How about Cosmic Horror?

“We went to the same high school? That’s strange. I don’t remember you at all.”

“I was your senior by two years. You really don’t remember?”

At his question, Irae opened her phone’s album and carefully examined two photos. If someone this good-looking had been at her high school, she wouldn’t have forgotten. The entire school would have been in an uproar. But there was no man named Go Yohan in her memories of high school.

“You’ve completely forgotten everything about me.”

He whined, sounding hurt. However, contrary to his childlike, innocent tone, the cufflinks fastening his dress shirt cuffs glinted sharply, reflecting the light. She stared blankly at the sleek, silver surface, emanating a metallic chill, before apologizing.

“Um… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Am I your teacher? I can’t get used to you being so formal.”

“Then how did I speak to you before?”

“You spoke informally, and… you cursed at me a lot.”

Her mind went blank. People usually only cursed when they were hot-blooded teenagers, and even then, usually to their friends. A grown adult cursing in public? And to her husband, no less?

“You’re two years older than me. And you’re saying I spoke informally and cursed at you?”

“People drop the formalities after they sleep together, right?”

She was flabbergasted by his bluntness.

Well, he wasn’t wrong. There was a reason why people joked that men and women with an age gap who spoke informally had slept together.

“But still… cursing…”

“It’s because I… tormented you, quite a bit.”

He shrugged his broad, straight shoulders. The pitch-black sphere above his neck bobbed in sync.

She’d heard something similar from him yesterday. Just what exactly did ‘quite a bit’ entail? Was the emphasis on ‘quite’ or ‘a bit’?

While she was lost in thought, his gentle voice brushed against her eardrums.

“I regret it now.”

His seductive voice tipped the scales. Whether it was ‘quite’ or ‘a bit’, did it even matter?

She didn’t know to what extent he’d tormented her, but as long as he was reflecting on it, wouldn’t it be okay?

It must have been bearable enough for her to marry him. If he had truly crossed the line, she, with her personality, wouldn’t have accepted him. No matter how handsome he was, once it was a no, it was a no.

“You’re not going to torment me anymore, right? Promise?”

As she held out her thumb and pinky, gesturing for a pinky promise, he chuckled and extended his hand.

His hand, much larger than hers, reached out and intertwined their pinky fingers. Perhaps it was because of the size difference, but for a moment, his finger, lightly wrapped around hers, felt like a snake constricting its prey.

“I promise. It was quite fun, but it felt strange in the end.”

He whispered as if confessing a secret.

“Even if you asked me to torment you now, I don’t think I could. It’s not enjoyable anymore.”

The way he spoke, it sounded like he had those tendencies, whether he was conscious of it or not. To casually talk about how tormenting someone was fun and enjoyable, was far from normal. Well, in any case, since he’d promised not to torment her anymore, she was safe.

“Ah, but not in bed. That’s something we agreed on before you lost your memory.”

He added a clause as he unlinked their fingers. Taken aback by his sudden attack, she stared at him blankly again.

“We did?”

“Yes.”

“I agreed to that?”

“That’s what you said.”

“Because I’ve lost my memory, are you lying to me now?”

“Why would I lie about something you’d remember once your memories return?”

If he had eyes, a nose, and a mouth, she’d be able to judge his sincerity, but right now, all she had to go on was his voice and gestures. And both were remarkably composed. So much so that she couldn’t bring herself to believe he was lying.

In the end, she decided to change the subject. Discretion is the better part of valor.

“So, we’ve known each other since high school?”

“Yes. We didn’t date, though.”

“Why not?”

“There were two reasons. You hated me, and I didn’t know I liked you.”

He answered, even counting off on his fingers.

“I hated you?”

As she projected the face from the photos onto the planet-head, she thought it would take some talent to be hated with that kind of appearance. Honestly, with a face like that, most offenses would be forgiven. Everyone was lenient when it came to beauty. She was no exception. She was an average person who was weak to anything cute, pretty, and visually pleasing. But to hate him to the extent that they didn’t even date…

“Then how did we get married?”

“I realized my feelings.”

His simple answer left her bewildered. It sounded as if her own will and opinion didn’t matter in the slightest. As if he’d made the decision, and she had no choice but to accept it. Of course, he probably didn’t mean it that way, but…

“You said I hated you.”

She indirectly asked how he’d solved that problem, and after a brief silence, he calmly asked.

“You came to like me, didn’t you?”

an audacious implication echoed in her mind.

But she wanted to know how they got there…

She quickly gave up. Come to think of it, what would he even know? Only she would know how her feelings towards him had changed. It was her own fragile brain’s fault for losing all her memories after a little shock from an accident.

