A Hellish Month – I Survived
Haha, no way it was really a pregnancy attack. … A month that felt like hell had passed. To cut to the chase, I survived. Meaning, no double suicide for me.
This was unexpected even for me, the one involved. Now, a strange vitality coursed through my body. My skin had improved, and my shoulders, slumped from severe stamina drain, had straightened a bit. These days, every time I looked in the mirror, I even deluded myself into thinking I looked younger. Who knows, maybe I actually had gotten younger. Weren't they saying smooth male hormone secretion helps prevent aging?
How did this happen? There's a reason. Humans pick up tricks when they repeat the same thing over and over.
5:47 a.m. About ten minutes before the alarm, my eyes snapped open. My biological clock was now more accurate than any alarm. I turned my head, and there was the steady sound of breathing beside me. Tousled blue hair spilled across the pillow, and in the darkness, her snow-white shoulder was exposed. My daughter... and the girl I'd spent the night with yesterday, Han Sol.
Her pale thigh had slipped out from under the covers, tangled with my leg.
Easy does it...
Like a stray cat stealing food, I untangled our legs with careful, fluid precision. Anyone watching would think I was a covert operative, not a combat agent. I tiptoed silently to the bathroom. Closed the door, turned on the shower. Hot water poured over me.
"Hoo."
Damn, I'm alive.
...Humans really are creatures of adaptation.
I scrubbed my head into a lather with shampoo and chuckled. No wonder our species is called Homo sapiens – the wise ones.
There were times I'd had nosebleeds and staggered around. Times I'd nearly fallen on the subway commute because I couldn't grip the handrail. Back in the early days, anyway. But not anymore. I was a human Prussian – well, not quite, but I'd adapted.
…………
Trick one: Schedule management. As crucial as supply lines on a battlefield. The key is never scheduling back-to-back or overlapping.
Lee Jin-ah is the official girlfriend. Weekday work hours and lunchtimes are hers exclusively. So, after-work dates and weekend dates are limited to once each. The excuse for fewer dates? Busy work and fatigue.
Yeom Hana is the sex friend. Our meetups are fixed at one to two weekday evenings. Dinner with drinks, then somewhere MZ-gen kids hang out like coin karaoke, arcades, or PC bangs for some light fun. After that... well, motel, obviously. I tried avoiding the motel a few times, but after three failures, I gave up.
Finally, Han Sol... calling her my mistress born from my wife wouldn't fly. Anyway, she comes over two to three times a week, weekends included. Or I go to her place. We eat dinner, watch TV, and then... bed, as expected.
Now, my head held a time-slot schedule sheet. Monday after work: Lee Jin-ah. Tuesday after work: Yeom Hana. Wednesday: free. Thursday after work: Yeom Hana. Friday after work through Saturday afternoon: Lee Jin-ah. Saturday evening through Monday morning: Han Sol. Even free days flex for emergencies. A perfect timetable. Like a celebrity with rigidly packed hours.
…………
Trick two: Trace management. Shower after every meetup. Basic of basics. Company locker has emergency deodorizer and spare shirts lined up. Same in the home closet. Even my commute bag has backup underwear and pocket spray. Like agent gear. Hell, more meticulous than actual agent gear. I put more effort into this than villain hunts.
Phone alerts on silent. Chat rooms sorted and folderized. No previews on conversations – after Lee Jin-ah peeked once.
And surprisingly, Yeom Hana and Han Sol even help erase traces. Like this:
I emerge from the shower, and Han Sol's already awake, perched on the bed watching me.
"You're up early."
"You have work, Dad. Gotta go."
"Wait a sec."
As I tie my tie, she approaches. Grabs my shirt collar, buries her nose in my chest. Sniff sniff – the sound echoes in the quiet room.
"Mm, pass. Just fabric softener today."
She smiles, hands me the shirt.
"...Thanks."
"Of course. Where else you gonna find a daughter like me?"
"..."
Hard to find one who rolls in bed with her dad and helps hide it from his girlfriend.
"No other women's scents, okay?"
Her hand goes to my neck, tying the knot with practiced ease.
"There, perfect. Have a good day, Dad."
She beams.
Pure newlywed sending her husband off.
