A Client Who Wants to Hold His Deceased Wife for Just One Day
The client slid an envelope forward first.
Inside were a few photographs, a handwritten letter, and pages of dense notes.
Her favorite perfume, her common speech habits, the way only one corner of her mouth curled up when she smiled.
It was a notebook that recorded an entire person.
"Three years ago... my wife passed away."
The man, in his late thirties, spoke in a low voice.
"I couldn't say a proper goodbye at the end. We fought... and that was it."
He traced the photograph with his fingertips.
"Just for one day. Pretending to be her. Perfectly. I want to hold her. To say I'm sorry. I'm a pervert, aren't I? Doing this with a dead person."
"You're not a pervert,"
Yura replied quietly.
"You just miss her. Your way of coping is just a little different."
For the first time, the man looked straight at her.
His eyes were bloodshot.
"...Everywhere else rejected me. Some places said they don't take such gloomy requests. Others just paired me up with a girl who looked somewhat similar and called it a day. Similar isn't enough. It has to be her."
"I know."
"If it can't be exactly like her, I'd rather not do it at all. If it's half-hearted, I'll only fall apart even more."
He turned another page of the notebook.
Her final moments were not written there.
Only the day they first met, and their happiest days, were recorded.
This man wants to erase the end.
Yura noted to herself.
Yura fell silent for a moment.
The service the man had purchased was a Reenactment.
Yet, the fingertips turning the pages trembled.
He stared at the handwritten letter longer than the photographs.
What this client wants isn't a body.
It's the farewell he never got to say.
He doesn't want to be loved one more time; he wants to apologize one more time.
Sex is just the final medium to deliver that apology.
"It is possible."
"...If it can't be perfect, I'd rather not do it. If it's half-hearted, I'll only fall apart."
"I have someone who can do it perfectly. However, just for today, do not think of it as acting. Only then can you truly say goodbye."
The man's eyes welled with tears.
And the reenactment hadn't even begun.
This request required changing not just a body, but an entire person.
Minchae.
The woman who could change everything except her face.
An actress who replicated speech patterns, gaits, habits, and even breathing.
Yura handed over the entire notebook.
"I'll give you one day. Become this person."
"..."
Minchae flipped through the pages one by one.
She stared at the photographs for a long time.
"...She sleeps on her left side. And she only applies perfume to the insides of her wrists. I understand."
"Can you do it?"
"This isn't just a quick lay; it's a farewell. My absolute favorite kind."
The next day, when the door opened.
The person standing there was not Minchae.
The perfume, the tied-up hair, the single corner of the mouth curling upward.
The woman from the notebook was standing right there.
"...Yeobo."
The strength drained from the man's legs.
Minchae—no, she—approached and cupped his cheeks.
"Why are you looking at me like that? I'm right here."
"...I'm sorry. Back then... I..."
"Shh. Let's not talk about that today."
She embraced him.
A familiar scent filled his nose.
The man buried his face in her shoulder, trembling silently.
She slowly led him to the bed.
She did not rush.
It was warmth he hadn't felt in three years.
"Take it slow. It was like this our first time, too."
The man's hands trembled as he unbuttoned her shirt.
She reacted exactly as he remembered.
Where she liked to be touched, how she breathed.
"Ah... there... Your hands haven't changed at all..."
"...I remembered. Everything."
Her clothes were stripped away layer by layer.
The man did not rush.
Knowing this was the end, his touch sought to stretch out every single second.
"Yeobo... why did I get so angry back then? If only I knew it would be the last time..."
"Shh. It's all in the past. Just look at me now."
She guided his hand to her breast.
The familiar weight, the familiar trembling.
As the man kissed it, she let out a soft laugh.
"You always loved this spot. You haven't changed a bit."
"...Yeah. Not a bit."
Minchae brought back every single habit of the deceased wife, perfectly.
For the man, it was a night where she had truly returned.
He slowly laid her down on the bed.
There was no haste in his touch as he undressed her.
He stared at her exposed body for a long time, as if engraving it into his memory.
The body he had only seen in pictures for three years was alive and breathing before his eyes.
He slowly stroked her shoulders, arms, and waist with his palms.
The familiar curves met his fingertips exactly.
"...You're warm. You're really here."
"Yes. I am. Today, I am."
His lips traveled down her neck, past her collarbone, and reached the tips of her breasts.
As if retracing a familiar path, he did not rush a single spot.
As he took her nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue over it, her back trembled, and she let out a breath.
His other hand slowly squeezed and released her other breast.
It was a touch retracing memories from three years ago.
"Haa... ah... Your lips... they're just the same..."
His hand slid down past her stomach and between her legs.
The plump flesh was already soaking wet.
As he slowly parted the crevice with his fingers, a slick sound echoed.
Squelch... slip... squish.
Even though they had been apart for so long, their bodies had not forgotten each other.
Just like their last night three years ago, he rubbed that small bud in circular motions.
He lowered his body and kissed between her legs.
As his tongue slowly licked up the wet flesh, her hips twitched upward.
At the familiar movement of his tongue, she reacted just like in the old memories.
"Ah... ♡ there... Only you know that spot..."
"...I'm sorry. I should have held you more often."
"You're holding me now. That's all that matters."
After slowly inserting his fingers to thoroughly wet her inside, he hovered over her.
