Regarding My Life (1)

I closed my eyes and clutched my forehead. Wishes… aren’t something you should throw around carelessly. I was learning this bitter lesson right at this moment.

“Prince!! Please give the princess a love kiss…”

Som lay perfectly straight on the bed, hands neatly folded over her chest, performing the role of ‘Snow White’ with flawless dedication. This excruciating role-play had been going on for a full forty minutes. At first I’d played along lightly, kissing her forehead, but she hadn’t moved an inch. Eyes still closed, she shook her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head firmly.

“No! That wasn’t a love kiss! On the lips! It has to be on the lips for the princess to wake up!”

I was losing my mind. Did she even understand what she was saying? Everything I’d tried so hard to teach her had apparently evaporated, yet these dangerously specific details were burned into her memory.

“Ugh… Fine, fine. Just once.”

Half resigned, I slowly leaned down toward her. My heart threw a reckless tantrum. No matter how I looked at her, she was a person—a woman’s face. Her lashes rested peacefully against her cheeks, and her slightly parted red lips looked almost unreal.

Haa… This is Som. The dog I used to raise…

I squeezed my eyes shut and brushed my lips against hers as lightly as a bird’s feather grazing down. They were warm. And… impossibly soft. The unfamiliar human texture, nothing like a dog’s, was still hard to get used to no matter how much time passed.

Only then did Som’s eyes snap open in satisfaction.

“Prince… you’re so cool! Live ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with Som! This princess belongs to you now.”

And the finale of this relentless role-play always ended the same way—in perfect dog fashion. She threw her arms around my neck as if she’d been waiting for this moment. Then, as if returning the favor for the ‘love kiss,’ she dragged her warm, wet tongue across my face without mercy.

“Slurp… slurp… Hehe, hehe!”

She was expressing the fairy-tale ending “and they lived happily ever after” with her entire body. I wiped my soaked cheek, feeling like I might ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suffocate from the intensity of her affection, and realized with painful clarity that reading her Snow White had been a colossal mistake.

After I’d promised myself I would show Som the wider world, the very sense of time had grown dull over the past several days. My days no longer belonged to me. From the moment she opened her eyes until she fell asleep in my arms, every nerve and every second revolved solely around this strange, lovable creature.

Reading picture books to her and soothing her fierce anger at the villains. Teaching her the alphabet from ‘giyeok’ all the way to ‘hieut,’ and correcting her habit of calling me “Prince” with new titles. And the most exhausting of all—separation anxiety training. Ignoring her desperate howls and the frantic scratching at the door the instant it closed, as if her whole world were collapsing, felt like tearing a piece of my own heart out every single time.

The days blurred past in a frenzy. While I was busy building her small world inside this tiny room, I hadn’t even noticed that my own world had come to a complete stop.

“Here, Som. Let’s eat!”

“Okay!”

Today’s meal was seasoned very lightly again. Even though I had resolved to guide Som into human society, I still couldn’t bring myself to feed her anything that might shock her system, sticking only to foods a dog could eat without trouble. Fortunately, Som devoured even this bland fare as if it were a feast. But from my perspective, claiming I felt full just watching her eat was a lie. My taste buds still craved the sharp, salty, sweet, and spicy flavors of the human world.

I had grown sick of the tasteless diet tailored to her, and lately I had to force myself to swallow each bite. I could feel myself losing weight, my body growing heavier every morning. Today I left half my breakfast untouched and stood up to get ready for work.

“Som, I’m heading out.”

“Do you have to go…? Let’s read a book together! Or play with dolls…”

Lately Som had become especially reluctant to let me leave. She had grown obsessed with human games like fairy tales and dollhouses. To her, I was the only one who would play with her.

“Sorry, Som. As soon as I get back, I’ll read to you… and yes, we’ll play prince and princess too!”

“…Really?”

“Of course!”

“Hehet… Come back soon, Prince!”

Only after promising yet another role-play session could I finally step out the door. The entire way to the café, my head was filled with thoughts of her.

I should have adjusted the home cam angle more.

Maybe I should have prepared something different for lunch.

I felt cut off from the world again. But unlike before, when the world had pushed me away, this time I had willingly locked myself inside the strange, lovely world named Som.

With a wry smile, I opened the café door. As I tied on my apron, staring at the empty spot behind the glass counter, the boss tossed out a remark.

“Yuri’s sick. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes… We texted yesterday.”

“I barely managed to talk her out of dragging her sick body in to work. But listen…”

The boss looked me up and down. “Yuri’s the one who’s sick, so why do you look more like a walking corpse? Were you that worried about our Yuri?”

It was his usual mischievous teasing, but his eyes held sharp concern.

“What? Ah… well, I am worried. I’m… eating properly.”

My voice shrank until even I felt embarrassed. The standard for “eating properly” had become forcing down a few bites of flavorless food.

“Look at you. After you brought home that kid—Som or whatever—I thought you’d finally brightened up. But these days you look even more exhausted.”

The boss clicked his tongue, then quickly made a sweet café mocha with freshly pulled espresso, milk, and cocoa powder before sliding it toward me.

“Drink. You look like your blood sugar’s crashing.”

“Thank you.”

“You have to take care of your own body. Who else is going to do it? You live alone, right? Even I feel sorry for you—imagine how your parents would feel.”

While wiping a cup, the boss added one more blunt remark.

“And… you need to be healthy if you’re going to take care of someone like our Yuri later. Don’t you think? How are you going to look after her when you’re this frail?”

I stood there holding the coffee cup, unable to say a word. In the end, I was the one who needed to take care of myself first. Under the excuse of protecting Som and the responsibility of teaching her, I had been neglecting myself completely.

The atmosphere in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠café felt different. Without Yuri, the space that should have held her bright voice seemed twice as noisy with customers yet strangely hollow. I pulled shots and wiped cups like a machine. Only when my break finally came did I let out the breath I’d been holding and pick up my phone.

I sent the short greeting and habitually opened the home cam. I watched Som diligently practicing her Korean letters for only a moment before a message arrived.

Seeing such an energetic, long message while she was still sick made me burst into a small laugh. I typed back.

It seemed my haggard appearance wasn’t just my imagination. Both the boss and Yuri had noticed. Every part of my real world was silently proving that I had been neglecting myself.

What does “taking care of myself” even mean?

While I was turning that vague question over in my mind, my phone rang again.

Their trivial jokes and painfully realistic words felt distant, like news from another country. Just a few weeks ago, that had been my most urgent reality. Now, sticking Hangul practice posters on the wall for Som felt far more pressing.

I stared blankly at the chat for a long time. The deep sense of disconnection between my stopped world and the one still moving for them. Caught in that gap, I hesitantly typed a reply with awkward fingers, as if reaching toward a door to another world.

That small promise seemed to breathe the faintest trace of warmth into a corner of my chest that had gone cold as ash.

I suddenly realized something. The reason the café air had felt especially empty and unfamiliar this morning wasn’t simply because Yuri was absent. Perhaps that hollow space was the emptiness of my own stopped heart—the one I had locked away inside Som’s strange little world.

The afternoon shift began again. Yuri’s empty spot still felt large, and my worry for her remained, but strangely the whole world no longer seemed as hollow as it had that morning. The tiny thread called “Friday.” That single string had somehow reconnected my stalled time, however precariously, back to reality.