Chapter 32
What Is Sola
“…Uuugh?”
Muru let out a strange groan. While she was out buying beer at the supermarket, a reply came in to a DM she had sent earlier.
She had messaged the person who uploaded a photo from Bang Hyewon’s wedding. Saying she was worried because she couldn’t get in touch with Hyewon, and asking if they had been in contact with her. She also said she was someone related to Hyewon’s company.
Technically, she wasn’t entirely lying—she had followed a photographer who was hired for a shoot where model Bang Hyewon was working. Still, she hadn’t expected a reply.
But to her surprise, one came.
[Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t contact me anymore?]
A cryptic reply. “This kind of contact”?
“Huuuuh… what do they mean~?”
As her drunkenness level crept higher by the second, Muru’s words dragged like taffy as she tapped on the keyboard to reply.
[ㅇ ㅏㅏ 데가 솔라ㅏㅏ 아니앙이 빙혜워니 화사 아니고 회사]
(“Ahhh this not Sola, I mean Bang Hyewon, not flower (hwa), company (hoesa) not flower…”)
Tarim quickly stopped her from hitting send.
“Muru, you’re drunk. Let’s wait a bit before replying.”
“Nooo I’m not drunk!!!!”
“At least drink some water and sober up a little—”
“I said I’m not druuuunk!!”
A lemon highball had transformed a perfectly normal person into a baby pterodactyl. They had to wrestle her phone away from her while she screamed “I’m not even a little bit drunk!!!”
“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!! Sola! Solaaaa! Why! Why are you treating me like this!”
“This person’s not Sola.”
“I don’t careeeee!!!!”
She flailed wildly, trying to get her phone back from Tarim. Even seated, she scooted all over the small room, trying to get it. Tarim had to hold the phone high above her head while Muru jumped up and down, unable to reach it. Her drunken tantrum escalated quickly.
“I’ll do it!!! I have to do it!! Directly!! With my own hands!! Me!!”
“Why are you throwing a fit, please—”
“I’m the only one who doesn’t know anything!!!!!”
Tarim’s hand, which had been trying to calm her, froze. It was as if he had been hurt. Tears welled up and spilled from Muru’s eyes.
Why does it always end up like this when she’s with Park Tarim? Why does he always make her cry? Why does it always end up like this?
“All of it!!! All of it!!! I’m the only one who doesn’t know anything!!!!”
Tarim’s soft spot had been touched. His young, odd, stubborn love, now crying loudly while drunk.
If he captured this face with his lens, it would show a worn-down dam—cracks forming everywhere, on the verge of bursting, crumbling as it held onto those fractures.
“I… I can do it!”
Catching him off guard, she snatched the phone from his hand. Tarim gently wrapped his hand over her trembling one holding the phone.
“Okay. You can do it.”
Still crying, she nodded her small head up and down like a bobblehead.
“But let’s do it this way: you say it, and I’ll type. Is that okay?”
She nodded again. Tarim settled her onto a cushion on the floor like a child. Sitting side by side, they stared at the phone screen.
The Instagram DM was still frozen on the other person’s last message. Muru blew her nose loudly and gave him her dictation in a stuffy voice.
“Thank you… for responding, sorry to trouble you.”
Tarim suppressed a laugh and typed it in as-is. A reply came quickly.
[What are you doing right now?]
Even just from the text, the other person’s tone was cold. Clearly angry. More messages followed.
[Didn’t we agree you’d only contact me about the wedding?]
“What… what do they mean?”
Tarim didn’t catch the context immediately, but a drunk webnovelist, apparently, could read context better than ten sober people.
“Aiiish, it’s obvious! Role. Stand-in. This person probably had no friends to invite to the wedding, so they hired people to attend!”
“Ahhh…”
“Look, look! In this photo, she and Sola are cheek-to-cheek, acting all close… like a fake friend…”
Her words dropped in pitch. From high and chirpy to a slow fade-out.
