Chapter 53 : Monster (3)

Splash.

The sound of dripping water woke me. I opened my eyes to a world of black, a void where the only discernible difference was between emptiness and nothingness.

It was a nightmare. A disturbingly vivid nightmare disguised as a dream.

A drop of water, seemingly materializing from nowhere, rippled the surface of the darkness, creating expanding waves. And from the center of those waves, a familiar figure emerged.

A man made of shadows, his form more defined than before. He cleared his throat and started walking towards me. His voice, when he spoke, was calm, almost soothing, yet filled with a deep, unsettling melancholy.

“Give up.”
“Give up what?”
“It’s almost over.”

His hand reached towards my neck, not in anger, not to choke me, as he had done before, but to gently caress my skin, his fingers tracing the line from my collarbone to my throat. The touch sent shivers down my spine. He opened his mouth and spat out a needle.

“Let go of one of them. You’ll regret it.”
“Let go of… what?”
“You know. How long are you going to be so selfish?”

I finally understood. The cloying heaviness in the air, the suffocating weight of this dream… it was his emotion, a toxic blend of guilt and anger directed at me.

He bent down, picked up the needle, and held it before my eyes, the sharp point glinting menacingly.

I couldn’t laugh, couldn’t mock him. Fear, raw and unfiltered, paralyzed me. I waited for the pain.

The cold prick of the needle against my eye made me jolt awake with a silent scream.

I was drenched in a cold sweat, my hair and back soaked.

I sat up, my eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. It was still night. The rhythmic whirring of a machine, probably the refrigerator, echoed from the living room. The silence, the emptiness of the room, amplified my anxiety.

“Ow!”

I stubbed my toe trying to find the light switch. Moving around in a dark, cluttered room was a bad idea.

My room, without the sunlight, was a dangerous maze. I curled up on the bed, closed my eyes, and waited for sunrise.

I arrived at school and arranged my textbooks on my desk, from 1st period to 7th, in descending order of importance. Hyelin, looking at me, tilted her head.

“Are you okay?”
“Why?”
“You look… paler than usual.”

She frowned, her expression serious. She looked so cute, like a worried puppy, that I almost laughed.

“Did you… stay up late… reading the…script…?”
“How did you know?”
“You never wait to dive into a new script.”

She nodded, looking pleased with herself.

“I’m giving you a Master’s degree in Lee Haram behavioral studies.”
“Is that… good?”
“Of course! Now you just have to follow my instructions for the next ten years, and you’ll earn your Ph.D.”
“That… sounds like slavery. No thanks.”

She looked at me in disbelief. There were plenty of people willing to endure years of academic servitude. I hoped she found a good advisor in college.

No, wait. That was too cruel.

Hyelin’s eyes suddenly widened.

“Oh, right! When is your movie… coming out?”
“Today, or tomorrow, I think.”
“Why don’t you know?”
“We can’t watch it anyway. It’s an independent film, so it won’t be in many theaters. And it’s R-rated.”
“R… Rated?”

Hyelin’s face flushed. She avoided my gaze. I sighed.

“It’s not that kind of R-rated.”

Her imagination always seemed to run wild, conjuring up inappropriate scenarios. Innocent people were often the dirtiest, weren’t they? It was a valid hypothesis.

“But… what are we going to do? I really wanted to… see your performance…”

She looked genuinely disappointed. I suddenly remembered something.

“I have… a director’s cut. Want to watch it?”
“Yes!”

Her face lit up. I chuckled. She was so expressive, her ever-changing emotions reminding me of Joohyun.

“Wh… Where should we… watch it?”
“Anywhere, I guess.”
“But… it’s R-rated…”
“Don’t worry.”

I walked over to Dojun’s desk, bent down, and poked him awake.

“Han Dojun.”
“What?”
“Is your place free today? I have a guest.”
“No.”
“I want to watch the movie with Hyelin. So?”

He groaned. He wouldn’t refuse. He was too obsessed with my acting.

“…Give me time to clean up.”
“Hyelin and I will go buy snacks. You have… thirty minutes.”
“Fine.”

