Daddy is too Strong-Chapter 118

“Ah, it’s hot,” a man muttered to himself, staring blankly at an empty Word document.

He switched on an old fan he’d had for over five years and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

Lim Seong-Hoon, a web novelist, lived in unit 302 of Changshin Villa in Bangbae-dong, Seocho-gu.

At thirty-three years old, he was in his fourth year in the fiction industry, although he was not a popular writer by any means. He had completed two novels: the first was a traditional fantasy, and the second was an apocalyptic story.

In the past four years, he had earned a total of around 20 million won.

Although he began writing due to his love for novels, reality had proven to be anything but kind. At this point, he wondered if it would be wiser to confront the truth, acknowledge his lack of talent, and seek a regular job like everyone else.

Having only written novels up to now, Lim Seong-Hoon had no notable English proficiency test score, nor had he attended college.[1]

His qualifications were a far cry from what the job market would want.

Recently, he had been serializing a new novel on a site called Dalpia. Since Hunter-themed stories were trending, he’d gone with the clichés, but for some reason, his results were dismal.

“I need some fresh air.” Lim Seong-Hoon sighed.

He grabbed his wallet and trudged outside.

***

He sat on a bench in a nearby park.

With the cicadas buzzing, it really felt like summer had arrived. Wait, since when did cicadas come out as early as June?

He chose not to dwell on that too much.

“So hot...” he said, fanning himself.

The air, life, all of it.

Just then, someone sat beside him. It was a little girl, probably no more than five, and a small dog with horns and wings.

Oh, they’re the kids from unit 301.

He decided to say hi.

“Hey, guys.”

The girl, Byeol, turned to look at him. They were vaguely familiar with one another from their occasional encounters in the hallway. He often gave her snacks, so he fell into the “good person” category in her eyes.

“Oh, next door Mistah!” she said.

“That’s me. So, what are you and Yong-Yong doing here?”

“Just pwaying. And you?”

“Me... I just came out for some fresh air.”

“Okie.”

The frustration he felt from writer’s block seemed to ease a bit as he watched Byeol and Yong-Yong relax.

“If you’re not busy, want to read one of the stories I wrote?” Lim Seong-Hoon asked her.

Perhaps it was his desire for validation from just about anyone or a simple urge to connect with the kids. Before he even realized it, Lim Seong-Hoon took out his smartphone and opened Dalpia.

Why would he expect any reaction from kids who could barely read? He sighed to himself.

“I am weally busy,” Byeol said, shooting down his offer.

“O-oh, are you?”

“I have to walk Yong-Yong. His bewwy so big now. Fat.”

Lim Seong-Hoon laughed awkwardly.

She said, “But you can show it to me later, okay? Let’s go, Yong-Yong.”

Byeol hopped off the bench, and Yong-Yong, who had been yawning, looked up at Lim Seong-Hoon and asked, “What’s the title?”

***

Sipping his tea at the dining table, Do-Jun glanced at the kids sprawled out on the living room floor. He noticed that Yong-Yong had been reading novels to Byeol.

“Apparently, the guy next door is a writer,” Yoon-Hee said, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the kids fondly.

“A writer?” Do-Jun asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, he publishes his novels online. Looks like he recommended his work to the kids.”

Yong-Yong was fully immersed in reading to Byeol, complete with dramatic expressions.

From what Do-Jun could overhear, it was a story about a man in his mid-twenties struggling with a series of part-time jobs who, one day, awakens to become a Hunter. However, Yong-Yong’s expression didn’t look pleased. His face was scrunched up in irritation as he read.

Byeol had been nodding off but suddenly slapped her cheek to stay awake, only to start dozing again shortly after.

Yoon-Hee smiled awkwardly and added, “But I guess it’s not all that interesting, huh...”

What Yoon-Hee didn’t know was that ever since losing to Byeol in the Korean spelling test the other day, Yong-Yong had put in immense effort to study Korean.

