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Chapter 16
Big. Trouble.
Eun-ho stood beside Mi-so and lit a cigarette.
Soon after, with a deep exhale, he leaned his long body and rested his solid back against the wall along with the drifting smoke.
When Mi-so lifted her head—which had been buried between her knees—and stole a glance up at him, the moonlight falling on his nose bridge deepened the shadows and highlights, making his sharp profile gleam even more intensely.
His slightly parted lips, continually breathing out smoke, glistened softly.
“I didn’t mean to mock the dead schoolgirl.”
Eun-ho spoke as he dropped the burnt-out cigarette stub and crushed it out under his shoe.
As his low voice faded, the surroundings grew even quieter, making it feel as if only the two of them were left in the entire world.
“I… shouldn’t have stormed off like that either. I’m sorry.”
Mi-so bowed her head again. It was simply one of those days when she missed her mom—just one of those days.
“Detective, why do you dislike superstitions so much?”
At Mi-so’s question, Eun-ho seemed to ponder an appropriate answer, tilting his head up to look at the moon, which was unusually bright tonight.
Perhaps because of the moonlight reflected in his eyes or the small pool of tears, the corners of his eyes glistened transparently.
“I lived alone with my mother ever since I was young. Since we only had each other to rely on, we were especially close…”
A deep sorrow seeped through his trailing voice.
Mi-so waited quietly so Eun-ho could fully compose his emotions before continuing.
“Before going to school, we were having breakfast, and my mother said she had a bad dream all night and was scared to go to work.”
Once again, that familiar, nightmarish scene unfolded before Eun-ho’s eyes.
As if in pain, he covered his face with his palm.
“A dream is just a dream… so I told her I’d buy that dream from her for ten thousand won. But that day, my mother passed away in a car accident on her way to work.”
Eun-ho let out a heavy sigh.
“When I returned home after the funeral, the ten thousand won bill I gave her was still sitting right on the dining table. Just in case, my mother hadn’t sold her dream. Ms. Jeong Mi-so, what if…”
He knew it was a meaningless thought, but it was a question that had never left his mind for even a single moment.
“If my mother had sold that dream, do you think… I would have died instead, and she could have lived?”
Instead of a hasty answer, Mi-so looked intently at Eun-ho with glistening eyes.
She had certainly thought he was an unpleasant person… As the silence stretched on, he removed his hand from his eyes and looked down at Mi-so, who was gazing up at him.
Was the subtle current flowing between their exchanging glances merely sympathy?
As the gaze directed at each other deepened, a startled Mi-so hurriedly turned her head straight ahead.
“A dream… is just a dream.”
She felt it too. She could feel her pale, fair cheeks flushing red, gradually warming up.
Perhaps because her flushed face looked as though she were trembling from the cold, Eun-ho turned his head slightly and scanned her.
“So, what I mean is… a dream is just a dream, so please don’t carry so much guilt…”
Feeling his gaze, Mi-so’s heart rate spiked.
Unable to look at Eun-ho to hide her blushing face, she stared straight ahead and answered somewhat incoherently.
Right at that moment, Eun-ho lowered his stance to match Mi-so’s eye level.
As his breath drew closer, Mi-so’s heart set off alarm bells as if it were about to burst at any second.
“D-Detective Yoo Eun-ho…”
At the exact moment Mi-so failed to hide her trembling voice, Eun-ho’s hand touched her delicate shoulder.
Her vision went dizzy.
Her heart rate, which had already blown past its limit, reached a state where her train of thought completely whited out.
“You can’t… do this!”
Tap.
Although she couldn’t witness it because both her eyes were squeezed shut, the cozy warmth settling over her shoulder instantly brought her back to her senses.
‘B.i.g. T.r.o.u.b.l.e.’
At the same time her mind flashed this thought, she snapped her eyes open and checked her shoulder—sure enough, Eun-ho’s black jumper was draped over it.
“It’s cold. Let’s head inside.”
It was simply a gesture for Mi-so, who had rushed out without grabbing an outer garment.
Eun-ho’s blunt, nonchalant voice confused Mi-so’s mind even further.
“Eun-ho! What are you doing out here instead of coming in? Oh, Mi-so, you were out here too?”
To make matters worse, Jin-tak came out of the shop, spotted the two together, and walked over.
Noticing the awkward tension around Mi-so, he narrowed his eyes and flashed a playful smirk.
“We were just! About to go in! Ah, so cold!”
Mi-so barely covered her reddened cheeks with both hands and left the spot first.
“Let’s go.”
Eun-ho also left, placing his arm over Jin-tak’s shoulder.
Jin-tak, being quick-witted, didn’t miss the subtle atmosphere flowing between them and playfully poked Eun-ho’s side.
“Yoo Eun-ho! You bastard, God really is unfair!”
* * *
“Hello.”
She was a woman who looked pure and elegant in a V-neck, peach-colored dress.
Wearing her long, wavy hair neatly tied back in a way that perfectly fit the image of a high school teacher, she greeted the detectives as she sat down in the counseling room chair.
“You are Teacher Jeong Seong-eun, right?”
Jin-tak asked a businesslike question.
