Unfortunate Girls

I knew I risked my life when I decided to say this, "Elizabeth?"

The guard was still shouting, so I tried to be louder than him. I felt someone's hand grab my shoulder to prevent me from talking, but I didn't care and repeated the word over and over. Until the guard stopped, and I saw his eyes go wide.

"Elizabeth," I repeated, slower. "Elizabeth Báthory."

I wasn't sure the guard would understand me. But he certainly heard me because he was glowering, his eyes glimmering as if the name of a legendary infamous woman lit the idea inside his head. His mouth opened as if he was going to say another word, but then he closed it and, suddenly, walked fast, leaving the cells behind.

The cells fell into a profound silence after the guard went. Even the sobbing I heard before stopped. Next to me, slowly releasing her grip from my shoulder, the sarcastic girl murmured, "Who is Elizabeth?"

"The crest," instead I said. "Didn't you see it?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I turned around impatiently. "The guard's tattoo! Didn't you see it? A dragon with white teeth—"

The girl nodded briskly. "Yes, yes, I saw it. Others have seen it, too, not just in one person. Some think it's a symbol of a cult, like Jeong Na," she pointed at a girl behind her. "Others, like Shin Hyeong, say that it might be a syndicate symbol."

"No, it's not like that at all," I shook my head, then proceeded to tell the girls what I knew of the tattoo and Elizabeth Báthory. I was being careful, though, now and then looking behind my back. Whenever I heard footsteps, even faintly, I went mute until the sound vanished, then continued my story. I even told the girls about my journey from Daegu to Seoul. How I witnessed something I shouldn't have in my friend's apartment and how I planned to look for Min Gyeong, along with her brother and his friend. Until I got knocked out and woke up in this cold prison.

A couple of girls who listened to my story gasped and murmured to each other. Yet the sarcastic girl—who later introduced herself as Su Ji—was expressionless until I finished my story. Then, she said, "Well, some story you've got there. With your extensive knowledge, you must have an explanation as to what connection the symbol has with this prison."

I shook my head. "Unfortunately, I don't know what connection it has, whether with this place or with you and all the girls here. What I told you about the legend behind the crest just now might possibly be rumors and it can't explain anything to us. Besides, it's a Hungarian tale, and doesn't have anything to do with us Koreans."

"But it has similarities, though," Jeong Na interrupted. "Like, everyone in here is a female, captured and imprisoned without any clear reason. Every now and then a guard or two will come down and drag one of us out to some place we don't know yet. Sometimes they will scream and wail, sometimes they still do that until they're too far beyond our sight. Whether they're being tortured like the girls in your story, though, we have no idea."

"It's possible," muttered a thin girl next to Jeong Na. "There's a possibility that we've been brought here to be killed."

"Don't be so dramatic," Su Ji replied curtly. "Before we die here, at least tell me why we should die here, of all places. Then I'll kill them all one by one before they can even think to touch me."

We were silent, deep in thoughts about dying in this particular situation. I couldn't imagine myself or Min Gyeong getting killed in some unknown location. What came to my mind instead were Min Gi and Yeo Joon. How were they doing right now? Were they looking for us? But did they have any idea where we were exactly?

Suddenly, Su Ji raised her head and spoke, "By the way, why did your friend come to Seoul?"

I inhaled deeply, despite the cell's damp air. "She was supposed to meet this photographer in Seoul, who had invited her to work together on some project. Min Gyeong is a model; she's dreaming of moving to Seoul and working there. So when her manager told her about the news from Seoul, she was excited she left Daegu immediately the day after."

Su Ji bit her nails. "My manager told me almost the same thing."

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

She shrugged, then continued, "I'm a model, too. Not from a big agency, but sometimes I appear in some advertisements. I'm not a known model, so when my manager told me about an offer to work with a world-renowned movie director, I hurriedly jumped in the idea. They told me that I'd be filming a movie with him in Macau and Hawaii, and I'd get paid handsomely and be introduced to other famous actors." Su Ji chuckled. "Oh, what a fool I am! I never got to the airport. The last thing I remember, I was still having lunch with my manager and feeling dizzy, as if the room was melting and swirling, and I woke up here." She gestured around her.

"It's what happened to me, too," said Shin Hyeong, who sat next to me. "I'm not a model, but I'm a college student and I work part-time at a bar. This guy, a customer, suddenly talked to me and asked me if I wanted to be a singer—a real singer—after he heard me singing at the bar. He was willing to be my manager, and he gave me an address of his studio and told me to come meet him tomorrow there. As you can expect," she shrugged, "I never made it there. I was walking back home after work, and suddenly something hit me hard. I woke up here, just like the others. See, I'm even still wearing my working uniform." Shin Hyeong pointed at her shirt and black skirt.

Not long after both girls finished their story, others also filled in. With hushed voices and furtive glances down the corridor outside the cell, we were being careful in case someone came or listened to us. We even designated one girl to watch over while we exchanged stories. In turn, I told them about the current situation in the outside world. How people still enjoyed their summer break, lots of tourists on vacation flooding Seoul, and the news of missing women were drowned among other, more insignificant, news.

There was this girl who was still fifteen years old and got home late from school. She rode a bus but never reached home; instead, she woke up in this unknown place. The other was twenty years old, a college sophomore studying fine art. In one exhibition, she was discussing with another guest, and he told her how he would like her to be his muse. She was invited to this man's apartment. After one drink, she didn't remember anything else, and the rest was the same as the others. The only thing they didn't remember was how long they'd been locked up down here. Or if it was morning or midnight at the time we were chatting now.

It was such a long talk, the longest I'd ever done in my life. I didn't have many friends, there was only Min Gyeong, and even then, she was always the one who talked, while I only listened. But now I got to speak, and I was unaware that, as the conversation went on and on, I slowly leaned myself to the wall, and drowsiness seeped into my mind, closing my eyes and ears to the dark hole I'd fallen into.