Reset Life with Infinite Talents - Chapter 161
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Infinite Talent Reset Life Episode 161
Ring ring ring!
As the bell rings signaling the end of class, Emily pokes Johann.
“Let’s go.”
“Wait a moment.”
Just a moment.
A drop of sweat trickled down Johann’s flushed red nape.
“…You two fought, didn’t you?”
“Huh? Us?”
“F-fight? What fight!”
During lunch time, Johann looks puzzled while Emily glances at Johann then turns her flushed face away.
Johann’s eyes widen.
“What did I do wrong again?”
“N-no! I’ll be right back!”
As Emily stands up hitting the table and moves away, the girls quickly follow behind her.
“What trouble did you cause this time?”
“…I didn’t do anything though?
Today all I did was read stories on an internet novel platform during programming language class.
“Then why is she acting like that?”
“Who knows?”
It’s frustrating, but he’ll find out the reason soon. She has the personality to tell him if he did something wrong.
“More importantly… have you guys been to your girlfriend’s house?”
“There’s probably no one who hasn’t been?”
His friends also nod.
“Then did you see a book called Fifty Shades of Grey on the bookshelf?”
“Uh… I think I might have seen it… Or not?”
Even if you went to your girlfriend’s house, would you notice something like that.
“Ah, I think I saw it.”
“Me too. There were a lot of romance novels on the shelf?”
“You too?”
Though when they tried to look, she desperately tried not to show them.
“I see.”
‘So women like those kinds of novels.’
Fifty Shades of Grey. When he looked it up, it was an incredibly hit novel.
‘I think I understand why they like it.’
A different kind of fun from actually seeing and feeling it.
Drawing lines of imagination as the text leads, becoming a character in the situation.
That enjoyment is indescribable.
‘Sometimes immersion was broken here and there because I couldn’t relate…’
But his peripheral nerves were properly stimulated. Since earlier he keeps wanting to roughly bite Emily’s nape and lips, and wanting to enter the library.
Johann shakes his head, suppressing his desires, and falls into thought.
‘Writing had this kind of power.’
Even when he saw the scenario for ‘Fire Always Targets Us’, it didn’t hit him this much.
‘They say the pen is the mightiest weapon in the world…’
The guys put their heads together while looking at Johann lost in thought.
“Grey, that’s erotica, right? I think I saw it on the news.”
“It’s killer erotica. No different from porn.”
Flash narrows his eyes.
“As I recall, I think this is the first time that bastard has seen anything related to porn?”
“Did we… not show him?”
“We showed him in 5th and 6th grade. He wasn’t interested so we didn’t show him after that.”
“Then…”
Their gaze looks toward where Emily disappeared and they smile wickedly.
“So that’s how it happened?”
“Aha?”
Friends who already knew Johann’s boldness from showering together in the past.
It seems like the two friends who are both the best and worst are preparing to become adults.
“…It would be nice if Larry and Ada were like that too.”
“Our mom is frustrating too… What’s that? Where’s he going?”
Johann sits in front of the female student who had caused a slight incident that morning.
The female students around her freeze up.
“Hello?”
“…Why, why?!”
“I want to ask you something… I’m asking this out of pure curiosity, okay? To all of you.”
“Mmm… Wh-what is it?”
“Is that based on experience by any chance?”
“What?!”
The female student’s friends, who had already heard about the morning incident through her, also turn pale.
“Or is imagining such things…”
Thump!
Johann looks at Emily who covered his mouth.
“Maybe it’s because you can’t achieve it in reality, so you imagine it instead?”
Such fantasies.
‘Fantasy… hmm.’
“Then why write it down?”
Just reading should be enough to imagine and get vicarious satisfaction.
Moreover, these aren’t even working adults but regular students. Being Fairmont students, it’s hard to see money as the purpose.
‘Maybe it’s just for simple fun or stress relief.’
He could find out easily with Absorption Reading, but he wants to hear it directly.
“It-it’s rude to ask such things.”
‘How can I say I write it myself because I’ve read everything worth reading!’
“Sorry. He lacks consideration.”
“N-no!”
The female students frantically wave their hands and look at Johann. And they’re surprised.
‘He’s not… looking down on us?’
Usually in situations like this, a hundred out of a hundred people would give disgusted looks, but Johann has no emotion other than curiosity.
Like a young child curious about the world.
“A-aren’t we weird?”
“Your taste is a bit unique, but not particularly?”
It’s just a novel, a fantasy after all.
Though he finds it somewhat unique, he doesn’t want to disparage someone as strange just for having imagined something. If someone were to be despised just for that, there would be fewer people who wouldn’t deserve contempt.
“Oh, and the first emotion you feel when frozen hands touch bare skin is pain.”
The burning heat of fingers meeting warmth that feels like they might shatter.
The terrible coldness when frozen hands touch skin.
Only when two people’s eyes become entangled does that pain become the warmth of emotion.
“Ah…”
“I’ll go now. Thanks for answering.”
