Toobo

A kind girl falls in love with a vicious killer. Unhinged Yuri story set in Seoul.

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“Like a prey waiting with a trap, I missed my predator. 

I missed her touch in the places I’ve never been touched. 

I wanted to hear her sing the songs that I’ve never heard.”

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As the blood dripped off the knife she held firmly in her pale hand, I saw my reflection in the cold blade that had just taken the life of a man. 

I dreamed of magical moments like this every day. 

Something - someone to come and free me from the suffocating monotony of normalcy. 

She stormed into my life brandishing death, and in the moment of madness, my heart fluttered.

Then she came to my place, uninvited. I treated her wounds and fed her. She slept on my couch like a cat. We started our lives together. Death bound us like the knot of tie I fixed for her as she left for work - to kill, kill, and to kill again. 

I spent countless nights sitting in darkness, on my couch hugging my knees, gripped with worry and excitement. I prayed for her safe return home, but I did not pray for the souls she’d be sending to hell. 

But she always returned, like a stray cat coming for food in the back alley behind a restaurant. I was the cook who put out the food for her, stroked her, and gave her shelter.

A stray cat. A great feline predator. She was mine and mine alone. 

Together we laughed, alone I cried. 

Together we laughed, alone I cried. 

But I think we also loved. 

I think. 

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This is a dark and twisted psychological slice-of-life romantic comedy with a sprinkle of inspiration from the noir genre. If that doesn’t make sense, it’s because it doesn’t.

Miho the Killer

Miho was right that she slept well that night.

She slept like a baby, deeper than she had done on any night leading up to the big job.

I, on the other hand, struggled.

I was exhausted, and completely drained physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Yet, every time I closed my eyes all I could see was the bloodshed of the night at Club Volta.

I relived every single moment of the night again and again. Every stab, every slash, every fallen body. And it all ended with the lullaby of Miho and Detective Choi's dead body on the ground.

Even in this safe house of Shin, I no longer felt safe. Perhaps there were no outside dangers heading our way, but the inescapable violence was now engraved in my mind. I knew I would probably never be able to erase these images from my mind again. And I wondered what kind of a monster I must be to be able to live a normal life with these memories.

The Morning After