Editor’s Survival Guide - Chapter 201

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Survival Rules for an Editor Episode 201

ep28. Blooming School (3)

Hello, Author.
I’ve reviewed the manuscript you sent, and well.
Everything’s good, but the character’s reactions feel a bit strange.
Your protagonist is an ordinary person who’s been caught up in this abnormal situation against his will.
So while he says his goal is to return to normal life, his actions seem to be playing a different tune, you know?
Don’t get me wrong—the character isn’t bad. It’s just that his reactions and actions feel a bit off.
Right now, the entity that dragged your protagonist into this abnormal situation is dying, correct?
If you just let it die, the protagonist wouldn’t need to get tangled up in any more dangerous situations, and he could go home.
On the other hand, the organization your protagonist has joined can only profit if he keeps getting pulled into abnormal phenomena.
Shouldn’t there be some conflict between the protagonist and his supporters over whether to save this Crow or not?
For instance, the protagonist might intellectually know he has to save Crow, but emotionally he wants to escape this trap, so he’s torn internally. Or he might feel conflicted emotions toward those around him who worry about his safety while refusing to give up the opportunity to use him.
Since he’s already suffered quite a bit up until now, if you went a bit more extreme, he could even cry out that they shouldn’t save Crow, letting all that pent-up pressure explode.
If ‘ordinary person’ is the theme, I think this level of reaction is necessary for it to feel natural. What do you think?
The issue is that this Seo Do-un character is just accepting the plan to save Crow so readily.
No matter how much it’s for the greater good, I’m a bit skeptical about whether this character really has the reason and motivation to be so calm about throwing his own life away.
I think either more human reactions need to come through, or we need to see why the protagonist’s psychology works this way. Otherwise, readers won’t be convinced either.
“…so I’ve been thinking.”
“….”
“And when I considered it, I realized my own reactions probably aren’t exactly typical…”
I finished my lengthy explanation and looked over at Cha Si-eon.
Cha Si-eon had been listening to me with admirable patience.
Once my long-winded speech ended, Cha Si-eon finally spoke.
“In my judgment, Seo Do-un’s—”
Mine?
“—thinking system is fundamentally the problem.”
What’s the problem with how I think…
“A normal person doesn’t regulate their breathing by picking apart their lungs’ movements one by one as they breathe.”
“Sometimes you might become conscious of breathing.”
“But you don’t check your lung function and then realize you’re having trouble breathing.”
Damn. I have nothing to say to that.
So my thinking really is fundamentally broken.
When I grew serious again, Cha Si-eon pressed further.
“So what’s the problem?”
“Sorry?”
“You’ve been odd for a while now, yet you suddenly want to make an issue of it? Until now you dismissed it as just editor stuff, but now…”
“I didn’t dismiss it—”
I reflexively denied it, but my words trailed off.
When I really thought about it, dismissing it seemed like the right description.
But now I can’t dismiss it anymore.
I’d been dragged along all this time, and now I was suddenly given a choice.
When I first got swept up in this mess, I was just scrambling to deal with what was right in front of me.
But as time went on, I gained options.
Yet when I lined up all the choices I actually made, they weren’t much different from when I was being dragged around—they were all extremely unfavorable to me.
That’s why I’ve been feeling an odd sense of discord lately.
I’ve been wondering if my judgment is some kind of biological disqualification before it even reaches rationality and logic.
Do I have a sense of duty to save people? No.
Do I have great ambition or a heroic complex? No.
All I have is a modest ethical sense—the kind that says people should live like people—which normally only gets used when I obey traffic laws or do my trash sorting diligently.
But now that I’m often standing at death’s door, something about the choices I’m making feels fundamentally wrong.
Where the hell did my survival instinct go…?
“…I didn’t dismiss it so much as just didn’t understand it. I’d never been in a situation where my life was hanging by a thread before.”
“And now?”
“After accumulating data and reviewing it, I’ve finally realized this isn’t something I can brush off as personality quirks or occupational hazard…”
“Good. I’m glad you figured it out now.”
There was something satisfied in the way Team Leader Cha spoke.
Was he happy we’d prevented human distortion, or was he pleased that what he’d been saying all along had been proven right?
It could’ve been both, and something swelled up in my chest before I let out another sigh.
What’s the point of opening my mouth? Cha’s logic isn’t wrong.
This time, I’m the one with nothing to say.
Then Cha Si-eon spoke again.
“Now that you know something’s odd, dial it back going forward.”
“Dial what back?”
“Treating your own life as consumable material you can spend without hesitation.”
“When have I ever treated my life as consumable…”
Cha Si-eon looked at me with eyes that said, ‘You don’t even know?’
Still, it wasn’t quite treating it as consumable.
I was about to make that excuse when I felt the futility of it and closed my mouth.
“As long as you don’t do that, there’s no real problem.”
“…?”
“And you don’t have to be normal.”
“Is that self-introduction?”
“No, I’m talking about you.”
Why is everyone coming at me like this today?
“You said it yourself earlier. What defines average and normal isn’t values—it’s page count. So just live your own life. Don’t obsess over a classification with no real meaning, and stop distorting humanity.”
“…”
This day really has been long.
Beaten down by Hazardous Entities in the afternoon, left speechless by Cha Si-eon’s sharp words in the evening.
I managed only to nod reluctantly.
Then Cha Si-eon added something.
“If you still feel like you absolutely need to be normal, try separating it once.”
“Separating?”
“Why you’re feeling this way.”
I listened quietly to Cha Si-eon’s words, and then I realized where he was getting this from and looked up in disbelief.
Cha Si-eon didn’t look particularly smug.
He just watched my bewilderment with complete calm.

