[Chapter 34 – Got Cola, One More Cider Please]
“Bang Hye-won knows too. She knows roughly how expensive the clothes she wore yesterday are. Anyone who understands that they have to pay if they don’t return them or get them stained—possibly even get sued—wouldn’t have delayed the cleaning.”
Since Hye-won had given her brother the customer’s number, she would have sent another message if nothing had happened. She would have messaged that she met the customer, or that the “incident” had been settled. But she didn’t. No contact at all. Or more likely, she couldn’t make contact.
“What do we do?”
Tarim asked Muru. She bit her lip, thinking hard. Tarim asked again.
“What do you want to do?”
That opened the floodgates of thought a little. Not what she should do, but what she wants to do? Me. What I want to do?
“If I report to the police without thinking and it turns out to be nothing, I’ll look ridiculous, right?”
“…Probably.”
She reflected on how she’d handled similar situations in the past. Nothing as absurd as this, but at least mildly embarrassing ones. She’d never liked standing out or being in charge. Not even once a class vice-rep.
She always kept things within her control. Chose what was safe, what was modest, what wouldn’t escalate. That’s how she lived. That was Joo Muru. So naturally…
She’d dated a guy like Kim Bong-pal for eight years.
Muru lifted her head sharply and met Tarim’s eyes.
“This time, I want to be reckless.”
There was a tiny star in her eyes.
“I don’t mind looking a little ridiculous.”
Her voice wasn’t confident at all. She was trembling with nervousness and doubt. Still, she turned around and approached Hye-won’s younger brother.
Tarim had to press her palm over her mouth to stop herself from laughing at the ticklish warmth in her nose.
How could she shine like that?
Tarim was on the brink of exploding from the inappropriate satisfaction.
“She might be in danger. I think we should report to the police.”
At this point, it wasn’t even about who Bang Hye-won really was anymore.
“The police…?”
“Only a family member can request things like phone location tracking.”
Her brother fumbled in panic. Anyone would lose their composure in a situation like this. He hurriedly unlocked his phone and asked Muru,
“Is it 119? We call 119 first, right?”
“It’s 112.”
“But I read online that 112 can’t do location tracking—”
“The law changed. 112 can track location now. We should hurry.”
Whew. She said it confidently, but honestly felt proud of herself. Until a few months ago, she believed the same thing. All those countless hours of researching for her novel had finally paid off in this random moment.
Hye-won’s brother quickly dialed 112 and began the report.
“Uh, my sister disappeared suddenly… Yes, we’re in Seoul, XX District, XX Neighborhood…”
Tarim gave a thumbs up from her waistline out of the brother’s line of sight. Muru gave a small, uncertain smile. Maybe it was a bit too nosy of her, she worried briefly. But there was no turning back now.
They exchanged contact info with Hye-won’s brother. The customer number Hye-won had gone out to meet only returned a “this number does not exist” message.
Still, they received a screenshot of the last message sent to her brother. The case didn’t officially count as an incident just yet. Without clear evidence of a crime, a missing adult didn’t seem to qualify as “missing.”
By the time Muru and Tarim reached Junsan, it was 2 p.m. They’d been through so much and traveled to so many places since morning.
When they left the highway and entered Bongnim-dong, Muru finally felt grounded in the present. She also finally realized just how far Tarim had gone with her.
“You’ve been through a lot because of me, Tarim.”
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“Aw. You could at least brag a little.”
He just chuckled.
Then said—
“Maybe we still have a lot left to talk about.”
He tried to sound casual, but it was obvious. Maybe she was beginning to understand him as much as he understood her.
“Maybe.”
But she didn’t catch the emphasis in what Tarim meant by “talk.”
“Yeah, let’s talk. A lot.”
She brushed it off lightly, and Tarim missed the chance to finally unload the things he’d been carrying. Things Muru didn’t know—but Tarim did. Things involving Muru, but also about himself.
He needed more time. A better moment.
“Then how about I brag a little now?”
They were nearing the Bibari well.
