Chapter 23: “Your Life Is Crazy”
At that moment, Tarim remembered something.
“How did the elders know your aunt’s contact info?”
The two of them turned to look at each other simultaneously. Right. How? Without needing to say a word, both jumped out of the car and ran toward the two elderly people who had just finished sunbathing and were about to part ways.
“Excuse me! Sir, Ma’am! Wait a moment!”
“Wow. Your life is crazy.”
Lee Gyeom summed up Muru’s whole life story in one sentence as he picked up three pieces of spicy pork stir-fry at once from the dinner table. Tarim apologized on his behalf.
“Sorry, Muru. He’s always a bit nuts.”
“Why?”
Lee Gyeom responded while noisily chewing. What kind of question is “why” after being called crazy? But surprisingly, Muru felt at ease thanks to Gyeom’s bizarre feedback.
It wasn’t something you’d typically share over dinner, but somehow, his simple “Your life is crazy” felt like a clean summary.
“Right… my life really is like that…”
With a tone of resigned acceptance, Muru chewed her seasoned pork. She had made up her mind to tell them about her memory loss before age 11, the nasty breakup with her ex, her parents’ situation, and what happened at her mom’s house today.
From the moment dinner prep started, Gyeom had been singing about roasted seaweed. He placed twelve fresh sheets on a plate and asked,
“If there’s anything we can help with, just say it. Everyone gets three sheets of seaweed.”
Honestly, Muru wanted to reach out to someone—anyone—for help. She’d shared her past hoping to find some kind of clue. But they offered help before she even asked, and that made her feel guilty.
“I feel bad for Tarim too…”
Tarim playfully rolled her eyes.
“I told you not to say stuff like that.”
Hoshik, carefully wrapping rice in seaweed, seemed lost in thought.
“Aren’t you putting meat in that?”
“What? Oh, right.”
Startled, Hoshik grabbed a piece of meat.
That something like this had happened to Muru as a child… Hoshik and the others from the Hwaran house had gone to different elementary schools and didn’t know what she’d been through.
But after hearing her story, Hoshik couldn’t stop thinking about how suspicious Chief Kim Mansoo’s phone call had seemed.
If a kid had gone missing, the police must’ve investigated—and back then, Kim Mansoo was part of the violent crimes division. He must’ve been on the case.
Looking back, it was obvious that Kim Mansoo had known about Muru even before she visited the police station.
He had even told someone over the phone, “I’ll keep an eye on Ju Muru.” Then suddenly invited her to dinner. It all seemed like part of his “watching her” plan.
Something smelled off. But sharing this suspicion with the others at the Hwaran house still felt premature. Besides, Kim Mansoo was someone closer than his real uncle.
Still chewing, Hoshik asked,
“So, what were you saying earlier?”
“Oh, right.” Muru returned to the interrupted story.
“So I asked my grandma again, and she said she got my aunt’s number from a nearby real estate agent. When they first bought the house, my mom wasn’t in good health, so my aunt signed the contract for her. Her number was still on the paperwork.”
Tarim, seated beside Muru, nodded along. After leaving her mom’s trashed house, they’d visited the real estate office and met the agent who had handled the villa purchase 17 years ago.
When they said they were trying to find her long-lost mom and aunt, the agent replied with a worried look:
“It might be a bit difficult… You haven’t seen your aunt recently, right? It’s hard to talk to her. Her address should be on a copy of the contract—I’ll look for it and get back to you.”
What did he mean by “hard to talk to her”?
Tarim felt the weight of the man’s concern pass onto her. Muru likely felt the same. Still, seeing her share her past so openly at dinner made Tarim feel reassured.
Muru was asking for help now.
The girl who had kept everything buried inside.
Tonight’s dishwashing duty: Lee Gyeom. There’s a rule in Hwaran House: Park Tarim is always the main washer, and the helper rotates.
After dinner, Muru went to her room. Hoshik went for a walk to digest.
Tarim and Gyeom stood side by side at the sink, washing dishes in perfect sync.
