LibraryReads
2026 · Monthly Pick
About This Book
In a Seoul office building, IT technician Junyoung has built a network no one knows about — hidden cameras drilled into bathroom tiles, feeding him a steady stream of footage of the women who work around him. He considers it balance. He considers it power. Then there is Dahye, who sets herself apart from the rest.
Dahye is grieving. Her older sister drowned five years ago, and the guilt has never left her. When she falls for Hyukjoon — polished, wealthy, the heir to a chaebol media empire — it feels like the life she was owed. Until a hidden camera turns their relationship into something else entirely, and the footage spreads. Hyukjoon disappears across the Pacific. Dahye loses her job, her home, and what remains of her dignity.
But Eunhye hasn't stayed drowned.
She crawls out of the vents. She has promises to keep. And Dahye, armed with grief and rage and a very sharp kitchen knife, is done being watched.
Molka — from the Korean molrae-kamera, meaning "sneaky camera" — is a feminist horror novel about surveillance, shame, class privilege, and the violence that follows when women refuse to stay silent.
Dahye is grieving. Her older sister drowned five years ago, and the guilt has never left her. When she falls for Hyukjoon — polished, wealthy, the heir to a chaebol media empire — it feels like the life she was owed. Until a hidden camera turns their relationship into something else entirely, and the footage spreads. Hyukjoon disappears across the Pacific. Dahye loses her job, her home, and what remains of her dignity.
But Eunhye hasn't stayed drowned.
She crawls out of the vents. She has promises to keep. And Dahye, armed with grief and rage and a very sharp kitchen knife, is done being watched.
Molka — from the Korean molrae-kamera, meaning "sneaky camera" — is a feminist horror novel about surveillance, shame, class privilege, and the violence that follows when women refuse to stay silent.
