How about Cosmic Horror? Chapter 12 - D

Waking up, she found the light off. She had fallen asleep with them on, so he must have come in and turned them off.

Still groggy, Irae lay there blankly for a moment before shuffling to the bathroom. After a quick wash and brushing her teeth, she stepped out to find him there.

“You’re awake?”

“Yes. Good morning.”

The rule of his head changing every morning held true this time as well. His head was now a box.

A rectangular prism with three brick-like holes aligned in a row, it resembled the box from The Little Prince. The box the pilot drew for the prince when he asked for a sheep, saying what he wanted was inside.

Curiosity piqued, she peered into the holes, wondering if she could see inside. But even up close, there was nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a box with holes, so I’m checking what’s inside.”

“Ah, so that’s what I look like today?”

As usual, he sounded amused, tilting his box-head.

“If it’s a box, you can open it, right? That’s what boxes are for.”

Fair point.

“Lean your head toward me.”

He readily obliged, bending his knees and lowering his waist, revealing the box’s opening.

“How’s it look?”

“It’s there.”

“Wanna open it? If you’re curious what’s inside.”

His sweet voice tempted her. She reached toward the box, as if enchanted.

What’s in here? The Little Prince’s sheep? Schrödinger’s cat? Or maybe it’s neither. What if it’s Pandora’s box… Could I handle it?

Her hand froze mid-air.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

He coaxed her, like a serpent tempting her to eat the forbidden fruit. It felt like she was being tested.

After hesitating, she lowered her hand. If it was a truth she couldn’t handle, she’d rather leave it untouched. If something like a Jack-in-the-Box clown suddenly sprang out, her timid self might faint. Better it remain sealed forever.

“Hey, more importantly. Don’t try to act all chummy and get close to me.”

“Ouch. Did last night’s stunt completely ruin my credit?”

When she shot him a look that said, ‘Is that even a question?’ he tilted his box-head and brought his hands—previously held behind his back—forward.

“I know I messed up, so I brought a bribe. Will you forgive me?”

What he held out was a mat—like the kind you’d place in front of a bathroom. The only unusual thing about it was that it had a character that looked like a mix between a fish and a reptile on it.

“What’s this weird-looking thing? It’s like it tried to be cute and gave up halfway.”

“Dagon.”

“Pardon?”

“Thinking about it, I got annoyed. Scaring my honey like that. So I caught him and locked him in there. From now on, wipe your feet on him.”

His cheeky reply made her examine the character closely. It did share traits that resembled the hallucination she’d seen the night before. It was as if someone had beautified that terrifying creature into something as palatable and chibi-like as possible. It was baffling how he’d managed to find such a specific item so early in the morning.

“But if this is that monster, how can I use it? What if the seal breaks and it comes out to kill me for using it as a doormat?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve trapped it securely. It can’t get out.”

Of course, a 2D character on a mat couldn’t leap into 3D.

Playing along, she sensed he’d drag the joke into a third verse, so she nodded curtly.

“Okay. I’ll use it well. Thank you.”

The joke was lame, but the thought of him scouring stores for this early in the morning stirred her heart. Imagining him hunting for a prop resembling a movie monster softened her lips into a smile.

He was a sly one, but she would let it slide this time. Honestly, she’d already forgiven him.

She laid the mat in front of the bathroom and tentatively stepped on it. The texture felt nice.

Recalling her frustration from last night’s scare, she stepped on the Dagon-like character with both feet, stomping gleefully. It was a misdirected act of revenge, but it felt oddly satisfying. She got a little too into it and started doing a tap dance on the mat—when a strange shriek echoed through the house.

Startled, she stopped and turned toward the sound. Her box-headed husband, with the black cat Shan perched on his shoulder, was shaking with stifled sobs of laughter. The cat, however, looked utterly horrified—like it had just witnessed something it could never unsee. Judging from its nearly bulging eyes, the inhuman scream had likely come from Shan.

Was my tap dancing that traumatic for you…?

Embarrassed for unintentionally traumatizing a pet, Irae stammered.

“Shan? I, uh, I don’t usually do this. Don’t misunderstand…”

Before she could finish, Shan let out an incomprehensible yowl and bolted. Her husband was still clutching his stomach, laughing.

“You’re going to grow abs from all that laughing.”

“I already have abs.”

