61. Crossroads

"I need to think about this," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned away, needing a moment to compose herself.

Chung-hee watched her, his expression unreadable. "Take your time, Ji-won. But remember, the clock is ticking. The longer you wait, the harder it might be to get the information you need."

Ji-won nodded, her mind racing. She had come here with a clear goal, but now the path forward seemed uncertain. She knew what was at stake, and the decision she faced was one that could change everything.

The bustling atmosphere of the bazaar faded into the background as she wrestled with her internal conflict. The vibrant colors and lively chatter around her were a stark contrast to the gravity of her dilemma. She understood that this decision was more than just about gaining intel; it was about compromising her values and self-worth. The stakes were high, and the potential consequences were profound.

"I'll let you know," Ji-Won said, getting up from her seat.

As she turned to leave, Chung-hee called after her, "Ji-won, remember—I'm here to help you. Just think about it."

She nodded without turning back, feeling his gaze on her as she walked away. The noise of the bazaar swallowed her up, and she moved through the crowd on autopilot, her mind still spinning with the enormity of what lay ahead.

Reaching her apartment, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. The quiet of her home was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, but it offered no comfort. She moved to the window, looking out at the city she loved. Somewhere out there was Ha-neul, and the thought of him with someone else was a pain she couldn't bear.

Ji-won knew she needed to make a decision soon. Chung-hee's offer was still echoing in her mind, a constant reminder of the lengths she might have to go to keep Ha-neul in her life. She couldn't help but feel a sense of dread at the thought, but she also knew that her love for Ha-neul was driving her forward.

***

In a small, cozy room within a bustling publishing office, the ambiance was both inviting and professional. The walls were adorned with shelves filled with various books, some written by famous authors and others by emerging talents. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of paper and ink.

A sleek wooden desk sat at the center, accompanied by two comfortable chairs upholstered in soft, gray fabric. A small potted plant on the desk added a touch of greenery to the otherwise minimalist decor. The room was well-lit by a large window that allowed natural light to flood in, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

Starla sat on one of the plush gray chairs opposite Williams, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the carefully curated surroundings. She had always admired the way this small room managed to balance comfort and professionalism. The books on the shelves were organized with meticulous care, each one a testament to the literary world’s diverse range. The fresh coffee aroma, though subtle, added a sense of homeliness that belied the critical nature of their meeting.

Williams, seated behind the sleek wooden desk, was absorbed in reviewing Starla’s manuscript on his laptop. His focus was intense, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard as he took notes. The soft hum of the office beyond their door was a distant backdrop to their private conversation, a reminder of the busy world outside this small sanctuary of judgment and creativity.

The natural light streaming through the large window bathed the room in a warm, golden hue. It highlighted the polished surface of the desk and cast a gentle glow over the potted plant in the corner, which seemed almost to add a sense of tranquility to the tense atmosphere.

After what felt like an eternity, Williams finally looked up from the screen and met Starla's gaze. "Is this story based on your real-life experiences?"

Starla nodded, her voice barely a whisper as she responded, "Yes, it is. Does it feel real to you?"

Williams sighed, closing the laptop with a deliberate motion. "Your writing is disappointing."

Starla's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat, then she asked with shaky and stammered voice, "Disappointing?"

Williams nodded, his expression softening slightly but remaining firm. "The story feels hyperbolic. The scenes are too rigid, and the romance lacks depth."

Starla’s shoulders drooped, and she stared down at her hands, which were clenched tightly in her lap. She had devoted countless hours to perfecting this manuscript, pouring every ounce of her effort and emotion into it. The harsh critique struck her deeply, a painful contrast to the hope and determination she had felt while working on her story.

The warmth of the room seemed to fade as her disappointment settled in. The once-inviting space now felt cold and unwelcoming, the sunlight streaming through the window doing little to dispel the gloom that had enveloped her. The carefully arranged books on the shelves, the comforting hum of the office outside, and the scent of fresh coffee all became distant, muted presences.

Williams observed Starla’s reaction with a mix of concern and resolve. He could see how deeply his words had affected her, and he regretted being the bearer of such difficult news. He knew that delivering criticism was part of his role, but he also understood that it needed to be balanced with encouragement and guidance.

Seeing Starla’s crestfallen expression, Williams leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. “Starla, I know this is hard to hear. I know how much work you’ve put into this, and I’m not trying to dismiss your efforts. My feedback is meant to help you grow, not to tear you down.”

Starla remained silent, her gaze fixed on the desk, her fingers still gripping each other tightly. She felt a lump form in her throat, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Her emotions were a tangled mess of frustration, self-doubt, and a deep-seated desire to prove herself.

Williams continued, trying to offer reassurance. “Look, I've seen your dedication, and I believe in your talent. That's why I'm giving you this feedback. It's not a reflection of your abilities, but rather a stepping stone to improvement. Sometimes, reality hurts, but you have to be able to accept it in order to improve. If you can do that, I believe your novel this time can be the best novel.”

Starla looked up, her voice small and hesitant. "What do you suggest I do?"

Williams paused, considering his response carefully. "I think you should go to Seoul," he finally said.

The suggestion took Starla by surprise. She hadn't expected such advice. "Go to Seoul?" she repeated, disbelief evident in her tone.

Williams nodded, his eyes earnest. "Yes, immerse yourself in the culture, the people, and the environment. Sometimes, to write authentically, you need to experience life more deeply. It will give you a fresh perspective and the inspiration you need to write with more authenticity and emotion."

Starla absorbed his words, her mind already racing with the possibilities. The idea of traveling to Seoul was daunting, but it also excited her. She knew it could be the key to unlocking her full potential as a writer. As the initial shock of Williams' suggestion wore off, she began to fun things to do in the South Korean capital.

The thought of exploring Seoul's neighborhoods, witnessing the daily lives of its people, and experiencing the city’s rich history and modern pulse filled her with a sense of adventure. Starla envisioned herself wandering through traditional palaces, savoring local cuisine, and perhaps even finding a quiet corner in a café to reflect and write. The prospect of such an adventure seemed like a chance to not only gather inspiration but also to reconnect with her own creativity in a profound way. Best of all, though, was that she could meet Ha-neul. Unfortunately, Starla had no idea what awaited her there: a premonition that she might later regret.