“So, um… what about my company? Did we let them know I can’t come in?”

“You quit when we got married.”

“I did?”

To think she’d quit her job when she still vividly remembered cursing it every morning on her way to work. She might have talked about quitting all the time, but hearing she’d done it felt strange.

It wasn’t a good workplace, to put it mildly. They made her work overtime like it was nothing, constantly called her on weekends to come in, and paid her peanuts to top it all off. But to have quit without even remembering… It felt refreshing, but also a bit bittersweet… No, she shouldn’t feel bittersweet, considering how much she suffered. Why was she feeling this way? Had she developed a love-hate relationship with the company?

Lost in her conflicting emotions, she replied, pretending to be nonchalant.

“Good riddance. I wanted to get out of that evil corporation as soon as possible. I should’ve thrown a bomb at the CEO before I left…”

“Hmm, was our company that bad?”

It was an odd question. She was badmouthing her old company, and he suddenly said “our company”? Not understanding his intention, she stared at the planet, now a gradient of yellow and green. Resting his planet-head on his large hand, which seemed big enough to cover her entire face, he continued.

“I had no idea you were so dissatisfied. Why didn’t you tell me directly when you were working there? I would’ve made things right.”

“What do you mean…?”

“Could you please hold off on the bomb? I’m a newlywed, and my lovely wife is waiting for me at home.”

It took her a moment to finally understand.

“You’re saying… I was working at your company?”

“Isn’t that right?”

That was absurd. She shook her head.

“That’s impossible.”

The CEO of her company was a pot-bellied, balding man in his 50s.

“What does your company do?”

“It’s an IT company specializing in social networking services, VR, and AR, right?”

He spoke as if she should already know. Color drained from her face. The company she used to work for was a run-of-the-mill small business, far removed from cutting-edge technology. She wondered if she’d somehow blocked out memories of transferring to his company, but that was impossible.  There was no way she would’ve been hired by such a company.

“What was my position there?”

“Graphic designer. Is this some kind of test?”

There was a hint of bewilderment in his response. But she was the one who wanted to ask, ‘What kind of sick joke is this?”.

Graphic design had been her dream career in high school. She had to give up on it after hitting the wall of reality. She graduated from college with a major that had nothing to do with graphic design and got a typical office job that anyone with a college degree could get. And he was saying she was a graphic designer? How? She never even learned it.

Her hands trembling, she tried having a serious conversation with him.

“You’re not joking, are you? If you’re lying to me, I’m going to get angry.”

After a lengthy discussion, it became clear that there were significant discrepancies between the Yoo Irae he described and the Yoo Irae she remembered.

The Yoo Irae he knew:

Went to a prestigious art university in Seoul and majored in visual design. Held licenses in visual design, product design, and colorist. Joined his company as a designer.

The Yoo Irae she remembered:

Went to a mediocre university in Seoul and majored in mathematics due to her entrance exam scores. Suffered throughout her college years due to her unsuitable major, and somehow managed to graduate. Submitted over a hundred resumes and went through countless interviews, finally landing a job at a small company with the best conditions out of the ones that would accept her.

Wasn’t it too different for it to be the same person’s background?

“I think you’re confusing your memories.”

He spoke, after tapping his finger against the armrest of his chair for a while.

Could that be it? Had the trauma to her brain from the accident caused her memories to become distorted? But everything felt so real.

That night she’d cried after getting into a university and major she didn’t want.

The days she’d spent dragging herself from one interview to the next, submitting countless resumes.

The years she’d toiled away at her company, treated like a dog, but unable to find a better job so she had no choice but to stay.

Were all of that… fake?

That they weren’t real experiences, but just illusions created by her mind?

How was that possible when it felt so vivid? She couldn’t believe it. But the man before her, her husband, had no reason to lie to her. Just as one couldn’t hide the sky with their hand, the truth would eventually come out, so what benefit would he gain by deceiving her with a flimsy lie? But it felt so real…

“Honey, hold on a sec.”

He left her, while she was grappling with her confusion. Alone, she felt even more lost. A while later, he returned, holding something in his hand.

“Here.”

It was a file folder. She opened the leather cover to see what was inside. There was a single document, in a format she was familiar with.

A job application form.

She was startled to see her ID photo in one corner and carefully read the document. The concise application form contained detailed information about her educational background, certifications, and other personal details.

Everything was exactly as he’d described. She’d graduated from art school and had design-related certifications. Judging by the year on the document, it looked like she’d applied during her senior year of college.

“Is this… mine?”

“Yes. I’d disposed of all the other applications, but when I tried to put yours in the shredder, it hurt my heart to see your face in there. So I kept it, and it turned out to be useful.”