Something's off about my husband.
I can't quite put my finger on what exactly is different, but he's definitely not acting like usual.
…Is he, though? I'm not sure. What kind of person was the husband I thought I knew?
Maybe this is his true self. How much did I really know about Han Areum to begin with?
I don't know. And that realization weighs on me a little.
The blue moonlight bathes the ceiling. I lie still, staring up at it.
After a while, I turn my head to look at my sleeping husband.
He's turned away, facing the wall, fast asleep.
With the blanket pulled up to his chin, he's so deeply asleep that he doesn't stir even as I rustle around.
Normally, he'd wake up at the slightest movement, but today, he's definitely different.
…"Normally," I say, but we've only been together for less than a year, and most of that time, I've been out working. Maybe I don't know anything about my husband at all?
Ugh…
He shifts slightly in his sleep. I don't know what he's dreaming about, but it seems like he's been through a lot.
He rolls over to face me, eyes closed, mumbling something under his breath. I can't make out a word of it.
Just an ordinary twenty-something guy. A bit short, with a round, friendly face.
That's why I married him. Looking back, was that really enough to choose a spouse?
That's what I thought at the time, but now, I think I made the right choice.
I said earlier that he's acting strange, but truth be told, Han Areum has always been a bit different from others. He's got this unique spark, something extraordinary.
I knew he was different from the moment we met.
There was this… foreignness to him, unlike anyone I'd ever met. If I had to describe it, he's like a black bean among yellow soybeans.
It's like he came from another world entirely. And from that moment until now, I've been seeing these different sides of him.
I thought, maybe being with someone like him could change me a little. Maybe married life with him could fill something I've been missing. That's the kind of hope he gave me.
"Let's go home."
Normally, if I said that, he'd follow without a word. No, actually, him being out and about at all when I get off work is unthinkable.
He's supposed to be home, cooking, cleaning, doing all the household chores a housewife would do. But instead, there he was, sipping coffee at a café.
I came home to a dark house, sat there silently, and then went out to find him.
"What? I can go home on my own."
And then he tried to shake off my hand. Of course, a guy who doesn't even work out could never overpower me physically.
I dragged him to the car and brought him home. Then, in the elevator, he starts crying for no reason.
I mean, sure, I've read in some magazine that men sometimes cry for no reason or that they're more emotional than women, but I never imagined he'd burst into tears in an elevator like that.
And then, after I showered and was drinking water from the fridge, I ran into him fresh out of his own shower.
"Eeeeek!"
He screamed, covered his face with his hands, and bowed his head in embarrassment.
Up until now, he never batted an eye when I walked around in just my underwear, but today, he's shrieking like some pure-hearted boy.
It's another reaction I can't make sense of. But… I don't dislike it.
I don't know how to explain this feeling. It's like something warm and fuzzy bubbling up from deep in my chest.
What is this? I have no idea how to describe what I'm feeling right now.
I reach out and poke his cheek. It's soft, with a bit of baby fat, and it feels nice.
As I keep poking, he furrows his brow and starts shifting in his sleep. I quickly pull my hand back.
Have you ever seen the movie Bangga? Bangga!?
In it, a Korean guy, unable to find a job, gets introduced by a friend to work at a factory alongside foreign laborers. True to the harsh, dehumanizing work environment of "Hell Joseon," they treat people like disposable tools. The protagonist decides he can't take it anymore and tries to quit.
But then his friend smacks him on the head with an ashtray and says something unforgettable:
"Hey, you idiot, where else are you gonna make 3 million won? Just think you're dead and keep earning, you moron."
After that wake-up call, the protagonist thinks, "Where else could someone like me make that kind of money?" So, he grits his teeth, keeps working, and eventually joins a union. That's the gist of the movie.
Watching it, my first thought was, "Man, making a living is brutal."
To be honest, I left home partly to see the world, but also because I couldn't stand our cramped house.
Four people and one bathroom? Come on. I still don't know what my brother was doing in there, but he'd hog the bathroom for 40 or 50 minutes at a time, which made mornings a nightmare.
Four people and one toilet is a serious problem.
That's why I just up and left.
Sure, I borrowed money for the deposit, promising to pay it back later, but now that I'm in this other world, I have no idea how that debt's gonna play out. My dad's not exactly chill about money, so what am I supposed to do? It's not like I chose to come here. I just woke up in this place—what am I supposed to do?
Anyway, living on my own, without my parents' help, was tough. Cooking, laundry, cleaning—I could handle all that somehow. The real problem was money.
You need money to buy rice, ramen, pay for gas, water, electricity, and everything else. But to make money, you work, and working eats up all your personal time. That's the biggest issue.
Life isn't just about working. You're supposed to have time for self-improvement, hobbies, meeting people, and relieving stress. But when you're living alone, dealing with everything, it's a headache. Honestly, working, cleaning, cooking—days just vanish.
I remember seeing housewives dropping their kids off at kindergarten. And you know what I thought?
That looks like the sweet life.
Sure, raising kids until they're old enough for kindergarten is tough, but these days, the government helps with that. Once the kids are in kindergarten, isn't it just smooth sailing from there?
I saw online that housewives send their kids to kindergarten, then live it up with their husband's money—sipping Starbucks, going to Pilates, eating tuna katsu mayo rice bowls, doing whatever they want.
Of course, I get that there's housework, taking care of kids, and a lot of responsibilities. But compared to working a job outside? It seemed way better.
I read a survey once where housewives said if they had to choose between working a job or doing housework, they'd pick housework. They might complain about how hard it is, but that survey basically admitted being a housewife is the sweet life.
So, watching those housewives, I thought, "Man, I want to stay home, do housework, and live that easy life."
Like that No Brain song, "Mom, I'm scared of this world!" Who knew life would be this tough?
I wished some pretty girl would take care of me, let me be a househusband.
And then it actually happened. Plus, in this world, men don't have to give birth, so… isn't that even better? I don't know.
"…Ugh, sorry. I should've made breakfast. Should I make some toast or something? You taking it to go?"
"What? You can just keep sleeping like usual."
"I was thinking last night, waking up early to make breakfast…"
"To make breakfast…?"
Uh, what do I call her? What's the right term? Honey? Yejin-nim? Wifey?
I suddenly feel stuck, unsure what to say. I should've thought this through.
Thud!
A loud noise comes from outside. Yejin, hearing it too, stops talking and opens the front door.
"Moving in this early, huh?"
Outside the elevator, people are organizing their stuff. They're probably taking a breather before moving it into their place, setting things down on the floor.
The thud-thud sounds must be from them placing their stuff.
"Oh, gosh, sorry for making a racket so early! Haha, I don't even know how to explain. It's kinda embarrassing to meet a neighbor like this…
Next time, I'll bring over some rice cakes as an apology—"
"I don't eat rice cakes."
"Oh, you don't? They're so good, though, right?"
She's about 176 or 177 cm, as tall as Yejin. Her tanned skin looks deliberate, and her bright yellow dyed hair stands out.
Despite the forecast warning of a record-breaking cold snap, she's dressed like she's at a tropical resort—floral Hawaiian shirt, short shorts, and brown sunglasses with the price tag still dangling from the frame.
If a nouveau riche who won the lottery had a vibe, this would be it. Even her way of talking feels light and carefree.
"Right?" she says, looking at me as if expecting an answer.
"I'm not a fan of rice cakes either."
"Oh, you both don't like them? I love rice cakes!"
With that, the tanned woman flashes me a grin.