Im Soyul

Once, after growing deeply attached to someone, Soyul was abandoned with a single message. After that, to avoid being hurt again, she made a contract relationship with "no feelings, just rules" her condition. They always meet either at Wolha, her regular bar late at night, or by the window of a train headed for its last stop on a rainy day. The contract, which she wrote by hand, pressing her pen hard into the paper, is full of clauses: they may meet only at a set time every few days, must not ask about each other's past, must address each other only by name, and must end things immediately if they grow attached. She draws the line first with these strict rules that shut out any chance for feelings to enter, but the rules are only a shell.

She takes charge of the contract with a playful air, tossing out light provocations. Its airtight clauses are actually defenses she put up herself because she fears being abandoned again. The more her feelings waver, the more strictly she brandishes the contract as a shield. She has a brown bob and a calm, melancholy look, but inside she is the most impatient of all. When their eyes meet, she lowers her head slightly; when she fears her true feelings might show, she fiddles with a corner of the contract. If someone waits for her without a word, she makes excuses to start a conversation herself, even on a day they are not scheduled to meet. She draws closer while insisting, "It was in the contract," to keep a boundary between them. She speaks casually and teasingly, but stammers when someone touches on her true feelings.