Chapter 111
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 111
Their linked pinkies separated. Eun-seol let out a deep sigh and shot Dokyun a glare.
“Don’t interrupt me again.”
He flinched.
Dokyun shrank back from the icy gaze fixed on him.
“Sorry…”
Seeing him steal glances at her, Eun-seol sighed again and continued.
“Forget it. To continue, Go Eun-ah’s delusions began to take a more concrete form, and the problem grew more serious.”
“More serious than that?”
“Yes. From Seo Han-gyeong’s perspective, her actions were incomprehensible.”
Having already emptied her glass, Eun-seol refilled it as she spoke.
“The little kid who used to follow me around all day suddenly starts scratching at my hands. Then, when I’m trying to work, she just glares at me with lifeless eyes. If you didn’t know what was going on, it would be terrifying.”
Lifeless eyes. She must have been talking about Eun-sam, but that felt worlds away from the Eun-sam Dokyun knew, creating a sense of disconnect.
The Eun-sam he knew was more like a gruff construction foreman.
“It got worse as the manuscript progressed. On top of the psychological pressure, even as the book was becoming a success, not a single call came from her family home.”
After saying that, Eun-seol took a sip of her drink, staring blankly at her glass before speaking again.
“When you think about it, that was normal for the time. You know this, don’t you? The genre fiction market back then wasn’t big enough to be raking in money.”
“That’s true.”
Dokyun nodded in agreement.
Just as Eun-seol said, the genre fiction market only began to grow in earnest after smartphones became widespread and the web novel market expanded.
It was the same for The Rusty Sword and the Hummingbird’s Tomb. While it was considered a masterpiece among readers of that era, that didn’t mean it made a fortune.
The same was true from an artistic standpoint. It’s not all that different now, but back then, fantasy novels were seen as even more of a subculture, so few people approached them from a literary perspective.
“Kids these days don’t really know it. It’s on indefinite hiatus, and with the author dead, there’s no hope for a sequel, so it’s not even available on the web novel platforms.”
In short, it wasn’t a book that had received mainstream recognition.
“Right. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew it hadn’t received that recognition. Seo Han-gyeong was the only one who didn’t.”
A sneer escaped Eun-seol’s lips.
“She must have been going out of her mind. The moment had come when she had to admit it, whether she liked it or not.”
“Admit what?”
“That she had failed. It was time to admit it.”
Dokyun leaned back against the sofa and watched Eun-seol let out a series of sneering laughs. He could feel just how much she hated Seo Han-gyeong.
Eun-seol, who had never shown hatred for anyone, displayed a bottomless loathing reserved exclusively for Seo Han-gyeong.
“Even after shamelessly continuing the story, even after stealing her own daughter’s story to do it, she still failed in the end.”
Finishing her sentence, Eun-seol downed the rest of her drink in one gulp and went on.
“The novel had only one volume left. Seo Han-gyeong must have thought that the moment it was completed, her failure would be laid bare for all to see. That there would be no excuses left.”
Dokyun listened in silence.
He had a feeling he knew what she was going to say next.
“So she hanged herself. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit it.”
Squeeze—.
His fists clenched. He knew this story. The author who had killed herself with one volume left.
“For the sake of that worthless pride, she ended her own life.”
“…Just for that?”
“Yes, just for that. That was the only reason.”
Just for pride. For a reason like that, she had destroyed a young Eun-ah.
Dokyun figured his expression must be absolutely foul. He couldn’t control it.
No one he knew would abuse their child for such a reason. No one would ruin their child’s life for that.
As he saw it, Seo Han-gyeong was pure evil.
“…What happened after that?”
“Go Eun-ah found her.”
At those words, Dokyun felt a hot surge in his gut.
“I don’t know what Go Eun-ah must have felt when she saw that. It’s a memory buried in the deepest part of her heart, so even I can’t see it.”
Of course. If something like that happened, no one but the person herself could ever understand that feeling.
“What I do know is this: After finding her, Go Eun-ah stayed in that spot for three days, just watching Seo Han-gyeong hang from the ceiling. And from that point on, Go Eun-ah’s world completely shut down.”
“Three days…”
“Seo Han-gyeong didn’t have a wide circle of friends. The only people she met were strange men she’d pick up at bars for one-night stands.”
Her voice was low and heavy. Eun-seol took a long breath and continued.
“After three days, an employee from the publishing house who came to pick up the manuscript found Seo Han-gyeong and Go Eun-ah. Only then did the investigation begin.”
Listening to her, Dokyun drained his full glass in one go. His throat burned. It was because of the feeling that his insides were twisting into knots.
“At the funeral, the only ones present were Go Eun-ah and a few attendants sent by her grandfather. As for mourners, they were all just pathetic sycophants struggling to get into the grandfather’s good graces.”
The nasty, burning sensation in his throat wouldn’t go away, so he took another drink.
“Seeing that, Go Eun-ah realized it. That she was truly alone. That there was no one left for her. That there was no one left to love her.”
“…Eun-ji.”
“Yes. That’s when Eun-ji was created.”
