The Temperature of a Kiss
“Ji-su, what perfume are you wearing tonight?”
On White-Day night, Ji-su’s rose-gold phone slipped from the sofa and landed face-up on the throw blanket. The screen blinked awake.
Chief♡
Tonight, again, I like you more.
Min-jae’s knuckles whitened around the remote. The plastic buttons carved crescents into his palm. Beside him Ji-su bit into a chocolate truffle, laughing at a comedian’s swagger on the television. She still didn’t know. In a single line, Min-jae had already lost his wife.
A Voice Beyond the Locked Door
2:17 a.m. Min-jae lifted the duvet with the care of a thief. Ji-su rolled over, sliding one hand beneath her pillow. Her breathing was even; still, he stepped on the balls of his feet, breath held. The screen stayed black, locked. He traced her birthday with his thumb: 0-7-1-2. Seventh failure, eighth failure. On the ninth attempt the app drawer finally blossomed open.
KakaoTalk. At the very top floated the chat room “Chief♡.”
His finger trembled.
Chief♡
You looked prettier today.Ji-su
Stop, you’re making me blush.Chief♡
It’s White Day, so it’s allowed.Ji-su
Next time you have to write, You like me more.Chief♡
That’s only because you like me more.
The last message had arrived sixteen minutes ago. Min-jae scrolled upward.
- March 13, 11:48 p.m. Thanks for the kiss tonight.
- March 12, 1:22 a.m. I’ll pick your underwear.
- March 10, 7:13 a.m. Min-jae doesn’t have to know.
0.5 Seconds, a Word Poisoning the Tip of the Tongue
Min-jae locked the phone and inhaled sharply. It wasn’t his heart that reacted first—it was the tip of his tongue. The name Ji-su, the title wife, the word love spread like venom. He opened the bedside drawer; Ji-su’s lipstick rolled forward. Shade #RD301, the “authentic” one the Chief had given her. He twisted the bullet out and touched it to his tongue. Bitter. He whispered,
“This isn’t you. It’s the Chief’s taste.”
March 18, Through the Café Window
On his way home Min-jae ducked into a café near the office for no reason except that it resembled the one in the photo labeled White-Day 2:31 p.m. He sat at the outdoor table where Ji-su and Chief♡ had once sat. Through the glass he watched couples pass—some holding hands, one receiving a playful slap.
Then the real Chief walked by in a charcoal suit, clutching a slim briefcase. Their eyes met for an instant. Min-jae turned away; the glance had said, You know what you must not know.
March 19, A Recorded Moan
Min-jae opened Ji-su’s phone again. This time he entered the Voice Memos folder. One file: Recording 0314_1437. He inserted the earbuds.
[Café door creaks] Ji-su (whispering): Can I… come in? Chief♡ (low laugh): If it’s you, always. [Chair scrapes] Ji-su: I sneaked out without Min-jae knowing. Chief♡: It’s fine. I like you more. [A brief hush, then the soft smack of a kiss] Ji-su (a small moan): Ah, not here… Chief♡: Just here. Only here. [Rustle of fabric]
The recording ended at 2:34. Min-jae yanked out the earbuds and let them clatter to the floor. The words only here rang in his ears. He walked to the bathroom and plunged his face into the sink. Cold water soaked his hair. No tears—just the lingering taste of chocolate.
March 21, Final Negotiations on the Bed
Min-jae waited on the bed. Ji-su emerged in a bathrobe, hair twisted in a towel, a hydrating mask on her cheeks. She smiled.
“Early to bed again—tired?”
Instead of answering, Min-jae held out her phone. On the lock screen the words Chief♡ pulsed. Ji-su’s smile froze.
“…Why did you open it?”
Silence. He pressed play on Recording 0314_1437. Her face went white.
“You didn’t have to listen—”
Min-jae said quietly,
“I just wanted you to hear only here.”
Ji-su stepped back. He rose and cupped her cheek. No one spoke. Outside, a waxing moon slipped through the curtains and lit her pupils. Slowly Min-jae reached out and closed her eyes.
“You can close them now. Think of whomever you wish.”
March 22, 12:00 a.m.
Min-jae sat on the edge of the bed and opened Ji-su’s phone once more. He sent a single message.
Min-jae
It’s over.Chief♡
…I’m sorry.
He didn’t power the phone off. Instead he closed Ji-su’s sleeping eyes again—this time forever.
He thought, While my wife’s eyes are sealed, I wait for the Chief’s next message.
The message never came. Only half a second of silence filled the room, expanding until it was everything.