Chapter 37 – “Oh sinner, receive the judgment.”
In an instant, strength drained from Kwon Hosik’s grip, and his hand slipped from Oh Ikyeom’s collar.
A woman named Gyeoul (“Winter”), who had suddenly appeared at Hwaran House, casually perched on an empty chair at the table. Raising one hand, she made a Western-style greeting—folding and unfolding each finger painted with black nail polish—directed at Kwon Hosik.
“It’s been a while.”
To her boyfriend. No, ex-boyfriend.
Murou, who had come in with her, hovered nervously at the entrance of the kitchen. The three men couldn’t make sense of it. Why were these two together? And more than anything—why on earth was Gyeoul noona here now?
“Gyeoul-ah, you….”
Hosik asked in a trembling voice.
“It’s daytime… It’s daytime right now…?”
“You should call me noona, Hosik.”
Gyeoul raised her dark-painted lips in a bright smile. Hosik slumped into his chair. Ikyeom tried to discreetly scoot away, but Tarim blocked his escape with a firm grip on his forearm.
“Noona? Between us?”
Hosik’s expression turned sharp. Gyeoul, still calm, crossed her long, thin legs and sat lotus-style in the chair.
“We broke up, didn’t we?”
Squished into the corner of the kitchen, Murou finally understood. The girlfriend that Officer Kim Mansu at the Bongnim substation had vaguely referred to—the one involved in some kind of “forbidden love”—was this woman.
A winter chill settled over the kitchen table at Hwaran House. The tension was sharp as a blade—so thick that no one dared speak. Only Hosik and Gyeoul held the right to speak.
“…Your down period is over?”
Hosik asked. Gyeoul gave a small laugh and enunciated clearly.
“‘Bipolar II disorder—depressive episode period.’”
“……”
“You still don’t care about my illness, do you.”
“Gyeoul-ah, I…”
“That’s why we broke up.”
Everyone except the two of them thought the same thing.
Ugh. A lovers’ quarrel.
Tarim quietly slid his phone under the table and sent a message to Murou:
[Quietly, slowly leave.]
Murou checked the message and rose slowly and calmly from her chair. While she tiptoed out like a palace maid, Tarim mouthed instructions to Ikyeom:
“You go last.”
Ikyeom watched Tarim’s strategic retreat with a pale face.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not broken up.”
“Don’t you be ridiculous.”
“You were the one who said we should break up!”
“Because you were struggling!”
Voices rose. Ikyeom’s escape window was shrinking fast.
“Damn it! I wasn’t struggling! I wasn’t!!”
If Hosik would just finish yelling, Ikyeom could disappear like a member of Ghost in the Shell. But instead, Hosik grabbed his shoulder tightly.
“You tell her! Did I really act that messed up?! So messed up she had to dump me first?!”
“I-I…”
“You did! You did! You kept saying you were fine but lying! You know it too, Ikyeom!!!”
“Uh, uh…”
“I love you! Whether you have bipolar disorder or depression or both!”
“Please… let me…”
“Get the diagnosis right! It’s both! But what did you just say?!”
“Please save me…”
“I said I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!”
Ikyeom was trapped like a prisoner on Alcatraz. As Oh Ikyeom stared after the retreating figures of the two lovers from inside the house, his eyes brimmed with resentment.
You two… are totally dating. You are.
“You think you’re the only one who can love, huh?!!! I love too!!!!”
“I love you more!!!!”
Everyone’s dating… except me…
Oh Ikyeom genuinely wanted to cry.
Dinner at Hwaran House was no longer an option. Even as Tarim walked through the front door, the house echoed with “I love you, damn it!”
Meeting outside the house, the two of them walked down the cool evening street toward the row of restaurants. Tarim was the first to apologize.
“Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. It was complicated.”
“Why are you apologizing to me? Hosik’s girlfriend—that woman… Gyeoul noona? Anyway, it’s not like you had to tell me about her.”
“That’s not what I meant…”
Unusually, he hesitated. What’s with him? Murou was confused.