“It’s a novel about Hunters, I think,” Yoon-Hee said.

“He’s been reading a lot of those. He must like them,” Do-Jun remarked.

Lying on his back, Yong-Yong had his SpacePad open to Dalpia.

Curious, Do-Jun opened the same app on his smartphone and checked the over fifty titles in the subscription list, all Hunter-related novels, all subscribed to by Yong-Yong. He saw that Yong-Yong had been active in the comments section, too.

﹂Ah, another hyatis.

﹂Dis one’s good! Reed it yall!

﹂Chat, how do you top up your gold hear?

Reading through the comments Yong-Yong had left, Do-Jun chuckled quietly.

***

The next day.

Lim Seong-Hoon let out a sigh once again.

He was already twenty-three chapters into his series, but the numbers just weren’t coming along. The first chapter had racked up thirty thousand views, placing the novel in the top charts. However, with each subsequent release, subscriber count and views kept plummeting, eventually reaching a point where the chapters were barely receiving two thousand views.

He wondered what the problem could be.

“I wrote it according to all the usual clichés...”

A protagonist who admires Hunters awakens a special power one day and accidentally takes down a monster. He gets an S-rank rating from the Hunter’s Bureau and is showered with recruitment offers from various guilds. The protagonist then embarks on a series of hunts, making a fortune as he rises to success.

This was the story across the first twenty-three chapters.

Following this formula was supposed to guarantee more popularity than other genres. So why had his work faded into obscurity like this? Hunter stories were still performing relatively well on Dalpia, even though the market was saturated.

His doorbell rang.

When he opened the door, there stood Yong-Yong from unit 301.

“Hey, Mister. I’m all caught up.”

Lim Seong-Hoon looked at Yong-Yong in disbelief. When Yong-Yong asked for the novel's title the previous day, he absentmindedly gave it to him, never imagining that Yong-Yong would actually read it.

“Can you really read?” he inquired.

It was strange enough that a pet could talk, but reading too? That would imply he had studied the Korean language, at least to some extent.

Since Fissures first appeared ten years ago, many inexplicable things had occurred that modern science couldn’t explain, but a talking and reading pet was still incredible.

“Yep,” Yong-Yong casually replied.

The title of the novel was “Return of the SSS-Rank Hunter.” It was serialized on Dalpia up to chapter twenty-three, but couldn’t break into the top forty rankings. The first chapter had thirty thousand views, while the latest had only two thousand, indicating that he had lost most of his readers.

“So, what did you think of my novel?” Lim Seong-Hoon asked Yong-Yong.

As his heart pounded, he swallowed nervously, waiting for Yong-Yong’s answer. However, Yong-Yong just sighed, looking at Lim Seong-Hoon’s hopeful expression, wondering if he should just be honest.

“Mister, why are the comments disabled?” Yong-Yong asked back.

Every single chapter of “Return of the SSS-Rank Hunter” had a locked comment section. While this blocked hateful comments and helped protect his peace of mind during writing, it also meant he couldn’t gauge readers’ feedback or reactions.

“That’s... well...”

The truth was that Lim Seong-Hoon was afraid to look at the comments. Whenever he received negative ones, he would become distracted throughout the day and couldn’t write properly, eventually causing him to disable the comments entirely.

This way, he thought, he wouldn’t get thrown off by what people said.

“If you’d left the comments open, it would have blown up by chapter nineteen,” Yong-Yong said.

“Chapter nineteen? Blown up?”

Lim Seong-Hoon reread the chapter.

It was a classic, cathartic scene—a school reunion where the protagonist’s former classmate, a B-rank Hunter, tries to belittle him, only for the protagonist to turn the tables in an epic moment of revenge.

Blowing up probably meant there would have been hundreds of comments saying how refreshing and satisfying that chapter felt.

Lim Seong-Hoon indulged in a moment of happy daydreaming but quickly gave a bitter smile. He knew that would never happen.

