Chapter 2
The Tunnel of Memories (1)
At first, I thought I’d finally gone crazy.
And honestly, it made sense. I’d been seriously addicted to hookah and alcohol, and lately I’d been drifting back and forth between blackouts and hallucinations. So I assumed this was just more of the same.
But as time passed, the memories became clearer.
In other words… memories from my past life.
Ever since I was young, I hated thinking.
If I tried to focus on something even a little, I would get restless, like ants were crawling under my skin, and I couldn’t stay still.
Naturally, I stayed far away from studying and books, and I lived for twenty-one years with zero common sense.
What that means is, I didn’t just lack basic knowledge. I didn’t even have the will to think for myself.
So imagination itself didn’t exist for me.
Usually, even if someone goes insane and starts seeing hallucinations, their brain still works by connecting things they’ve already seen, heard, and learned.
For example, I could imagine things like objects warping, strange spaces opening up, monsters jumping out…
That was the extent of what I was capable of imagining.
But right now, I was remembering countless things that I could never have guessed or created based on the world I was born and raised in.
The smartphone that kept buzzing nonstop until my final moment was an S Electronics product.
The male idol group who advertised that product made history by ranking on the US Billboard charts, staying at number one for several weeks in a row, and breaking records, dominating the breaking news sections on portal sites day after day.
And there was also that famous burger brand that collaborated with the idol group.
It was a global franchise where I worked part-time my entire college life.
I vividly remembered exactly how much the burger, cola, and french fry set cost, which characters they collaborated with during Happy Meal events, and the kind of curses I rapped under my breath every time I closed the store, counted the register, and cleaned the restaurant and bathroom.
The moment I opened my mouth, my dad’s name, my mom’s name, and my damn older brother’s full name came spilling out immediately.
The neighborhood I lived in.
The village bus number I took to school.
The bus fare.
Even the subway lines.
Everything came flooding back.
I didn’t even need to wait a few seconds. The moment I thought of one thing, dozens, hundreds of things unfolded in my head all at once, like screens popping open.
What was strange was this:
My past life memories felt as vivid as if they happened yesterday.
But my current life memories were pushed far back, blurry and distant, and I had to struggle and strain just to remember them.
“They say forgetting is the greatest gift God gives… so why are you doing this to me?”
Who gives someone a gift and then takes it away?
What, are you a thug?
I let out heavy sighs as I stared up at the ceiling, lying sprawled across the bed with my arms and legs spread wide.
The sun was already high in the sky, and I still hadn’t even changed out of my pajamas.
How many days had I been locked in my room like this?
Five days already? Six?
Knock knock.
“Miss.”
Without looking away from the ceiling pattern I was counting, I told them to come in.
I heard the door open and close, but I didn’t turn my head.
Everything was just exhausting.
“Miss, you have to eat lunch. You skipped dinner yesterday, and you skipped breakfast today too.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Even if you aren’t hungry, you still need to eat. You’ll ruin your health.”
Hearing her worried words, a cold, mocking laugh slipped out of me without thinking.
“How much longer do I have here?”
That’s what she should’ve said when I was eating alcohol and cigarettes like meals.
The quick-witted maid immediately understood what I meant, and she lowered her head, flustered and unsure what to do.
Glancing at the small crown of her head bowed so deeply it looked like she might dig into the floor, I clicked my tongue briefly and cursed myself inside.
They say bad habits never die. Damn it. My mouth.
“I’m not blaming you. Sorry. I’m just irritated because of withdrawal. This is hard.”
“M-Miss!”
This time Rosebell’s face crumpled like she was about to burst into tears.
When I asked what was wrong, she immediately started insisting that we should call the doctor.
“Why the doctor? I can still handle it.”
“M-Miss… you apologized…! What kind of hallucinations are you suffering from this time…?! Sob…”
“No, I’m fine… well, not exactly, but the withdrawal symptoms have gotten a lot better. I can handle it.”
“What are we going to do with you, Miss… sob. My poor Miss… sob sob…”
Rosebell finally broke down.
She buried her face in both hands and started crying loudly.
Seeing a young girl wailing as if her parents had died startled me, and I shot up into a sitting position.
“Hey! Did someone die or something? I’m telling you I’m fine. Come on, stop crying. Okay?”
The more I tried to comfort her, the louder her crying got.
“God, this is driving me insane.”
After sighing again and again, I pulled her shaking shoulders into a hug.
Rosebell froze for a moment, then suddenly buried herself into my arms like she was charging forward, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist.
“Miss! You can’t die!”
“I’m not dying.”
Letting out a sigh that was almost resignation, I held the sobbing Rosebell and patted her back.
What could I do?
This was all the karma I had built up myself.
After she cried for a long time and finally calmed down, I told her I would eat something simple, so she should bring a meal.
