The Abnormal in the Everyday
Gong Yaeun knew all too well that sex was neither fantastic nor illusory, nor particularly romantic or ecstatic. Thirty-seven years of life had taught her that much. She also understood that it was reason, not pleasure, that truly shaped a person’s path, which was why she saw the romantic entanglements people gossiped about as little more than fleeting illusions. Sex was simply proof of intimacy between lovers; the idea of it ever becoming the main event seemed almost impossible.
In reality, sex was messy and embarrassing. The smell of sweat lingered, awkward sounds escaped, and that was that. It wasn’t the supreme pleasure endlessly praised online or in the media. At most, it was emotional labor to confirm love. That was all sex really was.
In that sense, Gong Yaeun felt deeply satisfied with her current situation.
Having sex with someone you loved so much, liked so much, that your body trembled through one or two climaxes. Being held in their arms, feeling your love affirmed, loving how they grew excited by your body. It felt like he truly loved her. And because she loved him too.
That was what real compatibility looked like between adults, wasn’t it? That was what she believed.
“…….”
Gong Yaeun blinked.
But now.
She sat crumpled in the back seat of a taxi, thighs twisted tightly together as she exhaled hot, shaky breaths. She had fled the motel like she was escaping, yet the space between her legs remained slick and her lower abdomen throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. It felt as if her mind and body were completely disconnected. Or rather, they had been all along.
Had the alcohol truly been that dangerous?
Could it heat the body so intensely that one unconsciously allowed things to go that far?
No… it was nothing but an excuse.
A laughable, pathetic excuse.
But without it, none of this made sense. Why? How? Even though she didn’t want to, Gong Yaeun found herself remembering. The passionate sex from last night. How she had ended up inside that motel. How they had kissed. How it had led to… everything.
“Ah, ngh…”
Her thighs twisted again without her permission. It was driving her insane. Literally insane. No matter how hard she tried to change the subject in her mind, that was all that rose up, soaking into every thought like spilled ink. That white body binding her. That exceedingly pretty face devouring her. Sniffing at her scent like a beast… mixing saliva…
Violating her body.
Because of it, her brain had gone blindingly white again and again, as if she might float away, shivers racing through her… screaming like an animal, panting desperately…
“…Ah, ugh…”
Why had that nephew—so popular with women, so tall and handsome with those almost delicate features—done those things to her, a woman on the verge of forty?
The phone vibrated. Gong Yaeun snapped back to her senses.
"Hey, you in the taxi?"
"Ah… taxi. Yeah."
"Is driving the car too much right now? Aigoo, you’ve been through it. I’m gonna have to have a serious talk with Doha. Making my darling work so hard."
"No, don’t… scold him too much. For Doha’s sake."
"He threw a tantrum after drinking, huh? Well, anyway, you’re not going into the office today, right?"
"Yeah."
"Sigh, can’t be helped. Just go home and rest up properly."
"I will."
"I’ll text you later. Love you, honey."
"Yeah… me too."
"You gotta say it back, you know. ‘Love you.’"
"I’m in a taxi."
"Still. Come on, quickly. Yeah?"
"Fine… I love you."
"Aww, that’s nice. I’ve got energy again for real. I’ll hang up now. I really love you, honey. Always."
The call ended with a click.
“…….”
Gong Yaeun let her phone drop weakly into her lap. In the rearview mirror of the taxi stopped at a light, she caught her own eyes. She had told a lie. In the end. To the husband she loved. Guilt and self-reproach crawled up her spine. The shame of deceiving him, the doubt about what the hell she had done.
Yet the sharp eyes staring back at her through the mirror looked strangely unfamiliar.
It was odd.
Gong Yaeun could not lie to herself. The sex from last night kept flashing through her mind. It was truly driving her crazy. Her head told her to curse that awful nephew, but the harder she tried, the more intensely she felt the damp fabric of her underwear clinging to her.
It was the alcohol… it’s all the alcohol’s fault…
Yes. It had to be the alcohol. The idea that a woman could have her reason paralyzed and pant like that over a single man… it simply didn’t make logical sense.
