When I was writing this story, it was quite different. Not in meaning but in language, in breath, in the sound of the words.
It was born in Ukrainian - soft, melodic, a language where pain sounds like a song and love - like a prayer. I wrote slowly, at nights, with a mug of cold tea, sometimes three sentences an evening. Each chapter was like a step in the dark.
And then - I wanted this story to be read by others. For Do-yun and Seungho to resonate beyond the language where they were born. I translated the book into English with the help of a GPT-chat. Not because I couldn't do it myself, but because I was afraid of losing the rhythm. I needed to preserve the breath of the story, that special intonation with which it grew.
The machine and I argued. A lot. I edited every scene, returning human words, emotions, and pauses to it. Sometimes it seemed to me that I was having a dialogue not with a program, but with someone who was simply helping me not to give up.
When I submitted the manuscript for contact - I was rejected. They said the text "raised suspicion" and "had signs of being written by artificial intelligence." And that, perhaps, was more painful than any criticism.
Because behind every line stood not a machine, but me - alive. With sleepless nights, with hands shaking over the keyboard, with a heart that beat in unison with every dialogue of the characters.
But now that the story is complete, I realize: it doesn't matter who helped me translate. The main thing is that I did not betray my own feelings. That the characters lived to the end. That their breathing became full, and their love - genuine.
And if someone reads this and feels even a drop of what I felt - then it was all worthwhile.
Thank you, reader. For walking alongside me - from the first chapter to the last.
P.S.: this was translated without GPT-chat :)