Wedding Invitation

The one who sent me the wedding invitation this time was my second girlfriend from college.

Unlike my first girlfriend, whom I'd let go because I couldn't handle her intensity after a while, she had a relatively ordinary personality. She was a junior in my department, and we'd dated for two years starting in our third year before breaking up. I stayed in Annam City after passing the civil service exam, while she moved to Seoul. We'd parted on messy terms, so there'd been no contact since. I'd figured we might cross paths again someday, but I never expected a wedding invitation.

That was about it—just directions, a bank account number, and the best man's profile added on. The invitation itself was completely ordinary. What was strange was why it was sent to me at this particular moment. It wasn't just a link dropped in a group chat. We were from the same department, so I'd heard occasional updates, but there was no group chat. This was deliberate invitation terrorism.

No, that couldn't be it. We hadn't spoken since breaking up. That left only one possibility: teabagging. A despicable act, but there were always women who did things like this. The motives varied—petty revenge against an ex who'd cheated, an impulsive urge to show off, or in darker cases, imagining the ex's reaction while sending it. Since I'd never cheated, the first motive was out. So what was it?

After pondering, I realized something important: I had a lot of free time. The storage room was clean, so there was no cleaning to do, and no one was giving me work. I decided to investigate slowly. For now, it was just a way to pass the time.

I started with the groom. He was a doctor named Jung Jae-ho, a fellow in gastroenterology at Big 5 Hospital, specializing in endoscopy, colorectal cancer, and liver disease. His prospects as a doctor looked excellent. He could pursue academia, but after finishing his fellowship, he'd likely earn at least 2 billion won annually. If he came from a humble background, opening his own clinic might be delayed, but I found out both his parents were doctors. The only son of a medical family, he even owned a house in Dogok-dong, likely bought by his parents.

The possibility of this being about showing off increased slightly, but I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wasn't certain yet. His personal life was inaccessible—all his accounts were private. However, I could learn about him through his faith. The invitation listed a pastor as the best man, revealing he was a devout believer. A quick search brought up his profile as the youth division pastor at Hope Church, a megachurch in Gangnam with over 40,000 registered members. Just browsing the church community yielded plenty of information.

According to the youth division bulletin, Jung Jae-ho had never missed Sunday worship or retreats, even during his residency. "Is that even possible?" His faith was beyond devout. Naturally, his social circle was entirely church-centered. His father was an elder, his mother a deaconess, and he himself was a bassist in the choir and an officer in Youth Division C. Additionally, as deputy team leader of the medical mission team, he'd participated in four medical missionary trips. If he hadn't become a doctor, he'd likely have been a pastor or evangelist. His personal life was virtually nonexistent.

His appearance was... pious. A gentle, likable man in his mid-thirties, average height. Overall, Jung Jae-ho was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a top 1% groom candidate. In fact, 1% was generous—more like 0.5%. "You succeeded, Yu-ra," I thought. He matched the type of groom I remembered Kim Yu-ra preferring. His all-in church lifestyle might be a drawback, but given his qualifications, it wasn't really a flaw. If she was willing to follow a church-centered lifestyle, attending church three times a week and doing ten minutes of evening prayer would be manageable. To marry a man two tiers above her, that was a small price to pay.

Still, I couldn't understand why she'd involve me at this critical moment. With just four weeks left, she could marry a man with excellent prospects, have a lavish wedding at Palace Gangnam—a top venue alongside Gaya Hotel's VIP Hall—go on a nice honeymoon, and live comfortably as a successful doctor's wife. She wasn't stupid enough to let her guard down at the last minute, unless her intelligence had plummeted since ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠our breakup. "Why on earth?"

While pondering, I continued gathering information, just in case I needed to make a report. I had nothing else to do anyway. After a few more hours, messages started coming in consecutively. They were from Kim Yu-ra's friend, someone I'd exchanged greetings with when meeting Yu-ra. She was also my junior.

Invitation trouble, then sending a friend to apologize on her behalf... I wasn't angry yet, but I was more curious about her intentions. Why send a friend to claim it was an accident, and why do something that could ruin the wedding she'd dreamed of for so long? I ignored the messages. Five minutes later, another message came.

Kim Yu-ra wanting to apologize directly. I ignored it again.

Then they decided to wrap it up their own way. It felt absurd, but one thing was clear: Kim Yu-ra wasn't just trying to provoke me. If she wanted to show off, she'd have chosen a safer time and method—not something that could risk her wedding. Her goal was to commit a breach of etiquette that would be hard to ignore, one that would make apologizing directly difficult due to embarrassment and guilt.

Her urgency was evident. Soon, I began to guess the reason. I was still searching for public information about the groom Jung Jae-ho and bride Kim Yu-ra—from church bulletins to the SNS of people connected to them, even abandoned blogs. Among them, I noticed a video titled "Hope Church Youth Division Summer Retreat Special Lecture", featuring Pastor Choi Hyeong-jip of the Christian Sexual Ethics Research Society, on the topic "Holy Love, Pure Family ('What is Chaste Dating?')" with 213 views and one comment. Jung Jae-ho, the Youth Division C officer who would marry my ex-girlfriend in four weeks, appeared in it.

The segment ran from 13:10 to 14:43, where he politely held a microphone with both hands and spoke briefly. His words were striking:

That was typical for a youth division lecture. The funny part came next:

In other words, he wouldn't marry a non-virgin. Jung Jae-ho was a premarital chastity advocate. The video was two years old, but I didn't think his beliefs had changed. A laugh escaped me—not mocking, but because I could respect his stance. He was a virgin himself and wanted a virgin wife; who was I to interfere? What made me laugh was my ex-girlfriend about to marry him. Kim Yu-ra wasn't a virgin. I knew that better than anyone.

At the same time, in a high-end dress shop in Cheongdam-dong, a conversation between the soon-to-be-married couple continued.

"Oppa, while sending out invitations today, I accidentally sent one to someone I shouldn't have... Do you remember? A senior I met in college."

"Joo Sung-hyun? That's fine. Just give me his contact info, and I'll apologize politely on your behalf..."

"Please don't."

"Yu-ra?"

"If I made Senior Sung-hyun upset by accident, how would he feel if you called?"

The groom sighed, as if realizing something, though he still seemed to hold onto some lingering feelings.

"I need to ask carefully... Not that I doubt you, but Mom keeps insisting I check."

"He's probably feeling insecure right now, and I don't want to stir things up. You know how much civil servants earn, right? He's already struggling."

"That's true."

"We dated for two years and it was really beautiful. You believe me, right?"

"Yeah. I'll explain it well to Mom."

They were a rare couple in recent times, one that valued chastity.