He folded his arms and said, “Do we really need to get married?”
A single sheet of paper lay beside my teacup. Asset Co-Management and Renunciation of Inheritance Agreement. I laughed before I could stop myself. You won’t marry me, but you’d like to manage my money?
A Forever Without a Future
He rejects marriage yet covets every perk of coupledom.
The frame of matrimony feels stifling, but the seat everyone calls “wife” still beckons. Marriage is an “all-in” he finds burdensome, yet he believes it perfectly acceptable to claim “half” at love’s end. Thus the agreement is born. A flimsy excuse: no wedding, but let’s spend my money together.
“Min-ho, a promise between just you and me is enough”
An upscale wine bar in Seocho-dong, Seoul. Min-ho slid an A4 page across the table to Tae-eun.
We choose not to marry, yet in mutual trust we shall co-manage assets. A set percentage of Tae-eun’s real-estate and cash holdings will be transferred to Min-ho’s name; inheritance is excluded.
Tae-eun set down her glass. “So I remain a legally single housewife while you become the husband-without-a-husband who manages my money?”
Min-ho shrugged. “This way we protect each other without the red tape.”
That night, Tae-eun came home and tore the document to shreds. The next day a KakaoTalk message arrived: Dinner tonight? Got another bottle of wine. The tone pretended to be casual, but it was an unmistakable summons.
“Pretend we’re single, but what’s yours is mine”
October 2023, a studio apartment in Bupyeong-gu, Incheon. After seven years of cohabitation, Soo-jin received the same proposal from her “roommate” Jun-hyuk.
We know each other so well—why bother with papers? Instead, before prices drop, let’s take out a loan in my name.
Jun-hyuk knew the exact market value of the apartment in Soo-jin’s name, down to the last won and her bank’s loan ceiling. Unsatisfied, he suggested putting her parents’ farmland up as collateral.
“It’s for our future,” he said.
That night Soo-jin opened Jun-hyuk’s phone. In a club group chat he had written: Jobless but I’ve got a house, so no worries. Marriage is a hassle… I’ll just change the deed to my name later.
Why Do We Fall for This?
When someone says “I love you” or “let’s plan a future together,” why do we reach for our wallets?
Marriage fuses two resident registration numbers into one terrifying entity. Some dodge that fear yet cannot shake the dread of seeming alone. They wrap the dread in a prettier package called an “agreement,” spinning the tale: We’re special.
The moment you hand over assets, the balance of power quietly slips away. What they wanted was never marriage; it was a flawless alibi for not being alone. Your money becomes theirs, their debts become yours. Since there was no wedding, there is no divorce—therefore no clean exit.
Tonight, Check Your Balance
Right now, is your partner eyeing the balance in your personal account? Or do you have the courage to look at theirs?