Chapter 1 : Missing

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap—

The sound of keyboards clacking busily echoed from all around. I, too, was one of them, typing away at an email. 

Normally, I’d just attach a standard template greeting and get straight to work-related matters, but today’s email was a little different. 

‘Well, not that different—it’s still something I write every day.’

Subject: Inquiry Regarding Today’s Manuscript 

Hello, [Author Name], 

This is Lee Ha-je from Dotori Media. I’m reaching out because the manuscript scheduled for upload today has not yet been submitted. 

If you need to take a hiatus, please feel free to let us know by 4 PM today. Otherwise, I’ll follow up regarding the schedule via KakaoTalk, text, or phone between 3 and 4 PM. 

Thank you. 

‘Hmm…’

‘This should be fine, right?’

I reread the email to make sure it didn’t come off as too pushy while still gently reminding the sensitive author. 

‘Well, to be honest, I should be pushy right now.’

The manuscript for today’s web novel update still hadn’t arrived. But this author had always sent it in by 3 PM at the latest, even on their slowest days, so I decided to wait a little longer. 

Sighing, I turned my attention to other authors who also hadn’t sent in their updates.

Fortunately, one of them read my KakaoTalk message right away and replied within a minute—along with a sticker of a tearful hamster rubbing its paws—promising to submit the manuscript by 2 PM. 

I sent back a polite “Thank you for your hard work!” with a cute bowing character sticker. 

Just as I finished, a sharp pain shot through my head. I pressed my temples hard, only to notice my colleague next to me silently gripping their hair and violently twisting their upper body. 

This colleague—my mentor when I first joined—had been on the phone with their assigned author for over an hour now, listening to their complaints. 

‘Senior, you look like you need coffee…’ 

With overtime practically guaranteed today, even the takeout cup on my desk was already empty. 

I slipped out of the office and headed down to the franchise café on the first floor, ordering herbal tea for myself and a comforting coffee for my senior.

While waiting, I checked the chat rooms of the web novel authors who hadn’t responded yet. 

Some had read my messages but didn’t reply, while others hadn’t even opened them. The author I’d emailed earlier—”Dokgam Author”—was still marked as unread. 

‘The others aren’t scheduled for updates today, so it’s fine… but Dokgam Author is the issue here.’ 

Plenty of authors had a habit of ghosting or suddenly dropping out without notice, but Dokgam Author wasn’t like that.

Even if they were struggling, they’d at least request a hiatus by the morning of the deadline. 

‘This is the first time they’ve gone radio silent for so long…’ 

I knew I shouldn’t overthink it—there were too many authors to keep track of—but something about this felt off. 

‘It’s probably nothing.’ 

Please, let it be nothing. 

Even if they did bail last-minute, it’d be their loss, not mine. But still, when someone who’s usually reliable suddenly acts out of character, it’s hard not to worry. 

‘Maybe I should try reaching out again?’

I checked the time—1:40 PM. I’d wait until 3 PM, as mentioned in the email. 

‘If they don’t respond to KakaoTalk… well, I’ll just call.’ 

Some authors preferred calls, but most of mine leaned toward emails or KakaoTalk. Dokgam Author was one of them, so I usually avoided calling unless necessary. 

But today… something told me I might have to. 

★★★

“Of course, Author-nim. Yes, yes. I’ll wait for the manuscript. No, really—don’t feel too pressured. Mhm. Got it.” 

Finally, my senior ended the call and set her phone down.

The people around her mimed applause—’Finally hung up? How many hours this time?’—as light chatter filled the office. 

I placed the coffee on her desk and slid back into my seat. 

“Oh, Ha-je-ssi. Is this for me? Thanks.”

“You bought me coffee last time,” I said. “By the way, was that the same author as last Friday? The two-hour call…?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. They’ve always needed a little coaxing, but lately, they’ve been struggling with writer’s block. Not like talking to me actually helps, though.” 

A colleague from across the room chimed in, “They’re just a recluse living alone with no one to talk to, that’s all.”

A chorus of ‘Yeah, yeah’ echoed around us. 

My senior laughed it off.

“Well, as long as they turn in the manuscript, I don’t care.” 

The brief commotion settled, and the office quieted again. 

I returned to proofreading manuscripts and checking promotions allocated to our team, scanning for anything suitable for my authors.

Unfortunately, none of mine were big-name writers, so the available promos were all mid-tier. 

“Hmm…..”

The best option was a points rebate tied to purchased episodes—subtle enough not to spike competition and perfect for Dokgam Author’s lengthy series.

The catch? We’d have to unlock 20 free chapters, which meant negotiating. A good excuse to reach out again.

By the time I finished securing the promo, it was just past 3 PM. 

