Married Woman Full Course (2)

“...You must have the wrong person.”

“What are you talking about? Honey, it's me, Mi-hye. How could you forget your wife when we just had the wedding?”

Even after my hesitant response, the woman in front of me approached without a second thought. She pressed right up against my side, speaking sweetly, just like she was facing her real husband.

“The wedding? You mean, our marriage ceremony?”

I asked in disbelief, but she answered without hesitation.

“Oh come on, you're really acting like you have no idea? Honey. Are you trying to make me look like some weird woman in front of everyone?”

Glancing to the side at her words, I saw the office worker who'd looked like he was cursing the world just moments ago on his way to work, staring at us suspiciously. He seemed to ponder for a second, then let out a deep sigh and walked past. His expression was like he'd just seen a pair of newlyweds rubbing their honeymoon phase in everyone's faces.

“I've just been so out of it, but... when exactly did we have this wedding...?”

“Ugh, honey, you're making me feel like I'm the one having some crazy delusion here. When did we get married? Just—”

She pulled out her phone as she spoke. After glancing at the screen for a moment, her face went blank, a far cry from her lively demeanor seconds ago.

“Choi Mi-hye has decided to serve Lee Ji-hoon as her husband starting 20 minutes ago... Current active play list: Daily Wife Play, Daily Mother-Son Play, Daily Affair Play... Daily Wife Play automatically applied considering the current situation... Play will change automatically based on the title Lee Ji-hoon calls her by...”

“Hey?”

“...Oh, sorry, honey. I've been spacing out a lot lately. What was I saying? Oh, right, when we got married? Twenty minutes ago. Our wedding.”

“...”

Something... something had definitely happened.

“You still don't get it even after coming this far?”

My footsteps, headed for breakfast, had somehow led me to the nearby New Apartment Complex. The woman who'd introduced herself as Mi-hye clung tightly to my arm, showing me around the complex.

“You won the housing lottery and that's why we're here. You really still don't remember?”

“Uh... was that it?”

“We came to this café every weekend. Ring any bells now?”

“Did... did we?”

She'd nagged me to speak casually, so I'd dropped the formalities, but inside, I was a total mess.

Choi Mi-hye. She seemed like the woman summoned by my impulsive tap on MC OP's Quick Use feature... but honestly, nothing made sense.

Why was she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠acting like this?

For starters, let's assume OP meant the kind of “OP” you find in those rub-and-tug joints. From that angle, her behavior was... utterly bizarre.

Treating me like her actual husband. No, more devotedly than that.

I could force myself to chalk it up as part of the “play.” But what the hell was this?

“Honey, I ordered your favorite hazelnut latte.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks...”

“And I didn't forget to add a shot.”

“...”

This wasn't just “husband treatment” play.

Our marital love nest. The café we frequented together. My tastes.

She acted like all of it was naturally mine, as if I'd always been there.

Like she'd forcibly slotted me into the position of her real husband.

Of course, that was nonsense. There's no way you could overlay me onto someone's memories.

So I desperately tried to rationalize her attitude and actions as part ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the “husband treatment.” But no matter how hard I tried, what happened next made that impossible.

“Here, your favorite hazelnut latte.”

She beamed like she'd just run a loving errand for her dear husband. Alternating glances between her and my phone, I said,

“What's with the latte? Don't you know I only drink Americano?”

“Ah, sorry. Really sorry. I must've blanked. What's wrong with me lately, honey? I'll ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠order an Americano right away.”

Flustered by my words, she hurriedly ordered and brought back an Americano. To her, looking terribly apologetic, I said again,

“I can't drink coffee, only grapefruit ade. Forgot? And why are you using casual speech? You said you'd use formal with me.”

“...I'm sorry, honey. I must be too excited out in public. Grapefruit ade, right? I remember what you always drink. How could I forget what you like? I'll get it now. Sorry.”

......

At this point, I had to give up trying to understand. I just had to believe it.

Believe the words from that MC OP app.

“You rest. I'll do a quick cleanup.”

After telling her to use formal speech at the café, she'd stuck to it ever since. Her sweet, affectionate demeanor was the same, but she kept a respectful distance.

