Chapter 11: CH 11

I recalled the outrageous rumors that spread on the internet after Yeonseon died.

They said that people who saw the grim reaper couldn’t survive past one year. Perhaps the person who was preparing to debut with Yeonseon Ham saw a reaper instead of a ghost. He ran away because he was afraid that he would also die if he was with Yeonseon. Otherwise, how could someone give up and leave what they were working toward? It had to be because they valued their life over becoming a singer.

It was a pretty convincing story for people who didn’t know anything. “Yeonseon Ham,” “car crash,” and “grim reaper” were the most searched words for a while.

“True, I think I would get scared and try to avoid someone if I saw something resembling a grim reaper with my peers,” Woorim said, looking more energetic than before—I had scoffed hollowly at him, but I didn’t know how Woorim interpreted that. Despite the persistent questions, he didn’t actually seem to be interested in what I saw. “Even if your dream was to be an entertainer, I guess you can only do that if you’re alive… I can see why you’re hesitant to talk about it. They say that people who see the grim reaper are also taken along. Wow, how scary! What if it came for you too? Some people might call it cowardly, but I think that’s a natural reaction.”

Woorim started to enthusiastically criticize the people who insulted me on the internet by calling me a coward and an accessory to Yeonseon’s death. “Those guys would probably shiver like a leaf under their desks if they met a child’s ghost. If I were to see something like a grim reaper while walking down the street at night, ugh… I think I would drop dead on the spot from a heart attack. It’s scary even to meet another person under a broken street lamp.”

I noticed that the teeth marks on Woorim’s cigarette filter were the same from when he first put it in his mouth. It didn’t look like he came here to smoke, and I ended up realizing why he came here.

Confirming my presumption, Woorim smiled at me looking a bit flushed. “Actually, I’m your fan.”

“Oh, I see.” My composed reply didn’t seem to be what Woorim was expecting because his brows furrowed just a bit. He soon recovered and returned to being cheerful.

“I was really happy that I was able to appear on this show with you today. Aside from the songs that you featured in, you really only worked on one song.”

“That’s true.”

“I listened to that song over and over and over again. I even listened to it like a lucky charm before doing my national college entrance exam.”

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“Really?”

“My mom asked me why, of all things to use as a good luck charm, I chose the song of someone who died in a car accident, but what could I do? I just liked it. I felt happy and at peace when I listened to it.”

The song that I recorded that day was about a person preparing to die because they were thrown away by their lover, so it was very gloomy starting from the opening of the song. The melody sounded like someone nervously striking a thin glass in the middle of the night. The lyrics were also about kidnapping the lover, chopping them into pieces, and pleading to their lover, “I’ll forgive you for throwing me aside, so forgive me for taking you.”

Even though I sang it, and leaving aside Yeonseon’s circumstances that were tied to it, it was definitely not a comforting song to listen to. I would understand if he had said that the song made his nice cup of tea and sweet cake taste instantly like a poisonous drink and rotten meat. I wasn’t sure how to react to Woorim’s review, so I made a slight frown.

However, I couldn’t ask “For real?” immediately. People had different tastes and preferences, and maybe Woorim found a gentle and affectionate side of that song that I didn’t recognize. Plus, I once had a love that was peculiar, no matter how one framed it. Judging someone else’s preferences would be inappropriate for me.

“…I guess it was a love song in a sense.”

“Love,” Woorim echoed my answer and said with an ambiguous face. “You’re right. It’s love.”

Maybe I gave the wrong answer. I regretted too late that I didn’t simply thank him. Maybe Woorim’s memory was good because he was young, but he continued, “Right, I also heard that you’re going on that show too. The one that starts recording next week, about the villa with 101 rooms, based on the internet myth about the mansion with 101 doors. I’m also a cast member.”

The villa with 101 rooms. I blinked a few times. “…Ohhh,” I realized. I remembered then that Woorim talked about the story about the mansion with 101 doors in the studio. Thankfully, this was something I could talk about. “The person who dreamed about that mansion, could I ask who it was?”

Woorim narrowed his eyes at my question. It was as if he didn’t expect that I would be interested in it. That was understandable since I only showed bland and dull reactions during the conversation at the time.

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