How about Cosmic Horror? Chapter 5 - C

“We went to the same high school? That’s strange. I don’t remember you at all.”

“I was your senior by two years. You really don’t remember?”

At his question, Irae opened her phone’s album and examined two photos closely. If someone this good-looking had been at her high school, she definitely would’ve remembered. The entire school would’ve been in chaos. But there was no one named Go Yohan in her memories of high school.

“You really wiped out everything about me.”

He whimpered as if genuinely hurt, but despite his childish tone, the silver cufflinks securing his dress shirt sleeves reflected light with a sharp glint. The smooth, metallic surface exuded a distinct coldness. 

Gazing at it absentmindedly, Irae apologized.

“Um… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Am I your teacher? I can’t get used to that polite tone.”

“Then how did I talk to you before?”

“Informal speech, and you even cussed me out.”

Her mind went blank. Cursing? Don’t people usually reserve that for rowdy teenage friends? A grown adult cursing out loud? And to her husband, no less?

“You’re two years older than me, right? And I talked down to you and swore at you?”

“People drop the formalities after they sleep together, right?”

She was flabbergasted by his bluntness.

Well, he wasn’t wrong. There was even that old joke about how men and women who speak casually despite an age gap must’ve slept together.

“Still, cursing…”

“It’s because I… tormented you, quite a bit.”

The man shrugged his broad shoulders, and the pitch-black sphere above them bobbed along.

She’d heard something similar from him yesterday. Just what exactly did ‘quite a bit’ entail? Was the emphasis on ‘quite’ or ‘a bit’?

While she was lost in thought, a soft voice brushed her eardrums.

“I regret it now.”

His alluring tone tipped the scales that had been teetering. Whether it was ‘quite’ or ‘a bit’ didn’t matter anymore.

She didn’t know to what extent he’d tormented her, but as long as he was reflecting on it, wouldn’t it be okay?

It must have been bearable enough for her to marry him. If he had truly crossed the line, with her personality, she wouldn’t have let it slide. No matter how handsome he was, once it was a no, it was a no.

“You’re not going to torment me anymore, right? Promise?”

As she held out her thumb and pinky, gesturing for a pinky promise, he chuckled and extended his hand.

His hand, much larger than hers, came closer and hooked her pinky. Maybe because of the size difference, his finger wrapping lightly around hers felt, for a fleeting moment, like a snake coiling around prey to keep it from escaping.

“I promise. It was quite fun, but it felt strange in the end.”

He whispered as if confessing a secret.

“Even if you asked me to torment you now, I don’t think I could. It’s not enjoyable anymore.”

…Is this man a bit of a sadist?

From the way he spoke, it seemed he had that tendency, whether he was aware of it or not. Talking about how fun it was to torment someone? That wasn’t normal. Still, he promised to stop, so she was safe now.

“Ah, except in bed. That was part of our prior agreement, before you lost your memory.”

He casually added the condition as he unlinked their fingers. Caught off guard, she stared blankly at him.

“We did?”

“Yup.”

“I agreed to that?”

“That’s what you said.”

“You’re not lying because I lost my memory, right?”

“If your memories come back, I’d get caught. Why would I bother?”

If he had facial features, she could’ve judged more easily. But all she had to go on was his voice and gestures, and both were completely calm. He didn’t sound like someone telling a lie.

In the end, she decided to change the subject. Discretion is the better part of valor.

“So, we’ve known each other since high school?”

“Yeah. We weren’t dating, though.”

“Why not?”

“Two reasons. You hated me, and I didn’t realize I liked you.”

He answered, even counting off on his fingers.

“I hated you?”

“You’d already been tormented by me.”

“Oh…”

What the hell had this man done to her?

As she projected the face from the photos onto the planet-head, she thought it would take real talent to be hated with that appearance. Honestly, that otherworldly beauty could make most offenses forgivable. Everyone was lenient when it came to beauty, and she was no exception. She was an average person who was weak to anything cute, pretty, or visually pleasing. Yet she hated him despite that?