Not that it felt cold or distant. She acted like that boundary was there solely to serve and revere someone she admired and respected.

Now, I was lounging in the apartment she'd shown me to. According to her, it was thanks to my housing lottery win... but to me, it just sounded like someone else's home.

This place was a new build for newlyweds, so it wasn't huge. Still bigger than my studio, but it had that cozy apartment feel.

“Feels like a newlywed home.”

As I looked around, I was reminded of my friend's place I'd visited for a housewarming not long ago. The interior showed traces of the couple putting their heads together instead of hiring pros. A bit amateurish in spots, but their love filled every corner, making up for it.

Turning my head, I saw a family photo on the wall. Dad, mom, and son smiling happily.

The man in the photo was probably the one Choi Mi-hye thought of as her “husband” until this morning. He was strikingly handsome at first glance, which explained why she seemed to adore her husband so much.

And next to that handsome guy was Choi Mi-hye. Holding their child in her arms, smiling radiantly by her husband's side—she looked utterly blissful in the picture.

Strangely, her smile felt so familiar.

I'd definitely met her for the first time today. It should have been a stranger's face, but her smile alone felt familiar. Why?

I figured it out quickly. Of course.

That happy smile in the photo was the exact one she'd given me every time she looked at me today.

I'd brushed it off until now, but seeing it in her family photo made it hit home. I'd seen it over and over, right up close, the radiant smile she reserved for her husband.

“Cleanup's almost done. Just this last bit.”

She approached me while I stared at the family photo. No idea what she'd been cleaning, but she was hauling a heap of full trash bags—looked like a lot.

She flashed me that same smile from the photo and said, “I'll take care of this trash too,” reaching to take down her family picture.

Wait, hold up.

“W-wait a sec. Why are you taking that down?”

“Why wouldn't I remove a weird photo hanging in our house?”

She glared at her own family photo like it was truly bizarre.

“Honey. Wasn't this our family photo here until this morning? Why is this thing here?”

I stopped her and glanced at the trash bags she held. Couldn't see clearly through the white plastic, but it looked like adult men's clothes, photos, letters—maybe?

...No way?

“What's all that?”

“...Just trash.”

“What kind of trash?”

“......I don't really know, but it seems like stuff from an ex-boyfriend. Honey, don't misunderstand. I've never brought an ex here even once. It was just here somehow, so I'm throwing it out. You believe me, right?”

She babbled incoherently, like a wife caught with ex-boyfriend mementos in front of her husband.

......I'm not exactly a good person.

Just look at how I toyed with her at the café. If this hypnosis app or whatever shady ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thing gave me a shot at banging a married woman, I'd absolutely take it.

Frankly, the opportunity in front of me mattered more than some other guy's wife or family.

But this was different.

If the app was telling the truth, our “relationship” was limited to just one day.

For that single day, make her throw out her real husband's things? Memories collected since their dating days?

...That pricked my conscience too much.

“Still, do you really need to throw it out?”

I tried saying that, but she wouldn't budge.

“No. Keeping stuff like this around is my fault in the first place. Sorry, honey. But believe me. I can't even remember my ex's name or face. Don't know what we did. So—”

“No, no, I believe you. I believe everything you say, so... can you just leave it for a bit longer? Yeah, just one day. Think of it as setting it by the trash can. Throw it out tomorrow. Okay?”

“........”

For the first time, she pouted at me.

From her perspective, her husband telling her not to throw out ex-boyfriend stuff? No wonder she couldn't understand.

But... still, wrong was wrong.

“Ugh, fine. I'll leave it by the trash and toss it tomorrow. Happy now?”

“Yeah, that's good. It's fine.”

She finally relented, setting the trash bags and removed family photo by the bin. She didn't even glance at them after—like they were disgusting old memories.

As I watched her, thinking I'd averted the worst, my phone buzzed.

“What the...?”

I turned on my phone and tensed up at the message: an alert from MC OP.

This superpowered shady app. Its first message ever, after no notifications until now.

Why? Had I messed up by stopping her from throwing out her real husband's stuff? Or...

“...”

Tense as hell, I opened the app. Half-closing my eyes, bracing for some terrifying warning.

The app's alert read:

“.........”

For now... there seemed to be quite a few choices.