When Lee Gyeom first came to Hwaran House, he was a total pampered brat who didn’t know how to wash a single dish. Thanks to Tarim’s strict training, rage, and discipline, he had grown.
As Gyeom rinsed the sudsy dishes handed by Tarim, he said,
“I’m pretty good at dishwashing now, right?”
“There’s no such thing as ‘good’ at dishwashing. Doing it right is just basic.”
“But I sucked at it before.”
“Which is exactly what was weird, idiot. If you can’t even wash your own dishes, what big things do you think you’re gonna do in life?”
“Yeah. That’s why I stick to small things.”
Then, in a small voice, Gyeom asked,
“When are you going to tell her?”
His tone was almost a whisper.
Tarim kept drying the dishes silently, then answered heavily,
“…When Muru figures it out on her own.”
“Ugh, keeping secrets is so hard…”
“Shut it…”
Gyeom pouted like a child.
“Even what she knows now must be a huge shock.”
“True.”
Gyeom’s lips returned to their usual shape, as if expressing emotion with them. Nod, nod.
“She’s already got a lot to process. But… wouldn’t it be better to hear the truth from someone close?”
“I don’t know. I just…”
White bubbles flowed down with grease.
“I just want to always be someone Muru can lean on.”
A dish soaked in chili oil didn’t come clean in one wash.
“That’s why… you and I, we need to be people without residue.”
“Huh? I don’t get what you’re saying. Say it simpler.”
“Put yourself in her shoes.”
Tarim scrubbed the oil-soaked sponge with laundry soap.
“Imagine you were the one who lost your memory. Something terrible happened and your mind erased it to protect you. Digging up that memory would be painful, right? But what if the person closest to you—let’s say…”
“NewJeans.”
“…Ugh, fine. Let’s say someone like NewJeans tells you a crucial truth. Sure, you might get through it, because people have to live on somehow. But don’t you think you’d be reminded of that every time you see her?”
Ah. Gyeom understood.
Just then, the sound of the front door opening announced Hoshik’s return from his walk. He entered the kitchen.
“You guys still doing dishes?”
“My friend. Can you not say anything without sounding rude?”
Gyeom grumbled, but Hoshik ignored him.
“Ugh, I’m thirsty.”
Hoshik snatched a glass Gyeom had just cleaned and walked over to the water dispenser.
“Hey. I walked all the way to Bibari Spring.”
“Rude.”
“They’re tearing down Bibaru.”
“What?”
The two guys in rubber gloves spun around. Hoshik chugged a glass of water before continuing.
Tarim asked,
“You mean the Chinese place?”
“Yeah. The one with the second floor where the owners live. There were construction workers demolishing the inside. Looks like a remodel.”
Bibaru was remodeling?
That couldn’t be. Bibaru was old, sure—but they mostly did deliveries these days.
“Baekmo was outside watching too.”
“What’d he say?”
“He didn’t know either. He asked in the group chat.”
Gyeom wailed.
“Noooo! It’s gonna rain tomorrow! I was gonna get Bibaru’s jjamppong!”
[I’m worried about my mom. Finding her is the priority.]
The afternoon had been clear, but humidity crept in as night fell. Muru sent a DM to Sola and walked to the window.
When she opened it, the scent of rain wafted in. Gray clouds were gathering across the night sky. The weather forecast said it would rain tomorrow afternoon, but it seemed to be arriving early. Her phone buzzed—Sola had replied.
[How are you going to find her contact info?]
Since coming to Hwaran House, Muru had kept in touch with Sola from time to time. These DMs had helped her adjust to her new life.
Even though this was technically her hometown, with no memories of it, it felt like a foreign place. Sola was the only connection to her old life.
[I got my aunt’s contact.]
After a pause, Sola asked,
[How?]
Muru briefly explained how the real estate agent had kept her aunt’s number on file.
Sola responded with a simple: “I see. Good job.” Then went quiet again.
Muru closed the window and lay on her bed, about to watch some YouTube, when a new DM preview popped up at the top of her screen.
[What should I say?]
It was written in formal language. Muru tapped the disappearing preview, thinking maybe Sola sent it by mistake.
But when she opened the DM, the message was already gone.