“Then how did we end up getting married?”

“I realized my feelings.”

His short reply left her feeling oddly flustered. It sounded like her opinion didn’t matter—that once he decided, her fate was sealed. That couldn’t be what he meant… right?

“You said I hated you.”

She indirectly asked how he’d solved that problem, and after a brief silence, he calmly asked.

“You came to like me, didn’t you?”

‘And that’s how we got married?’ an audacious implication echoed in her mind.

But she wanted to know how they got there…

She quickly gave up. Come to think of it, what could he even know? Only she could know how her feelings towards him had changed. It was her own fragile brain’s fault for losing all memories after a little shock from an accident.

“Um… what happened to the company I worked at? Did someone let them know I couldn’t come in?”

“You quit when we got married.”

“I did?”

To think she’d quit her job when she still vividly remembered cursing it every morning on her way to work. She might have talked about quitting all the time, but hearing she’d done it felt strange.

It wasn’t a good workplace. They made her work overtime as if it were second nature, called her in on weekends without warning, and paid her a pittance to top it all off. But to have quit without even remembering… It felt refreshing, but also a bit bittersweet… No, she shouldn’t feel bittersweet, considering how much she suffered. Why was she feeling this way? Had she developed a twisted attachment from all the abuse?

Despite her inner turmoil, she spoke with false nonchalance.

“Good riddance. I wanted to ditch that awful company as soon as possible. I should’ve thrown a bomb at the CEO before quitting…”

“Hmm, was our company that bad?”

It was an odd question. She was badmouthing her old company, and he suddenly said “our company”? Unsure of his intent, she stared at the planet, now a gradient of yellow and green. With a large hand that could easily cover her face, he rested his head on it and elaborated.

“I had no idea you were so dissatisfied. Why didn’t you tell me directly when you were working there? I could’ve fixed things.”

“What do you mean…?”

“Could you please hold off on the bomb? I’m a newlywed, and my lovely wife is waiting for me at home.”

It took her a moment to process his words.

“You’re saying… I worked at your company?”

“Didn’t you?”

No way. Irae shook her head.

“That’s impossible.”

The CEO of her company was a pot-bellied, balding man in his 50s.

“What does your company do?”

“An IT company specializing in social networking services, VR, and AR, isn’t it?”

His tone suggested she should already know this. The blood drained from her face. Her company was a run-of-the-mill small business, far removed from cutting-edge tech. Had she forgotten switching jobs to his company? But there was no way she would have landed a job at a place like that.

“What was my position there?”

“Graphic designer. Is this some kind of test?”

His response carried a hint of confusion. But she was the one who wanted to ask, ‘What kind of sick joke is this?”

A graphic designer was her dream career in high school. But reality had crushed that dream, and she never got close to it. She’d graduated with a degree unrelated to graphic design and landed a generic office job anyone could do. And now she was a graphic designer? With what skills, when she’d never studied it?

Her hands trembling, she tried having a serious conversation with him.

“You’re not joking, are you? If you’re lying to me, I’ll get mad.”

 

After a lengthy discussion, it became clear that there were significant discrepancies between the Yoo Irae he described and the Yoo Irae she remembered.

The Yoo Irae he knew:

Attended a prestigious art university in Seoul and majored in visual design. Held licenses in visual design, product design, and colorist. Joined his company as a designer.

The Yoo Irae she remembered:

Enrolled in a mediocre university’s math department based on her entrance exam results. Suffered throughout her college years due to her unsuitable major, and somehow managed to graduate. Submitted over a hundred resumes and went through countless interviews, finally landing a job at a small company that offered slightly better conditions than the rest.

How could two versions of the same person’s life be so different?

“I think you’re confusing your memories.”

After silently tapping the armrest of his chair for a while, he spoke up.

Could that be it? Did the accident’s impact on her brain distort her memories? But everything felt too vivid.