I sent another KakaoTalk message. Still no reply. 

Five minutes later, I did something I hadn’t done in months—I called. 

Ring… ring…

The line picked up. Background noise filtered through. 

Thank god, they didn’t dodge.

I plastered on a smile, ready with a cheerful greeting— 

Then a deep male voice answered. 

“Hello? Hello?” 

“Uh—h-hello?” My voice cracked in surprise. 

Dokgam Author was a woman. 

Wrong number? 

Flustered, I was about to ask if this wasn’t Dokgam Author’s phone when the man spoke again. 

“This is the Suwon Seobu Police Station. Do you know Lee Minha?”

“Huh? Oh, y-yes. I’m… a colleague? Sort of.”

Lee Minha—that’s Dokgam Author’s real name. 

Why is the police station calling? 

Before I could process it, the officer calmly explained the situation. 

Calmly for him, not for me.

So, to summarize— 

“L-Lee Minha… left a suicide note and disappeared?”

Every pair of eyes in the office snapped toward me. 

“Yes. Were you close to her?”

“…….”

“We were just about to contact you. You’re the only person in her call history we could reach—no family or friends registered.

Could you come to the station? If you know any places she might’ve mentioned going, it’d help us—” 

“…….”

Is this a scam? 

No. I was the one who called. 

What the hell is happening?

★★★

After hastily explaining the situation to my team leader, I rushed out of the office and into a taxi. The entire ride, I pressed a hand against my pounding chest, trying to steady my breathing. 

According to the police, Dokgam Author had left a cryptic post on their SNS before vanishing.

A friend had reported it, leading to an investigation—and then the discovery of a suicide note at their home. 

Fingers trembling, I opened an SNS app I rarely used and checked Dokgam Author’s account. 

Latest Post (3 days ago): 

<Hey guys. This is sudden, but I’ve messed up a lot of things, so I’m leaving for somewhere far away to fix them. Thanks for sticking with me until now. Live your lives happily—do everything you want. Life’s short. Take care, everyone.>

Scrolling further, I found older posts: 

<I want to give up on everything. Kim would be disappointed.> 

<I’m the worst storyteller. Should’ve listened to the senior authors. I never should’ve started this.>

<I failed as a writer. (╥﹏╥)> 

<Kim, I’m sorry.>

<I wanted to protect Kim’s world… I’m sorry Kim was born into my hands. (╥﹏╥)> 

<No. My creation, my responsibility. I’ll fix this somehow. There has to be a way.> 

“…….”

Most of the posts referenced “Kim”—the protagonist of Dokgam Author’s story.

The timeline matched up perfectly: the spiral had started right after I’d cautiously suggested adding more conflict and villain dynamics to the plot. 

I knew the author was sensitive, prone to self-deprecation—but the story’s ratings were struggling.

I’d tried to phrase it gently: “What if we let Kim take more active agency? Maybe a little more tension?”

‘Did that trigger this?’

My stomach twisted. 

No. No, no, no. That wasn’t my intention. What the hell is happening? 

Ever since the police mentioned a suicide note, my heart had been hammering like a trapped bird. 

It’s fine. They’re investigating. This country has CCTV everywhere. It’ll be okay. 

(Though the fact they’d left their phone behind was killing me.) 

Just then—buzz. 

A new email notification. Normally, I’d ignore it, but the sender name made me freeze: 

Dokgam.

I clicked immediately. 

Subject: Revised Manuscript & Hiatus Notice 

Hello, Ha-je, This is Dokgam. I’ve had an urgent matter to resolve and will be away for a while.

Attached is the revised manuscript. I’ve added the villain’s narrative as you suggested, along with the conflict arc for Kim. I also tweaked Kim’s personality a bit.

Please use this for the next update. Once this batch is published, please register a hiatus for the series. 

I’ll return as soon as I can. 

This is a scheduled email—I may be unreachable when you receive this. 

I’ll contact you the moment I’m back. 

Be happy. 

“……..”

What.

Not a suicide note? So they weren’t attempting—just leaving to handle something? 

Then what’s with the note the police found? 

My head spun. I downloaded the attached file and screenshotted the email. If this was real, maybe the situation wasn’t as dire as I’d thought. 

‘Unless it was a diversion—a scheduled email to throw off suspicion. But no. Think positive. They said they’d fix things. It’ll be okay.’

I took a shaky breath, legs trembling— 

When suddenly, the taxi driver gasped. “Huh? Wha—?”

A sound that spelled doom. 

Before I could look up— 

SCREEEECH—!!!

Tires shrieking. A blaring horn. 

Through the windshield, a massive truck barreled toward us. 

A hollow laugh escaped me. 

“Ah, You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Really? This cliché now—? 

CRASH!