He grumbled and buried his face in his arms again.

I looked at him, my expression grim. I had chosen his apartment because I had some… unfinished business with him.

Reading the “Monster” script last night, I had finally figured out who the culprit was, the one who had written about me without my permission.

We arrived at Dojun’s apartment with snacks. He was sprawled on the sofa, looking exhausted. I had given him extra time, pretending to be indecisive at the convenience store, but his apartment must have been a disaster. I sighed.

“Where’s the TV?”
“In my room.”
“Okay. I’ll set it up. Bring some glasses and plates.”

I connected my phone to the TV and lay down on the bed. I wrinkled my nose at the smell.

“I told you to wash your sheets. This place reeks of bachelorhood.”
“Stop complaining. If you don’t like it, sleep on the floor.”
“But your bed is so comfortable! Why did you even buy such a nice mattress?”

Dojun brought in a tray of glasses, frowning. Hyelin tilted her head.

“Wh… What’s… ‘bachelorhood smell’…?”
“It’s like… the scent of… unfulfilled potential?” I said, trying to come up with a PG-rated explanation.
“Isn’t… flower… a good smell?”

I sat down next to her on the floor, resting my chin on her head and wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

“…You’re right. Flower is nice. Now, let’s watch the movie.”
“O… Okay!”
“Lee Haram, hurry up and start it.”

Dojun sat on the edge of the bed, frowning. He seemed eager to see the film.

The three of us focused on the rectangular screen.

Lush greenery, bright sunlight… a typical summer scene. The film began, a melancholic melody playing in the background.

Seol woke up in bed and started following the trail of sticky notes. The camera followed her smooth movements.

Hyelin, her eyes wide with excitement, covered her mouth with her hand.

“H… Haram, you’re… so pretty…”
“It’s just the makeup. Gyuri-unni is amazing.”
“Who’s Gyuri-unni?”
“The stylist for the film.”

We returned our attention to the screen. I was impressed by Dohyung’s attention to detail.

‘I didn’t notice this during filming, but… it’s all so deliberate.’

Seol’s apartment, initially sparsely furnished with white walls and pale furniture, gradually filled with objects that Jihoon brought for her, transforming the space.

The film reached its climax, the scene where Seol was locked in the closet. The background noise faded, replaced by the amplified ticking of a clock, heightening the tension.

The camera shifted from Seol’s anxious face to the outside of the closet door, and the ticking stopped. Two seconds of silence, then Seol’s humming.

[Hmm hmm hmm…]

The screen faded to black, but the humming continued.

The film progressed. Sung Jihoon died, and Seol, as if in a trance, entered his room.

I frowned. I had thought my performance was decent during filming, but seeing it on screen… I was dissatisfied. I noticed flaws, subtle nuances I could have conveyed more effectively.

Seol, laughing maniacally, began painting the canvas. Each stroke triggered a montage of memories, fleeting glimpses of her time with Jihoon.

The final image was of Seol’s mother, lying dead in her bed. The screen faded to black again, Seol’s ragged breaths the only sound.

The camera slowly zoomed out, revealing that the black screen was the canvas Seol had been painting.

Then, it focused on Seol’s face, blank, devoid of emotion. She walked towards her mother’s room.

The scene shifted to the fish tank, the goldfish swimming back and forth. The window and the rope were blurry shapes in the background.

[Hmm hmm hmm…]

Seol’s humming returned, accompanied now by the melancholic melody from the beginning of the film. The final shot was of a hand reaching for the rope, seen through the distorted lens of the fish tank. The film ended.

Hyelin broke the silence.

“Wow… so that’s… your real acting…”
“Don’t flatter me. It wasn’t my best.”
“If that’s… not your best… then I…”

Dojun, still frowning, sighed.

“So that’s why you’ve been humming all the time.”

I tilted my head.

‘Have I?’

I had been humming a lot lately, without even realizing it. The cola we had bought was flat, forgotten, a testament to our collective focus on the film. I decided to change the subject. We weren’t here just to watch a movie. I pulled the “Monster” script out of my bag.

“Since we’re all here, let’s talk about the play.”