“Sola… no, Bang Hyewon… I mean, my friend Sola… she played a role. That’s what it was, right? Right.”
Her voice dropping with her head, then suddenly she lifted it again brightly.
“I’m sorry. It was an emergency.”
Tap tap tap, send. Another quick reply came.
[You filled the seats, we paid you and 30 others in full—everything’s done.]
[It’s true that I contacted her afterward because she was so kind that day.]
[But I never asked her for work outside the agency. We just had a few meals.]
[Still, I told you multiple times not to contact me. If my husband finds out, I’m in big trouble.]
[You think I’m easy just because I don’t have friends to invite to my own wedding?]
Muru read every line, line by line, carefully, and immediately launched into another fast dictation:
“No, no, that’s not it. Miss Bang Hyewon said she had a stalker, and she was extremely worried. We haven’t been able to contact her, and she recently moved, so we don’t know her address. As a colleague, I’ve been deeply concerned—”
“Slow down, slow down. ‘As a colleague…’”
Tap tap tap tap tap tap.
“If you could provide her new address, I would be forever grateful. I swear my descendants will honor this kindness—”
They edited out the “descendants” part before sending.
[A stalker?]
[Ah…]
There was a long pause. Clearly surprised. No response for several minutes. Muru, still drunk and tear-stained, kept lifting her heavy eyelids.
“Why aren’t they replying…”
“They’re probably thinking it over.”
“Why is it taking so loooong…”
“It’s only been 3 minutes…”
“Why haven’t they replied yeeeeet…”
[She’s really not answering her phone.]
The reply came. It seemed even with some personal context, their relationship was still thin—just client and hired help. Still, the person sent Bang Hyewon’s address, with a final request.
[I’m sorry, but please don’t contact me again. I have my own circumstances.]
A cold but understandable request. Once the exchange ended, Muru relaxed and crawled under the blanket.
“Sleepy?”
“Mmhmm…”
Moving slowly but not missing a step, she pulled the covers over herself, looking proud.
“I did it. I did it. Ju-Muru did it.”
Despite the earlier sobbing tantrum, she now slipped into bed like a smug little hamster.
“Should I turn off the lights?”
“Yes, please!”
Tarim tidied up the simple drinking session and laid out his own bedding a short distance away.
When he went to grab his camera bag to take a picture of her wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, he spotted her Leica camera next to her pillow. Even when she was covered in mud, she had kept that Leica held high.
Even just as a friend…
It was enough.
Tarim turned off the light and shut the window. So she wouldn’t catch a cold. Even with the window closed, the waves outside could still be heard softly and steadily.
At the same time…
“Oh my god, I’m losing it.”
Back at Hwaran House, Oh Ikyeom was battling all the ghost stories he’d ever heard in his life. He’d lived here for two and a half years, but this was the first night Tarim and Hosik were both away.
He couldn’t sleep with the lights on, so the room was pitch dark—and every shadow looked like a ghost. He pulled a blanket over his head and played Gregorian chants… which quickly started sounding like a funeral dirge.
Two and a half years ago, when his parents decided to retire to the countryside, Oh Ikyeom faced a dilemma.
Get his own place and enjoy freedom while enduring the fear of sleeping alone, or live with friends and give up that freedom. But either way, he was still sleeping alone in his room.
Reciting the Heart Sutra his grandma taught him—though he only remembered one line—he tried to comfort himself with the thought that it didn’t matter if his friends were outside the room or not. It didn’t work.
“You bastards. You abandoned me.”
Still, he wondered—wouldn’t a bigger space feel less scary?
He checked the time. After midnight, no one was supposed to be in the living room. That was the house’s only rule. It was 11:53 PM. Seven minutes until the witching hour.
“If I fall asleep before midnight, it’s like I’m not even in the living room…”
Clutching his pillow and blanket, Ikyeom crept downstairs. Hwaran House was oppressively silent. The living room, just before midnight, was steeped in heavy darkness.
Still, standing in the open space did ease his fear a little. He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket and lay down on the couch.
