Slowly Incoming Ripples
My wife needed to undergo several days of inpatient testing to confirm her narcolepsy diagnosis. The symptoms appeared irregularly, so this was a necessary step for an accurate assessment.
On the day of admission, we packed the required items and headed to the hospital together. “The facilities are better than I expected,” I remarked after completing the admission process and stepping into the room where she would be staying. My wife also looked impressed by how clean and modern everything was.
“Oppa, they said the doctor here is a renowned authority in neurology and sleep medicine. It looks like it’s true.”
“Yeah. Didn’t they mention this was a small clinic he opened after retirement to keep busy?”
I had to agree with her. The sleep clinic was modest in scale, the kind you could find anywhere. But we had come here clutching at straws because the director was a respected figure in the field. We were grateful enough that he had identified the contours of her condition, but seeing the well-equipped patient rooms and advanced diagnostic devices, it was clear he was no ordinary expert.
“I think it was a good decision to follow the doctor’s advice and get tested here. Wow, Oppa, look! Every bed has blackout curtains!”
“Impressive… Must be because it’s a specialized sleep clinic.”
My wife was delighted by the spotless beds, the privacy offered by the heavy blackout curtains, and the fact that she had the entire multi-bed room to herself since there were no other patients. The decision to have her confirmed diagnosis here had been simple. Larger hospitals required additional sleep studies for narcolepsy, but the waiting lists were so long there was no telling when she might actually get an appointment.
I’m glad I listened to the doctor’s recommendation. The equipment here was comparable to any major hospital, and with fewer patients, she could undergo the tests at a comfortable pace. He had advised completing the diagnosis here before transferring to a larger facility if needed.
The hospital director, with his snow-white hair that spoke of years of experience, carried a calm and trustworthy air. His scholarly composure and quiet politeness inspired confidence, so we had followed his guidance—and it felt like the right choice.
“All right, Hyeonju. Stop admiring the room and change into the patient gown.”
I handed her the gown we had been given. She stared down at it with a complicated expression, as if only now truly feeling like a patient, then smiled faintly and began drawing the blackout curtain.
“Oppa, no peeking. Okay?”
“Why are you acting so shy?”
“Because we’re married. The closer you are, the more you should respect these things.”
Even during our intimate moments she often felt too embarrassed to leave the lights on. That youthful bashfulness still lingered, and it made my heart flutter. I leaned through the gap in the curtains and lightly kissed her forehead.
“Got it. Change quickly.”
“Okay!”
She liked to think of herself as a sophisticated, mature woman, but at heart she still carried the fresh innocence of her twenties. It was incredibly endearing, like a child admiring and imitating a capable adult.
That’s what makes it so good. I suspected her charm came from working as a kindergarten teacher. Spending her days with untainted children, meeting them at their eye level, had naturally instilled in her a purity and a maternal warmth that embraced everyone.
As I stood there hoping she could overcome her narcolepsy soon and return to teaching as quickly as possible, she emerged from behind the curtain wearing the gown.
“How do I look?”
She spun around playfully in the white patient gown. Her ponytail swung through the air, and even beneath the loose fabric, her full, voluptuous breasts swayed like waves. Despite the gown’s generous cut, the dizzying curve of her hips was clearly visible, radiating a subtle sensuality that kept pulling my gaze downward. On top of that, the faint vanilla scent of her favorite perfume washed over me, as if daring the dark desires lurking inside me to stay calm.
“Whoever’s wife she is, she’s really beautiful.”
I pulled her into a tight, playful hug and planted quick kisses on her neck.
“Mwah, mwah.”
“Ahaha! That tickles!”
She laughed brightly and scolded me for teasing her. Yet beneath her voice, I could still sense the anxiety she was trying to hide. Her higher pitch and exaggerated cheer were her way of masking it, so I pretended not to notice and played along.
We unpacked and chatted casually about what lay ahead.
“Oppa, the admission is supposed to be at least three days, up to ten, right?”
“Yeah. That’s if the symptoms appear and they can get proper measurements. But three days should be enough, don’t you think?”
“Hmm… maybe…”
She looked like she wanted to disagree but eventually nodded. Though narcolepsy varied in severity from person to person, we both sensed that her case was quite serious.
She would fall into a death-like sleep at least once a day. Collapsing during daily activities was common, and once the episode took hold, she became completely unresponsive, like someone who had died. There had been a time when she wouldn’t wake even though it was long past her usual hour, and I had panicked.
I was so scared I thought something was wrong with her…
Even now, remembering it made my chest tighten. Slapping her cheeks only drew faint moans; shaking her body produced no reaction, just the limp, lifeless way she lay there—enough to fuel the darkest fears. Yet when she finally woke, she acted as if my terror was the strange part.
“Oppa. Why are you like that?”
“Hyeonju, are you okay? No matter how hard I tried to wake you, you wouldn’t get up.”
“Me? Um… But why does my cheek feel so tingly?”