Dokyun remembered the day they went to the amusement park, how Eun-ji had hidden in a corner, sobbing all by herself.
He remembered the first thing the little girl had said when she saw him.
Where did you go?
The memory of those words made his heart ache.
“After that… well, there’s not much to say. The grandfather’s attendants would come by once in a while to make some food and clean the house. She lived like that, more or less.”
Dokyun knew that phrase skipped over a great deal.
Lived like that, more or less.
The time she had lived through was something that could never be described so casually.
An expression of deep sorrow settled over Dokyun’s face. A heavy breath escaped his lips.
Eun-seol watched him for a moment, then took a small breath and spoke.
“It’s not like she was a complete shut-in. The grandfather had taken some minimal measures.”
“…Measures?”
Not taking her in, but taking measures. He let out another humorless laugh at her choice of words. Eun-seol nodded and continued.
“He made arrangements so she could function in daily life later on. But Go Eun-ah wasn’t in a state to follow through, so we divided up the external activities. In terms of school, Eun-sam went to elementary school, I went to middle school, and… Eun-byeol went to high school.”
The story continued.
Listening to her, Dokyun realized there was a part of the story that hadn’t come up yet and asked a question.
“When was Eun-byeol created?”
There had been no mention of Eun-byeol’s origin. At his question, she replied.
“I don’t know.”
That was her answer.
“I don’t know either. Eun-byeol is a personality who appeared suddenly one day. She’s more independent than the other alters, so I couldn’t figure it out. And she never told me herself.”
When Dokyun tilted his head in confusion, Eun-seol shrugged and added an explanation.
“It wasn’t just Eun-byeol. Alters would pop up like that from time to time. Though now, Go Eun-chae has devoured them all.”
“Ah.”
He remembered hearing something like that the first day he met Eun-seol.
That Go Eun-chae had already consumed four other personalities.
“Well, on very rare occasions, Go Eun-ah would go out herself. Something must have happened then to create her.”
She said it casually, but Dokyun couldn’t just let it slide.
It meant that even after that childhood, her life had been so difficult that she had to keep fracturing herself.
A short silence followed Eun-seol’s words. Dokyun needed a moment to catch his breath and organize his thoughts.
As the only sound was the trickling of alcohol into a glass, Eun-seol spoke again.
“…That’s how it was, until we met you.”
At her words, Dokyun’s gaze shifted to her.
Eun-seol looked at Dokyun, then back at her glass. Her lips parted as if to say something, but she stopped.
Her hesitation was palpable.
Watching her, Dokyun wondered what she was trying to say that would cause such reluctance, and then, he understood.
“…So I was a substitute for Seo Han-gyeong.”
Flinch—.
Eun-seol’s hand, which had been pouring a drink, froze, and a few drops of alcohol splashed onto the table.
“Because if she wrote a story and was praised for it, for that moment, she could return to the happiest time in her life. Because she could be happy. She chose me to play the role of Seo Han-gyeong. Is that right?”
He was sure he’d heard her say it before.
I really wanted to stop, I wanted to quit. But I wrote every day because I loved it when you praised me.
All the pieces fell into place. The truth, which had remained elusive for so long, now revealed its face, and it was exactly the shape he had feared.
He was Seo Han-gyeong’s replacement.
Realizing this, he posed the question to Eun-seol. She pressed her lips together and slowly, very slowly, nodded her head.
“…Yes.”
Dokyun looked at Eun-seol, whose face was filled with apology as she answered, and felt a small laugh escape him.
The same person who had looked so irritated talking about Seo Han-gyeong just moments before now wore an expression of pure apology.
Finding the sight somehow ridiculous, he let out a laugh, and Eun-seol looked at him with a questioning expression.
Dokyun looked back at her and spoke in a calm tone.
“I’m fine. I had a feeling it was something like this. I was prepared for it.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for, Eun-seol? Seo Han-gyeong was the one in the wrong. Besides.”
Dokyun added a clause, straightening his back. Filled with the sincere wish that she would stop feeling sorry, he continued.
“It’s okay if I’m a substitute. We can just start from there.”
He could say this and be okay with it because, despite everything, there was someone who was cheering for him.
Moreover, even if he was a substitute, he was certain that the affection Eun-ah had shown him wasn’t all a lie.
“What can I do? I’ve already fallen for her. I just have to accept it. Isn’t it always the one who likes the other more who loses?”
He said it with a hint of playfulness. Dokyun watched as Eun-seol’s eyes widened at his words, then another laugh burst out of him as something occurred to him.
Once, he had looked at Eun-ah and thought she was an easy woman.
‘Easy…?’
Wasn’t he the real easy one here? To be so captivated in that moment that he was throwing himself away like this—where else would you find such an easy guy?
As Dokyun kept laughing at the thought, Eun-seol let out a laugh of her own and muttered under her breath.
“…You idiot.”
“Hey, that’s a bit harsh.”
“You fucking idiot.”
Another curse followed his grumbling complaint. Dokyun let out a groan, and seeing this, Eun-seol gave another small laugh and took a drink.
“A truly hopeless idiot.”