That night, a sip of wine turned into a jailer’s key
Yeouido hotel lounge. As I set down my glass, his fingers landed on the back of my hand.
“Shall we put in the lease for the officetel next week?”
My throat blistered. It was our first date.
When the speedometer of desire spun out of control
Why the rush? He wanted me. What he needed, however, was physical proof of possibility. Wedding photos, Baby-Björn catalogues, a group chat with the realtor—only then could his desire exhale.
I was no longer the object of love; I was the sheet of paper on which love would be printed into reality.
Seven days were enough. The bare minimum required to finish the woman in front of him. The sprint he laid out looked like this:
Day 1–2: Introduce families, arrange formal meeting of the parents
Day 3: Reserve wedding hall + pay for honeymoon package
Day 4: Draft notarized pledge to give birth within three years
Day 5: Sign newlywed apartment lease & loan docs
Day 6: Issue tickets for “prenatal bonding” trip to Vietnam
Day 7: Quarantine her in a suite like a positive case—then devour
Suji, 31: the records he never actually broke
Suji said,
“At first it was dazzling. I thought I must be special.”
The man came prepared. A ring box in one hand, a cloud folder full of “photos of our child” in his bag. The first picture he showed Suji wasn’t an ultrasound—it was a Photoshopped preview of the daughter they would supposedly meet in thirty months.
“Her name is Minseo. Our first child, arriving 30 months from now.”
Suji felt her belly swell with phantom life, as though the yet-to-be-conceived child had already been slipped inside her.
Why Jaehyeok does this
Jaehyeok, 34, six years at a chaebol. While his cohorts crossed the finish line one by one, his own schedule kept sliding. Marriage felt like an exam: the later the hand-in, the more points docked, the blanker the page. So he treated dating as a skill. Finishing fastest earned the highest score. The virtue of romance was no longer long but exact.
At his wedding, the division chief declared in the congratulatory speech:
“Jaehyeok’s project management is second to none.”
As the words rippled through the speakers, Hyewon—waiting in her dressing room four days after their first introduction—clutched the hem of her gown. She didn’t yet know why her own ledger read total loss.
Why we fall under this spell
We live in an age unable to see anyone through to the end. With the next person queued beyond the swipe, love becomes a perishable good. So Jaehyeok tied on a safety harness: marry fast, birth faster. Even if love cools, the facts remain. Or perhaps this: if he doesn’t anchor quickly, she might bolt. Marriage as handcuffs of affection—erecting an eternal prison before desire expires.
Tomorrow you, too, may sit across a contract
How many Jaehyeoks circle you right now? Are you, at this moment, someone’s deadline that can no longer be delayed?
The instant speed is mistaken for certainty, love has already curdled into poison. And that poison will turn someone’s future into a prison.