The Lunchbox
That night, in the bedroom. Seoyeon lies on the bed, fiddling with her phone, while Cheolsu lies beside her, not daring even to speak, just watching her mood. The clock strikes 11, and Seoyeon sits up. It's time to report to her master before sleep. She sets her phone to speakerphone and holds down shortcut number 1. Cheolsu holds his breath.
The call ends, and silence returns to the bedroom. Seoyeon sets her phone down with a deeply satisfied expression and turns over to sleep. Left alone, Cheolsu trembles quietly under the covers. His face is a mess of tears and sweat, his hand clenched tight around the grotesquely swollen bulge inside his pajama pants. Hearing his wife report everything to another man, whispering her affection... the heart-shredding pain mixes with an overwhelming, perverse pleasure of betrayal. Cheolsu closes his eyes and endures the chaotic storm of emotions.
The next morning, Cheolsu—who stayed up all night with eyes wide open—quietly rises beside the exhausted, sleeping Seoyeon. He heads to the bathroom to prepare for work. Everything has crumbled, but she remains his entire world. After standing under the hot shower for a long time, he emerges to the cheerful clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Glancing over, he sees Seoyeon already up and bustling about, ignoring his exit completely as she busily prepares something. As he approaches, a profound sense of dissonance engulfs him. On the cutting board lie premium ingredients: plump abalone, lovingly braised short ribs, colorful fruits.
"Seoyeon-ah... what's... all this?"
Seoyeon finally notices him, beaming innocently. "Can't you tell? I'm packing lunchboxes."
Like a devoted wife preparing for her beloved husband, she happily trims the abalone, humming a tune as she artfully packs a luxurious three-tiered lunchbox. "Look at this. Doesn't it look delicious?" She proudly shows him the golden abalone butter-grilled steak and ginseng-braised short ribs.
Cheolsu, who endured hell the past few days, forgets everything in the face of her tender smile, swept up in pure joy. Thinking she prepared all this for him, he asks, a bit pleased, "...For... for me...?"
Her happy expression freezes. She looks at him with pitiful disdain and says coldly, "As if this could be for you."
She shoves the perfectly wrapped luxury lunchbox into his hands. "It's for serbangnim. He used up so much energy on me last weekend... I need to replenish his strength."
"... ..."
Cheolsu can't speak. Seoyeon clicks her tongue at him. "Cheolsu, just grab something from the convenience store. Don't be a hassle."
She pulls out a small, shabby lunchbox from the cupboard. From the fridge, she scoops leftover cold rice and ungrilled canned ham chunks haphazardly inside with a spoon. "Here, eat this."
She hands him both lunchboxes. Straightening his tie, she whispers in a voice both cruel and affectionate, "And this... deliver it to serbangnim yourself, right at lunchtime."
It's not a farewell. She leans to his ear for one last whisper. "Tell him it's packed full of my love."
Cheolsu can make no reply. He's reduced to personally delivering the love-filled lunchbox his wife made with care for another man. With vacant eyes, he stares back and forth at the two lunchboxes in his hands.
The subway to work is hell. The weight of the lunchboxes feels lighter than the stares from passengers. One hand holds an obviously expensive three-tiered set; the other, a pathetically cheap plastic container. People eye the bizarre combo strangely. He wishes he could just die right there.
By the time he reaches the office, his soul is in tatters. He sits at his desk and carefully stows both lunchboxes underneath. All morning, he can't focus on work. His monitor blurs with visions of his wife's happy face trimming abalone for another man.
Lunchtime arrives. Employees trickle out, leaving only him and Manager Park. Park pauses reviewing documents and asks indifferently, "Kim, not going for lunch?"
Cheolsu silently stands, retrieves the ornate three-tiered box from under his desk, and places it tremblingly on Park's desk.
Park frowns, confused. "What's this?"
"...My wife... said to make sure you got it..."
Understanding dawns, a sly grin spreads across Park's face. He unwraps it, opens the lid, and lets out a satisfied whistle. "Wow... Seoyeon's got real skill. Even surprises like this. Thinking of me so thoroughly—such a good girl."
Park takes the lunchbox with a pleased look and heads to the break room. He picks up chopsticks, pops a golden abalone butter steak into his mouth. "Mmm. Delicious. Packed full of love, right, Kim?" He savors each dish demonstratively.
Munching away happily, he suddenly notices Cheolsu hunched over his pathetic plastic container. "What's that in your hand?"
Park asks genuinely curious, chewing steak. Cheolsu startles, trying to hide it behind his back—too late.
"Ah... this is..."
Cheolsu stammers. Park nods at it. "Open it up, let's see."
Cheolsu can't refuse. With shaking hands, he lifts the lid. Inside: a few ungrilled ham slices and leftover cold rice. Park bursts into disbelieving laughter, setting down his chopsticks. He eyes Cheolsu with keen interest. "Is that... yours, by any chance?"
Cheolsu can't lift his head. His silence confirms it. Park clutches his belly, roaring with laughter. "Puhahaha! Of course Seoyeon wouldn't let you eat with serbangnim."
Tears streaming, he gasps, "Abalone and short ribs for me... garbage ham for you. Kek. This isn't food—it's dog chow, wouldn't you say, Kim?"
He spears another steak, chewing as he begins the full humiliation. "This meat... the juices are insane. Just like the pussy juice leaking from your wife all weekend. So thick and sweet. You know all about it, right?"
Cheolsu shoves his slop into his mouth instead of answering.
"Seoyeon's not just a great cook. Her cocksucking's top-tier too. Sucked my dick so good all weekend... you heard it on the phone, right? Your wife drooling like crazy over my cock."
Park sips plum tea, driving the wedge home. "Look, Kim. You're choking down this slop she threw together, while I watched her swallow every drop of my cum up close. Licked it clean, not a drop wasted."
He pops the last abalone, grinning lewdly. "Ah, and this short rib sauce—deep flavor. Seoyeon put her heart into it. Just like when she rimmed my asshole this weekend. Her tongue's a luxury item."
That lunch, Cheolsu swallows his leftover rice mingled with tears, amid the other man's sneers and filthy taunts as he devours his wife's feast. Meal over, he gathers both empty containers and heads to the sink. He scrubs the scraps left by another man with his own hands. As he washes, Park's satisfied burps echo behind him.
Finished, Cheolsu returns to his desk with the empty lunchboxes. Afternoon work begins, but the monitor stays blurred. His mind fills with lunchtime humiliation, his wife's cruel smile, Park's mockery. Like a living corpse, he sits motionless as time drags on.