What's That Sound?
September 26th.
Hot.
Jungseo told me that September is autumn, so why is the weather like this?
If it had been Cathy, and not Jungseo, who told me that September was autumn, I would have barked at him on the spot.
When I raise my voice, people feel my majesty and tremble in fear. Cathy too would have been startled by my bark and apologized for spreading false knowledge. That is simply the kind of man I am — even a single utterance from me carries an air of authority.
This quality of mine... how ought one to describe it? Shall I consult a dictionary?
But a dictionary is not all-powerful. When I wish to express some particular word, the dictionary holds but a handful of entries — how am I to locate the right one at once? Given a few days of poring over it I might well find it, but that is hardly the same as being able to use it on the spot, is it? The kind of word one reaches for as the need arises... Ah, I seem to have rambled.
In any case — this majesty of mine? Let us call it majesty. It was also displayed — manifested? — when I accompanied Jungseo to his work.
Correction. Not a filming set. A script reading.
Jungseo had passed the audition for a film called Apartment, and this happened when I went along. My reason for going was... well, I had a perfectly clear reason, but the manager hyung earnestly begged me never to record that particular matter in this video diary, so I cannot speak of it.
...How can this be.
Come to think of it, if I cannot speak of the reason, then I cannot speak of how magnificently I conducted myself there either!
September 27th.
Still hot.
Jang Tae-ri invited me to some famous ice cream shop that has just opened for the first time in our country.
I asked the manager hyung whether I might go, and he said no. Dating rumors might fly, he declared, so the two of us going alone is absolutely out of the question — if I truly must go, I was to call Shin Jo-woon and make it a party of three.
Frankly, I was a little sulky about it.
The broadcast never showed it, but things between me and Shin Jo-woon have been rather frosty of late.
The cause was Jungseo's birthday, some days ago.
Shin Jo-woon sent pizza to Jungseo on my behalf. That much was fine — I asked him to, and for that much I am grateful.
The problem was that along with the pizza came something I had not requested.
An enormous bear costume with a person inside. Why on earth did he send that?
The bear blew on some trumpet or other, sang a song and danced a dance in front of Jungseo, and then departed.
And of course, that day of all days happened to be one when something had gone badly for Jungseo and he was feeling low.
Jungseo thanked me all the same, but the mood turned glacial, and I demoted Shin Jo-woon — freshly promoted to whale — back down to anchovy within thirty minutes.
Shin Jo-woon is angry about this, and since the next day he has been leaving my texts on read... a text has just arrived.
What is this. Snitch?
Is this aimed at me, pray tell?
Hah! Unbelievable! I am no snitch.
The PD handed me a self-cam and told me to keep a video diary. What is a diary, if not a record of things that happened? And so when I report that things happened, I am a snitch?
...Another text has arrived.
Loose-lipped, am I?
Hah! Unbelievable! My lips are not loose.
There exists no method for weighing a mouth, but were such a method to be invented, no mouth in existence would be heavier than mine.
It is Shin Jo-woon whose lips flutter about like paper in the wind! He is an anchovy, after all!
Shin Jo-woon is an anchovy so thoroughly sun-dried that one tap would shatter him to crumbs!
...Another text has arrived.
If I do not apologize at once, he will send one hundred boxes of anchovies to my dormitory so that I may never escape the reek of dried fish.
Oh, ye people of the world — behold the sort of man this CEO is!
4 PM.
Earlier I was at the dormitory; now I have taken refuge at the office.
I fled to the office because Shin Jo-woon truly did send one hundred boxes of anchovies to the dorm. I did not count whether it was precisely one hundred, but it felt like one hundred.
We left a few boxes at the dorm and decided to distribute the rest among the people. Oh Jung-shin sunbae was among the recipients — when I brought his box over and handed it to him, he asked whether there was poison inside, so I told him to try it and report back. He declined.
8 PM.
I did not mention what I was doing at the office earlier — we held a meeting about the new album.
