Chapter 48 : White/Hundred (9)

Sung Jihoon no longer trusted Seol.
He locked her in the closet whenever he left the apartment. Seol sat in the darkness, waiting for his return.

‘This isn’t fun.’

The dry, musty smell of the closet made it hard to breathe. She no longer looked forward to his return; she was just… scared. The endless darkness stretched time, her mind racing, her thoughts a tangled mess.

‘Why? Why is this happening?’

She searched for an answer, desperately clinging to any explanation, her once-bright canvas now stained with dark, confusing emotions.

She finally found an answer.

She had been too selfish, too focused on her own enjoyment, forgetting to consider Jihoon’s feelings.

If she wanted to have fun, she had to make sure he was having fun too. She had been taking, taking, taking, without giving anything in return. No wonder he was upset.

She had to give him something. Something that would make him happy. But what?

The answer came quickly. She knew something that made her happy. He would like it too. A flicker of anticipation returned.

“Hmm hmm hmm…”

A cheerful humming sound echoed from the closet.

Two weeks of filming had passed, and we were down to the final scene. The director had insisted on filming this scene on a rainy day, so we had waited until the start of the rainy season.

I looked at the script and chuckled.

“Ready to die?”
“You seem… strangely cheerful about this.”

Hankyul looked at me with a mixture of apprehension and amusement. He had to play Sung Jihoon’s death scene today.

Seol straddles the sleeping Sung Jihoon and strangles him with a pair of stockings, a twisted expression of love, the only way she knows how to give him pleasure, to share her own unique brand of happiness. There’s a brief struggle, but the oxygen-deprived Jihoon quickly loses consciousness.

Seol smiles, humming softly as she watches him die.

A story that begins and ends with hanging. I voiced my thoughts.

“The writer has a thing for strangulation, doesn’t he? Is that a kink, or something?”
“A kink?”
“You know… erotic asphyxiation. It…suits you, actually.”

Hankyul, unable to follow the conversation, remained silent.

“Come on, you know what I’m talking about. Why are you being so… innocent?”
“…You’re just… very open about these things.”

His reticence when it came to anything remotely suggestive was frustrating. I didn’t understand why he was so embarrassed.

“I agree with Haram. The writer’s… predilections are disturbing,” Dohyung chimed in.

We launched into a lively discussion about Saeron’s twisted mind and his questionable fashion choices. Then, a thought occurred to me.

“Wait, if this movie gets an R rating, I won’t be able to watch it, will I?”
“Probably. We’ll edit out the most… graphic parts, but it’ll still get an R rating for violence.”
“Don’t they make exceptions for… the actors?”
“Of course not.”

I sighed. It was ironic that I, the lead actress, wouldn’t be allowed to watch my own film. Dohyung chuckled.

“Send me your email address. I’ll let you see it before we submit it to the festival.”

I nodded my thanks. Connections were important.

Break time was over. It was time to film the final scene. This long, strange journey was almost over. A bittersweet feeling, a mix of relief and regret.

I noticed Hankyul looked tense. I smirked.

“Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because of… you. You get so into character that you forget everything else. I’m starting to think this might be my last day on Earth.”

He sounded genuinely worried.

‘It’s not that bad.’

I wouldn’t actually kill him, even if I got completely lost in the role. I frowned, slightly offended.

“If you’re that scared, I’ll make sure it’s convincing.”

His face paled at my words. Just then, the director signaled us to get ready.

We took our positions. Hankyul lay down on the sofa, pretending to be asleep. I started the scene, putting on the mask of Seol.

I looked at him, lying there so peacefully.

Affection. Love.
I painted my heart red.

I took a shallow breath, holding my breath, trying to still the frantic beating of my heart.

“Hmm hmm hmm…”

Seol’s humming, a gentle melody, filled the room, the ticking of the clock setting the rhythm.

I approached him cautiously, a secret gift hidden behind my back, just like he always did for me. I grinned, seeing him asleep.

He groaned as I straddled him, as if having a bad dream. He must have been sleeping soundly.

I smiled, pleased. My surprise would be a success.

I carefully wrapped the stockings around his neck. I leaned forward, pinning him down, and tightened my grip, giggling softly.

I’m going to share my happiness with you.
Does this mean we’re not mad at each other anymore?

Hankyul’s eyes fluttered open as he felt the pressure on his throat.

“Wh…What…?”

He tried to speak, but his voice was gone, the air already squeezed from his lungs during his sleep.

His vision blurred. He looked at Haram, straddling him, her face twisted in a disturbingly cheerful smile, her grip tightening.

“I’ll… make you happy…”

‘This is… not good.’

The pressure on his throat was much stronger than during rehearsals. He tried to signal her with his eyes, to tell her to ease up.

But her eyes, unfocused, glazed over, sent shivers down his spine. She wasn’t looking at him; she was looking through him. A terrifying realization: she was trying to kill him.

Pure instinct took over. He thrashed, struggling to break free, but she was too strong. His vision started to fade. He grabbed her hair, pulling it hard. She had to be feeling this. But her smile didn’t waver, her grip unrelenting.

Panic set in. He let go of her hair and clawed at her neck, his nails digging into her skin.

‘Please, stop!’

She winced, but the smile remained.

“Ugh… cough… hee…”

‘Please…’

Tears streamed down his face as his vision darkened, the world tilting, the edges blurring. Then, he heard the word “cut,” and his vision cleared.

He saw Haram looking down at him, her expression concerned. The tension drained from his body, and he let out a shaky laugh.

Still lying on the sofa, he asked,

“You were… actually trying to kill me, weren’t you?”
“…Maybe?”

She avoided his gaze, and he suddenly thought, this is it. This is what it means to be an actor.

‘Should I just quit everything and become an actor?’

It was a thought that would horrify his agency.

Jihoon was sleeping soundly, lost in the deep slumber of nothingness, as he had put it.

Seol, her breath coming in ragged gasps, walked towards the forbidden room, drawn by an irresistible force. The two easels were still there, but now, the blank canvas held a sketch of Seol.

She grabbed a palette, squeezed out some paint, and, lacking a brush, dipped her fingers in it.

Yellow, first.

She painted over her image on the canvas, a cheerful, vibrant yellow, and smiled.

‘Pretty.’

She continued, her excitement growing. She squeezed out more colors, her fingers painting over the sketch, covering the white canvas with a chaotic mix of colors.

And then, she realized.

Emotions weren’t light; they were colors. And the result of painting so many colors on a blank canvas…

Black.

The joy drained from her face. The canvas was now a uniform black, impervious to any further additions. It was pointless. Adding more colors wouldn’t change anything. It wasn’t fun anymore.

Seol walked to her mother’s room, her face blank. She opened the window, letting in the cool night air and the rain.

The fish tank and the goldfish Jihoon had given her were on the desk. The goldfish swam back and forth, its endless journey confined within the glass walls.

The noose, hanging from the ceiling, was a blurry shape beyond the fish tank.
Click. The sound of a camera.

A girl climbed onto a chair and reached for the rope. She, too, was ready for a new journey.

“Hmm hmm hmm…”

Her humming sounded… strangely cheerful.