Our Sticky Love (이런 엿같은 사랑)

If everyone's life had a genre,

what would yours be?

Film noir, with its murky underworld?

A thriller driven by hidden crimes?

Or a romantic comedy?

What's the order, sir?

I'm sure everyone's lives are interesting.

But why did mine have to be this one?

You have amnesia.

You have a textbook case of dissociative amnesia,

meaning you've forgotten key autobiographical details

such as your name, age, or occupation.

It's the same amnesia you often see in dramas and movies.

Exactly.

- Sorry? - This…

It's actually possible?

How can I not remember a single thing?

It's not as common as you see in dramas, but--

And what normally happens in dramas?

Well, they usually wake up, turn to the person beside them,

and ask with a vacant, innocent look,

"Who are you?"

Something like that.

And where are they?

The person I'm supposed to ask "Who are you?" with an innocent look?

Unfortunately, there is no one.

No one?

You were unconscious when you were brought in two weeks ago.

You were found alone, collapsed on the ground,

and your body displayed multiple signs of injury.

And we couldn't use your fingerprints to identify you, so…

What the heck?

When you were found, your fingerprints were damaged.

Without fingerprints, we were unable to identify you,

so we had no way of contacting your family.

Then shouldn't there have been an investigation?

The police tried to investigate what happened,

but you were found on a remote road with no CCTV cameras.

And they didn't find any viable fingerprints

on the clothes and shoes you were wearing when you were found.

Okay, hold up.

So, in a nutshell,

I was found on the road and brought here two weeks ago.

You couldn't identify me. The accident investigation was a bust.

And I lost my memory?

That's a perfect summary.

Then what should I do now?

It would be great if your memory returned--

What if it doesn't?

If it doesn't?

You'll be classified as an unidentified person,

and once you've been treated,

you'll be sent to a government facility.

So, put simply,

I'm in a damn sticky mess.

You really are excellent at summarizing.

That's a good sign.

OUR STICKY LOVE

Who are you?

How did you end up here after such a terrible accident?

How is it possible that you don't even remember your own name?

But…

you're pretty.

Check out this body.

Abs? Why do you have abs?

I must say, at first glance, I really like what I see.

With these looks, you should have become a celebrity.

Why didn't you?

If you had, even if you had amnesia, other people would have recognized you.

Who the heck were you?

Damn it, who the heck was I?

Oh, come on!

SANDEUL HOSPITAL

ONE WEEK LATER

Nowadays,

government-run facilities aren't half bad.

That's right.

I hear they even educate North Korean refugees

and help them find jobs.

Think of it as an opportunity to start life anew.

Go there and try to find what you're good at.

You scared me.

Okay, let's try whatever.

I lost my memory due to a head injury, so if I stimulate it again,

maybe it will come back.

That's it. Attagirl.

She's got her pep back.

Fancy some peanuts?

Good heavens!

- Oh no! - Goodness, dear.

Oh my.

Looks like she's coming to.

You should dial down the crazy.

Why would you smash your noggin into the wall like that?

Or you should've waited an hour to do it.

Sorry?

Shortly after you passed out,

someone came by.

Your boyfriend.

Someone who actually knows you

finally came for you!

Really?

Apparently, your boyfriend's been looking for you like crazy.

He has?

And where is he?

- My so-called boyfriend? - Hold your horses. He'll be here soon.

Your boyfriend's a strapping young man. A total looker.

I thought he was an actor.

Aren't you lucky?

He was totally my type.

Thank God.

Of course.

Looking this good, there's no way I'm single.

I can finally find out who I am.

You've been through so much, dear.

I hear someone coming.

Oh my…

I hit the jackpot.

Grandma.

There you are.

This is my grandson.

He's a model.

- Say hello. - Nice to meet you.

I hear someone else coming.

You heard, didn't you? That someone came for you.

Shall we call him in?

Come on in.

HONG'S BOXING GYM

Who the heck

is this scruffy, scrappy boxer?

Why is Scrappy standing in front of me?

Go Eun-sae.

You really don't remember anything? You don't know who I am?

Yes, I'd like to keep it that way.

It's me.

No.

Jang Tae-ha.

No.

Please.

Your boyfriend.

Moving, isn't it?

For three whole weeks, he says he searched every hospital

in Seoul, Gyeonggi, and the entire capital area to find you.

I heard he was a looker…

That he looked like an actor…

His shoulders are as broad as a barn door.

- Like a young Baek Il-seob. - Looks like Park Geun-hyeong to me.

That's exactly how Park looked when he was young.

So, in a nutshell,

my name is Go Eun-sae.

As for age,

I'm 33 years old.

I work part-time at a taffy shop, making taffy,

and I've been dating you, a boxing coach, for two years,

and we live together, even looking to get married soon?

Well, what to do? I don't believe any of that.

For starters, how could I not have a proper job at 33?

You were an aspiring web novel writer who never made it.

So you started working at my grandmother's taffy shop a month ago.

Then do you have any proof that we're dating?

Hey, come on.

This couldn't possibly be proof that we're dating.

This could be two tourists passing by who happened to be snapped together.

Any other photos?

- This is the only one. - See?

How is that possible when we dated for two years?

I lost my phone while running around looking for you these past three weeks.

- It had all our photos. - You expect me to believe that?

It would've helped if we had your phone,

but, as you know, they found you with nothing.

I have no clue what happened to you after you went out to meet a friend,

but for now,

I'm just glad you're alive.

Do you

usually not wash up?

Oh, I…

Well, my car broke down on the way here, so I had to fix it in a hurry.

And you don't shave?

Shave?

It's been a bit hectic recently.

Fine, I get it.

Can you just reach out to my family for me?

You don't have any.

I don't have any?

You grew up in an orphanage.

Hold on.

So I don't have any family,

I lost my phone, so I don't have any friends' numbers,

and I'm an aspiring web novel writer, so I don't have any colleagues.

So, in other words,

you're the only one I have in the whole world?

Is that right?

As I said, you're excellent at summarizing.

If you're done talking, you can go home.

You can get the rest of your treatment as an outpatient.

Can I talk to you for a second?

Sure, yes.

You should go wash your face or something.

How can you just believe he's my boyfriend and let him take me home?

We checked with the police,