As their naked bodies overlapped, the warmth he had yearned for so long was fully transmitted.
As he aligned his tip with the wet entrance, she lifted her hips first to welcome him.
He pushed deep inside in one motion.
The tight, hot flesh familiarly swallowed him to the hilt.
The place that had been empty for so long was filled in an instant.
"Mnh... ♡ You're inside... You..."
He slowly moved his hips.
The tight flesh wrapped around him in a familiar shape.
Just like that day three years ago, their two bodies locked together without a single millimeter of misalignment.
He pulled back almost completely, then filled her deep once more.
With every thrust, the words he couldn't say came out one by one.
"I'm sorry..."
"Ah... ♡ I know. I know everything..."
"I missed you. Every single day."
"Me too... sob... Me too, every day... The bed without you was so empty..."
He held her even closer.
With every penetration, three years' worth of unspoken words spilled out.
It felt less like mixing flesh and more like sharing a long-overdue farewell.
With every thrust, the longing was filled to that exact depth.
"Sending you away angry that day... I regretted it my whole life..."
"It's okay... haa... I wasn't angry. Really..."
"The last thing I saw was your angry face... That hurt the most..."
"Ah... then look at me now. Remember this face, the one that isn't angry..."
"Liar. You were angry..."
"...Yeah, a little. But it's all melted away now. Because you're holding me like this..."
Splat...! Squish... squelch...!
The sound of wet flesh colliding grew faster.
Her tight pussy sucked him in deep, clamping down, and love juices soaked the space between them.
Every time he drove his hips deep, her breasts bounced.
The sound of their wet bodies clashing filled the room.
Sadness and pleasure mingled so thoroughly that it was impossible to tell which was which.
Yet, neither of them let go of their hands until the very end.
She wrapped her legs around his waist.
It wasn't an embrace to hold him back, but one to send him off well.
He pulled her up into a hug, moving while they embraced face-to-face.
Chest to chest, their hearts beat in the same rhythm.
It was impossible to tell whether it was their bodies or their hearts that were merging.
Even if just for a moment.
Even if just for a moment, if it's you.
He paused for a moment.
"Just a moment, like this..."
At his pause, her body hugged him even deeper.
"Ah... Yeobo... closer... even closer... ♡"
"Yes. I'm coming. Closer."
Sobbing mixed into their groans.
It was impossible to tell whose tears they were.
A union where sorrow preceded sensuality.
Yet, because of that, both of their bodies burned even hotter.
"Yeobo... I think I'm going to cum..."
"Let's go together. This time, together."
Their bodies became one for the final time.
Like the day they first met, like that night they never knew would be their last.
With him thrusting to her deepest depths, he hugged her as if to crush her.
Her tight flesh squeezed him until the very end.
Inside her, the man poured out three years' worth of longing.
But he still couldn't let her go just yet.
A single time could not fill the void of three years.
"...Just one more time. Since today is the last."
"Yes. As many times as you want. Today, I'm all yours."
He turned her over and embraced her from behind.
Pressing his chest to her back, he kissed her ear and slowly entered her again.
Splat... squish... splat...!
"Mnh... ♡ You loved this position too, didn't you..."
"Yes. I remember everything. I haven't forgotten a single thing about your body."
Every time he struck the familiar spot precisely, her back shuddered.
Reaching around, his hand cupped her bouncing breasts.
Both sorrow and longing melted away for a brief moment before their second climax.
"Ah... ♡ I'm going again... with you..."
"Together. This time too, together."
Thrusting all the way in from behind, he poured deep inside her once more.
Even though it was the second time, it was just as hot as the first.
The word "last" felt warm for the first time.
He couldn't bring himself to get off her for a long while.
She slowly stroked his back.
"It's okay now. You've sent me off well."
"..."
"I heard all your apologies. So, live well now."
"...Yeah."
"Can you let me go now?"
"...Today. I think I can let you go today."
For the first time in three years, he smiled instead of crying.
A farewell could be this warm for the first time.
"...Just once. Can I hold you just once more?"
"Silly. You can hold me a hundred times. Today."
He embraced her again.
This time, it was not out of desire, but a true farewell.
Like someone burying their face in her embrace, trying to remember her scent until the very end.
"...Goodbye."
"Yes. Take care."
The man finally wept.
Crying the tears he hadn't been able to shed for three years.
The door closed, and Minchae wiped off her makeup.
In front of the mirror, the woman from the notebook slowly faded away, and Minchae returned.
The corners of her eyes were slightly damp.
"...Boss. This one lingers a bit."
"You did well."
"That client won't ever come back. And that's how it should be."
"I know. For some requests, success means they never become a regular."
Minchae handed back the notebook and left.
Yura did not write this client's name on the list of regulars.
Instead, she opened a different notebook.
The list of 'Resolved Requests'.
She added one more case to it.
Four call girls.
Four requests.
An older woman's embrace, the trembling of a first time, a safe fall, and a farewell.
All of them were requests rejected everywhere else.
All of them were resolved here.
People come here without even knowing what they truly want.
Pinpointing that for them is what I sell.
She looked out the window.
The sign shone brightly.
Her phone buzzed.
It was a request from an unknown number.
Yura read the message once more.
Another one.
She couldn't know what kind of request it would be yet.
Except for the fact that they were a client who had drifted here after being rejected everywhere else.