Problem is, last night that husband rolled with his daughter-wife, the night before with his work junior, and the day before that with a girl her age. Should I be grateful, or curse myself for becoming trash? Beats me.
…………
Trick three: Stamina allocation. Trust the augmentation serum, but don't overdo it. Sleep as much as possible. Offload tough stamina-drainers to others. C-rank villain? Used to handle it myself, now I dump it on juniors.
"You need field experience. Go on."
"Huh? Uh, I mean..."
"Hey, ops room's monitoring everything. What's to worry? Experience, that's what it is. Hurry up."
I feign sternness, shoving his back. Truth? Back ached from Han Sol last night; didn't wanna move.
Watch the junior grab gear with a grimace, then I sneak to the break room. 30-minute nap during work hours. Vital resupply for the night's war. Gossip be damned – better than dying.
On off days, I ham it up.
"Aigoo, my back..."
"Man, I'm beat today."
As pathetic as possible, like a jellyfish and starfish begging the octopus not to go hunting. Weirdly, all three buy it. Lee Jin-ah pushes bodyweight squats: "Squats for senior's stamina and vigor, right?" Yeom Hana backs off: "Just once today, okay?" Han Sol swaps to chick flicks: "Let's watch this vampire movie." Not ideal, but beats four or five rounds all night. No joke – they treat my dick like squeezing mayo from the bottle.
Point is, I survived today too.
Homo sapiens forever.
Pure self-mockery, of course. How'd I end up here? No clue.
…………
The biggest change with Lee Jin-ah was leeway. At first, I fretted she'd suspect our weird triple setup. But she neither nagged nor doubted. Once I went public on SNS and told folks, her sharp instincts dulled. Or maybe she just sheathed the blade.
Back to the tidy, dutiful junior. Tension-release mastery. Tighten, loosen – keeps you breathing without boredom or escape. Lee Jin-ah's got it instinctively. And I exploit the gaps to meet Yeom Hana.
I'm trash through and through.
"Senior, you look great lately. Healthy glow."
Lee Jin-ah said over lunch.
"Uh... yeah?"
"Yeah. Better skin, brighter face. What's the secret?"
She poked my cheek. Her fingertip felt eerily cool.
"Dunno? Maybe working out harder."
"Ah, got it."
She sipped her water, eyes crinkling in a smile.
"Lots of evening workouts, huh?"
"..."
Cold sweat poured. Evening workouts – double entendre? Or just post-work gym?
No way she suspects me with Yeom Hana and Han Sol?
I scanned desperately, but her face was serene. She changed topics casually. Still, that smile lingered in my mind. Her ease felt like a sheepdog's lazy watch over the flock... probably just my imagination.
Yeom Hana meetups were simple. No suffocating probes. Just chill under "friends" pretense. Flirt, joke, eat, head to motel naturally. She threatens to spill to Lee Jin-ah sometimes, but never does. Eat, play, fuck. That's it.
But.
"Ahem, Hana. You sure it's okay again today?"
I asked on the motel bed.
"Huh?"
"No rubber."
God knows how many times. Raw sex every time. She always giggles.
"It's fine, I said. I take my pills religiously. And today's safe day."
"Still..."
"Plus."
Yeom Hana made a circle with her left hand, poked it with her right index and middle fingers.
"Rubber kills the feel."
"..."
Vulgar? Yeah. Honest? Totally.
"Don't worry, ajusshi. I know my body best."
She grinned, rubbing her cheek on my chest. Her confidence left me speechless.
Worried about birth control while banging a 20-year-old. Less responsible adult than her.
I'm real trash.
Yeom Hana grabbed her phone heading for the shower. Tapped the screen twice, stared intently. Face serious in the glow.
"Whatcha looking at?"
"Oh, busking schedule."
She waved it casually.
"Hongdae gig. Come watch, ajusshi?"
"...Maybe."
She smirked, set it down.
Hm.
Looked like calendar app. But red dots on specific dates.
Busking schedule... right?
Too regular, biological-cycle-like. Fleeting doubt, but I shook it off. No way it's her period tracker.
Bathroom door shut. Yeom Hana's humming drifted out. Her "safe day" words clung sticky in my ear.