As Johann stands up, Emily pokes his side.
“Want to try writing?”
“It does sound fun.”
Emily and the female students didn’t answer with words, but their eyes gave their response.
‘It must be so fun that no one could stop them once they start.’
The process of imagining and translating it into writing.
“Come to think of it…”
Johann himself had already experienced similar joy before.
“Ah, songwriting.”
“Yeah.”
There was joy in capturing what one being desired.
There was joy in expressing the moments drawn in his mind, and joy in having every character in the lyrics move according to his will.
‘Lyrics were magic that could convey the emotions and situations I wanted to say and express more intuitively.’
A past conversation with Brian McKnight flashed through his mind.
If he felt this much joy writing lyrics for 3-4 minute songs, how fun would it be to write hundreds of thousands of characters?
‘That’s why they kept rewriting and polishing their work.’
Because it was fun.
It wasn’t just novels, songwriting, or composing. Painting, photography, performing, singing – all of it involved continuous revision and refinement to reach the desired joy.
‘Now…’
He felt like he could fully understand the hearts of creators.
Only now.
“Do you have a theme in mind?”
“I was thinking of writing a story about Joe or Jimmy…”
Joe Walsh or Jimmy Page.
As rock stars, they had lived fiery lives in many ways.
‘There’s The One Who Became a Star who was a spy, and the versatile artist Hugo Ballin…’
There was also Wolf Who Howls at the Moon who ruled through fear.
The countless lives he had examined so far flashed through Johann’s mind.
“Autobiography? Memoir?”
“Maybe?”
“Would those two want that?”
Besides, no matter how genius Johann was, this was his first attempt in this field. It would take some time to learn sentence structure and grammar to develop his own style.
“Ah…”
“Instead of that, how about picking any topic and doing a light serialization as practice?”
While Johann enjoyed imagining alone, he preferred sharing that joy with others. Internet novel platforms were the perfect place for someone like Johann.
“Serialization… huh?”
Johann looked up with confusion. All his friends were staring at them with suspicious eyes.
Emily’s face turned red again, remembering what happened in the computer room and how she had told the girls about Johann’s physical changes.
* * *
“I’m back.”
“Welcome home!”
“What about Larry and Ada?”
“They’re not back yet! What should we do about dinner?”
“Just make three hamburgers please. Were there any calls?”
He had eaten with the Emilys, but it wasn’t enough.
Johann greeted the housekeeper and headed to the 3rd Floor, taking off his clothes as he walked toward the restroom.
Whoooosh!
“What should I write…”
Joe Walsh and Jimmy Page had refused, saying they weren’t old enough yet to write memoirs. Steven Tyler from Aerosmith felt the same way.
“Emily said to just start with any topic…”
But now that he had made up his mind, no topic readily came to mind.
“Hmm.”
Scratching his head as he went downstairs, he found the kitchen was noisy.
The housekeeper was watching the kitchen TV while finishing up the food preparation.
“Oh! You’re here!”
“What are you watching?”
“It’s a movie called Casanova starring Heath Ledger… Ah, how thrilling would it be to spend a day with someone like that?”
“Casanova? Isn’t he a playboy?”
Casanova, the epitome of playboys.
“There’s a reason women can’t forget Casanova even knowing he’s a playboy.”
Because he knew women too well.
Because he said and did what women wanted.
“If you gave your heart unknowingly, you could say you were deceived, but if you both know and enjoy it, there’s no problem.”
Just like a one-night fling.
“Hmm. I suppose you could think of it that way.”
A life he couldn’t understand.
But seeing the housekeeper genuinely fascinated, he felt somewhat drawn to it.
‘Should I write about that person?’
Giacomo Girolamo Casanova, the figure who inspired the movie Casanova. He was from the 1700s, and since many movies and dramas had already been made about him, it didn’t seem like there would be any problems.
It was also perfect for expressing the lewd thoughts that had filled his mind since watching Fifty Shades of Grey.
‘Plus, it’s a life I can’t understand.’
This would also be a new experience.
Johann gulped and grabbed the hamburgers, heading to the 3rd Floor.
And then…
“So this is how one can live.”
Pleasure without responsibility.
Greed for knowledge without persistence.
A life where morality, ethics, and diligence were nowhere to be found.
‘He wrote novels too?’
Then let’s try writing again.
All of your life, looking back from the moment of death.
Johann placed his hands on the keyboard.
* * *
Ring ring! Ring ring!
“Yes, this is Penguin Random House! Yes, author!”
“…Coffee?”
“You moved! Congratulations!”
The New York headquarters of Penguin Random House, one of the Big Five English-language publishers, never had a moment of quiet.
Staff members gathered in the break room, sipping coffee.
“Ugh. I haven’t been seeing much interesting stuff lately.”
“I know. Until 2009, there were so many fresh writings.”
People who rarely left their homes due to the economic collapse triggered by events like the Lehman Brothers crisis.