“…So, how did you meet her?”
“Ah, I was writing at the library…”
He nearly answered automatically, but she quickly came to her senses.
“You first. Talk.”
“About what?”
“The reason you just apologized.”
“Oh…”
More stammering. He didn’t explain until they’d reached the bottom of the hill.
“So… I wasn’t apologizing because I didn’t tell you about Gyeoul noona’s existence…”
“Not because of that?”
“I did hide it, but… the thing is… her existence…”
“Her existence…?”
“You remember when you first moved into Hwaran House? It was just me, Hosik, and Ikyeom living there, right?”
Murou’s eyes narrowed. Even Tarim could be this annoying?
“Actually… there was one more person.”
“Oh… Someone who moved out before I came?”
“……”
More stammering. Come on.
“Tarim-ah?”
She said his name gently, but her eyes weren’t gentle. Tarim caught her brief flash of irritation.
“…She didn’t move out.”
“Hey!”
She grabbed his arms. Her jaw clenched.
“Speak. So. I. Can. Understand.”
“Ow… Murou, that hurts…”
Apparently, she’d been unintentionally torturing him. She continued glaring, removing her nails from his arms. He blew on them dramatically, but Murou didn’t flinch.
“There are three rooms on the second floor…”
“Yeah.”
“Furthest from the stairs is Ikyeom’s room, the middle is Hosik’s…”
“Yeah! But!”
“The one next to the stairs is Gyeoul noona’s room…”
“That was her room?”
“It still is. Uh, I mean—”
“Still her room?”
“Technically, present progressive…”
“She’s still living there?!”
Murou furrowed her brow, leaned in, and stared up at Tarim’s babbling lips. And suddenly—she saw the core of the story.
“She’s been living in the house… silently… this whole time?!”
Tarim hadn’t been rambling nonsense.
“Even before I moved in?! After I moved in?! Now too?!”
He had been giving her the exact truth.
“Well, not at night.”
“Why not at night?”
“She comes out after midnight, eats… goes out sometimes… But she, uh, has this trait… condition… she doesn’t like seeing people during certain periods…”
Haha. What kind of crazy mess is this?
Murou staggered over and slumped onto a park bench.
“So… that woman has been in the house… not making a sound…”
Tarim placed his hands near his hips, bowed his head.
“But… why… why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Hwaran House was built in 1958…”
“WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THE HOUSE HISTORY.”
“Sorry, sorry. But I have to explain this part first. Just bear with me for a second.”
“…Fine. Go ahead.”
Tarim perched on the very edge of the bench and began telling her the origins of Hwaran House—from architecture to legacy. In summary:
Once upon a time, before Hwaran House stood there, it was a potato field. In the late Joseon period, a Dutch missionary and doctor pitched a tent on the field and offered free medical care. He married a Korean nurse and settled in Korea. Throughout the Japanese occupation, he treated and supported Koreans, even helping independence fighters. He trained his son to become a doctor, who also served during the Korean War, helping the people of Junsan.
After the war, the grateful citizens pooled funds to build him a stone house in the style of his homeland—the Netherlands. “Hwaran” is the old spelling for “Holland.” And so the house was built in Dutch architectural style, and everyone called it “Hwaran House.”
“Well… that’s kind of interesting.”
Oops. She was already typing it into her phone notes. Old habits die hard.
“Old European houses had vents in every room for air circulation. These vents connected rooms with metal pipes. But due to a design flaw, not just air—but sound—travels too. So noises from one room can be heard in another. The spot where all the vent pipes intersect is right under the stairs to the third floor… so…”
“So…?”
“If you put your ear to the vent in Gyeoul noona’s room, you can hear everything being said in the other rooms…”
!!!!!!!!!
“She hates when people talk about her… so we couldn’t tell you right away when you moved in…”
“She… she heard… everything…”
Murou didn’t even feel angry yet—just panic. Had she ever said anything weird in her room? Talked to herself? …Probably not. BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT, DAMN IT!
