Should I call this jealousy?
Lately, my wife has been acting strangely.
Whenever I leave for a business trip out of town, she inevitably gets ready to go out.
She sprays on a heavy perfume and puts on lingerie I've never seen before.
"Who are you meeting?"
"Mm-hm. My high school friend, Sera. You met her once, remember?"
"Oh, the one with the boutique?"
"Boutique? How outdated. She's a designer. She even has her own shop in Cheongdam-dong."
"Right, designer. But didn't you see her just last week?"
"I did. I see close friends often."
She doesn't even look at me.
Sitting in front of the vanity, she focuses on her makeup — blue shimmer eyeshadow, mascara curled skyward, lipstick a touch too bold.
From the way she fusses over every detail, a dark suspicion begins to creep in.
"…Aren't you gonna miss your train?"
"Oh! Look at me."
I check the time and hurriedly push my feet into my shoes.
"You're coming back tomorrow evening, right?"
Her voice floats out from the bedroom.
She doesn't even bother to see me off.
"Yeah. The conference schedule is just…"
"Call me before you get here. I'll prepare dinner."
"Okay."
The door lock clicks behind me, and for a moment I just stand there in the hallway.
I walked out of my own home, yet somehow it feels like I was kicked out.
No way. I can't picture her cheating.
It must just be my imagination.
I step into the elevator toward the parking lot.
My reflection stares back from the mirror installed for bored commuters.
An expensive suit. Designer shoes. A luxury watch.
Imported car key fob dangling from my hand.
I'm a fairly successful man — a senior researcher in the R&D department of a major corporation, father to one daughter.
My salary is substantial, and my real estate holdings aren't small either.
My grandfather's land hit the jackpot when the greenbelt designation was lifted.
With that money, I bought an apartment in Gangnam and two commercial buildings — all in my name.
Financially, I lack nothing. But when my daughter was born, I worried.
What if she inherited my unfortunate looks?
Thankfully, she's the spitting image of my beautiful wife.
Had she taken after my short stature and homely face, I might have wanted to die.
She's a girl, not a boy.
Right. I've never been confident about my appearance.
I've been unusually short since childhood.
My face isn't much to look at either — to put it bluntly, it's rough.
But my brain has always been exceptional.
Someone once joked about whether my IQ or my height was higher.
My height barely wins.
Still, my brains got me into the country's top university, then a PhD abroad, and finally a position at a major corporation.
I married a little late.
Studying nonstop left no room for dating.
Honestly, it wasn't that I didn't date — it was that I couldn't.
In this modern world, who would love a man under 160 centimeters? There are exceptions, sure, but I was not one of them.
I'm not a materialist, but I'm practical.
I know full well that without my inherited wealth and my title as a corporate researcher, I never would have married such a beautiful woman.
But even worse than my height was another, deeper complex.
My symbol — barely the size of a pinky finger.
Before getting hard? You could hardly see it.
Even fully hard, that was the maximum.
I even considered enlargement surgery, but the urologist shook his head.
—Sir, we can't create something from nothing.
Cruel because it was honest, and honest because it was cruel.
I still remember my wife's expression on our first night, when she timidly asked if I had put it in all the way.
Oh Lord, why grant me such a brilliant mind and such inadequate manhood?
After parking at the station, I headed toward the platform.
A message came from my wife.
– Are you on your way? I'm heading out to meet Sera. Good luck with your presentation today ♥
A heart?
I replied with just as much affection.
– Yeah, I'm about to board the KTX. Love you too.
How could I doubt such a loving wife…
She's too good for me. I should be grateful.
"You always text your husband while we're doing it."
"Haah… You know you like that, Won-jun. Ah— hurts."
"Hurts? Not good?"
"N-no… It's good. It hurts but it feels good."
"What are you even saying? Well, I am pretty big. How's it compare to your husband?"
"Hah… hah… don't even start. If I'd known he was that useless, I would've found any excuse to call the marriage off. Ugh, slower… I only held it in because I didn't want to seem easy when we were dating. I totally got trapped."
"Easy? You? Yunha, that's the funniest thing I've heard all year."
"What?"
"You beg me to come over every three days. And you call yourself proper? Please. I know you can't even sleep at night without a man."
"Do you have to embarrass me like that?"
"Embarrassed? You sure? You're soaking the sheets. This is a flood. What are we going to do?"
"Oh shut up! Just keep going."
When their pleasure finally ended, the two lay side by side staring at the ceiling.
The man leaned against a cushion and lit a cigarette.
There was no ashtray — just an empty can on the nightstand.
"Sex and a smoke — the classics."
"What does that even mean?"
"Come on. 'Sex' and 'smoke.' Put them together — sex-smoke. Classic combo."
"Wow. You're great in bed but your jokes are ancient. And stop smoking in the master bedroom. My husband goes all the way down to the parking lot just to smoke."
"Hey, don't compare me to him. Just spray some freshener. If he asks why it smells like smoke, tell him it drifted in from somewhere."
"If you want to smoke that badly, book a motel."
"The kid's at kindergarten, your husband's on a trip. Why waste money? Besides, your bed is great. Mattress is killer."
"Ugh, I shouldn't even talk to you. You're lucky you're good at this."
"Not because I'm bigger?"
"You're asking? That guy's dick isn't even a dick. He's just a machine that brings home money. Honestly, I wish he'd just disappear somewhere."
Won-jun stubs his cigarette into the can.
The leftover soda sizzles as the embers fall in.
"…You mean that?"
"Mean what?"
"That you wish your husband would die."
His tone is far more serious than she expected.
"Oh please, I was joking. Why are you being scary?"
"I'm not joking. Want me to look into it?"
"Into what?"
"A hitman."
"There are really people like that?"
"You know how many immigrant gangsters there are these days. Give them five thousand and they'll take care of someone. I know a few guys. You want me to make the connection?"
She had blurted it out without much thought, but at his concrete suggestion, Yunha's eyes begin to waver.
She married for money and status — nothing more.
She never withstands her parents' nagging or her friends' judgment; she married on impulse.
She'd already had her fill of romance in her younger years.
It was time to settle for reality — or so she convinced herself.
His short height didn't matter. Flats were enough to manage the difference.
A man's value, she believed, was his capability.
So what if he was short?
So what if he wasn't handsome?
She'd long grown past caring about looks.
A man with a good personality was good enough.
But bad sex — that she could never tolerate.
Her husband didn't know, but Yunha had been quite wild when she was young.
After her years abroad, her body had been stretched by men who could fill her.
Her husband's handful-sized manhood couldn't satisfy her no matter what.
So what if he was smart and rich?
She could live with the short height and ugly face.
But a lifetime of unfulfilling sex?
Impossible.
From the early days of marriage, she secretly took lovers to fill the void.
Monogamy had never been part of her plan, so she felt no guilt.
Six years passed like that.
She was startled by Won-jun's suggestion, but it wasn't as if she'd never wished her husband would just drop dead.
If he died, everything would belong to her.
With enough money, starting over would be easy.
Yunha fixes her expression and asks quietly:
"…And there really wouldn't be any consequences? Isn't hiring a killer a serious crime?"
"Well, well. Look at you. Acting innocent but suddenly interested? Let's go another round first. I'm ready again."
"Seriously? You're not tired? It's the middle of the day."
"Heh. Says the woman who's been twitching for a while now."
The two entangle once more.