We had received several songs, but since only five tracks will make it onto this album, we resolved to hear a few more. After a rigorous review, we settled on ten candidate tracks, and now need only narrow them down to five. That selection will be made by blind vote among the entire company staff, the trainees, and the actors under our label.
Ah — no, I did not turn on this self-cam in order to say all that.
After the meeting wound up, I stepped outside, and lo and behold — Shin Jo-woon had parked his car right in front of the office and was standing there.
I hurriedly hid myself behind Jungseo and Cathy, but that wicked child Cathy shouted, "Yeon-woo's here!" and I was caught red-handed.
Not that I have anything to be ashamed of. I am, after all, always a proud and dignified... idol. Trifling matters do not fluster me. None whatsoever!
So I squared my shoulders and stepped out boldly, whereupon Shin Jo-woon smiled and said he had something to say to me. I told him he did not. He asked, a touch icier than usual, whether sending a person inside a bear costume had really been worth sulking over.
He hadn't killed anyone and stuffed them in there, he said — he'd sent it alive, so what was the problem?
What is this, fishy business?
I told him I was tired and needed to return to the dormitory, so kindly step aside. To which he replied:
"Listen here, pig. Keep it up and I'll demote you to dog."
I was about to lose my temper — but on reflection, a dog does seem rather cuter than a pig. Naturally, I am neither.
In any case, I demanded that henceforth he call me not "pig" but "handsome, clever Malamute" — whereupon he doubled over, clutching his belly, laughing himself silly, and drove off.
I keep telling you. The man is strange.
"Something good happen today, sir?"
At his secretary's question, Shin Jo-woon pressed his lips tightly together and shook his head.
But the secretary's eyes were sharp. Shin Jo-woon was quite visibly trembling, one corner of his mouth quirking helplessly upward.
Yet sharp eyes tend to come with sharp instincts, and rather than ask why he was laughing all by himself, the secretary simply held out the keyring he had been sent to fetch — an old-fashioned affair, five keys strung in a row on a round loop.
"The keys you asked for, sir."
"And the dog?"
"I don't believe it can be used any longer."
"It breaks so quickly."
Clicking his tongue, Shin Jo-woon tucked his phone into his jacket pocket and rose from the sofa.
Leaving the room, he stepped into the garage adjoining his home and pressed a button. With a heavy clunk, the car parked in the corner of the garage slid sideways, floor and all, revealing a hidden door. When Shin Jo-woon inserted a key into the keyhole, a faint hologram shimmered into being above it, uncovering a concealed fingerprint scanner. He laid his palm upon it; after a brief scan, another clunk sounded and the door swung open. It sealed itself shut behind him as he entered, and a section of wall slid across to cover it.
Beyond the door lay a long stairway descending into a corridor. As Shin Jo-woon walked, the click of his heels against the floor rang out crisp and clear. The corridor ran straight for a stretch before turning at its end, and when he rounded the corner and walked a little farther, a brightly lit chamber opened up before him.
Its floor was paved in stone and fitted with all manner of machinery, so that despite lying underground, the chamber was filled with clean, pleasant air.
But the labored breathing mixed in with the hummm of the running machines did not sound pleasant at all.
Smiling, Shin Jo-woon approached his dog, which was gulping down ragged breaths.
"Hello."
At his greeting, the dog rolled only its eyes toward him. In eyes that had once brimmed with fury, there was now barely any focus left at all.
Shin Jo-woon set the keys down beside him, dragged a chair over to the bedside, sat, and asked:
"Have you tried reaching out to your colleagues?"
"......"
"You might have begged them to rescue you. I'll be needing a replacement soon, after all."
"......"
"Isn't it unfair, suffering all alone? Though I suppose if your colleagues hadn't abandoned you in the first place, none of this would have happened, would it?"
"......"
His subject showed no reaction whatsoever, but Shin Jo-woon carried on the conversation by himself. When no answer came, his amusement seemed to flag; at last he clicked his tongue and stood.
