The Divergent Paths of a Day
He wakes up at 8:00 AM. He tidies his bedding and brews coffee while popping a slice of bread into the toaster. Because of his wife’s old nagging—"Don't just blow your money because you have it. Save it."—he had never been able to bring himself to buy the cold brew maker he wanted, even though, as of 2276, his personal assets exceeded 10 trillion won. He pours the coffee he started brewing yesterday into a mug, brings it to the table, and turns on the TV to watch the news.
Usually, around this time, she would have been scurrying about, preparing for work, darting between the vanity and the closet, and then cleaning up the kitchen because she couldn't stand the mess before leaving. But that person is no longer here.
About five or six friends had come over yesterday, drinking and talking until 3:00 AM, and they seemed to be sleeping in the spare rooms. It didn't matter. They were high school friends, so he trusted them, and since they were all unmarried, he had actually been the one sleeping at their places until now. Letting them crash for a day was no problem at all.
"Hey, I'm heading to work~"
"Uh... go ahead... We'll do the cleaning later... once we wake up..."
"A cleaning service is coming. Just close the bedroom doors and keep sleeping. Turn on the AC if you want."
"Yeah, sure..."
He no longer needed to drive anyone personally. A chauffeur was waiting with the car on the first floor, and he slowly walked down the stairs toward it. The driver was smoking nearby but quickly tried to stub it out upon seeing him.
"Ah, no, take your time. Who’s going to say anything if I’m late?"
Except for my father, he added under his breath, sliding into the passenger seat and placing his briefcase in the back. The driver bowed politely and took the wheel.
"I’ve told you before, you don’t need to be so formal with me."
"But you are a high-ranking executive, sir."
"You’re twice my age, driver. Please, make yourself comfortable."
He arrives at the office at 8:30 AM. After being dropped off at the main entrance, he opens the door himself, bows to the driver, and watches as the driver bows so low his head nearly touches the steering wheel. He waves his hand with a strained smile, feeling burdened by the gesture, and heads inside.
His schedule for the day had already been logged by his secretary, and he checked it while reviewing the relevant materials. He spent time thinking about what decisions needed to be made in meetings, what kind of discussions would take place in the presence of the Chairman, and what he should say, until it was 9:00 AM.
"Executive Director, about that..."
"You can just leave it there!"
At 9:00 AM, the stock market opened. He quickly checked the stock prices of his company and its subsidiaries. Occasionally, when his father, the Chairman, ordered him to buy or sell tens or hundreds of thousands of shares in a certain subsidiary, he had to comply. He also needed to earn some pocket money. Since all dividends from his equity had to be reinvested into acquiring more stock, he conducted his personal investments with a relatively small sum of 1 billion won.
There were many places where money needed to go. Now that he could travel abroad without restrictions, he bought and sold stocks of various companies based on the estimated expenses he had discussed with his friends yesterday, recording the profits in an Excel sheet. He spent an hour focused on the monitor, then handled miscellaneous tasks while checking his schedule. When he wrote his opinions on approval documents and processed them, they moved up the chain. Since everyone who signed off on a document was responsible for the outcome, he had to review them meticulously. It was a job that required a lot of time and intense concentration.
"Actually, I am negative about building a new semiconductor plant."
"Is it because of the location...?"
"The DRAM market super-cycle has already passed; if we start construction now, it will sit idle for the next three years. The cost of finding technicians and setting up production lines later will be higher than executing it at this point. Rather, I think it would be better to increase R&D spending during this period and proceed with ESG-related environmental improvements. We need to prepare for the future."
By the time he finished working like that, it was lunchtime. Since it wasn't a day he was dining with anyone, he planned to eat in his office. He went downstairs, bought a lunch box, and began to eat. In the past, she would have sent him a KakaoTalk message: 'Don't go to convenience stores or weird places, eat something proper. I heard there are many good places for solo dining.'
Looking back, it was absurd. She said that, yet she never once packed a lunch for her husband. On the YouTube video he had playing, a newlywed couple was eating lunch. It looked like the wife had cooked it herself. Are those people so rich that they can eat together in the middle of a weekday? Do they not work?
"Ah, I envy that person. Having a wife who cooks for him. My wife didn't even think about cooking dinner, let alone lunch. She told me to fend for myself. I married the wrong person... ...Ah, wait. I’m divorced. Right."
Annoyed, he clicks on a different YouTube channel.
He clicks it out of curiosity. Did this person get divorced like me?
- Unmarried life is completed through marriage
- My girlfriend hasn't gone home in 15 years
- That’s not a meme. But if I talk about it seriously, I feel too miserable, so I pretend it’s a meme.
