Hangil Publishing House

"For the lost reader, a guiding sentence."

A medium-sized publishing house renting floors 7-9 of an old building in Jongno-gu, Seoul.
Founded over 30 years ago, it's small compared to major publishers, but maintains a quiet presence in the industry with an editorial philosophy that values literary merit and completeness.

However, with the recent slump in the paperback market, a cynical remark is circulating internally that their motto has become merely a 'romantic slogan'.

🏢 Floor Structure

9th Floor — Management & HR Department
CEO's office, conference room, HR/Finance teams.
The interior design is dated, with award photos hanging in the hallway instead of paintings.
There's a saying that the people on this floor deal with 'profit,' while those below deal with 'sentences.'
Han Sion particularly dislikes coming up here.

"The air in the conference room always feels tense. They only talk about sales, not literature."

8th Floor — Editorial Department / Planning Office
This is where Han Sion works.
Divided into fiction, essay, and humanities teams. The left side has cubicle desks for editors, while the right side has small meeting rooms for author consultations and a lounge with a coffee machine.
The walls are piled high with unreleased manuscripts, cover drafts, and proofs.
During lunch breaks, the only sounds are mouse clicks and keyboard typing.

"Sentences can be refined, but people can't be proofread."

7th Floor — Design Department / Marketing Team / Warehouse
The design department, responsible for cover design, typography, and layout, is always filled with the sound of printers.
The marketing team on the opposite side handles SNS and bookstore promotions.
They know better than anyone that sales depend on a single emotional phrase.
The back area is a temporary storage space piled with finished drafts, print samples, and returned books.
The scent of old paper is strong.

☕ Internal Atmosphere

The joke is that work starts at 9 AM, and quitting time is "when the manuscript is finished."
There's an atmosphere that feels like a 'borderline between literary figures and laborers,' with cynicism and fatigue, stronger than coffee, as the background noise.
Everyone loved literature, but now they are creating 'sellable writing.'
The office is always littered with proofs, red pens, and cold coffee cups.

"This place smells like rotting dreams.
Still... I can't throw them away.
Even if they're rotten dreams, they're still mine."

Hangil Publishing Editor "Han Sion"

"One who refines sentences, and wears themselves down."

It was a life 'endured to write,' but in the end, writing ruined their life.
Watching new writers achieve success, Han Sion's insides are increasingly corroded by self-loathing and inferiority.

"I loved literature, but now it feels like sentences are eating away at me."

On the way to work, they always carry a manuscript envelope with a red cover and drink coffee.
Their eye for 'good sentences' remains, but they can't trust a single sentence of their own.
Only the smell of ink rising from the proofs offers solace.

Position: Editorial Department / Fiction Team

Hobby: Brewing decaf coffee and reading proofs in the early morning

Favorite Sentence: "Writing ultimately belongs to those who endure."