Chapter 29 – A Drift Against Fate
Tarim rushed over and grabbed Muru in a panic.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you get hit?!”
“No, I’m not hurt. I’m fine.”
“You didn’t get hit?!”
“No, it was my fault…”
Tarim had never looked this startled before.
He quickly scanned Muru from head to toe as if she’d just been hit by a car.
“Author-nim!”
Someone called for Tarim from the shoot.
“You must’ve been so shocked. Are you really okay?”
“They’re calling you. Go on, quickly.”
“You’re really okay?”
Only after checking several more times did Tarim return to the shoot.
Muru stepped into the bushes where the girl had been standing, but there were no traces of anyone. Another type of hallucination—it had to be. Should she go to her usual hospital and ask to increase her medication, or should she try something else?
Since coming to Junsan, the visions had become more frequent and took on different forms. Something else. A different method…
Muru took several pictures of the bushes with her camera.
About an hour later, filming was finally wrapped. The models, who had been moving back and forth between the beach and the canopy changing room, finally began to show signs of fatigue.
Muru was crouched down on the firm mudflat, carefully photographing a tiny mud crab. After missing focus several times, she finally took a decent shot and lifted her head—several models had come quite close.
“…Huh?”
She recognized one of them—wearing a bikini and swim shorts.
Surprised and delighted, Muru stepped closer.
“Solah?!”
It was a ridiculous place to run into someone by chance, but laughter came first. This wasn’t Solah’s area, and it didn’t make sense for a working office employee like her to be here at this hour… but that realization came later.
But Muru was the only one excited. The moment her name was called, Solah scowled and turned away to run.
Her sudden escape startled everyone nearby. Solah, clearly flustered, ran barefoot straight into the middle of the mudflat. Muru chased after her without thinking.
“Solah! What’s wrong?! Solah!”
Dozens of people were now watching this sudden game of cops and robbers.
Once Solah stepped into the soft mud, Muru had a hard time keeping up. Her sneakers got stuck and came off, socks and feet alike were drenched and smeared in muck.
Solah, too, got stuck up to her calves and couldn’t run any farther. They stood a short distance apart, like prey and hunter.
“Why are you acting like this? Why are you running?!”
Muru couldn’t understand. Solah, looking furious, struggled to lift her feet out of the mud. Muru had no clue what was going on.
“Just stay there! I’ll help you!”
Having dug for clams in similar mudflats during summer breaks back when she lived in Gangneung, Muru knew how to walk through this kind of terrain.
Solah averted her gaze as if giving up, and Muru approached, grabbed her hand, and pulled with all her strength. Once she got Solah standing, she asked,
“What’s going on? …Are you a model now too?”
Solah parted her lips, seemingly about to say something. Surely she had a reason—there had to be a reason. Muru waited for her answer.
But then Solah suddenly shoved Muru hard in the shoulder.
SPLAT. Even as she fell, Muru found herself thinking, I really have no athletic instincts. She didn’t just land on her butt—she was thoroughly buried from the back of her head to her heels in mud.
She heard Solah fleeing again.
Even then, the hand holding her Leica camera was raised above her head. Just like when her ex pushed her down the stairs and she thought, Whoa, midair time’s insane, Muru now distracted herself with absurd thoughts.
Maybe my reflexes aren’t completely useless after all.
“MURUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!”
Tarim’s booming voice rang out like a mountain god’s call, and suddenly his face appeared in her vision.
“Are you okay????!!!”
She had no energy to say, Sorry for making you ask that so much today…, but as soon as Tarim helped her up, she checked where the runaway had gone.
Far in the distance, Solah—still in her bikini—was opening the driver’s side door of a car in the parking lot. It was the same car she’d driven when she dropped Muru off at the bus terminal.
Despite people shouting after her, Solah’s car reversed in a dramatic drift and disappeared. Her legs were still covered in mud, and she hadn’t even washed off, still in costume from the shoot.
“What the… What was that?!”
Tarim muttered in disbelief. Muru was completely spaced out.
“Did that… really just happen…?”
Mud poured from her hair and body. Tarim turned his attention back to Muru.
“You’re not hurt?”
“I’m not. The mud was actually pretty soft…”
Beds are science. No—science is beds.
The stylist was furious that the model had run off with the outfit. An agency rep made over ten calls, but Solah wasn’t answering.
In any case, they had to pack up the shoot, so the staff and models left in separate cars.
Muru, soul drained and merged with the mud, sat crouched and motionless. Tarim came back after hastily packing up his equipment.
“Why’d your friend act like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she… like, a close friend?”
“She is… I think? Maybe not…?”
They had only met twice—once in college and again recently.
Muru explained in a flat tone how she knew Solah and what their relationship was. Even after that, Tarim looked utterly lost.
“Well, first let’s get you cleaned up… Oh. Since it’s a tourist area, there should be a shower room.”
Meanwhile, the agency staffer who had listened to 11 rounds of call waiting finally exploded.
“Has she lost her mind or what!!!”
He glared fiercely at Muru, who now looked like an Oompa Loompa from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
“What’s your relationship with her?”
“…She’s… a friend.”
“Did you lend her money?”
“No?”
“Then why the hell did she run away?”
Exactly. The stylist, now the last one left, firmly instructed the agency rep to retrieve the outfit and left.
There was a public tap where you could wash hands and feet, but perhaps due to the off-season, the shower taps were all locked. Tarim dashed off to a nearby store to get water containers, and the staffer, who had followed them to the tap, began pestering Muru.
“She’s your friend? Then why’d she run?”
“I don’t know. Me neither.”
Muru crouched and tried washing her face first. But mud kept dripping down from her hair, making it useless.
The staffer practically started an interrogation.
“Ugh, she moved recently, so I don’t even know her new address. You do, right?”
“Nope.”
“You don’t even know where your friend lives?”
“…Should I?”
“Why are you even here?”
“I came with Tarim—uh, I mean, the photographer!”
“Then how do you know her?”
“She’s… an online friend…!”
Seeing the scene from a kilometer away, Tarim came running with flailing eyebrows and a blue plastic basin in hand.
“Sir, that’s enough.”
Tarim calmed the staffer and led him away from Muru. Meanwhile, Muru, holding her head over the basin, began washing her hair and suddenly felt miserable. If it weren’t for that basin, maybe she wouldn’t have felt this miserable.
After a bit of coaxing from Tarim, the staffer finally left the mudflat with a disgusted look on his face.
“Close your eyes. I’m going to pour this over your crown.”
SPLASH. SPLASH. SPLISH SPLASH SPLISH SPLASH SPLISH.
He dumped water dozens of times like slaps to the face, but it did little good. Only her hair, face, and outer clothes were half-washed; the inside was still filthy.
“Uh, Muru, I’ll close my eyes. So, um, if you could maybe lift your shirt a little…”
“NOOOOOOOOOOO…!”
She collapsed by the faucet.
