Attached to the email was a PDF. Dahye opened it and saw that it was a flyer. MOLKA SUPPORT GROUP, it read. There was a picture of a camera with a big red X going through it. Dahye was annoyed. Despite everything Bora had said, she was still meddling. Dahye went to delete it, swearing to herself that she would never open another email from Bora ever again. But she stopped just as she located the small trashcan icon. Hyukjoon’s father’s voice rang hotly in her ears:Look at you—ruining your life over some common whores.
Was there any harm in checking out the group? It was close by, in a conference room at a study café near Seoul-dae. If she walked, it would only take her about forty minutes. She glanced at the time. There was still an hour and a half before the meeting began. Grabbing her jacket from the top of the suitcase, Dahye jogged out the door.
+
The café was cozy, with brick walls, suspended lights, and shelves crowded with books and plants. With Hyukjoon’s cash, Dahye ordered an iced Americano and a croissant, thenwandered up to the second floor. There were four conference rooms in total. The first two were unoccupied. In the third one, a young man was hunched over his laptop, typing furiously. He glanced up at her quickly before turning his attention back to his screen.
The last room was the biggest. Dahye peeked in through the window. Four women were seated around the table, talking animatedly. Dahye raised her fist to knock but hesitated, letting her arm fall back at her side. One of the women looked up and spotted her. She waved. The other women followed suit. Dahye blushed. Took a step back. Before she could run down the stairs, the woman nearest to the door stood and opened it.
“Hello! Come inside. We were just about to get started. My name is Lisa. It’s nice to meet you.”
“N—nice to meet you,” Dahye stammered. Lisa was of indeterminable age. Something about her demeanor made her seem older, though her face had a youthful charm. She could have been twenty-five or forty-five, and either way, Dahye wouldn’t have been surprised.
Feeling vaguely uncomfortable, Dahye sat in the unclaimed chair next to Lisa. She wondered if they would ask her to do some kind of introduction, to explain the trauma that led her to join them. But the women continued their conversation as though Dahye wasn’t there.
“I don’t think she did anything wrong,” a young woman said. She looked to be a university student by the way she was dressed: a baseball cap and loose denim overalls over a short-sleeve button-up shirt. “It was one picture. One! How is that different than what he did?”
“It’s outrageous. Ten months in prison for that? Last year, those pricks who put the cameras in the Hongik University Station bathroom got six months each,” another woman added.
Lisa, seeing the confusion on Dahye’s face, leaned in. “One of our previous members was sentenced to prison for ten months for sharing a nude picture of her ex-boyfriend. You might have seen it on Naver. There was an article about it this morning.”
Dahye shook her head. “I haven’t been online much lately.”
“It’s a long story, but the gist is that she caught her ex showing private pictures to his friends. She confronted him, and he denied it. When she went to the police, they told her they couldn’t do anything without proof. She kept going back, until finally, they told her off and gave her a warning,” Lisa explained. “She was distraught by the whole ordeal. Decided she would take matters into her own hands. Terrible stuff.”
“Can you blame her?” The woman who looked to be a university student gave a quick nod in Dahye’s direction. “By the way, I’m Hara.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“That’s Jin”—Hara pointed to the woman across from her, who looked to be half-Korean—“And that’s Haneul.” Hara pointed to the woman next to Jin. Haneul lifted a tentative hand, then sat with her head bowed. She had a pen and a pad of paper in her lap. Dahye noticed she had almost no visible eyebrows.
“Anyway. Now I want to post pictures of my ex-boyfriend, too,” Hara said darkly.
“Don’t be stupid,” Jin said. “You’re going to get in trouble and ruin your life.”
“My life is already ruined,” Hara said cheerfully. She turned to Dahye. “When we broke up, my ex-boyfriend sent a bunch of videos to my parents and posted them on my university’s online board. I didn’t even know the videos existed in the first place.”
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry,” Dahye said.
“After it happened, my father beat me half to death and threw me out of the house. I was expelled from SNU, too.”
Dahye recoiled. She opened her mouth and started stammering. How did anybody respond to a statement like that? But Hara began to laugh.
“Thank god,” Dahye said, relieved. “I thought you were serious.”
“Oh, no. I wasn’t joking,” Hara said.
“You’ll scare her away,” Lisa butted in.
“Alright, I’ll stop,” Hara grumbled. “Though I want to note that that’s called censorship.”
“No, it’s not—”
“Can we stay on topic for once? Please?” Haneul interrupted, tapping the end of her pen against the table.
“Right,” Lisa said hastily. “Sorry.” She looked at Dahye. “It’s a small meeting today, but usually we have a lot more people. One time we had twenty. They kicked us out of the room for that, and we had to meet outside in the street. The main goal is to support each other. Last year, we helped organize that big protest—”
“You were the ones who organized that?” Dahye asked. “The one downtown?”