Rosebell’s gloomy expression disappeared. She smiled brightly, said she would bring it right away, and ran out of the room.
Leaning back against the headboard, I watched her leave, then raised my trembling hand and covered my red, raw eyes.
I’d pretended it was nothing and brushed it off with different words, but she must have seen it.
She must have seen my two hands shaking, and she couldn’t hold it in anymore.
How did I end up like this?
I tried to dig through the blurry memories.
Right. It started with hookah.
Recently, in high society, a certain kind of “two-faced woman” had become like an icon of the age.
A woman who was pure like a lily during the day…
But when night fell, she bloomed into a seductive rose.
Under the bright sun, they dressed elegantly and attended tea parties, flower arranging gatherings, reading clubs, competing in intelligence and refinement.
Then when the sun set and the moon rose, they carefully placed beauty marks by their lips, noses, or the corners of their eyes, changed into fishnet stockings and provocative dresses, and headed to places of pleasure like masked balls, wine tastings, and card games.
There were plenty of sensual appeal items: bold exposure, beauty marks, sweet perfume, fishnet stockings…
But the peak of them all was hookah.
Hookah was perfect for creating a dreamy, decadent image without outright destroying your health.
So among noble ladies, hookah had become a massive trend recently, along with beauty marks.
Still, strict high society continued to force young noblewomen to be “pure.”
Unmarried noblewomen, pressured by unspoken expectations, made a virtue out of avoiding smoking, whether by choice or not.
For the same reason, I had lived without any interest in hookah…
Until I attended a salon at the invitation of a certain noblewoman, and purely out of curiosity, I reached for it.
Someone like me, who had never learned restraint in my entire life, fell into temporary pleasure in an instant.
Starting was the hardest part.
Once I crossed the line, I lost all hesitation.
Hookah itself isn’t dangerous.
The problem is that you can add anything into the pipe.
People who enjoyed adding things called it “a secret indulgence.”
It was packaged in fancy words, but if I said it more bluntly…
It was basically a one-step beginner course toward becoming an addict.
At first, I only added sweet flavors, like chocolate or smooth jasmine.
But once I tasted pleasure “just for fun,” I started craving stronger and stronger stimulation.
There was a substance most people didn’t touch, a so-called final destination for additives.
It was called “Kaka.”
It was a concentrated extract taken from the fruit of a tree with the same name, and if you smoked it mixed into hookah, you could enjoy a hazy, euphoric high.
Kaka also worked extremely well as a stimulant, but nobles didn’t like it.
They said the smell was so foul that if you so much as opened the bottle cap, the stench of rotting corpses would spread through the whole area.
In a kingdom where the perfume industry was more developed than in any other country because people cared so much about appearances…
There was no way a noble would ever touch something like Kaka, which was known as something savage people from other continents enjoyed, and which stank so horribly.
So how did I end up using it?
It was all because of alcohol.
When I was completely drunk and my sense of smell was dulled, someone casually offered me Kaka, and that was the first time I tried it.
The second time, and the third time too…
Every time I accepted it, I was heavily intoxicated.
When that kept happening, I ended up falling straight into Kaka.
Kaka was something only a tiny handful of people used, even among addicts who had already reached rock bottom.
Unfortunately…
Somehow, I became one of that tiny handful who had gone all the way.
The doctor said that in my case, the issue was consuming hookah mixed with Kaka and alcohol at the same time.
He said if my addiction had lasted even a little longer, there would have been nothing he could do.
He emphasized over and over that if I quit drinking and smoking now and truly tried, I could completely escape my addiction.
A person who loses self-control is no longer human.
They’re no different from an animal.
“My god. I was acting like one of those insane third-generation chaebol brats you only see in the news.”
Now that I had memories from my past life and looked back at my current situation, it was so absurd all I could do was let out a hollow laugh.
“My fate is too comfortable, and I never have to use my limbs for anything… so of course my brain turned into a flower garden.”
The fragrance that had been burned for addiction treatment suddenly felt suffocating.
Forcing strength into my shaky legs, I walked to the window.
When I threw it open wide, cold wind rushed in and tangled my hair.
I spread my arms wide and inhaled the fresh air deep into my lungs.
Unlike my past life, where I never had anything…
This was a life where I lacked nothing.
If I moved even one finger, rare treasures would pour down in front of me.
Sometimes those treasures were objects.
Sometimes they were people.
If I wanted something, I could hold it in my hands easily, no matter what it was.
Even…
Even the Gentleman in White.
Leaning back against the window frame, I raised my right arm to eye level.
The rose-colored pajama sleeve slid down softly.
I stared at my white wrist, wrapped in bandages, for a long time.
“It’s time to throw it away.”
As if to protest those quiet words, a cold pain spread through my chest.
Ignoring the heat rising in my eyes, I simply stared out at the view beyond the window, endlessly.