As a result, the sales of leisure industries like restaurants, amusement parks, and hotels hit rock bottom, but as if they had been waiting for this moment, businesses that could be enjoyed cheaply or for free – e-commerce companies, OTT streaming platforms, social network services – grew exponentially.
Among the businesses that grew was their publishing industry. Of course, offline sales dropped miserably, but online sales surged even more.
After that, internet novel platforms sprouted up like mushrooms, and as the overall pie of the publishing industry grew, people who had been unaware of their talents began knocking on the doors of internet novel platforms.
“Anyone could start with a light heart.”
So everyone rushed in, and a tremendous number of writers debuted during this time, making America’s literary market more diverse.
“That’s right. It was like that. But even that…”
“It’s already been 5 years.”
It was about time for a stagnation period to come.
Unless an economic crisis comparable to the 2009 subprime mortgage crisis hits, only sequels from existing writers will be released.
“Or the trend will shift toward lighter reading material.”
Writing that goes straight into the brain without any contemplative pleasure.
“Ah, internet platforms.”
Such writing has been pouring out ever since internet platforms developed.
Momentary stimulation gained more public response than the philosophy contained within the writing.
“We should view this as one phenomenon too.”
It felt like an unavoidable tsunami was approaching.
Complex and difficult to understand. The flow of the times had almost erased the term “literary fiction.”
“That’s… true.”
If everyone valued contemplative pleasure above all else, internet novel platforms wouldn’t have grown in the first place.
“So what’s your real intention?”
The reason for rambling about past stories during this precious time when they should be cooling their heads.
The reason why a publishing company employee, who has the duty and responsibility to pick up well-selling writing regardless of the work’s completeness, was whining.
“…Something interesting needs to come out! SF, romance, drama, mystery, suspense, anything! Even a Western period drama would be fine!”
Rehashing masterpieces like Lord of the Rings, Crime and Punishment, or Great Expectations only lasts a day or two.
New stimulation, new text was needed.
He, a severe text addict. No, they.
“It’s fine even if it doesn’t make money, please…”
“It won’t work if it doesn’t make money. You know how much pressure we get from above.”
“Then writing that’s both profitable and interesting!”
Snicker!
The gazes of People gathered in the break room turn toward the employee in his late twenties holding a laptop.
“What? Are you watching something fun by yourself?”
“Want to see?”
When he turns the laptop around, North America’s top internet novel platform that they all know well appears.
“Casanova?”
Casanova, a subject that’s been covered countless times. A character that’s been dealt with so much there’s nothing new about him.
“This is supposed to be interesting?”
“Three episodes are up so far, just take a look.”
The employee clicked on the first episode.
My name is Giacomo Girolamo.
I am the vulgar coward who was called Casanova.
‘Memoir format?’
This too was a frequently used approach.
‘But… what is this?’
From the mere murmuring monologue, an image of old Casanova lying in a single room with gray walls, gasping for breath, is painted.
The Staff Members lowered their gazes and indulged in the text that entered their eyes.
* * *
Swish! Swish!
Late at night, on the Bed.
Emily, wearing the short gown Johann made, moves her hips to find a comfortable sitting position.
‘He said he just uploaded it, right?’
Tap tap, she operates the laptop to find Johann’s pen name and her eyes light up.
“Oh, Casanova.”
It seems telling him about erotic novels was indeed a good idea.
It hasn’t been long since it was posted, but the view count already exceeds 200.
“Let’s see how he wrote it.”
I first opened my eyes to Women at age 6, because of a dancer who was changing clothes in the Makeup Room of a Theater where my Father Gaetano Giuseppe Casanova was performing.
Her white breasts before they were hidden by the corset…
Gulp!
What is this? Why is it so realistic?
The spectacle comes next.
I approached her. And grabbing her breasts, I said this.
“Mother.”
“Kyaa!”
‘What, what did he write!’
Shock from embarrassment and surprise.
However, her eyes read down Casanova’s monologue.
Her face gradually turns red.
At the mischief of a precocious 6-year-old brat.
At the sexual desire that manipulates Women who laugh and accept it as if it’s cute.
Because it seems like that of a teenager rather than just a 6-year-old kid, her legs cross, her throat goes dry, and she gets angry.
Yet she also feels puzzled.
‘Johann, how do you know… such things?’
Just how many erotic novels did he read during today’s short time?
What exactly did he read and how, to be able to describe so vividly?
One thing she could tell was that Johann had Talent in writing too. Tremendous Talent at that.
She licked her dry lips and continued reading down…
“What! Why does it cut off here? Where’s the next episode!”
After his Father, who was a comedy actor, passed away and even his Grandmother who had cared for him died, Casanova came to Michele Grimani’s Estate, owned by the Theater owner where his Father had worked.
The content of episode 3 ended at the moment when teenage Casanova entered Michele Grimani’s aristocratic mansion and turmoil was foreshadowed.
At the point where the real story was about to begin.
Emily picked up her Mobile Phone.
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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