Chicago Typewriter

01

Click.

Click.

Click.

   A perpetual clicking noise filled the air surrounding the three in the room, bouncing off the walls into the six pairs of ears. One source came from a watch, another from a typewriter, and another from a gun. The space was silent, hence, the only thing heard being the clacking.

   The room was lit by the sun beaming from the windows as well as the open door above the staircase at the right corner of the room. Barrels of wine and shelves stacked with glass bottles, solely of pure alcohol, stood tall in each corner. Each of them were suffocated with the presences of every kind of alcohol there ever was. However, each of them kept to themselves, proceeding to click away in the old, dusty, and dark basement.

   "Hey, Young!" The sound of the typewriter halted as the person behind it looked up from the keyboard. Settling his gaze, he looked in front of him, staring at a young man with both a gray suit and hat on, smirking at someone else across the room. The young man in gray was leaning back in a chair at his desk, a shiny, gold stopwatch in hand as he did so. "She's quite a fast learner. She could be useful if we teach her a bit more." Looking at the man with the awfully large writing utensil, his smile widens. "What do you think?"

   In just a few more seconds, all of the clicking comes to an end. The other man looks back as the figure seated at a table near the left corner of the room holds a gun in the air, a smile beginning to unfold. "All done!" The woman says. The man in gray scoffs playfully.

   "Twenty seconds." He smiles, throwing his legs onto his desk, crossing them over the other. "See?" He places his stopwatch down, sighing with ease. Using his hand, he calls her over. She gladly obliges, shooting up from her seat and waddling over to him, all with the gun in her hand. He takes the gun from her and examines it, flipping it carelessly in his hand, making sure she had built it correctly. "Good job."

   "You shouldn't teach things like this to a kid." The writer leans back, smirking mockingly at the two. A minute later, he shakes his head, leans forward, and begins to type once more. The woman smiles, and leaves for a few minutes or so.

   Once she comes back, she places a large gun on top of the writer's desk. He stops typing, looking at the gun, then up at her.

   "Huh? What are you trying to say with this?" He asks. She smiles at him, placing her hands on either side of the edge of the table, leaning forward.

   "Do you know what people have nicknamed this gun?" He shrugs and shakes his head. "Since the sound of the gunshot is similar to the sound of a typewriter, people have called it 'Chicago Typewriter.'"

   "That's cool," He smiles and looks down at his hands. "But? What exactly are you trying to say, Soo Hyeon?"

   "Well," She takes in a deep breath. "A pen is stronger than a knife." He raises his brow. "A typewriter is stronger than a gun."

   "And?"

   Sighing, she continues. "Write something good. Don't write just to gain fame and or women," The man in gray shifts in his seat. "Write something magnificent, Hwi Young." The two of them stare at each other for a bit. Soon, she gives him a smile as the man in gray chuckles to himself, desperately trying to hold in his laughter.

   Leaning up, she leaves his desk, walking over to the man to receive her gun. As she takes it, the man snatches off her hat while walking away from her, letting her hair fall down onto her shoulders. The man drops her hat, beaming devilishly at Hwi Young as Hwi Young can't seem to look away.

   She snaps her head around, whipping her hair to the side as she does so. "Yul!" She whines, only to hear the man's snickering fill the room as he starts towards the staircase to leave. He stops at the steps, looking back at her. Before he begins to walk up, he tips his hat a bit, throwing her a wink. "Hey, Shin Yul!" Snatching up her hat, she tucks in her hair, stuffing it in to hide almost every strand. Once she does, she's back to her male image, dressing men's clothing, all to hide her identity. She begins running, chasing after the man that had just left.

   Hwi Young sighs, smiles, then shakes his head. Taking off his glasses, he sets them down on the table just beside the typewriter, rubbing his eyes as he does so. "Well," He stretches, taking in a deep breath as he scans the keys. Before he starts to write, he speaks to himself. "Time to fulfill her wishes."

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Okay so lemme fill ya in.. I finished this drama a few days ago and couldn't stop thinking about how cool it would be to actually re-imagine the past life of 1930 Kyungsung that was set in this drama.

In other words, I wanted this to be a story of it's own, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

I don't mean to steal any ideas or claim that this is 100% original content, because it isn't. These ideas come solely from the drama with simple alterations just to make it fit together.

Now that that's over with, I hope you all enjoy. I'll try to update my other stories as soon as possible. Sometimes, writer's block is an ass, so my apologies~!

Thanks for reading for those who did and I hope you all look forward to the future parts.

Stay tuned for more~!