Yong-Yong had read dozens of Hunter stories and was now a seasoned fan of the genre. He knew the Hunter story clichés inside out and understood what moments readers would cheer for and what they wanted to see.

In truth, clichés weren’t necessarily a bad thing. The patterns called clichés often included elements that readers generally enjoy. The problem lay elsewhere.

“Mister, do you enjoy writing this?”

That question hit Lim Seong-Hoon like a knife to the chest.

Truthfully, he didn’t find Hunter stories enjoyable. He only wrote in this genre because it was profitable. His colleagues had told him that if he followed the formula, he would surely succeed. So, he had forced himself through twenty-three chapters to make a living.

“While I was reading this, I couldn’t help but feel like you were just slogging through it, Mister. It felt like you didn’t want to write this at all but were forcing yourself to. It all shows in your writing. You might think that the readers can’t tell, but we can. Very well.”

Yong-Yong was right.

From chapter one to twenty-three, it had been a struggle. He never realized how difficult and joyless it would be to write something that didn’t resonate with him.

Lim Seong-Hoon said, “It wasn’t that I wrote carelessly. I studied hard, read everything I could find about Hunters, and kept up with new information every day. But you’re right; I didn’t actually enjoy writing a Hunter story. I didn’t expect it to show through my writing, though...”

He’d considered this year his last attempt at being a writer. He’d prepared meticulously, choosing a Hunter story because it seemed like the easiest path to success.

At the end of the day, he wanted to make a career out of writing.

Yong-Yong continued, “I don’t know much about writing novels, but... I think the most important thing is to write about what you enjoy. If the writer finds it fun, then the readers will too. You aren’t just writing for the money, are you?”

What Yong-Yong said was, in essence, the first “comment” Lim Seong-Hoon had ever received. Writing all twenty-three chapters without readers’ comments, cut off from reader interaction, had been purely mechanical.

Despite completing two other novels, he never grasped the true essence until now. Web novels weren’t like traditional books; they grew along with the readers, engaging in a journey together.

That day, Lim Seong-Hoon posted a notice announcing the suspension of “Return of the SSS-Rank Hunter.”

***

Two weeks later.

After his shower, Do-Jun walked into the living room, drying his wet hair with a towel. Yong-Yong dashed over, holding out the SpacePad and a ten-thousand-won bill.

“M-master! How do I donate on this thing?”

Do-Jun took the SpacePad and checked the screen. The Dalpia app was open, displaying a novel titled “Return of the Third-Rate Writer.”

Do-Jun chuckled and tapped the purchase button.

***

Ranked first on the platform, the name Lim Seong-Hoon stood proudly at the top, a smile spreading across his face.

“I did it...”

Fifteen chapters had been published so far. Chapter one had forty thousand views, with the latest having thirty-five thousand. The novel had blown up.

“Write what you want, Mister.” That was the advice Yong-Yong had given him, and that was exactly what he did.

He had written what he had tucked away due to the concern about marketability or commercial appeal. He wrote with complete freedom and poured his heart into the work.

Messages from publishers filled his inbox. They all wanted to sign him on to publish “Return of the Third-Rate Writer” on their own platforms.

﹂Hello! I’m Editor Kim Cheol-Soo from Hansol Management.

﹂This is Kwon Young-Hwan, CEO of OAS Media. We’d like to discuss a possible collaboration for...

﹂We thoroughly enjoyed your work...

The latest chapter had over five hundred comments, and his work occupied four slots on the first page of the recommendations.

It was hard to believe. If it was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

At that moment, another message arrived.

Could it be from another publisher?

﹂xXSupremeYongYongXx has sent you a donation.

For a moment, Lim Seong-Hoon’s eyes grew misty.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

1. English proficiency tests like TOEIC and TOEFL are highly regarded in Korea and give individuals an advantage in finding a job. ☜