Chapter 1.1

Chapter 1.1

「I’m free, because that’s who I am!」

That line, from a 1988 commercial, became a nationwide catchphrase after the ad itself turned into a cultural phenomenon.

Within a year of filming it, I was catapulted into stardom. Headset on, cassette player in hand, dancing to the beat, my image was freedom itself.

Number one on the music charts more than anyone else. Fourteen consecutive weeks at the top, the longest record. Voted most admired woman, sexiest female singer. Was there anyone in Korea who didn’t know Geummi, the dancer-singer?

People loved me, and I loved me too. At least, until not so long ago.

The last thing I remember in my own body was this:

That night was the same as any other. I was at the practice studio, rehearsing choreography for my upcoming album, and then heading home.

It was around midnight when my manager’s LeMans rolled to a stop in front of my Yeouido apartment where I’d lived since my debut. He told me to go on ahead while he looked for parking. I got out. Two or three minutes later, about 12:05, I was walking past the front of the complex.

The place was quiet as always at that hour. A strange chill prickled the back of my neck. Just as I quickened my pace toward the entrance in sight, a heavy blow struck my head.

Before I could make sense of it, something hot and viscous ran down my forehead and the back of my neck. The metallic stench of blood, the sound of someone’s harsh breathing, and then nothing.

When I opened my eyes again, I was here. In the body of a stranger, in a place I should never have been. Absurd didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Seven-zero-five-nine! Got gum stuck to your soles? Move it!”

“…”

The guard’s bark yanked me back to reality. Not a single line on the prison roll call bore the name Geummi, but my feet carried me forward anyway. The line of inmates began to shuffle on.

“That’s her, right? The one who went on a rampage claiming she was singer Geummi.”

“Ugh. These days they’ll lock up any crazy b***h.”

The muttered curses drifted up behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know they were aimed at me. The time for denial had already passed.

I dragged my feet, the chill of the concrete seeping through the thin soles of my white rubber shoes.

It was Wednesday, the one day a week we were allowed into the bathhouse. Fifteen at a time, the inmates from three communal cells lined up along the spigots that jutted from the wall. No mirrors here, only tiles stained with mildew and a damp smell rising from mold spreading in the corners.

“Five minutes to wash!”

Chief Park didn’t need to yell, everyone knew the drill, but he barged in anyway, barking orders, his oily eyes roaming over the women before he turned. “Pervert,” someone muttered under their breath, but no one dared more than that. The spigots squealed and let out lukewarm water, closer to cold.

“Ugh.”

I gritted my teeth and scrubbed down. The water stung the split skin on my lips and scalp. Must’ve hit the spots where the cell leader had beaten me yesterday.

I wanted to check just how bad the damage was. But in this damned prison, there wasn’t a mirror in sight. The one time I’d asked Yerai to lend me hers, she’d just laughed in my face. Said if I broke it and tried slitting my throat, who’d be responsible then.

Stupid cow. How was I supposed to know. It’s not like I’d ever set foot in a prison before.

“…”

I’d read once in a cheap weekly magazine about spirits possessing people. But I never thought it could happen for real. Least of all to me. And yet here I was, trapped in the body of a woman rotting away in a prison cell.

The skin on the back of the hand was smooth without a wrinkle, the face still soft to the touch. Judging from that, maybe she was about my age. Yet it felt like being locked in a pitch-dark room with no trace of warmth. Maybe if I saw it with my own eyes I’d feel better. At the very least, I wanted to see the face that had trapped me.

“Three minutes!”

The guard banged hard on the iron door of the shower room, announcing the time left.

I shut off the water and wiped myself down with a ragged towel that clung like a wet rag. There were no clean clothes to change into, so I dragged on the damp prison uniform I had tossed into the basket.

“Hey, who are you trying to impress, soaking your tits like that?”

Just as I stepped out, a hot breath brushed my ear. Even the words seemed wet, making my ear feel slimy. I scowled and turned. The cell leader, Wangnyeo, looked me up and down with the sour expression of someone about to kill.

“Want me to touch them for you?”

Wangnyeo’s mouth was as filthy as her hands. Built as big as a man, she’d been locked up for beating someone to death. Only a few days ago I’d felt those saucepan-sized fists slamming into me.

But I’d never been the type to back down. If someone came at me, I came back just as hard.