It was a mistake. The reason the sensations had felt so overwhelming was… simply because she had been drunk. The intoxication had simply heightened every feeling.
Sex was merely the loveliest way to confirm emotions. Pleasure itself could never be allowed to take center stage. Never.
It never happened. Doha agreed to pretend it didn’t…
Gong Yaeun desperately clung to that thought. Last night had never happened.
After leaving the motel, several days of ordinary life followed. Even though I had been secretly engaged in a filthy relationship with my aunt behind my uncle’s back—in other words, even though I, her nephew, had fucked her like a bitch—the world continued turning as usual. Which meant Lee Seol had officially claimed my room as her own, and the stories coming from the TV remained the same as ever.
Everything was strangely peaceful. As if nothing had happened at all.
“Is Mom coming home today?”
I was watching TV and scrolling on my phone when my sister came out of the room.
“No idea. Call her yourself.”
Even while answering, I asked the question I actually wanted an answer to.
“By the way, when the hell are you going to your part-time job?”
“Don’t know. But your room smells fucking weird. Especially the bed.”
“Then get out of it.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“Sleeping on the sofa is seriously destroying my back. When is Mom going to clean out the inner room?”
“You clean it. Why make Mom do extra work? Tsk tsk tsk.”
My sister plopped down naturally at the low table in front of the sofa. A glance at her phone showed she was on social media. Then she spoke.
“Oh, right. Mom told me to look after Harim.”
“Do Harim?”
“Yeah. She’s living alone around here now. Apparently she got into some university. Her dad asked Mom to keep an eye on her.”
“Wow, what a fucking idiot. Going to college at twenty-four?”
“Worry about yourself, you moron. Is this really the time for you to be badmouthing Harim? She’s trying to live her life, going to college and everything.”
“That girl is always on X. I’m telling you she’s not normal.”
My sister giggled at my words, especially at the mention of X.
Still, Do Harim. She was pretty much the only female friend I’d stayed in consistent contact with—close to a best friend, really. Do Harim and Lee Doha. We’d been teased a lot as kids for having the same “Doha” in our names.
“Anyway, let’s meet up with her today. It’s been a while since I saw Harim too.”
At my sister’s suggestion, I thought for a moment before turning back to the TV. In this ADHD-ridden era, it was just white noise I had turned on because staring at my phone alone felt too empty.
A moderately trashy drama was playing. The kind of show that was just trashy enough.
Trashy drama, huh.
I glanced down at my phone again. Aunt, who had said she would contact me, hadn’t sent a single message.
For some reason, a sly smile threatened to creep across my face.
I didn’t fully understand why, but that was how I felt. The memory of that day’s sex kept flickering through my mind. It felt like I was about to get hard. Honestly. Even with my sister sitting right in front of me, I wanted to rip my pants off and jerk off like an idiot.
Destroying a family and feeling dopamine surge through my veins, making my face glow… was this also because of my sexual urges?
Should I tell the psychiatrist about this too? Ah… yeah, I should. But then what? Tell them I fucked my aunt? That watching her writhe and moan beneath me gave me pleasure I’d never forget for the rest of my life?
Would I have to go back to that clinic, get hard during the consultation, and fantasize about fucking her again?
Fucking hell…
“Sis.”
“What.”
“Have you ever cheated on someone?”
“What the fuck? Where’s this bullshit coming from all of a sudden?”
My sister’s face hardened. She was scratching at her heel. I almost frowned but continued.
“No, I’m just saying your face looks like the type. Objectively.”
“Bullshit. Idiot.”
“So you haven’t?”
“Even if I had, why the hell would I tell a bastard like you?”
“So you have?”
“That’s the kind of thought only a kid would have. Fuck off. Why would I talk about something like that with you? Ugh, I feel like I’m gonna puke.”
She made a face of pure disgust. It was ambiguous. With a face like hers, she probably caused chaos everywhere she went, but imagining her cheating and acting coquettish with some guy made me feel sick to my stomach.
I couldn’t picture my sister with her shitty personality actually doing that. Though, come to think of it, maybe she already was.
When I saw the crazy fucking dead skin she was scratching at, I finally frowned.
“Ah, that’s so fucking gross. You definitely can’t cheat. You’ve got zero femininity.”
