Too much work... A special case...Recognition strikes sharply.
I crouch down in front of his kennel, keeping my movements slow. He flinches, pressing himself farther into the corner. I don’t try to reach for him. I just sit on the cold concrete floor, cross my legs, and wait.
“What’s his breed?”
She scratches her chin. “I’m not sure… I think he’s a dachshund mixed with something,” she says, glancing over the patch of brown, trembling fur.
After a few moments of silence, she asks, “You’re an actress, aren’t you? Yoon Min-hee?”
I tense, bracing for the inevitable judgment and awkward questions.
“Mydaughter was a huge fan of Jellypop,” she says, her smile soft and nostalgic. “She’ll be so thrilled I met you.”
And that’s it. No mention of the scandal. No knowing looks. Just a simple, kind statement that feels like a lifesaver.
I smile at her. “Really? Do you want me to sign something for her? Or take a picture together?”
“Oh! My daughter would be so happy!” Mi-young quickly tears a blank page from her notebook, hands me a pen, and readies her phone. Somehow it makes me happy too—that there’s still someone out there who’s glad to see me.
I stay there a while longer, sitting as a quiet, non-threatening presence in front of Hondongi’s cage. He still watches me with those saucer eyes, his small body trembling. Then, finally, he uncurls—just a fraction. He takes a single, tentative step forward, nose twitching, his big, scared eyes fixed on me.
All ribs and fear and desperate need for love—his heart, I realize, mirrors my own.
My voice breaks into a whisper meant only for him. “Are you alone and lost like me, too?”
Bora leans in the doorway, hands on her hips, smiling like she’s watching a soap opera. “Well… congratulations. You’ve officially adopted the chaos.”
I laugh. “Yes. Chaos, meet me. Me, meet Chaos.”
***
The first night with Hondongi is awkward. He spends the entire time hiding under my sofa, refusing to eat, refusing to drink, refusing to even look at me. It feels less like I’ve adopted a dog and more like I’ve acquired a small, furry, and deeply judgmental ghost.
By the second day, he’s still hiding under the sofa and hasn’t touched anything in his bowl. Panic starts creeping in. I call Bora.
“Have you tried giving him wet food or snacks?” she says. “Usually they prefer those over kibbles.”
After a frantic, desperate plea for help, she shows up at my apartment with an armful of supplies—packs of wet food, more kibble, a leash and collar, and a fluffy rabbit squeaky toy.
“Just put the food in front of the sofa and leave the room,” she instructs. “No noise, no sudden moves. Check if it’s gone the next morning.”
I nod, feeling both ridiculous and relieved.
“You’ll be fine,” she says. “Call me if there’s… another development.”
As she’s stepping out, she turns back. “Oh, right. Shin asked about you. Are you guys… fighting or something?”
I shake my head. “No… but you know how overprotective he is. I just… need a little space to breathe.”
Bora smirks, folding her arms. “Overprotective? That man treats you like a glass sculpture on a cliff. Honestly, it’s kind of sweet—but also, yeah, I get it… it can be too much.”
I laugh under my breath. “Exactly.”
She softens, glancing toward the sofa. “Just don’t shut him out completely, okay? He worries in twelve dimensions at once.”
I nod, thank her, and slip back into my room—trying not to disturb the ‘ghost’ hiding under my sofa in the living room.
***
