“Alright, I’ll take it now.”
Two discreet packets of tissues on the counter. Beside them, a tiny clear sachet: one white tablet glowing like a live coal. I shield it with my palm. The card terminal beeps; the transaction is done. Tissues into the bag, pill into the right-hand pocket—furtively, as though dodging an invisible gaze.
Jihyo, whom I’m meeting tonight, answers only with voice messages.
As soon as you get home, okay?
I tap the sachet once more and record my reply.
Of course.
Her laugh follows, bright and liquid.
The night that was supposed to burn—why did cold terror rise instead?
Jihyo wore a crimson dress. The moment the door opened, a sweet fragrance drifted in. She pulled me inside and kicked the door shut; one candle dragged our twin shadows toward the bed.
Tonight… I want it to last.
I went to the bathroom. Filled a glass, brought it to my lips, then placed the pill on the tip of my tongue. My mouth flooded with clammy sweat.
Did you take it?
Jihyo asked when I returned. I nodded—though I hadn’t swallowed yet. Her smile bloomed wide, eyes sparkling. Without thinking, I lowered my head and let the capsule slide down.
On the bed, as the white capsule dissolved
Within thirty minutes my skin flushed. Excitement rose as fast as my pulse, yet a chill spread across the back of my skull. Jihyo caught my arm and led me to the bed. Her breath was hot, her body soft, her gaze… unfamiliar.
The moment I lay down, her fingers glided across my chest. As they travelled downward, I wondered: Is this warmth real, or a mirage brewed by chemistry? When her lips took my earlobe, cold water seemed to sluice through my mind. The pressure to perform seeped under my skin.
Tonight… you were really good.
The words cut like a blade. Even as her touch scorched, frost settled on my heart.
By morning, nothing remained
Next daybreak, I sat at a café table endlessly spinning an americano. Jihyo is still asleep; I had stroked her hair at dawn so she wouldn’t wake. In the bathroom mirror I stuck out my tongue and searched every corner. No trace of the pill. Yet bitterness still rose from the back of my throat.
What have I lost? Or rather—what have I pretended not to lose?
My brother’s white sachet
One month earlier—my brother’s funeral. I found a small white bag tucked behind the toilet bowl. “Re-Vertra,” it read. I rummaged through his phone and found his notes.
[April 3] Couldn’t do it again today. I tried not to let on, but did Minji notice? [April 10] The pharmacist stared holes through me. I trembled, afraid someone would see I was buying this.
My brother, forty-five, felled by a cerebral hemorrhage. His final text might have been a photo of the sachet: Too nervous to take it tonight—sending this first. Then silence.
The moment desire went undercover
At the funeral I hid in the restroom, cradling one white pill. This time, with Jihyo, I’ll—
A voice outside the door.
What are you taking in here?
My wife. I whipped the hand behind my back. She looked straight at me.
Another pill?
She knew. Three months earlier she had noticed: whenever I struggled, I carried a tiny sachet close to my heart.
Final question
Jihyo still tells me that night was wonderful. I nod, but inside I keep asking:
Whom did I want her to see when I swallowed the pill?
The instant the capsule dissolved, did we crave real heat—or the perfect self reflected in someone else’s eyes?
When you lay on that bed, what part of yourself did you hide by swallowing the little white capsule?