“Fucking idiot. The loser who randomly brings up cheating has a lot to say all of a sudden.”
My sister turned her attention back to her phone, so I changed the subject.
“Anyway, what time are we meeting her? Do Harim, I mean.”
“Don’t know.”
“We are actually meeting her, right?”
“Yeah, and she’s calling right now.”
It was true. A call screen had popped up on her phone.
“Harim Harimi~ Sis picked up! What were you doing?”
She answered in a voice so cringeworthy it gave me goosebumps. Crazy bitch.
“Sis is at home with one fucking loser. Ah, right. I told you I came back to our parents’ place, didn’t I? We’re meeting today, yeah?”
My sister glanced at me.
“Doha? Of course he’s coming. How about around four? Okey dokey. Make sure you come looking pretty. You know what happens if you don’t wash again, right? Sis is gonna sniff that scalp smell~”
“She’s really talking shit.”
“Ah, the loser next to me is muttering again! Yep, yep, see you then. Bye.”
A heavy silence settled. My sister kept scrolling on her phone for a while before standing up and heading into her room—no, my room. Probably to pick out clothes. It was only noon. What the hell was she doing? Soon I could even hear her humming. It was ridiculous.
I looked back down at my phone.
…Can I fuck her again? Ah, shit.
By four o’clock, the girl who showed up was exactly the same as the last time I had seen her.
Near the restaurant street by the subway station. In the awkward hour that was neither bright afternoon nor yellow-tinged evening, she stood waiting. Do Harim. Her skin was noticeably paler than any of ours, and her hair was the classic straight bangs with twin tails. Her makeup was heavy, and her outfit was even more extreme: a black skirt-coat that mixed childish and gothic elements, paired with wide white leg warmers.
“What the hell is this jirai-kei look? That trend died ages ago.”
When I approached and spoke, the eyes that had been fixed on her phone lifted with a slight scowl. Her features were delicate. But my sister ran over first.
“Harim Harimi! Hey, ignore that loser. You look so cute right now, seriously.”
“Ah, sis.”
“Mmm, Harim Harimi. How long has it been? Three months? Two?”
“Yes, um… about two months, I think. And this isn’t outdated. It’s Y2K.”
“Y2K? Doesn’t look like it at all.”
Do Harim lowered her gaze and curled the corner of her mouth in a small, sulky smile.
Bullshit.
Unlike my sister with her loud yellow-dyed hair and flashy style, Harim looked quite gloomy. They made a mismatched pair. My sister didn’t stop there. She linked arms with Harim and continued.
“Oh right, right. Can I sniff your scalp today? That addictive smell!?”
“Ah, that. I told you no… that’s too much.”
“Uhehe. You’re so cute when you get shy~…”
“Idiot.”
“Harim Harimi! Ignore that loser idiot and let’s pick what to eat together. What does our Harim want?”
“Um, I…”
The height difference between them was pretty big, almost like a guy and a girl. I trailed behind them, watching their backs, when a message preview popped up on my phone.
“…….”
It was a text saying she hadn’t been able to send the taxi money because she didn’t have the chance. I stared at the preview for a long moment.
This was like an unexpected intrusion of the non-everyday into daily life. It was exactly like my sexual desire.
My lower body suddenly felt stiff.
She had chosen to become a complete accomplice after all.
The immoral thrill of having turned my aunt into my own, of making her a partner in obscene sex, burned hot inside me. At the same time, a dark desire to turn her even more into a bitch slowly crept up.
Ah.
What kind of bastard was I, really?
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
Should I keep plotting ways to fuck my aunt again? Should I be crushed by self-loathing every time I saw my uncle’s face? Or should I try to understand the heart of my aunt who had experienced the ultimate adultery while pinned beneath her nephew?
I didn’t know.
Suddenly worrying about this shit felt ridiculous.
My head was a mess, so I decided to put off thinking about it for now. Without replying, I slipped my phone back into my pocket. Using Harim’s shoulder like an armrest, I spoke casually.
“But seriously, what kind of crazy bastard starts college at twenty-four? Did you do military service or something?”
This kid’s reactions were always funny.