What Heuk-yo Had Forgotten
Heuk-yo had forgotten.
Come to think of it, this was the first time she'd ever stepped out of that prison. Knowing something in her head was one thing—experiencing it firsthand was entirely another. Especially like this, in a tiny sub-body mimicking the frail flesh of some lowly creature. It was all so new. Everything was a first.
Not toying with others for amusement, but throwing herself wholeheartedly into the act. She'd never done anything like it before.
So.
It was too damn fun.
"Jang-rang's asleep."
She carefully climbed atop her soundly sleeping husband. Mindful not to wake him, she shifted her body ever so gently. With a subtle tug, she loosened the silk tie of her nightgown and pressed herself against his firm, warm frame. She brought her lips to that handsome face, lost in oblivious slumber.
She could feel his breath. The calm, deep rhythm of someone who'd toiled through the night. The breath of sleep.
And that made disrupting it irresistibly entertaining.
Heuk-yo grinned wickedly and leaned in quietly. First, his cheek. A light peck. Naturally, he wouldn't stir from that. Nor had she planned to stop there. Next came his lips. A bit deeper this time. Slower, more insistent, more persistent. Then his jawline. Still unsure of the finer points, she'd bought books on human ways and studied diligently. How to make it more fun—she'd researched it all.
And then, his throat. Past the Adam's apple, she brought her tongue into play.
It wasn't long before her husband's eyes fluttered open. Somewhere around his chest, perhaps.
"Wh-what the hell? What are you doing?"
Heuk-yo looked up at him from her position, their bodies overlapped in a way that made it seem like she was gazing worshipfully from below. With a small, playful smile in her eyes, she murmured,
"Jang-rang."
"I-I'm asking what you're—"
"My Jang-rang, let's do it again."
A seductive glance. He flustered, resisted a bit, but with just a touch more prodding from her, he folded easily.
Yet it didn't displease her. He wasn't lusting after her in some crude, repulsive way...
Heuk-yo pondered.
Like this, too.
She could feel desire. Not just crushing and tormenting, but something pleasurable. A delightful craving. The thrill of confirming that her partner yearned for her desperately. The certainty in his ragged breaths that he was trying to please her.
This much...
If he truly loved her like this, then Heuk-yo had no choice but to return it even better. She was an Outer God, superior to these wretched insects. She was special. She had to put on the perfect show of love. She'd love him more than he loved her.
The love an Outer God understood was most amusing in those nights, so she wanted him to feel the same thrill she did. That's why Heuk-yo often whispered,
"I love you, my Jang-rang."
Of course, it was all an act.
"Liquor."
One bottle of rice wine. Insects got drunk on this stuff, or so they said. Heuk-yo had no way of knowing the sensation. One who'd grasped the wisdom of the Dark Heavens wouldn't lose reason to mere booze. Her mind was eternally clear, from age to age.
But the act required it.
"Jang-rang, shall we drink and play?"
Heuk-yo was observant. She quickly discerned what her husband liked, what he secretly craved, even if he was gruff and inexpressive. Personality included. If she was acting, it had to be flawless. Far more than whatever love he felt for her.
"I like rice wine."
"...Didn't you say last time you hated it?"
"That was a lie. Truth is, I love it."
No grand feast—just an intimate drinking session. Simple meat skewers, easy to procure, nothing too lavish. And most importantly, just the two of them.
Each time, Heuk-yo observed him closely. How he got drunk, what face he made under the influence—she wanted to etch it all in. Partly because it was cute. The petty bickering followed by instant sulking. Then peeking at her reaction anyway.
Did all drunks turn this adorable? If so, she could mimic it next time she "drank."
Once, twice. Or more. Time flowed. Seasons turned. Through dozens of "loves," a handful of drinking bouts, countless arm-links, joys, and happinesses, Heuk-yo gradually grew accustomed.
To always striving as the perfect, loving wife.