If the stinging pain from my slaps hadn’t lingered, she might never have realized the true nature of her condition. She could have gone on believing she simply slept a lot or was chronically tired.
Maybe catching it so late made the illness worse? In truth, her narcolepsy had only recently become severe enough to disrupt daily life. Before that, it had been easy to dismiss as nothing more than heavy sleeping due to fatigue. After all, how often do you forcibly wake a family member or friend who looks peacefully exhausted?
A combination of coincidences and factors had delayed our realization. What we thought was considerate care had instead become poison.
“Oppa, don’t sleep here just because you feel like you have to take care of me. Go home and rest properly.”
Once we finished organizing her things, she brought up the subject again, looking apologetic. The idea of me staying by her side the entire admission seemed to burden her.
“It’s fine. We’re family. Who else would you rely on at a time like this? And if it really gets too hard, I’ll go home to sleep. Don’t worry so much.”
“Didn’t you say you have an important meeting out of town the day after tomorrow and need to leave early in the morning? You’re still planning to sleep here the night before?”
She placed her hands on her hips and glared at me like a mother scolding a misbehaving child. The gesture was so like a small animal puffing itself up to look threatening that it only made her cuter. Yet because of her sensual figure, the innocent act created a strange dissonance that stirred twisted lust and sadistic urges inside me.
I swallowed the heat rising within and pretended to give in.
“All right. The night before I leave for the business trip, I’ll definitely go home to sleep.”
“You promised, okay? If you try to stay here that night too, I’ll really get angry.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Say it once!”
“Yeees~ Teacher~”
When I answered like a mischievous teenager, she looked displeased on the surface, but the faint smile on her lips suggested she was secretly glad I would be staying.
In that way, we deliberately ignored the seeds of anxiety buried deep inside us both, covering them with bright chatter to pass the time.
We were talking quietly when a deep, husky voice interrupted.
“Excuse me. Is this Lee Hyeonju’s room?”
“Ah, yes.”
A male nursing assistant entered the nearly empty room and called my wife’s name. My first impression was that he had an imposing build. He’s quite large. They say male nurses handle a lot of physical work—maybe that’s why.
The nurses who had helped with registration and admission on our first visit had been the usual female staff. But the night-shift nurse was male, probably because the role involved staying awake all night and assisting with patient transfers that required strength.
“Lee Hyeonju, you’re being admitted today to undergo sleep testing, correct? I’ll explain the examinations you’ll receive during your stay and the devices you’ll need to keep attached at all times.”
The nurse began explaining the schedule and procedures in a blunt, businesslike tone. Listening quietly from the side, one question occurred to me. I hesitated but asked anyway.
“Um… you mentioned someone will come in during the night to check on her while she’s sleeping. Will that be you, Nurse?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
His curt, almost annoyed gaze seemed to ask what the problem was. I didn’t like the idea of a male nurse touching my wife while she lay unconscious. Intellectually, I understood it was medical care, but discomfort was discomfort.
My wife noticed my unease and smiled gently to smooth things over.
“My husband seems a bit sensitive about it. I’m sorry.”
“Understood. I’ll continue with the explanation.”
The male nurse acted as if he encountered such reactions often and simply resumed. I felt embarrassed for causing a scene and regretted being rude to both him and my wife.
“So, the guardian will be staying in the room as well? There is a separate sleeping area for guardians—would you like to use that?”
After finishing the explanation, the nurse asked about my plans. I had already decided, but the fact that the night nurse was male made me even more determined to stay close.
“I’d prefer to remain in the same room.”
The nurse nodded and pulled out a foldable bed from beneath the main one.
“You can sleep here, or use the empty bed beside hers. If you choose the bed, please let us know in advance. Any additional charges will be settled at discharge.”
I glanced at the empty bed. Our financial situation wasn’t particularly comfortable, and as someone only in his early thirties, I could handle an uncomfortable night.
“Thank you for the consideration.”
My short reply carried the implicit refusal to use the extra bed. Reading my intention, the nurse gave a curt, purely professional nod.
For some reason he kept bothering me, so I stole a glance at the name tag on his chest.
Nurse Jang Mansu.
It was a strong name that suited his massive frame. Yet despite the powerful impression, he didn’t carry himself like a medical professional at all. He seemed more like a laborer from a construction site. His short hair and disheveled uniform were far from the neat appearance expected of healthcare workers, and his thick, muscular build gave off an unsettling masculine intensity.
Am I being too sensitive?
It was as if my wife’s anxiety over the narcolepsy diagnosis had infected me. I reflected that the unresolved tension I had been carrying was probably showing on the outside.
My kind-hearted wife must have sensed my discomfort. She gently took my hand. The warm touch began to calm the unease in my chest.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
At my brief apology, she smiled quietly. Her fingers entwined with mine like vines, so I squeezed back firmly, as if to reassure her.
That was why we never noticed.
While standing beside us and writing on the chart, Jang Mansu’s indifferent eyes were slowly running over my wife’s voluptuous body, licking every curve visible beneath the loose patient gown.