The News Travels Faster Than the Bride

Mu-young stood outside the door for a long while after ringing the bell. She knew the passcode, but something made her want to wait it out. Only after she pressed the bell a second time did the officetel door swing open.

“Why not just punch in the code and come in? Haaam.”

Hae-ju, hair a tangled mess and eyes barely open, shuffled barefoot to the door and let her in. Then, without so much as checking who it was, she turned and wandered back inside. The sight drew a scolding out of Mu-young before she could stop it.

“At least look at who's at the door before you open it.”

“Nobody else would come.”

Hae-ju answered as she pulled open the refrigerator door, then grabbed an entire large bottle of water and started gulping it down. Mu-young shook her head and surveyed the room, clutter strewn everywhere.

“When exactly… did you last clean this place?”

“No idea. Can't remember.”

“We should tidy up.”

Since they were at it anyway, she set down her bag and rolled up her sleeves — at which point Hae-ju shook her head, seized her by the arm, and marched her to the table, sitting her down.

“Hey, hey, stop. I'm just going to mess it up again, so what's the point.”

Instead, Hae-ju declared they should eat, snatching up the bag from the hamburger chain that Mu-young had brought. When she asked if there was anything Mu-young wanted, Mu-young nodded and let her have it. Nothing cut through a hangover quite like a hamburger.

“How much did you drink?”

“I'd rather not know.”

“You are just….”

At the look in Mu-young's eyes — the world is a scary place, please be careful — Hae-ju nodded preemptively, cutting off the lecture before it could start.

“It couldn't be helped this time. It was my farewell party.”

She explained herself between bites, tearing into the hamburger before the bag was even fully open. Mu-young stabbed a straw into a cola and set it down in front of her, then tore the fries bag open with a crisp snap and poured them out for easy eating. Watching her squeeze out ketchup as well, Hae-ju shook her head with a long, exasperated ruffle of her hair.

“Is this what being a National Assembly aide does to you? Taking care of people just happens automatically? Ease up on the mothering and eat your own food. Before I steal it.”

At the warning, Mu-young just smiled and slid a hamburger over to her in advance.

“You eat it. I bought it for you anyway.”

“Who are you, my mother? Even Mrs. Park doesn't go this far.”

Grumbling all the while, Hae-ju dutifully dipped her fries into the ketchup Mu-young had squeezed out and wolfed them down. It was already pushing into the afternoon and she'd only just gotten up, so she was no doubt starving. Mu-young had come precisely because she'd guessed as much, and watching her friend eat so heartily put her in a good mood.

“Where were you coming from, anyway? You're dressed up.”

The neat two-piece outfit looked a touch different from her usual attire, and Hae-ju had noticed. Mu-young found herself agonizing over how to break the news of her marriage to her closest friend. Having weathered Ji-ae's reaction once already, the words wouldn't come easily.

Just then, a frantic ringtone sounded from somewhere. It wasn't Mu-young's — hers was on vibrate. Hae-ju rose irritably from her seat mid-bite, fished her own phone out from the direction of the bed, and wandered back to the table as she pressed the answer button.

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me directly? Run it through the desk chief, and for God's sake get it together.”

Sounded like a call from one of the junior reporters on her team. Hae-ju had landed a job at a newspaper and was working as a social affairs reporter. If ever a saying proved true — that a job reshapes a person — it was this; her speech and manner had grown noticeably rougher than in the old days.

Hae-ju had gone to the same high school as Mu-young. Once university and working life swept them up, they'd grown too busy to see each other often, but she was always the first friend who came to mind whenever something happened. Perhaps because they'd met in the school's politics and diplomacy club and were the only classmates whose connection had lasted all these years.

With Hae-ju a newspaper reporter and Mu-young a National Assembly aide, they'd even developed a kind of professional common ground, which had only drawn them closer.

“I tried to raise that punk because he seemed to have a sense of justice, but I think he's a dud. Zero instincts. Zero.”

Dropping the phone onto the table as if discarding it, Hae-ju launched into her lament about the junior on the other end of the line. They say it's hard these days to find even a senior willing to take a junior under their wing — and in that respect, Hae-ju seemed to overflow with even more humanity than Mu-young did.

“So now that I'm transferring to the political desk, I'm yesterday's leftovers… oh wait, I never told you, did I? At long last, this Jeong Hae-ju storms the gates of the political desk. Muahahaha.”

