Episode 48
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The guesthouse was just over a small hill.
The narrow dirt path twisted up toward the house, which was humble but full of charm. On one side of the yard, rows of earthenware jars lined up neatly. A cat lay curled up on the back porch, basking in the sun.
“What are you doing out there, come on inside!”
The woman who warmly brought Sorin into her home introduced herself as Jeongsun. On the walk over, she had casually explained that everyone younger than her called her Big Sister, and those older simply called her Jeongsun’s place.
She had lost her husband and her grown children had moved to the city, leaving her alone in a once-busy home. So, she had converted it into a guesthouse.
“Look at this dust! I swear I clean all the time…”
While Sorin hesitantly stepped past the gate, Jeongsun shook out the cloth bundle she had carried and began swatting at spots here and there. Midway through her self-scolding, she suddenly turned to Sorin.
“Have you eaten?”
“No, not yet.”
“Heavens, how can your stomach still be empty at this hour?”
Sorin said nothing and lowered her head. She’d come so far in such a rush that she hadn’t even realized she was hungry.
“You poor thing. You must be starving. Just wait a bit—I’ll whip up some noodles.”
The woman stepped into the kitchen and began boiling water with practiced ease. As the noodles boiled, she finely chopped green onions, pulled out some kimchi, and laid everything out on the table.
“Here. Eat up before it gets cold.”
With a smile, she placed a large steaming bowl of noodles in front of Sorin. The bowl was so big it could nearly fit Sorin’s entire head. Steam wafted gently upward from the white broth.
“Thank you.”
Sorin quietly pulled out a chair and sat down, then cautiously picked up her chopsticks. She lifted a few strands of noodles and brought them to her mouth—mild and savory broth filled her mouth.
“Tastes good, right?”
Jeongsun smiled gently.
Sorin gave a soft smile and nodded. After a whole day without food, the warm noodles were comforting—and so warm. That warmth from a stranger at the end of a long, exhausting journey… the kind expression on Jeongsun’s face…
That warmth shattered all the emotions Sorin had kept buried deep inside.
“It’s… really delicious…”
Before she could finish, her voice broke—and the tears burst out.
Jeongsun looked flustered as Sorin broke down crying right in the middle of eating.
“Oh my, what’s this? Why are you crying now?”
Big, fat tears fell down Sorin’s pale cheeks. Jeongsun fidgeted helplessly, repeating “Oh dear” over and over, before finally walking over to gently rub Sorin’s back with her weathered hand.
“It’s okay. Let it all out today. Just let it all out.”
At those soft, motherly words, Sorin sobbed even harder.
She cried until every last drop of sorrow inside her was spent. Through it all, Jeongsun said nothing—she simply stayed by her side, quietly stroking her back.
After the emotional storm passed, Sorin slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were redder than the sunset she had seen earlier.
“Feeling a little better now?”
Sorin sniffled and nodded.
“Good, that’s the way. It’s better to cry when you need to cry. Bottling it up will only rot you from the inside.”
Through her swollen eyes, Sorin saw the noodles now clumped together like sticky udon.
She felt sorry for not having eaten them. Her face showed guilt.
“I’m sorry. You made them just for me…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll just make another batch.”
With a smile, Jeongsun cleared the bowl and filled the pot with fresh water.
The sound of water splashing soothed Sorin’s heavy heart.
As she placed the pot back on the stove and turned the knob with a click-click, Jeongsun glanced back at her.
“You got a place to go?”
“You don’t look like you do.”
Suddenly exposed, Sorin lowered her head again.
Jeongsun sat across from her and gently coaxed her to speak.
“If you’ve got nowhere to go, just stay here for a while. It’s okay.”
“Huh? What do you mean…”
“It’s been raining so much lately, the place is half-empty. Adding another spoon to the table won’t hurt anything. Really, it’s no trouble.”
“But still… I’d be imposing…”
Sorin hesitated, but Jeongsun waved her hand.
“It’s not a bother. And if you really feel bad, just help out with the guesthouse from time to time.”
Still biting her lip, Sorin didn’t answer. Jeongsun continued gently.
“It’s nothing difficult. Half the women you met earlier are just like you—people with nowhere else to go. No one comes here without a story. Everyone’s carrying a truckload of pain.”
She reached across the table and held Sorin’s hand firmly.
“Just stay. Life has a way of working itself out, you know?”
Jeongsun tilted her head slightly, as if reading Sorin’s heart.
Was it okay to depend on someone she had just met today? Her head said no—but her heart wavered.
Because Jeongsun’s face was so kind… and because the words “life has a way of working out” gave her comfort.
The sound of boiling water began again.
“Ah! Look at me, forgetting things.”
Jumping up, Jeongsun tossed another handful of noodles into the pot.
The sight of her back—working in the kitchen—reminded Sorin of her grandmother, who used to cook for her when she visited as a child.
Watching her, the tight knot in Sorin’s chest slowly loosened.
Just for a while… it might be okay to stay here a little longer.
—
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Fingers tapped rhythmically on a desk, filling the office with dull sound.
It had already been over two months since Sorin disappeared.
They had scoured every CCTV from the airport to the train station. They traced every possible route—but found nothing.
Her last known image was waiting for a southbound train. After that, she vanished. No use of credit cards, no hospital records. Even inquiries to religious temples turned up nothing.
They had tried monitoring Dongyoung Foods employees, thinking she might contact them—but there were no signs of her reaching out.
Eun Sorin had disappeared completely—as if she’d never existed.
Eun Sorin… where on earth are you?
Hoo…
Taeyoon leaned back in his chair and exhaled deeply. His head throbbed with irritation, thirst, and growing anxiety.
Knock knock.
The door opened and Chief Song entered.
“What is it?”
“There’s an external event you should attend, sir.”
“Now?”
It hadn’t been on the morning’s schedule. Taeyoon frowned with suspicion.
“It’s related to the Ohsung Group’s technology agreement. Chairman Seo personally asked that you attend.”
Taeyoon let out a bitter laugh.
Since when did Chairman Seo care so much about Ohsung? His mother, and now his father—both seemed willing to sell their souls for Ohsung.
“Fine. If it’s so important, I’ll go.”
With sarcasm dripping from his tone, Taeyoon stood up.
Though he moved reluctantly, Chief Song followed behind with an apologetic look.
—
Taeyoon’s black sedan pulled up in front of a grand performing arts center. As he stepped out and looked up, a twisted smile crossed his face.
The architecture, reminiscent of an Italian cathedral, had a massive poster hanging on the façade.
> Chahee Ballet Gala
“Giselle”
Beneath the elegant lettering, a woman in a delicate white tutu struck a mournful pose.
Bathed in soft lighting—
It was Chahee.
