The Pink Villa
As evening settled in, the landlady finished the dishes and checked the text that had come from Park Su-hwan. He had something to say, it read, and asked if she could come a little early today.
He was not the sort to send a message like that. A sudden dread seized her, and every grim possibility began to crowd her mind.
The worst of them was that he might be moving out. That, above all else, could not be allowed.
She had only just begun to feel as fond of him as of a son of her own.
She packed a pot of kimchi stew heavy with meat and an assortment of side dishes, then hurried down to the shrine.
— Knock knock!
"Who is it?"
Park Su-hwan's voice rang out as bright and sturdy as ever.
"It's me. I saw your text!"
"Huh? You got here sooner than I expected."
The door opened on his bewildered face. He had never imagined the landlady would arrive mere minutes after the message.
He had figured she would show up around the time the drama started, at the earliest…
"You said you had something to tell me. Here—take this first."
"You didn't have to bring anything… Thank you."
Whenever she cooked something particularly good, she always set a portion aside for him. At first he had waved her off with both hands; now he simply accepted the kindness.
Her stubborn insistence had finally made him throw up his hands in surrender.
"So what did you want to say?"
"Ah, it's nothing serious. Come inside and you'll see right away."
Su-hwan smiled good-naturedly and ushered her in. The moment she slipped off her shoes and stepped into the shrine, something unfamiliar caught her eye.
"Oh my! Oh my!"
"Pretty amazing, right?"
Su-hwan grinned and gave a little shrug. The tiny, dainty old television was gone.
The gift Cha Hyun-seok had left him today had hit the bull's-eye of his heart. Never in his life had he owned a set with picture this crisp and sound this clear.
"You told me to hurry over just so you could show me this?"
"Yes. Exactly. And to brag a little, too…"
Su-hwan scratched the back of his head, a touch sheepish.
"Aigoo! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"Why?"
"When you said you had something to tell me, I thought it was something serious. I was so scared you were about to say you were moving out! Whew…"
She pressed a hand to her startled chest and let out a long breath of relief.
"Moving…?"
He barely had any money—how could he even think of moving? If anything, he was the one hoping she wouldn't throw him out.
His bank balance was far too sore to walk away from this cozy nest of his own free will. Especially after the lavish renovations he had just poured into the altar.
"That will never happen, so you don't have to worry."
"Really? Promise? Then did you buy this with the gift certificate?"
She was referring to the million-won department-store voucher he had recently received as payment.
"No. That's still sitting unused."
The moment he got the voucher he had fretted over how to spend it—only for it to end up buried deep in a drawer.
The recent heat wave had kept him from venturing outside much.
"And this was a gift from someone I helped a while back. From today on, we watch the drama on this."
Su-hwan folded his arms with a triumphant air and gave a firm nod. Now the actors' furious shouting would come through loud and clear.
"Wonderful! Just wonderful! The spirits really do favor our young man, don't they!"
She even brought up the newly refurbished altar, rejoicing as though it were her own good fortune. The sight of her bright smile warmed a quiet corner of Su-hwan's heart.
Thanks to his untimely television show-off, their drama-watching session began earlier than planned.
"Mmm, these are seriously sweet."
Su-hwan munched on the dried sweet-potato strips she had made herself and let out a soft sound of admiration. The chewy texture and gentle sweetness hit his palate perfectly.
"Right? I made these myself, you know."
Gossip always needed proper snacks to go with it. She had gone home and come back with treats.
They sat side by side watching the news while waiting for the drama to start.
"Aigoo. It really has gotten bad these days."
The landlady clicked her tongue in disapproval and shook her head.
"Every time they meet it's all 'which academy is best' and 'how are the kids' grades.' Open their mouths and that's all that comes out."
"Is it that bad?"
"Don't even get me started. If you so much as suggest the kids should be allowed to run around and play a little, they all jump on you—say don't talk nonsense, you'll ruin everything."
"Come to think of it, didn't you say your son is at a good university?"
He seemed to recall her mentioning that her son attended Korea University, one of the country's top schools.
"That's right. But the second I bring it up they tell me not to generalize."
She had clearly been bottling a lot of this up; the words tumbled out in a rush.
"Honestly, are we the ones studying? The kids are. So shouldn't they be the ones who first feel interested in learning?"
Yes. Far too many parents had forgotten that simple truth. Or perhaps they knew it and simply chose to look the other way.
Because of their own greed, or because they fretted over what other people might think.
A recent visitor sprang to mind—a woman who had come for a similar reason, determined to force her son into medical school by any means necessary.
She had been so single-minded she never even noticed her boy was wasting away right in front of her. In the end Su-hwan had lost his temper and roared at her.
He had not lectured her with the usual empty words about love versus obsession.
Common sense would never reach a woman who had secretly dragged her own son all the way to a shaman's house.
Instead he had told her the boy was a precious child heaven itself had granted her, and that she must actively support whatever path the boy chose. Only then, he said, would she ever grasp the wealth and glory she so desperately wanted.
That single sentence had struck her filthy greed dead center. And Su-hwan's design had not ended there.
From now on, you'd better stay away from shamans. If you want to keep whatever luck you still have left.
He had worried she might run off and blab everything she had heard to some other mudang. He had layered a few chilling warnings on top for good measure.
Hmph. Who does she think she's opening her mouth in front of?