It was surely all just one grand game, one elaborate performance.
*
It was around then that she began considering a child. Two seasons had passed.
Impatience flickered in her husband's heart. His parents tried not to show it.
That was enough. Heuk-yo's gaze missed nothing.
As a devoted wife, it was only right to grant such a wish.
Just one problem.
"Mm, well, I can't very well bear an insect's seed, can I?"
Her infertility.
Heuk-yo wasn't even sure if she could reproduce. Did cosmic laws multiply? Did concepts propagate themselves? Let alone with a lowly mortal in the process.
Impossible.
But no worries. Heuk-yo was a capable, special Outer God.
"That's just another thing to act out. Easy."
She secretly acquired books. With her husband and in-laws straining so hard, it wasn't difficult. She mastered the process perfectly: the aura shifts, the bodily changes, everything.
Then she ran to her husband, beaming.
"Jang-rang, let's do something fun."
*
Five times. Even requesting especially amusing variations.
Pointless, but the process mattered.
Her husband had passed out long ago, dead to the world. While he slept, Heuk-yo meticulously adjusted her sub-body's form. Mimicking the onset of pregnancy to perfection.
No guilt. It was all an act.
As long as he loved her, she loved him in return. She'd realized it ages ago.
Outer Gods or insects—they were all the same.
Her husband would change someday too.
Until then, she'd savor this entertaining life.
So Heuk-yo smiled brightly. She hugged her sleeping husband and whispered in his ear.
"Sleep well, my Jang-rang. I've prepared a gift for you."
*
About a month later, Heuk-yo shared the joyous news.
Her husband leaped in shock. Pure delight and surprise—he nearly shattered the house. Super first-rate masters caused that kind of chaos.
"That needs fixing."
"Tomorrow. It's not a big deal anyway, right?"
"It should be now. Can't just leave it."
"No, leave it."
As he eyed her curiously, Heuk-yo wrapped her arms around his with a mischievous lilt.
"Because we won't be able to have fun for a while. Got to do plenty while we can."
Clinging tight. Melting into him. A sultry gaze and some coquetry, and he always yielded.
He hesitated, then crushed her in a fierce embrace.
The Outer God smirked wickedly in his arms.
No fun for months ahead—might as well indulge tonight. Yes, definitely.
She wouldn't let him sleep. No matter what.
*
Time flowed again.
Pregnancy brought new amusements. Heuk-yo savored them slowly, mimicking every detail.
Watching him panic during her feigned morning sickness. Midnight cravings sending him dashing off on peerless lightness skill.
Brainstorming baby names, house moves, future lives—every bit of it.
Sewing tiny clothes by lamplight, murmuring sweet nothings.
Above all, his happy gaze on her swelling belly.
Around then, perhaps, Heuk-yo confronted an oversight.
Living with her husband was dragging on too long.
Not boredom. Not dullness.
Just... he wasn't corrupting.
She'd thought it'd take mere months at first.
"Mm, once he sinks that low, I'll grasp the true answer to love."
For now, it was too complex. She couldn't pin it down. Nor understand the "effort to love" he'd sworn that first day—what process it entailed.
Once he debased himself, she'd define it.
Then she'd end this fun charade.
Though truthfully, she might not want to.
"A promise is a promise."
Until then, it was just forced perfection in her role. She was a special god, after all.
Heuk-yo was certain.
Lately, she'd been pestering him more. Waking him mid-sleep, twisting her personality to sharpness, sowing all sorts of negativity.
This should do it. Things had been too smooth.
She gazed at her soundly sleeping husband.
"Before the baby comes, I should see your true depths, dear husband."
Her hand on his cheek. Soft as downy fuzz, firm as bedrock. She stroked it, murmuring wistfully.
"I'll hate to end it then. Such fun, such joy... but don't worry. Yours will be the most merciful punishment."
She could sever the emotions. These gentle acts couldn't be real.
Not from her... to him. Not truly.