* * *

「Exit, ‘Call 119!’ has been activated. Persons in severe hemorrhage, burns, hypothermia, poisoning, or unconscious states are automatically expelled from the space.」

By my command, a new escape route had been generated in the Small House.
I spoke to the Guide next.
“Bring Baek Sa-ra and Han Ji-su from the Member-only Warehouse-style Mart here.”

「That is an impossible command. The two are too far away.」

“What about Ji-su? She’s collapsed right now, and you still can’t bring her?”

「’Han Ji-su,’ currently staying in the Type 1 Special Zone ‘Member-only Warehouse-style Mart,’ is presently in a medicated sleep state. Her soul is swimming in the Primordial Sea, but her physical connection remains firmly maintained, so she cannot be brought here.」

“Team Leader, it looks like sedatives won’t work.”
When I read the Guide’s message aloud, Jae-gyeom reported it to the Team Leader.
Then the response from Cha Si-eon in the Situation Room came back.
—Understood. I’ll issue a withdrawal order for Sa-ra and Ji-su.
We were running tests before the Big Cat capture operation, using the Small House as a casualty evacuation center.
Just as we’d brought Moon Ho-san, who was injured at Blooming School, here, if we could relocate wounded personnel within the Special Zone, casualties would drop significantly.
But we couldn’t deliberately injure the personnel already in the Special Zone just to verify whether the transfer worked well or not.
That’s why I’d experimentally had people take sedatives and collapse to see if they’d be classified as unconscious. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.
If that had worked, personnel isolated in the Special Zone could’ve simply taken a sedative and slipped out easily.
But it seemed such a cheat key wasn’t permitted.
So we could only relocate them if they were seriously injured, like with Moon Ho-san’s case…
I didn’t trust the Guide enough to base our entire operation on that single instance.
“You’re certain that anyone critically injured in the Special Zone can be brought here? You’re not going to suddenly add different conditions and stab us in the back, right?”
I asked again, uneasy.
The Guide responded with a blinking cursor.

「I’ve said this repeatedly, but Hazardous Entities don’t lie.」
「But Master.」
「What could you possibly do even if I did lie?」

This bastard… became utterly insolent after we had that argument a few days ago.
I was about to get mad and say something else, but I realized I’d lose everything, so I shut my mouth again.
Today is August 14.
In eight days, Management Bureau personnel will be deployed to Blooming School targeting the Big Cat capture.
Blooming School had completed its Reorganization Period, and the space had been warped into an A-rank Hazardous Zone.
However, exploration was complete, and its primary Hazardous Entity, the Gardener, was repelled during the last Intensive Suppression Week, so it was assessed as a relatively stable managed zone.
A stably managed A-rank Hazardous Zone, no less.
The euphemisms keep contradicting each other. I really don’t know if this will be okay.
“Hey, did you see this?”
Jae-gyeom showed me something on his tablet while we waited for my next orders near the Hazardous Entity.
Against a white background were two black circles.
And inside those black circles sat what looked like gray animal drawings.
“What is this?”
“It’s a patch the Organization Team made this time. It’s still a mockup, but Hama drew it. He wants you to pick one of the two.”
If Hama drew it…
“Don’t tell me… is it an otter…?”
Whether it was the animal ferociously baring its teeth inside the circle, or the one with an elongated body curled into a ball—
Yeah.
They were both otters.

“They’re going to attach these when they go into the operation.”
“Why on earth…?”
“Because it increases the chances of being rescued, supposedly?”
The criteria the Guide uses to pull people into the Small House.
Distance, weight, and relational proximity to me.
That must be why the personnel deploying for this operation had all unanimously decided to attach Otter Velcro Patches to their shoulders before going in.
Yeah, everyone’s risking their lives going in.
Because of that, many personnel carry crosses, rosaries, and talismans, and if an additional Otter Velcro Patch could provide more peace of mind, there’s nothing wrong with that.
Though I’m not sure how much connection this otter emblem actually has to me.
“Which one do you think is better?”
Jae-gyeom was asking for my opinion.
I studied the round otter graphic and thought.
Maybe because Crow was dying, I felt pretty relaxed without worrying about being pulled into the Special Zone.
So was hoping for Crow’s death the attitude I should be pursuing as a living being…?
But I shouldn’t have thought this.
The very next moment—

I found myself alone in a corridor stained blood-red.
With no warning or preparation whatsoever.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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