't explain it.
The feeling continued to churn deep inside his chest.
The fact that Genesis was on hiatus—
The very thing that had made him so furious only moments ago—
Had already slipped from his mind.
Thud.
He closed Nuri Comics, then picked up another copy from the stack beneath it.
Without another word, he walked straight to the checkout counter.
"Grandpa."
"I'll take these two."
The old man looked at him in surprise.
"Two copies?"
"Weren't you just cursing Andrew a few minutes ago?"
The boy scratched his head and grinned sheepishly.
"...I think I was a little mistaken."