The History of Fakes
Seong-jun quietly closed the workshop door.
In the narrow room he had slipped into like a fugitive, the only thing waiting for him was the pale glow of the monitor.
He sat down in his computer chair, stretched lightly, and began writing his fantasy novel as if he were carrying out an assigned labor.
A story that could never exist in reality, one that lived and unfolded only inside Seong-jun’s head.
On a day like today, when his mind was a tangled mess, it was hard to imagine anything more grueling.
Tap... tap... tap.
The slow, intermittent clatter of the keyboard broke the silence now and then.
Tap... tap...
Tap...
More than two hours had passed since he’d put his hands on the keyboard, and before he knew it, midnight was drawing near.
And on the monitor, a feast of naked women was laid out before him.
No matter that it was how he made his living, his concentration had reached its limit trying to force progress on a novel that had gone exactly nowhere.
Too much had happened today.
The compulsion to fill the day with something, anything before it ended, led Seong-jun toward a small act of deviation.
Deliberately ignoring the word processor he had left minimized without closing it,
Seong-jun began browsing through his bookmarked sites one by one.
Like a starving beast searching for prey, he prowled through overseas porn sites, the adult boards on online communities, and the stray SNS accounts devoted to indulgence.
A flood of dopamine, stimulating every nerve ending.
What should have been a vice had long since become part of his daily routine.
Even the recent flood of AI photos and videos had seemed novel at first, but that novelty had withered quickly enough.
Nowhere was there anything real enough to satisfy Seong-jun’s twisted thirst.
The destination his mouse cursor finally reached was, in the end, his usual adult toy shop.
Here there was something fake, and yet somehow real.
Something he could touch with his hands, something he could even wear.
A helpless thrash against impossible desire, a kind of revenge spending.
Colorful banner ads reflected chaotically in the hollowness of Seong-jun’s eyes.
The cursor moved straight to the Extension Condom/Sleeve category.
[New arrival! 202X Premium Real Skin]
[Liquid silicone material 99% identical to real skin / microscopic vein detail rendered perfectly]
Vivid red font slammed into his field of vision.
On the screen, a model of a penis, rendered with almost grotesque realism, spun in 360 degrees.
The dark red tint of the glans, the raised veins running down the shaft, and even the faint wrinkles that seemed to hold the memory of flesh.
At a glance, the quality was close enough to make it hard to tell from the real thing.
"I think I bought this one before... or did I?"
It wasn’t as if new products were being added every single day.
Always the same things. Always the same purchases.
As the familiar screen repeated itself, something he had never seen before caught his eye.
"Huh, is that a new one? Let’s see..."
Seong-jun paused on the product page for Premium Real Skin - 18cm Large Type / Black / Flesh Color.
The price was 61,000 won.
It wasn’t exactly pocket change to spend on a lump of silicone that might end up shoved in a corner after a single use.
Seong-jun skimmed the product information, then opened the user reviews.
'My wife really loves it. I’m worried she’ll keep asking for more lol.'
'It was way too tight for me, so it was uncomfortable, but my wife likes it, so I guess it’s fine.'
'Haven’t used it yet, but I’m already excited. I’m dead today lol.'
Even the reviews contained nothing he hadn’t seen somewhere before, but the fact that they were all praise tugged at something in Seong-jun’s chest.
"......The reviews are good."
Seong-jun remembered.
The real black monster, not a fading afterimage, forcing its way into Min-a’s narrow entrance and prying her open.
Before he had time to hesitate, Seong-jun’s finger was already pressing the purchase button.
Click.
[Your order has been completed. Expected delivery: tomorrow.]
Looking at the completion message that popped up on the screen, Seong-jun indulged once again in a deceptive little hope.
The small anticipation of tomorrow eased the strain of today just a little.
Once payment was done, it was past midnight.
Seong-jun leaned his chair back and stretched with a long groan.
"Huuuuahhh—"
At the tip of his outstretched foot, he felt the familiar texture of leather. It was the roleplay bag he had shoved into the corner under his desk.
Seong-jun remembered the cigarettes inside.
Lately, he had gotten into the habit of putting a cigarette in his mouth even though he didn’t actually smoke.
He hooked the bag with his foot and dragged it onto the desk.
The weight was familiar, as was the feel of the leather handle.
A Boston bag, a birthday gift from Min-a after she got her first paycheck.
He had given it to her after spending half of his own salary on it, saying it was to repay the luxury handbag she had once given him.
He had been so moved, so proud of her thoughtfulness, that for a long time he couldn’t bring himself to use it.
By now it had long since become nothing more than a prop bag for roleplay staging.
The gulf of time between then and now seemed to say everything about Seong-jun’s life today.
Shhhk—
He hadn’t used it since the last time they’d gone to a motel, so it had been quite a while.
