Mudoo - Chapter 25

Late at night, the three of them sat around a table at a 24-hour unmanned café near Munseong Girls’ High School.

“At this hour? What were two adults doing at a high school in the middle of the night?”

The tension was thick—felt more like an interrogation than a casual chat. Seula chewed on her straw, eyes darting around, trying to gauge the mood.

Haejun wasn’t going to let go of his suspicions easily. If it had just been Seula, maybe it’d be manageable, but with Tae-shin also involved, it was hard to bluff their way out.

She and Tae-shin exchanged a silent look. If only they’d had a chance to coordinate their story.

“Well? Why the silence? I asked what business you had at the school this late.”

Haejun’s instincts were razor-sharp—he wasn’t one to let shady details slide.

Clearing her throat, Seula started to answer—only for Tae-shin to jump in at the same time.

“Courage training,” he said.

“Midnight date,” she blurted out.

They both froze, locking eyes, while Haejun’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

“How long has that been going on? Last time I saw you two, you said you were just friends.”

Tae-shin crossed his long legs and folded his arms.

“Can men and women ever really be ‘just friends’?”

“If that’s how you see it, I guess you don’t approve of Seula and me hanging out either.”

“It’s not my favorite thing, but I respect her social life.”

“Social life, huh.”

Just like that, Seula had been promoted to Tae-shin’s girlfriend without any warning. Her brain felt like it was locking up—she hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and everything felt foggy.

Desperate to change the subject, she turned to Haejun.

“And what about you? Why were you at the school at this hour?” Playing dumb when you already knew the answer wasn’t easy, but she tried anyway.

Haejun took a long sip of coffee and set the cup down with a loud clink.

“Investigating a death.”

“Please don’t tell me it was a student… like, someone took their own life or something?”

Even in her sleep-deprived state, Bok-young’s last words echoed clearly in her mind. She hadn’t been able to help much, but maybe she could at least offer something now.

Haejun looked exhausted. He let out a heavy sigh, as if life itself had worn him down.

“It’s winter break, so the CCTV in the annex was off. And aside from the victim, there were no signs that anyone else came or went. But there are enough weird details that we can’t just call it an accident. It’s still under investigation. It’d be irresponsible to call it suicide without proper evidence.”

If she screamed, “It was a ghost!” now, they’d probably commit her. So Seula kept her mouth shut, sitting there in uneasy silence.

She was starting to realize just how much of the world remained a mystery—how little power humans actually had. You could fight with everything you had and still find yourself gone in a flash.

Sometimes, that thought drained her will to live. But then again, if death was inevitable, maybe she wanted to fill each fleeting moment with something beautiful—something worth remembering.

“She wanted to live.”

Bok-young had wanted to take the college entrance exam, go to university, and enjoy her youth like everyone else. She was gone now, but the longing for life she had carried still clung to Seula.

“It’s important to uncover the truth. But I hope you’ll also take the victim’s feelings into account.”

Haejun tilted his head at her gentle plea.

“Did you know the deceased?”

“Not exactly…”

“Since when were you this interested in my cases?”

“I always care. Have I ever brushed off what you said?”

At that moment, Tae-shin cut in smoothly.

“She’s always been interested, huh?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I’m getting tired. If the interrogation’s over, can we leave now?”

Tae-shin stood up, gathering their half-finished coffees.

As he went to get the car, Haejun looked down at Seula, standing alone in front of the café.

“There’s something off about all this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since we bumped into each other in Cheonghae-dong, I’ve had a weird feeling.”

“About Tae-shin?”

“You too.”

His instincts were frighteningly sharp—borderline psychic. Maybe it was all the cases he’d worked, or maybe he was just born this way. Hard to say which came first.

“Seula, you’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?”

She felt the hairs on her arms rise at his quiet accusation.

“What would I even hide from you…”

“Be careful. Someone’s watching.”

He raised two fingers to his eyes, then pointed toward her. Seula rolled her eyes and tried to laugh it off. Just then, Tae-shin’s car pulled up.

“I’m heading out. Take care.”

She quickly slipped into the passenger seat. As the car pulled away slowly, she glanced at Haejun through the side mirror. He stood there for a long time, unmoving.

Seula let out a small sigh.

Somehow, she felt herself slipping further away from reality.

***

The days that followed were unusually peaceful. Boring, even. No ghost attacks. No mysterious fevers. Not even a single call from the grim reaper.

“I think being unemployed suits me.”

She stretched out on the rocking chair in front of the fireplace, sipping cocoa after clearing the snow and eating a warm breakfast cooked by Tae-shin.

Back in the day, she used to squeeze onto packed subways, battling through commutes in rain and snow. Thinking about it now made her feel like she was in a different life altogether.

Tae-shin, reading on the couch, looked up.

“That’s what lazy people always say.”

Fair enough. She wasn’t doing anything. And she didn’t want to do anything, either.

“Do you like working, Tae-shin? Do people like that really exist?”

“I don’t love it, but I think some structure is necessary. If you let yourself go, it’s easy to spiral into complete lethargy.”

She’d always wondered about that. Humans craved rest and sleep—so why did too much of it make life feel so meaningless? She didn’t believe in God, but if someone had designed humans that way, it was a twisted sense of humor.

“Still, I can’t imagine you being lazy. You always wake up and go to bed at the same time, eat all three meals, clean every day, walk Dong-gil like clockwork… You make every day look so efficient.”

Tae-shin paused, as if something tugged at his thoughts.

“There was a time I didn’t go outside for a while.”

It was the first time he’d ever brought up his past voluntarily, and Seula leaned in, listening closely.

“I didn’t even want to wake up. I’d close my eyes, sleep again. Too tired to eat properly—sometimes I’d just pour rice in water or skip meals altogether. Back then, Dong-gil was the one taking care of me.”

“And you didn’t even take him out for walks? Rude.”

“He managed. He’d roam around the neighborhood, even mooch food off the neighbors.”

Makes sense. The people in this neighborhood weren’t exactly normal either, and Dong-gil definitely wasn’t an ordinary dog.

“What happened? Something must’ve triggered it.”

Tae-shin folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

“I guess… I was alive only because I didn’t know how to die.”

That hit hard. It sounded like classic depression. She’d never imagined someone like Tae-shin having a dark past like that. She felt a twinge of sympathy.

“Tell me more. How did you end up in this hanok all alone? How’d you meet Dong-gil? When did you start helping lost souls?”

He frowned slightly, a crack forming in his usually composed expression.

“It’s been so long… I barely remember.”

Liar. No matter how old a memory is, the ones we don’t want to forget always stay sharp.

The more he clammed up, the more curious she became. But instead of answering, he turned the question back on her.

“What about you, Seula? What kind of life did you have before your ‘Mudoo’ started?”

His voice was gentle—so soft it melted in her ears. Realizing she wouldn’t get more from him, Seula turned her gaze to the flickering flames in the fireplace.

“I grew up in an orphanage. Other kids remember the exact moment they were dropped off, but I was left when I was a baby. I don’t even remember my parents’ faces.”

“You must hold a grudge against Samshin Halmi.”

“Samshin… what?”

“You know, the goddess who grants children and oversees childbirth.”

He said it so seriously, it was almost funny.

“If she exists, I’d grab her by the collar and demand answers. Why was I born like this?”

Tae-shin laughed quietly, covering his face with his book.

“Well, if you ever meet her, let me know. I’d love to see her reaction.”