“Buy me a cola when we pass the store.”
“Just a cola?”
“The big 1.5L bottle.”
“Whoa, that’s huge!”
Tarim turned the wheel toward the corner with the Bibari Super. But before the shop, what caught their eye was the completely renovated Bibaru building.
They had only left Junsan for two days, yet the area around the well looked almost unrecognizably different. Tarim parked in front of the store. Gubaekmo was still sitting on the sunny platform with legs crossed, slurping on a popsicle.
“Hey, Muruuu~”
Gubaekmo fluttered his thin wrist.
Muru squinted and glared.
“Scammer.”
“Ahaha, what are you talking about~”
“S-c-a-m-m-e-e-e-r.”
She stretched both her words and her eyes as she marched into the store.
Tarim got out and looked up at the new building beside the shop.
It was hard to believe this was where the old Chinese restaurant used to be. Now it was a sleek, proper hospital.
The exterior had been completely redone with modern zinc panels—it looked like an international coffee franchise. Except it was small and had tiny windows. The new sign had already been installed by the Bongnim sign shop’s siblings.
Comfort Psychiatry Clinic
The name was just right—neither too flashy nor too plain. Instead of the usual glass auto-doors hospitals had, there was a solid metal door that blocked the inside view. Workers inside were busy with the finishing touches.
“The world sure has changed. A hospital goes up in just a few days.”
Gubaekmo commented with the air of a sage, swinging one leg.
“Seriously.”
Tarim sat down next to him.
“You two went somewhere nice?”
“I had a shoot.”
“A whole one-night, two-day thing?”
He playfully nudged Tarim’s shin with the tip of his slipper and laughed.
“It wasn’t like that!”
“You can always tell me everything, you know.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Just then, Muru came out with the big bottle of cola and handed over a 5,000-won bill to Gubaekmo.
“I don’t have change.”
“Well, what do you expect?”
“It’s a gift from Baekmo oppa~”
Gubaekmo winked at her.
“So this pays off for the fake illness and using the bed, huh?”
“Then I want cider too.”
“Our Muru’s got strong financial sense? Okay. We’re square.”
“Square.”
Gubaekmo held out his pale, thin hand.
“What?”
“Handshake of peace.”
Muru barely grasped his fingertips and gave a quick shake. The soccer club striker’s hand looked like it couldn’t even hold chopsticks.
“I’ll get the cider.”
This time Tarim went inside. Muru sat down in her spot, hugging the cola.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Faking sick.”
“What fake sick?”
Ugh, this shameless guy.
“You were lying down in the store’s backroom… your heart, that thing!”
“I don’t remember that~”
“You said it yourself! That you thought you and Tarim and Sand would grow up and get married!! Then I asked who Sand was, and you clutched your chest!!”
Gubaekmo, who had been grinning the whole time, suddenly looked alarmed.
Ha! He never expected her to remember it this well.
Muru grinned triumphantly. But—
“Your chest, Muru? We’re in public.”
“What?”
Gubaekmo turned the tables faster.
“Chest!! You said chest!! In broad daylight!!”
Aaaaack shut up shut up!!
Muru threw her cola aside and tried to cover Gubaekmo’s mouth—but his flexible body twisted away like a true striker.
“What’s wrong with ‘chest’?”
Just then, Sani entered the store, tossing off her shoes and chirped.
Gubaekmo lifted her up onto the platform and covered her ears.
“No no, Sani. That’s a bad word. Little ones shouldn’t hear it, okay?”
“You jerk!”
Muru stood up, seriously considering whether hitting someone with a 1.5L cola bottle counted as aggravated assault. Just then, Tarim rushed back with the cider.
“What?! What happened? Did that idiot say something crazy again?”
“Cursing in front of kids makes you a jerk, Tarim.”
Gubaekmo, still covering Sani’s ears, pretended to scold her.
“When did I ever curse?!”
“Sani. Never grow up to be like that kind of adult, okay? Come on, let’s look at your homework.