So that was the farewell party. Only now did Mu-young understand her friend's situation. Hae-ju's long-cherished dream had been to enter the political desk and become a National Assembly beat reporter. It was a post you only earned after putting in your grind at the social affairs desk, to put it crudely. Mu-young knew firsthand from what she'd heard — the competition and backstabbing there were every bit as fierce as Yeouido's. That Hae-ju had crossed that line of fire and landed exactly where she wanted to be filled Mu-young with genuine respect.

“Congratulations. If you'd told me in advance, I'd have at least brought a cake.”

Hae-ju was never one to broadcast this sort of thing, so Mu-young usually only caught wind of it in passing. Today had been no different. She'd assumed her friend was simply drinking as usual and suffering through the hangover — turns out there'd been an occasion to celebrate. Mu-young felt as delighted as if it were her own good news.

“Forget the cake. A hamburger is the greatest gift there is, for me.”

Watching her friend wink with sauce smeared across her mouth, Mu-young felt her other worries recede, if only for a moment. She had come here intending to bring up the marriage, and this was exactly why she kept putting it off.

“Anyway, it's back to hell on earth from here, I guess. The ones who've already dug in are going to guard their turf like mad. Wonder if I can fight all of them off and cover what I actually want to cover.”

“What do you want to cover most?”

“Well, first I've got to take down those Mirae Party bastards, obviously? It's my lifelong project. You know Baek Kang-ho, the first-term lawmaker elected this time? The hunting dog they transferred over from the Prosecutor's Office by milking his pretty face for public sympathy. That's where I'm going to start digging.”

Faced with Hae-ju's blazing resolve, Mu-young couldn't summon a single response. Why, of all moments, of all targets. She didn't know whether to call it fate.

“You know anything about him?”

Hae-ju asked, popping another fry into her mouth. Mu-young decided she couldn't put it off any longer. Even now.

“Hae-ju.”

“Hmm? Oh — hold on.”

Hae-ju's gaze snapped straight to her phone. Scooping a story meant information and speed decided everything; the moment a screen lit up, it had to be checked first. This time it seemed to be a report by text, and her expression turned grave.

“…What the—? Are you kidding me. Says here Baek Kang-ho's getting married?”

Hae-ju's voice shot up into the register of disbelief. How had this news traveled this far, this fast? Mu-young could only squeeze her eyes shut. Whatever plan she'd had about telling her friend first had clearly sailed.

“Who's the bride? Is it Choi Hee-jin from TUS? There's a new announcer there with serious connections — her boyfriend's older brother is a assemblyman, and Baek Kang-ho's his best friend, apparently. The families know each other well, too. If it's that arrangement… huh? Wait, what? No, it's not.”

Hae-ju briefed her on the report, piling on details Mu-young would rather not have heard. A part of Mu-young wondered what was even the point of interrupting now to say that the bride was her.

“The bride is a former aide from another party, same age as… hey, look at this. Says she's a lot like you.”

“Because it is me.”

“Uh… huh? Wha—?”

Hae-ju, who'd been glued to the phone screen, jerked her head up in shock. Her eyes said she couldn't believe what she'd just heard was real.

“That's why I came today.”

“Er, what? What do you… hold on, hang on, I'm not….”

Wondering if her friend was still drunk, Hae-ju shook her head hard to clear it. But there sat Mu-young, right in front of her, with eyes impossibly calm. So that's why her outfit looked off — and when the deduction landed on the formal family banquet, Hae-ju clapped both hands over her mouth.

“We had the sang-gyeon-rye today. I'm on my way home from it.”

“Holy — oh my God.”

Hae-ju's reaction was so theatrically over the top that Mu-young found it faintly amusing. Honestly, she'd transcended it all by now. And if learning she was marrying Baek Kang-ho made Hae-ju keep her at arm's length — well, so be it. Relationships could end just like that, overnight.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.”

“Hey, this is not the kind of thing you apologize for!”

But Hae-ju's reaction was nothing like what Mu-young had braced herself for.

“I mean, you don't know who I've been sleeping with either, do you?”

On matters of private life they'd never pried into each other's affairs, and Hae-ju simply seemed to take it as it came. In a way, it was exactly like her.

“Hey, wait… what is that? Something's vibrating over there. Isn't that your phone?”

A phone was ringing from the direction of Mu-young's bag. Hae-ju's gaze fixed on it, curious. There was a flicker of expectation in her eyes — could it be Baek Kang-ho? Mu-young didn't think so. Her guess was her aunt, calling now that she'd arrived home.

It was an unknown number. Mu-young hesitated over whether to answer, then pressed the call button. In her years as an aide, journalists she didn't know had a habit of calling out of the blue.

“Hello, this is Lee Mu-young.”

The moment she heard the woman's name, Mu-young knew exactly who she was.