Seong-eun, as the homeroom teacher of the deceased students, seemed to feel a sense of responsibility for their deaths, her face stiffened with tension.
“The situation with the children… I’m still very confused myself.” “Ha Dong-jin, Kim Yeon-woo, Choi Ye-ji, and Park Gyeong-chan—are all four of these students from your class?” “Haah…”
Seong-eun’s face grew gaunt, like a soul that had instantly lost all vitality.
As the children’s names were listed, she buried her face roughly in her small hands out of anguish before taking them away.
“It’s the first class I was assigned to after taking up my post. All four of them were diligent students, and there weren’t really any issues with their school life. Dong-jin in particular was even our class president.” “This must be very hard on you. Did you happen to know that the children were planning to go to the gymnasium that day?”
Jin-tak sympathized with the tearful Seong-eun, asking with a troubled expression.
“No, I had no idea at all. Being their homeroom teacher… knowing nothing about it… Sob.“
In the end, Seong-eun let the tears that had been welling up in her eyes fall.
The counseling room was filled with her soft weeping, and Jin-tak and Eun-ho waited silently for a moment so she could calm down.
“According to the other students, there’s a ghost in the gymnasium…”
Seong-eun spoke after calming down a bit, wiping away her smeared mascara with a tissue.
“Yes, we’ve heard that story. We heard a female student died in the gymnasium last year—are you aware of this?” “Yes, I know about it. I was transferred here only this year, so I don’t know the full details, but the other teachers mentioned it to me. They said that girl seems to be connected to the children who died this time…” “Do you happen to know why that female student committed suicide?”
It was an unexpected question from Eun-ho, whose eyes usually turned cold at any mention of ghosts.
“Well… I heard her home environment wasn’t very good, and she couldn’t get along well with other friends. I think it might have been for those reasons.” “Would it be possible to meet the teacher who was her homeroom teacher at the time?” “Ah, I heard that teacher transferred right away. I feel it too, but I think the guilt of failing to protect a student in your own class is heavier than one might think…”
Her voice trailed off, and her eyes turned red again.
“It must be very difficult for you.”
Jin-tak offered a quiet word of comfort.
While seeing Seong-eun grieve was certainly heartbreaking, they hadn’t gained any breakthrough information to resolve the stalled investigation.
Since the kids had no problems at school whatsoever, there didn’t seem to be much more to learn from the homeroom teacher.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of much help. Honestly, I just hope it was an accident. If someone harmed those children… that would be too terrible.”
She said in a low voice, clasping her trembling hands together.
“We will look into it. If you happen to learn any more information about the deceased students, or the female student who died last year, please contact us right away.”
Jin-tak pulled out a business card, placed it on the table, and stood up; Eun-ho rose alongside him.
Seong-eun picked up the business card from the table and stood up as well.
The skirt of her silk dress rustled and fluttered like soft waves.
“Ah! I just remembered—they said the parents of the female student who died last year were a bit strange.” “In what way?”
This time, Eun-ho stepped forward to follow up on the story Seong-eun cautiously brought up.
“They said that the very day after the girl died, her parents came to the gymnasium with monks and did prostrations for a long time. I mean, from a religious standpoint there’s nothing wrong with that, but for ordinary parents, sorrow usually comes before such rituals. The teachers said there was something bizarre about it.”
At the word “monk,” Jin-tak and Eun-ho exchanged glances.
Detective intuition throbbed inside them that there was definitely a need to check whether this incident was also connected to the temple named ‘Gwigamsa’ that Min-guk had mentioned.
“Understood. It certainly sounds like a detail that requires investigation. Do you happen to know the deceased girl’s name?” “Ju… Gyeong. It was Seo Ju-gyeong.”
Seong-eun furrowed her brow as if retracing faded memories, barely managing to utter the three syllables of the name.
“Seo Ju-gyeong… Thank you. Please be sure to call us if anything else comes to mind.”
Jin-tak bowed his head in farewell and opened the counseling room door with Eun-ho.
Having guarded Wiam-dong for a long time, the old school’s wooden sliding door let out a heavy rasping sound as it slid open.
After exchanging one last goodbye in front of the counseling room, Jin-tak and Eun-ho parted ways with Seong-eun and walked down the long corridor.
The sound of their footsteps rang out unusually loud, echoing through the silent hallway.
“Just what is that temple, Gwigamsa, hiding?”
Jin-tak’s calm, low voice vibrated through the quiet hallway, awakening the silence.
Eun-ho was also working hard to organize the confusing pieces of information.
It was a moment where they had to stay razor-sharp to ensure not a single clue was missed, just in case something had slipped through.
A pitch-black stillness descended once again.
Through the row of glass windows lining the right side of the hallway, the setting sun was staining the corridor in crimson hues.
It was almost time for the students to be dismissed.
No sooner had that thought crossed their minds than the bell announcing the students’ freedom rang loudly through the speakers installed everywhere.
And even before the bell finished ringing, rushed footsteps could be heard.
As the sound of footsteps grew louder and louder, both detectives turned around at the same time—only to see a female student running toward them, her long straight hair fluttering in the wind.
“D-Detective! Wait a moment!”
