Chapter 164
It was quitting time, and the shabby barbecue restaurant near Hongdae was packed with people.
Smoke rose thickly from meat sizzling over the grills, while the clear clink of soju glasses echoed throughout the restaurant.
“So what you’re saying is, instead of presenting this as simple ‘monetization,’ you want to package it as some kind of cultural movement?”
Reporter Goo Yangmo tilted his head skeptically.
I filled his empty soju glass and shook my head.
“Not package it.”
“It really is a cultural movement.”
I leaned back.
“Think about it. People spend money on mobile-game items and messenger stickers without thinking twice.”
“So why do they suddenly become stingy when it comes to paying for novels?”
“Well...”
Goo Yangmo thought for a moment before smirking.
“To be fair, this is a country where more than half the students think buying college textbooks is a waste of money and just photocopy them instead.”
“And you think they’re going to pay for scraps of text floating around the internet?”
“Honestly, even I’m not so sure about that.”
“See?”
I pointed at him.
“Even someone who calls himself a journalist thinks like that.”
“So imagine how ordinary people feel.”
“That’s exactly why I’m saying we need to approach this as a cultural movement and change that perception itself.”
I took a one-hundred-won coin from my pocket and placed it on the table.
“Stealing isn’t limited to taking physical objects.”
I spun the coin.
“One hundred won.”
“It’s not even enough for a cup of vending-machine coffee.”
The coin spun across the table before slowing to a stop.
Goo Yangmo’s gaze naturally followed it.
“But with one hundred won, you can openly and honestly enjoy an episode that a writer spent the entire night creating.”
I looked at him.
“What I want to ask readers is this.”
“Are your conscience and your enjoyment really worth less than one hundred won?”
Goo Yangmo picked up the coin and stared at it silently.
I could see his journalistic instincts starting to work.
A simple promotional article would be tacky.
But an article that identified the direction of the times and challenged the public’s conscience?
That could become a column.
A social discussion.
“Hm...”
Goo Yangmo clearly knew that too.
He was simply deciding whether paid web novels were truly a sign of the times, something worth turning into a public debate.
“A title practically writes itself.”
I tested the waters.
“Is Ten Minutes of Your Time Worth One Hundred Won?”
Goo Yangmo smirked.
“Seeing you work your brain like this, CEO Min, you really aren’t an ordinary person.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll write it in a way that actually starts a discussion.”
“For once, I’ll get away from entertainment gossip and throw a real question at society.”
“If you’re doing it, don’t just ask a question.”
“Give it some weight too.”
“Weight?”
He looked at me as if asking what I meant.
I smiled leisurely.
“Don’t frame it as, ‘Please pay to read.’”
“Frame it as supporting creators and investing in Korea’s story industry.”
“Let people know that the one hundred won or one thousand won they spend isn’t simply the price of text.”
“It becomes fuel that lets writers keep writing.”
“And when enough of that accumulates, it becomes culture.”
“Then an industry.”
“Then history.”
“So paying for web novels becomes part of the history of the cultural industry?”
Goo Yangmo laughed.
“There’s definitely some exaggeration in there, but I can see the picture.”
He emptied his glass.
Watching him, I thought,
This will probably be the most socially constructive article Goo Yangmo writes in his entire life.
The next day, the culture section of Hanju Daily published a feature article titled:
[Controversy Over Paid Web Novels: The Era of the Free Lunch Is Over]
As if trying to make up for all the times people had called him a trash reporter, Goo Yangmo’s article was unexpectedly sharp.
It openly exposed the reality of illegal text-file sharing, deliberately stirring a sense of guilt among readers.
At the same time, it presented New Moon’s paid model as both the most reasonable alternative and the attitude expected of mature cultural consumers.
The article quickly spread to other outlets.
[Column: Sharing Illegal Text Files Is ‘Theft’... Threatening the Creative Ecosystem]
[Interview: ‘Enjoy Your Own Fantasy for the Price of a Cup of Vending-Machine Coffee’... Web Novel Platform New Moon Takes on the Challenge]
Not long afterward, reactions to the articles began appearing across web novel communities and social media.
Before long, the topic was heating up the entire internet.
[Nightmare123: Damn, after reading that article I feel kind of guilty. I’ve read a ton of pirated text files too...]
[FantasyOtaku: Fuck that. Who are they calling a thief?! Fine! I’ll pay the damn hundred won. Happy now?]
[↳ NovelMania: Still, paid novels feel kind of too much;;]
[ConquerTheWorld: Gum costs five hundred won these days. What kind of broke loser whines over a hundred won?]
[↳ NovelMania: Sure, it starts at a hundred won. Later it’ll obviously become one thousand, two thousand.]
[AspiringWriter: Honestly, as a writer, I’m really grateful. Until now, people just consumed our work for free...]
[OldTimer: Web novels? Isn’t that basically those old internet novels from back in the day? Wow, people still write those? This takes me back.]
Online communities boiled with arguments for and against.
Some people still cursed.
Others defended the idea.
But the important part was that indifference had become interest.
Even people who had never cared about web novels were starting to pay attention.
And at the center of that argument, people were gradually being persuaded.
A psychological threshold was forming.
One hundred won is something I can pay.
We had caught both rabbits at once.
Noise marketing.
And justification.
“Hyung, the sign-up rate is insane right now!”
Woo Seungcheol’s voice trembled with excitement over the phone.
Before the articles, New Moon had been averaging fewer than a hundred new members a day.
After the monetization announcement, some existing members had even left.
But only two days after the articles went live, new registrations passed ten thousand.
“Paid test purchases are increasing too.”
“It’s probably curiosity for now, but the numbers are way better than we expected!”
Then someone shouted in the background.
“Wait! Twelve thousand!”
“We just passed twelve thousand!”
“Holy crap, is this actually real? Hahaha!”
“Kibaek hyung! Did you hear that?”
“We just passed twelve thousand new members!”
They must have had me on speakerphone.
The cheering from the office came through clearly.
A smile naturally spread across my face.
Then another voice came through.
“CEO Min, this is Park Moonsik. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, Director Park.”
“Go ahead.”
“To be honest... when you said we had to change people’s perception first, I doubted you.”
His voice trailed off with emotion.
“But...”
I could already guess the words he couldn’t finish.
“Director Park, it’s still too early to get emotional.”
“We still have a long way to go and a lot of work left.”
“You know that, right?”
“Of course!”