“Oh. Lucky you.”

To live a life with six-pack abs… She wondered what that would feel like. Her gaze instinctively dropped to his abdomen.

“Want me to show you?”

He asked seductively, grabbing the hem of his shirt. He was ready to lift it. She swallowed hard, eyes narrowing for better focus.

No, no, no. Get a grip, Yoo Irae. Maintain your dignity.

“I’m not curious.”

“For someone not curious, your eyes are dripping with desire.”

“Don’t slander me. What do you take me for?”

“Alright, guess I’ll save the reveal for next time.”

He let go of his shirt. She sighed inwardly. Next time, maybe…

“If you’re that disappointed, just ask me directly, babe.”

“I’m not disappointed! Stop twisting everything!”

What would it hurt to just show her without asking?

Why not just lift it without asking? Would it kill you to show off? If you’re confident, rip it off!

“Alright, I’ll stop.”

No, don’t give up…

Alas, her inner voice never reached him. As he walked away, she sighed longingly and turned back to straighten out the mat. For some reason, the character’s face looked more distorted than before, perhaps it was her imagination. She tried ironing it out with her feet, but it only seemed to worsen. In the end, she gave up and stepped off. If brute force wouldn’t work, maybe time would heal it. Self-healing sounded strange… self-recovery? Self-repair? Whatever—she hoped it’d straighten out on its own. It’d be a shame to ruin a gift she’d just received.

As she left the room, the delicious smell of butter filled her senses. She headed to the kitchen, where his aproned back came into view. His broad back and lean waist were a pleasing sight. She could now understand why people raved about the newlywed apron fantasy.

“What are you making?”

“Pancakes.”

“Those are surprisingly hard to make pretty.”

Curious, she lifted the lid and peeked inside the frying pan. Ironically, a perfect soufflé pancake sat there. No mold or ring—just pristine fluff.

“Yohan, you’re not human, are you?”

“Oh no, you’ve figured out my secret.”

He replied playfully while opening a jar of fruit compote. His veins were visible on his arm as he rolled up his sleeve.

He placed the soufflé pancake on a plate, dusted it with powdered sugar, topped it with whipped cream and fruit compote, and then brought the finished product to the dining table. She followed him and sat down on a chair, carefully examining the pancake from all angles. 

It was hard to believe human hands made it without a mold.

“So, have you figured out what I am?”

“Uh… the god of compasses?”

She recalled the tool from school for drawing circles—a ring for a pencil on one end, a sharp needle on the other. Stab the needle in the center, spin it, and voilà—a perfect circle.

“No way. You’re scared of those.”

“I told you that too?”

His response surprised her. Back in middle school, a classmate had pierced their hand with a compass while playing with it, and she’d been terrified of them since. But she’d never told anyone. She was too embarrassed to admit she was afraid of such a thing at her age.

“You did. I know everything about you.”

He said it lightly as he sliced the soufflé pancakes. With a box where his face should be, she couldn’t read his expression. But for some reason, his words felt a bit creepy.

Everyone has secrets. Big or small, something they didn’t want others to know. If someone truly knew everything about her, she would want to jump into the Han River.

Well, one thing was for sure, the pre-amnesia her clearly trusted this husband deeply, sharing even trivial stories like that.

“Did you usually do most of the cooking?”

“Not really. We had a housekeeper for chores, but since you just got discharged, I figured a stranger coming in and out might unsettle you, so I’m cooking for now. Cleaning’s done while we’re out.”

No wonder the massive house always looked spotless despite her never seeing him vacuum. She nodded in understanding.

Yoo Irae. You’ve really hit the jackpot.

She found the situation strangely surreal. What kind of life had the pre-amnesia her lived? Getting into her dream university, studying what she wanted, landing her ideal job, and marrying the high school senior who became the CEO of her company—a life so perfect it felt alien, like a curated collection of only the best choices.

“You don’t have to do that. You’ve got company work. Call that person back. I’ll handle cooking and chores with them.”

“It hasn’t even been that long since you were discharged. And besides, I want to enjoy some quality time with you. Are you trying to take away my joy?”

“…How much quality time are we talking about?”

“About a hundred years?”

Had this man lost his mind? He wasn’t going to work until he died? And he was the CEO? This was like a teacher declaring they wouldn’t be coming to school anymore.