Chapter 1
Email, One
[From: fromhell1818]
[To: moralnoral]
Do you also have a knife in your mouth?
I have thousands of the sturdiest and sharpest knives in the world in mine.
More than these, there's a devil dwelling in my mouth.
When I decide to open my mouth, people usually react like this:
‘Are you delusional?’
Or,
‘Are you insane?’
Or,
‘You ghost-like freak. You demon-possessed lunatic.’
Well, it’s all the same either way.
Whether I'm delusional, a ghost, or a lunatic, what lives in my mouth is undoubtedly evil.
But recently, I have truly, sincerely gone mad. I might die soon—and it’s unrelated to the devil.
Because of 'that person,' I've started thinking like this:
‘I want to use all my strength to pull that person out of this excessively violent world.’
‘And if I could do that, I wouldn't mind dying.’
Funny, isn't it? It's too sentimental.
I was already a fool, and now I’m becoming an even bigger one.
But what’s even worse is my sense of danger as a living being.
Isn’t this regression as a creature?
I think it is. As a living being, as a human, as a devil.
Did you know that love is a force that goes against the natural order?
I only recently came to understand that.
Stalker, Threat
Our school has two movie-related clubs. One is ‘Dream Tree,’ a movie production club, and the other is ‘Film Maniacs,’ a movie-watching club.
I recently joined ‘Film Maniacs.’ I don’t even like movies. I’m addicted to text and always prefer content made up of words over anything visual. So why did I join this weird club that does nothing but drink all the time? Because Noh Joo-eun joined, and wherever Noh Joo-eun goes, Ki In-hwa, who follows her everywhere—even to hell—also joined.
Ki In-hwa is someone I like. No, to be more accurate, he’s someone I love. Or even more precisely, someone I have an unrequited love for. He is Noh Joo-eun’s doormat, Noh Joo-eun’s loyal dog. Noh Joo-eun’s servant and lackey. He is someone who loves Noh Joo-eun madly despite being degraded and tormented to death by the same person. A pure, white flower blooming with fierce vitality in the pitch-black mud.
“Isn’t that her? The weirdo from the English department.”
I hear the boy sitting diagonally across the long table whisper to the person next to him. His long bangs cover half his eyes, but even so, I can see everything through the edge of my vision, as I run my radar in full force, down to the subtle movements of his finger pointing at me.
“Don’t be rude.”
Yeah, don’t stare.
“Why is she here? There’s no way she joined our club, right?”
“She probably did.”
Yeah, that’s right, I joined.
“Wow, what the hell, why? Wasn’t she the one who supposedly had some weird condition, only attending classes and ignoring everything else? I heard her personality is seriously messed up.”
“Lower your voice. She can hear everything.”
Yeah, I can hear everything, idiot.
I kept grumbling inwardly and slightly turned my head to glance at them. The boy with glasses, who sat next to the guy casually spouting those harsh words, seemed to be looking in my direction, so I quickly lowered my head again without reacting. We probably made eye contact, but maybe it was just my imagination.
Feeling uneasy, I tugged at my sleeves that covered half my hand, pulling them even further. I have a habit of trying to hide myself, like a wild animal full of fear. Like a hermit crab or a snail carrying a heavy shell on its back. My skin must never come into contact with another’s. This is a rule that must be followed, both for my sake and for others people’s.
And the eyes. I must always be careful about how my eyes look at others. I don't mind much when others look at me, even though it's uncomfortable. I'm used to glances, as if people were curiously observing some strange creature.
But when I look at others, it can always cause problems. Some people get extremely upset just from me looking at them. They yell, telling me to get my ‘creepy eyes’ away from them. I wear glasses as a temporary fix, but glasses are just glass or plastic. There’s more that they can’t cover than what they can. I always need to be careful.
There are so many things I have to be careful about. But despite all these restrictions, here I am, sitting firmly in this spot. In a dingy barbecue joint reeking of raw meat and stale grease, I sit quietly in the most secluded corner, waiting for my target to arrive.
Today is one of the twice-yearly welcoming parties for new members of the ‘Film Maniacs’ club. Both Noh Joo-eun and Ki In-hwa are new members, so they’ll definitely show up today. Or rather, since Noh Joo-eun is definitely going to be here, Ki In-hwa will inevitably follow along, like thread following a needle.
Noh Joo-eun has a childish side; she likes having fun and enjoys being the center of attention. She was like that in high school, but ever since becoming a college student, her lifestyle seems to have grown even more indulgent. I heard she rarely skips a party she’s invited to. This was information I gathered by hanging around the broadcasting room and department office.
The party was set to start at 6:30 p.m. By 6:40, the two long tables reserved under the ‘Film Maniacs’ name were starting to fill up. The table I sat at was almost full, except for the seat to my right and the one directly across from me. To my left was a wall covered in grease stains and scribbles, so technically, no one was sitting near me.
It was natural. Just a glance at me and you'd immediately smell ‘outsider.’ To put it simply, I look like a complete mess. My thick hair has grown out wildly since I haven’t been to a salon in years, and my oversized brown hoodie, with sleeves that cover my hands, looks ridiculous.
Add to that my black horn-rimmed glasses, which cover half my face, and the way I hunch in the corner, ignoring whoever comes into the restaurant or sits at the table. Of course, no one wants to sit near me, and that's exactly what I want.
By 6:46, the alcohol and meat started being served. People near me began greeting each other, introducing themselves, and exchanging trivial chatter. The restaurant grew noisier. During this, the club president stood up, gave a brief welcome speech to the new members, and sat down after explaining the club’s activities. I was relieved; I’d worried we might have to introduce ourselves one by one.
The club seemed laid-back, regardless of age or year in school. People who could adjust would stay, and those who couldn't would leave. No one forced anyone to adapt or held anyone back if they wanted to go.
But didn’t they say this club had a long history?
"Here, have a drink."
Someone spoke to me, breaking my train of thought as I sat blankly switching between staring at the clock on my phone and the restaurant entrance. I looked up to see the bespectacled guy who had been sitting next to the one who’d openly talked trash about me earlier. He’d answered curtly back then, but now he was sitting across from me, holding a bottle of soju and a glass.
"I don’t drink," I replied, avoiding eye contact.
"Then just take it. It looks too empty in front of you," he said, lightly shaking the bottle.
What, is he saying it’s uncomfortable to look at me because my area’s too bare?
After a brief hesitation, I picked up the soju glass in front of me with my thumb and forefinger. The sleeves of my oversized hoodie hung down, barely clinging to my fingertips, making the glass look precarious.
As he poured, the glass trembled wildly, as if doing a little dance, swaying as it slowly filled. Eventually, the guy set the bottle down, having only filled the glass halfway. He seemed to smile briefly but then quickly lost his expression when his gaze landed on my fingernails.
My nails were jagged and ugly from the habit of biting them until they bled, now covered with dried, dark red scabs. Embarrassed, I quickly lowered my hand. In my haste, the half-filled glass tipped over, spilling the soju. Now the glass was nearly empty again, lying on the table like it had been tossed there.
It was a pitiful sight.
Feeling awkward, I wiped my wet fingers on my sleeve, staring down at the spilled soju in a mixture of frustration and shame.
"I didn't mean to make things uncomfortable, I’m sorry."
The bespectacled guy said, apologizing for reasons I couldn't understand, as he hurriedly handed me some tissues.