Maybe that was why the strange mingling scent of silicone, leather, and the bitter grassy smell of fresh cigarettes pricked at his nose.
"Phew..."
The smell of rebellion and ennui coexisted in the same breath.
Inside were little pouches sorted by item, soft and rustling against one another.
Seong-jun reached in and picked up a cigarette pack with a blue design that stood out at a glance.
Esse Change.
It had been the taste of an older woman he’d dated briefly before Min-a. By now it meant nothing to him.
Even so, sixteen years later, that person’s preference still remained in Seong-jun’s hands.
Just as he was about to stand,
he noticed something familiar peeking out from a half-open pouch beneath the cigarettes.
"...Huh?"
One of the many extension condoms.
He couldn’t count how many there were, and he didn’t remember each shape or color.
But this one... it was familiar.
Why?
"......Ah!!!"
Seong-jun hurriedly pulled the extension condom out of the pouch.
Then he reopened the detailed product page for the item he had just bought.
"Fuck! What the hell. I already had one!"
The extension condom he had pulled from the bag was exactly the same as the product he had just purchased.
Seong-jun frantically searched for the Cancel Order button.
But the item had already changed status to Preparing Product (shipping preparation stage).
"Damn it... they’re fucking fast."
With irritation, Seong-jun flung the mouse away.
He didn’t even remember when he’d bought it.
He probably hadn’t used it yet.
Just how thoughtlessly had he been buying things all this time?
There might be more of the same buried among the items he’d gathered in his drawers.
With a hollow expression, Seong-jun threw the limp, grotesque thing back into the bag.
Even after swallowing it, the bag calmly opened its mouth wide, ready for more.
Inside were a black blindfold, leather handcuffs, chains, lube,
and a rainbow assortment of extension condoms.
Over the last ten years, countless plans he had made in the grip of excitement, sometimes staying awake all night for them.
And the tearful effort he had poured into carrying those plans out, burning through motel fees as he did it.
He covered Min-a’s eyes and ears to heighten her anxiety.
He bound her hands and feet, making her unable to resist.
Bang!
Had the sudden sound of a motel room door opening startled her?
At the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne that could never come from a husband who had supposedly quit smoking, had she imagined another man?
When the feeling of a large cock grinding into her walls replaced the ordinary shaft of her husband, whose was she imagining it to be?
"Ahjussi! I love it so much!!"
What did the "Ahjussi" that spilled from Min-a’s mouth look like?
Ten years later, Seong-jun knew.
All the elaborate staging he had done to burn "another man" into Min-a’s mind.
How utterly futile that hope-torment had been.
What she felt was not the presence of someone else at all, but simply her husband’s toy.
No matter how expensive the equipment, no matter how meticulously the setup, Min-a would never be fooled.
What mattered to her was not the texture of silicone or the realism of the wrinkles.
It was how she believed.
There was no way the person holding her could be anyone other than Seong-jun.
Min-a had never doubted that.
Even if it had been real human skin instead of silicone, Min-a would still have translated it into her husband’s love.
That single illusion,
every effort Seong-jun had made for it, had vanished like foam.
Hope disappeared, and only pain remained.
Ironically, it was precisely because of that tormenting pain that he had been able to endure for ten years.
The extension condom had been a painkiller, something that let him forget the hurt for a little while.
"......"
His chest felt tight, as if it had been packed full of something hard.
Seong-jun picked up a cigarette.
It was old and bone-dry.
He staggered toward the window.
When he pulled back the curtains and opened it, a cool night breeze drifted in, the kind that hadn’t yet been touched by summer.
Seong-jun leaned against the windowsill and, by habit, put the cigarette in his mouth.
Hiss—
He flicked the lighter’s wheel.
Flint scraped, and a fleeting spark lit the darkness.
In two days, when the package arrived, Seong-jun would wash that silicone shell carefully and warm it up again.
He would blindfold Min-a and play the role of a beastlike Ahjussi.
And Min-a, like a seasoned actress, would perfectly perform the role of a depraved married woman.
A tragedy of lies and deception.
Only the performance of that empty stage would repeat itself.
But if he gave even this up, Seong-jun would have nowhere left to breathe.
Hiss—
Lost in thought, he heard a hollow sound at his fingertips.
"......What the hell."
Seong-jun snapped the wheel again in irritation.
Click, click.
Only dry sparks flew; the lighter, out of gas, refused to produce a flame.
"Ha... shit... "
In the end, Seong-jun spat out the cigarette he’d been holding in his mouth and crumpled it back into the case.
It wasn’t as if he’d intended to smoke it anyway...
The desire that could not fully burn anywhere else
was making black smoke rise proudly, for all to see.
And that soot was steadily piling up inside Seong-jun, layer by layer.