"No, ha, what is this, haha, seriously..."
He laughed so hard his office shook, especially at the part where the guy said his girlfriend hadn't gone home in 15, 20 years. He almost spilled his lunch. Watching videos like this, he thought he had done well to get divorced. Everyone regrets marriage anyway, and he wasn't the only one. Well, to be honest, he thought he might just meet any woman—he couldn't bring himself to think about buying one with money—and if he felt lonely again, he could just break up. If he wanted to raise a child? "There are a lot of adoptees... these days. In our country. If I adopt and raise one, then... that could be good. Good for the kid, good for me." He had liked kids a lot since he was young. He had only refrained because his ex-wife didn't want to give birth.
— On the other hand, she hadn't woken up even though it was lunchtime. Beside her lay an open bottle labeled Zolpidem 10mg, with dozens of white, elongated pills scattered around it. There were two pillows. When she first moved into the house where she would stay temporarily after the divorce, she had bought two pillows, just in case—really, just in case—he came back. That way, she could sleep. But now, she would soak one pillow with tears, move to the other, soak that one too, and then turn her head, flip the pillow over, and cry again. If she couldn't sleep, her body would tremble violently. She was a complete wreck. The fear of not being able to sleep, the terror that she had to fall asleep quickly to stop the trembling. If she fell asleep, she might see him in her dreams, by random chance. Maybe in her dreams, he could comfort her. Then she could forget reality, even for a brief moment. She wanted to forget reality. She wanted to escape this hellish reality and return to the 'before' she so desired. It hadn't even been two months since the divorce, but she was on the verge of death.
"..."
She only wakes up after lunch has passed. As soon as she opens her eyes, her previously calm expression instantly distorts. The empty spot beside her in bed. A place where no one is. The dark atmosphere of the room. The French and German books she had shown him, occasionally teaching him that such languages existed. Because she loved him so desperately, she had drawn red lines under every word meaning 'love' in all those language books and always pointed them out to him. When he listened silently, she would usually say,
"If there are so many different words for it..."
"There’s Turkish and Vietnamese, too! Look at this, here..."
"...Still, I want to use Korean. I love you, Seo Jia. I love you so, so much."
The woman who used to hug the books tightly, watching his expression and listening to his voice, her heart pounding, is gone. The man who spoke with such a warm voice is also gone. Now, only the ex-husband who she didn't even know where he was or what he was doing, and she, clutching a pillow and muttering to herself that she wanted to die while thinking of the past, remained.
She couldn't bring herself to eat. Whenever she ate, remorse would well up. Seeing him act like a child, refusing to eat things like eggplant or cucumber and saying he only wanted meat, she would get annoyed, her stress from work compounding. "Hey, are you a child? Don't be so sloppy with your food. Acting like that makes you look really immature. Just eat what you're given."
She bit her lip, swallowing the tears that burst forth. She should have just made him the meat dish back then. She should have fed him what he said he liked. If she had, would he have said he didn't want to divorce? Would he have held onto her? Was that perhaps why he had so easily suggested divorce?
At some point, he had stopped asking her to cook. He, who had once bought various ingredients and suggested they make food together in a happy, cozy way, had stopped saying such things, and eventually, even his presence had vanished.
"I, I could have... made... beef... for you, I could have, sob, really... ugh, sob, hic, ah, seriously..."
There was no one left to listen to those words. It was as if God had given her two years of chances, and seeing that there was no answer, had taken him away. She began to curse the innocent God. Even though she was the source of everything—the divorce, the separation, the fact that she could no longer see him—she chose to escape from reality.
"It, it was all for you, really, really... sob, I, I, if you didn't eat things like that..."
And another regret. The "Hey, you" that she used to say. "When we get married, let's always call each other by name, or 'Honey,' 'Dear.' Calling each other 'Hey, you' like this is a bit much. It’s hurtful."
"Yeah, I wanted to do that too!"
"Sometimes I want to use honorifics, too. Since you're older than me..."
"Cute, okay. I’ll... should I call you 'Oppa' sometimes? Husband, Honey, Dear. Well..."
She had said it was hurtful. Even though he had clearly told her that, she had said it anyway. And it had happened countless times. She hadn't noticed his expression changing every time. Only now did she realize. It wasn't the food. It was her tone of voice, accompanied by the contempt she showed whenever he tried to do something, treating him like a child. "I, I was wrong, sob, I was wrong... Please, again, I, I'll do better, really, truly, sob, ugh, ha... Just once, please, yeah? Please... I will never... call you like that again, sob, hic, ah...!"