"Do you know Sacheon Pass?"
"......"
"It's a place where ghosts heavy with grudges gather. Rumor has it a kind-hearted Saint lives there, lending her strength so those pitiful spirits can finally resolve their grievances."
"......"
"Impossible that you wouldn't know it. It's the place your people attempted several times — and failed every time."
"Tomorrow, I'll be dropping you off there."
For the first time, the unfocused eyes fixed themselves on Shin Jo-woon. Into eyes that had known nothing but resignation, fear and confusion rose for the very first time.
"You said Nakru's work is great and noble, didn't you? That the sacrifice of Saints is simply unavoidable? Well — whether you truly believe that, you can ask the Saint herself. If you consent, then perhaps that Saint will save you too."
Smiling with practiced warmth, Shin Jo-woon gathered up the keys he had set down and turned away.
The dog reached out a hand. Its mouth worked, as if to say no — but no sound came out.
The clicking footsteps receded without mercy, and the bright light went out in the same instant as the sound of the closing door.
To the hummm of the dehumidifier, the one who had once been Nakru and was now Shin Jo-woon's 'dog' twisted in the dark.
Jong-woo had texted him.
Rembrary, who had been nibbling anchovies dipped in soybean paste while watching videos of the Sloth, startled so hard his eyes went perfectly round.
Song Seo-young was returning?
She was one of the three suspects who might have stolen Daeju's brush.
Anchor still clenched in his teeth, Rembrary hurriedly texted Jong-woo back.
Some thirty minutes later, Jong-woo sent his reply.
Since when do things unfold this smoothly!
Models and idols move in almost entirely separate orbits, so even with her back in the country, Rembrary had wondered whether their paths would ever actually cross.
Rembrary declared that he would absolutely go, and extracted a time from Jong-woo.
Jong-woo, who normally erected walls to keep him from getting entangled with female celebrities, was oddly cooperative this time around — but the important thing was meeting Song Seo-young and probing her about the brush.
The next day.
Rembrary discovered the reason Jong-woo had thrown himself so eagerly into arranging the meeting.
As it turned out, Jong-woo himself was a fan of Song Seo-young.
Rembrary had assumed he favored some girl group from another company, since he played their songs every single day — but according to Jong-woo, liking that idol was mere fandom, whereas his feelings for Song Seo-young were true unrequited love.
Rembrary had no idea what the difference was, nor any particular interest in finding out, so he let it pass.
In any case, the crux of the matter was this: Rembrary himself would get to meet Song Seo-young, but Jong-woo, thanks to some urgent family business, could not accompany him to her agency.
"You have to get her autograph for me too. Promise!"
"Very well, I shall."
Jong-woo had tearfully tried to assign Sa Gam-jae as an escort, but Sa Gam-jae, for reasons unknown, had gone off the grid again and could not be reached. So Rembrary turned to Shin Jo-woon — with whom he had, as of yesterday, reconciled — for help. Shin Jo-woon asked where Song Seo-young's agency was, then readily agreed, since he happened to have business in that area anyway.
And so, three hours later.
Rembrary found himself seated in the passenger seat of Shin Jo-woon's car.
The interior was spacious, comfortable, and magnificent. Even Rembrary, who knew nothing of automobiles, could tell it was a fine vehicle. Wishing to express his gratitude, Rembrary praised the car with great enthusiasm, and Shin Jo-woon gulped down the compliments with evident relish.
"Can't you drive?"
"I simply do not. Driving is a coachman's task, is it not?"
"...So. I'm your coachman now?"
"That is not what I meant."
"Kindly remember that I don't usually drive with my own two hands either."
"Why on earth would I need to remember that?"
While Shin Jo-woon gripped the wheel and drove with white-knuckled force, Rembrary sketched his profile onto the second page of the sketchbook Jong-woo had handed him for the autographs, and asked:
"By the way, something has been making a strange noise in the trunk this whole time. Is the car alright?"