Hole Story - Baek Hee-na Picture Book (Hardcover)

Author Baek Hee-na · Publisher Storybowl · Published 2026-05-01 · ISBN 9791194344438

About the Book

"That night, the moon rabbits did not return home."

Gumeongcheong began with this single line that came to mind for author Baek Hee-na. What if the moon rabbits from Moon Pop had decided not to return home, and stayed on Earth instead? That night, the moon rabbits were hungry, and there were no restaurants open. So, they decided to open one themselves. The three-dimensional moon rabbits are even more vivid and mischievous. They look as if they've experienced quite a bit of life on Earth. This restaurant is truly peculiar. It doesn't open just any time, only on nights when the proper dishes have been completed. The price of food isn't money, but old clothes that are no longer worn. For the moon rabbits, who love changing clothes, old garments are quite a good item. This strange transaction is strangely warm. Old clothes once embraced someone's body, and they hold the traces of time gone by. Giving up clothes one no longer wears and receiving a bowl of Gumeongcheong might just be a plausible transaction for shedding some of the long-held weight in one's heart. In this book, the moon rabbits are mysterious chefs and gentle observers. There is no boisterous comfort or exaggerated advice. They simply simmer, pound, and steam with care, in their own way, and quietly offer a bowl. Are you curious about their quiet and strange restaurant? Now it's your turn to receive a bowl of Gumeongcheong.

The taste and efficacy of 'gumeong' simmered for a long time

Making 'cheong' (a type of syrup) from 'gumeong' (holes)! Could there be a more absurd yet plausible secret recipe? The ingredients the moon rabbits found were not herbs, fruits, or grains. Unexpectedly, it was the intangible 'gumeong'. And they only use natural 'gumeong' that have appeared on their own. They say, "A gumeong that is deep and dark, imbued with a rich color, is truly an excellent gumeong." If jocheong (grain syrup) is a cheong made by simmering grains, then Gumeongcheong is a cheong made by simmering gumeong. Gumeong are generally troublesome. If they appear in clothes, they need to be sewn; if in socks, they are embarrassing; if on the road, they are dangerous; and if in the heart, they are empty and lonely. Instead of quickly blocking or ignoring these gumeong, they observe them, value them, and simmer them with care. This is truly moon-rabbit-like labor and a quite reliable remedy. The completed Gumeongcheong clears a stuffy stomach and gently warms an empty heart. Gumeongcheong would have a sticky, subtly sweet taste like jocheong, but its taste will vary slightly depending on the heart of the one eating it. If moon rice cakes are food from the sky and Gumeongcheong is food drawn from the deep darkness of reality, perhaps this peculiar combination is closer to sweet and salty. Life wouldn't taste right if it were only sweet, after all. The efficacy of Gumeongcheong would be closer to soothing a clogged heart. Of course, one bowl cannot solve all problems. But at least for a while, it can allow one to set them aside. Moments when you don't have to try hard to fill something, just a gentle loosening of the heart—that much

leisure. If it's a bowl like that, it's enough.

The bear, the face of caregivers The customer who finally arrived at the moon rabbit restaurant late at night was a small bear. Why had the bear, who should be with its baby owner, come all the way here? It rambles on with words no one asked for. That the baby owner was fast asleep, and it had soothed them well to prevent nightmares, and that it seemed fine for another hour or two. And indeed, having left behind someone it cares for so dearly, its heart must not be at ease. Looking at the bear's small stature, earnest eyes, and tangled fur, the face of someone tired from caring for others keeps overlapping. It feels as if it represents caregivers looking after a baby, family members tending to the sick or elderly, or sometimes even ourselves, who diligently live each day without truly caring for ourselves. Caregiving is noble, but it is also tiring. Even with love, hunger remains, and even after a day filled with diligent work, there are times when a corner of the heart feels empty. The 'rest' that was put off while soothing, protecting, and putting the baby owner to sleep must have ultimately brought the bear here. That is why the bear resembles the faces of all those who stand by others. Those who gave much of their lives to others, and thus easily overlooked the holes in their own hearts. The bear asks the moon rabbit, "It must taste like honey, right?" The moon rabbit replies, "Depending on how you think about it?" Its taste varies depending on the heart of the eater. The moon rabbits diligently pound and steam rice cakes, taking care of the bear's hunger. As the bear eats Gumeongcheong with moon rice cakes and warm tea, it seems to be swallowing not only its hunger but also the unspoken longing it had harbored.
Gumeongcheong offers no grand solutions. However, a brief respite brought by a bowl of Gumeongcheong simply allows us to live a little longer. At the end of that respite, the bear seems to have grown by a tiny bit. It smiles shyly, saying, "Oh, no way," but the reader knows that the heart can grow with just a small release.

Baek Hee-na's touch, Gumeongcheong

Gumeongcheong gives the impression of a play unfolding on a small stage. The characters' gazes, expressions, and small gestures, layered with the author's unique writing style, create a subtle and delicate atmosphere. Baek Hee-na's characters are not simply smooth or pretty. They seem somewhat worn and tattered, with the texture of life embedded in their imperfections. The moon rabbits in Gumeongcheong are no different. They are faces that live their lives in their own way, changing into colorful old clothes and harboring rather suspicious secret recipes. In contrast, the bear seems nothing special. However, upon carefully observing its dusty, tangled fur, its earnest, moist eyes, and its restrained expression, one realizes that the time spent caring for someone and enduring for a long time is subtly embedded within. The characters of Gumeongcheong, the moon rabbit restaurant, and the deep mountain background come alive in every scene. The author explored the mountains for backgrounds, recalling childhood memories of making a street stall with a plastic umbrella and a tricycle, to build the framework and cover the tent of the moon rabbit restaurant. She filled it with handmade moon rice cakes and bowls, old miniatures for household items, and spent days making Gumeongsan Mountain and rocks, molding dolls, and sewing clothes. The time spent by her hands is faithfully captured in every scene. The close-ups of characters and the composition of scenes are also very unique and impressive. The bustling moon rabbits pounding rice cakes look like a group dance unfolding on a small stage. The bear's complete transformation and its gently spreading smile are also unmissable. In particular, this book intentionally excluded flashy design elements to remain faithful to the story's texture, the characters' inner world, and the atmosphere of a deep night. Rather than decorating or adding layers, it captured the raw texture of the sketch and the very air of the scene direction entirely within the book. The somewhat coarse pulp and fibers of the cardboard used for the cover continue this tactile sensation. It gives the feeling of directly touching a world crafted by hand and stroking the bear's fur. This is a device that quietly draws the reader into the story's stage. Like the comfort of a somewhat rough yet warm touch, rather than sleek packaging. The appendix, personally drawn and written by the author, is also a delightful feature of Gumeongcheong. From the "Gumeongcheong Secret Recipe Book" kept only by the moon rabbits, to the "Recipe Collection Map," and even a hidden moon rabbit restaurant advertisement flyer. Within these somewhat strange and mysterious devices lie small clues that allow the reader to once again cross into the story. So, as you turn the pages, don't miss a single flyer hidden in a corner or a line from the secret recipe book.

"I think I can forget about it for a while."

Isn't this short sentence from the bear the most honest message Gumeongcheong conveys? Gumeongcheong is not a magic food that solves everything. It only gives the strength to be okay for a while. A brief moment of respite and warmth. Even with just that, we live on again. Are you living by caring for someone? Are you living by enduring something? Gumeongcheong quietly whispers to you. That it's okay to rest for a while, and not to try to change everything. That it's enough to gain the strength to endure for a while. So, what is your gumeong? What does your Gumeongcheong taste like?

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