If it came down to a war of words, he was confident he could out-talk anyone. The woman who had swaggered in so full of herself had finally shut her mouth and nodded.
Tch… I hope it works out for him.
Su-hwan sincerely hoped his intervention had truly helped the boy.
The child had left with slumped shoulders and not a word—yet on the way out he had managed a single quiet thank-you. That brief flash of sincerity was still burned clear in Su-hwan's mind.
"Don't you think? Honestly, if you're a parent—"
The landlady's sudden words yanked him back from the past.
"Y-yes? What?"
A stupid reply slipped out. She stared at the flustered Su-hwan for a beat, then burst into a short laugh.
"You weren't listening to a word I said!"
"We're rolling out."
Someone approached Go Sang-seok from behind while he was filling out an incident report. It was the new rookie officer, Yoon Ji-ho.
"Yeah? Hang on a second."
Go Sang-seok quickly saved the document and stood. With practiced hands he gathered his personal gear and asked,
"What's the call?"
"Young couple fighting, apparently."
"Again? I'm sick of these. Bet you anything it's just another lovers' spat."
Go Sang-seok shook his head as though the whole business made his skin crawl.
"Kids these days have way too much energy. At my age I don't even have the strength for that kind of nonsense."
Yoon Ji-ho let the familiar grumbling wash over one ear. He took the wheel and drove straight for the reported address.
— Weeeeeee!!
The calls that came in were always similar, and they almost always turned out to be nothing.
"Hey, hey! You're gonna get us killed. Slow down."
The odds were high that today would be the same, yet Yoon Ji-ho did not ease off the gas. Go Sang-seok clutched the passenger-side handle, face pale, and shouted.
"We have to get there fast."
When a call came in, arriving at the scene faster than anyone else—wasn't that a police officer's most basic duty?
— Screeeech!
Thanks to that, they reached the address sooner than expected.
"Ugh. Dammit…"
— Thud.
Go Sang-seok slammed the car door shut and climbed out, rubbing his throbbing lower back. With a deep frown he looked up at the old villa.
"This the place?"
"…"
No answer came back.
A shabby villa with peeling pink paint on the exterior walls.
The moment Yoon Ji-ho saw it, the words of the man who had claimed to be a shaman flashed through his mind.
You'll respond to a call about a suspected lovers' quarrel. Old pink-walled villa, unit 301.
Th-that can't be. There's no way…
"Hey. Hey."
Go Sang-seok gave him a sharp poke, snapping him out of it. Yoon Ji-ho hurriedly bowed his head.
"S-sorry, sir."
"Get your head on straight. What's wrong with you all of a sudden?"
At the scolding, Yoon Ji-ho swallowed hard. He could not exactly say it was because of a prophecy from a shaman he had met on the street not long ago.
"…It's nothing."
"Still wound tight because you only just got posted? Give it a few years of fieldwork and you'll end up just like me."
Yoon Ji-ho forced a stiff nod.
"Call came in for 202, right? We already put in the request for backup?"
"Yes, sir. That's correct."
Go Sang-seok's words barely registered. Yoon Ji-ho's mind was still circling the shaman's warning.
What had he said next? Right. I…
"Let's go. Hey."
"…"
"Hey!"
Go Sang-seok barked at him again when he zoned out a second time. Normally the kid was so sharp he moved before anyone even gave an order.
"Ah—! Sorry, sir."
Now he was acting like a screw had come loose.
"You gonna keep spacing out?"
"…I'm sorry."
Yoon Ji-ho gritted his teeth and started up the stairs with him, step by careful step.
"What's going on with you? Something wrong?"
"N-no, sir. I just… had something on my mind for a second…"
"If you've got worries, spit them out anytime. Keep stewing on them and you'll just get fat. Look at me. This is what happens."
Go Sang-seok slapped his own soft belly and joked, trying to loosen the tension in the rookie even a little.
"Quiet, isn't it? Looks like they made up already. Should we just write it off as resolved and head out?"
"…"
"Tch. Stop giving me that look. It was a joke."
At last they reached unit 301, the source of the call.
"Stay behind me."
"Yes, sir."
— Ding-dong.
— Ding-dong.
"Playing dead, huh? Typical."
Go Sang-seok pounded on the door and raised his voice.
"Police! We know you're in there!"
— Bang bang bang!!
After several more attempts, a metallic scrape sounded and the door cracked open.
"What… seems to be the problem…?"
"Ah. We got a report."
"A report?"
"Yes. Neighbor said the fighting was pretty loud."
Yoon Ji-ho fixed his eyes on the man's haggard face and once again thought of the shaman's warning.
You'll get stabbed to death? Me…?
He had wanted to dismiss the shaman's words as lightly as before, but he no longer could.
A lovers' quarrel call. Pink-walled villa, unit 301. Saturday evening…
Everything the man had said was lining up perfectly. Which meant next…
Then it happened.
— Crash! Thud!!
"H-help me!"
The sound of things toppling over, followed by a woman's desperate cry.
"…!"
The man visibly flinched. Go Sang-seok shoved his shoulder into the door and forced it wide open.
"That bitch…! Ugh!"
"What the hell are you doing right now?!"
— Subdue the man first, no matter what. Under the sofa cushion…
The shaman's ice-cold voice sliced through Yoon Ji-ho's ears. In that instant he launched himself at the man without a second's hesitation.
"Hey!! Yoon Ji-ho!!"
— He's got a knife hidden there.