Chapter 1 — The End of an Affair, Part 1 (1)

She was a 38-year-old married woman, her body lush and ripe at its peak.

She had been married to James Kim for seventeen years, a housewife with no want for material comfort. Her husband had been stationed in the Middle East for two years now, overseeing highway construction projects for Hanil Engineering, one of the nation's largest conglomerates. He returned home every few months, but always buried in briefings and reports—never with time to truly reconnect with Sarah Kim.

At first, when he left, she had pitied him—imagining him sweating under the desert sun, toiling far from home. But as time passed, that pity faded into a hollow ache in her chest. Loneliness crept in. Nights grew longer, sleepless and restless.

Then one day, she met her hometown friend, Grace Suk, and they decided to visit Yongchu Valley.

It was there that Sarah Kim discovered something unexpected.

What she had only suspected before became undeniable. Nestled in the tourist valley, hidden beneath trees and shaded by makeshift platforms, were scenes she never expected to see.

Blankets and low tables were scattered in the shade, bottles and dishes strewn across them. People—men and women—sat together, half-undressed, drinking freely in broad daylight. Clothes were tossed aside as if modesty had been abandoned along with their inhibitions.

(So this place exists.)

Sarah Kim looked around, murmuring to herself.

The water wasn't crystal clear, but it gurgled softly between green banks, the scenery almost painterly. There was something undeniably romantic about it—humans surrendering to nature, to impulse.

“Didn't you know?”

Grace Suk asked, watching her peer around with wide eyes.

“No.”

“I've been here before—back when my husband and I used to date.”

“So you've seen this before? People drinking like this in the middle of the day?”

“It's not the city here. We came for a reason, didn't we?”

“Still… it's amazing. Being in the mountains like this—it feels like stepping into another world.”

Sarah Kim stopped walking and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp air.

Eventually, the two women settled in the quietest spot they could find—completely hidden from the path, like a secret hideout. No one could see them here. Nothing that happened would be witnessed.

“This is cozy.”

“Feels like a secret hideout, doesn't it?”

“Exactly. No one would even notice if we were completely naked here.”

“Wow, you're already thinking like that?”

“Just joking.”

Sarah Kim stretched her legs out comfortably, sitting with careless ease. A woman doing this was undignified, almost vulgar—but perhaps that was the point. Maybe deep down, she craved that freedom, that release from restraint. Like someone oppressed yearning to strip off their chains.

“Do you know what the local specialty is here?” Grace Suk asked.

“No.”

“There are famous chicken stew restaurants around here. You like chicken?”

“I don't especially love it, but I eat it.”

“Then you're in for a treat. The food here is supposed to be amazing.”

From somewhere nearby, the sounds of drunken laughter drifted through the trees. Women cackling too loudly, voices rising in careless glee. Then, faintly, other noises—strange, guttural cries that made the air feel heavier.

Their meal arrived: steaming chicken stew, said to be prepared with a special recipe, accompanied by cold beer. As the alcohol began to take hold, Grace Suk's voice changed—growing bolder, more aggressive. Her words turned sharp, unfiltered.

“Hey, Sarah Kim.”

She downed a glass of beer in one gulp and leaned forward.

“Men are never to be trusted. Don't you think so?”

“What's suddenly gotten into you?”

“Listen. All men are thieves. And not just that—they're wolves in sheep's clothing.”

“Grace Suk… what are you talking about? Why are you saying this all of a sudden?”

Sarah Kim's face was already flushed from the drink, her composure slipping.

She narrowed her eyes.

“Tell me honestly—did you two fight last night?” she asked.

“A fight? Please. Fights happen. Who cares about a little argument?”

“Then what is it?”

“Just listen.”

Sarah Kim drained the half-full glass in front of her. Grace Suk scooted closer, her presence suddenly overwhelming.

“You know… I just can't stand the heat.”

Grace Suk unbuttoned the top of her blouse, revealing smooth, pale skin beneath—her full breasts half-exposed, firm and youthful despite her age.

“How would you feel,” she asked, “if your husband came home late all the time?”

“I don't even want to think about it.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Sarah Kim replied sullenly, refilling her glass. By now, four empty beer bottles stood on the table.

“Ah… right. Your husband's been overseas for a long time. That's different, I guess.”

“But still… isn't it the same, no matter how you look at it?”

Sarah Kim bristled. She felt insulted, as if Grace Suk were implying something about her marriage. But she stayed silent. Grace Suk, oblivious, kept pushing.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you think about your husband being away so long?”

“My husband?”

“Yes. He's still young, isn't he? Do you really believe he's just… staying pure all this time?”

“Pure?”

“Exactly. Don't men find it harder to resist than women? Isn't that common sense?”

“I… never really thought about it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Why would I?”

“You're so calm. Maybe that's better. Ignorance is peaceful, after all.”

There was something knowing in Grace Suk's voice—like she had proof. Like she was certain Sarah Kim's husband was cheating.

Sarah Kim paused, thinking.

People see what they expect to see. If you wear yellow glasses, everything looks yellow. So if Grace Suk was saying this, she must have had her reasons. She must have found something disturbing about her own husband.

Sarah Kim cut in.

“Grace Suk.”

She shifted the conversation.

“Did you… find something strange about your husband? Come on, I know I'm right.”

Grace Suk hesitated, then sighed.

“It's true. I don't know… men are all the same.”

“What happened?”

“I can't even tell you how disappointed I was.”

Was it the alcohol? Just moments ago, she'd been accusing Sarah Kim's husband. Now she was turning the story back to her own.

“I'll tell you,” she said, “because it's you. And we're alone here.”

“…Go on.”

“I don't understand men. The moment they see a woman, they start drooling.”

“I don't know what you're getting at. Just say it—did your husband cheat with some young girl?”

“Wouldn't that be typical?”

“Exactly.”

“Fine. I'll tell you everything.”

Grace Suk was clearly drunk. Alcohol made people talkative—both men and women. And she was no exception.

Sarah Kim, too, was feeling the effects. Her head was light, her thoughts drifting.

“The first time I realized something was wrong,” Grace Suk began, “was when my husband came home one day looking unusually refreshed. He said he'd been to the barbershop.”

“…And?”

“You've seen those young girls at barbershops, right? The ones in short white coats, skirts so short they're almost showing their asses?”

Sarah Kim nodded slowly.

“I used to think they were just innocent girls. But no. They're worse than prostitutes.”

“What are you talking about?”

Images flashed in Sarah Kim's mind—news stories about corrupt barbershops, rumors she'd never fully believed.

“This world… those cute little girls, they do everything. In the barbershop.”

“In the barbershop?”

“Where else? If it weren't my husband, I wouldn't care. But this… it was like getting hit by a trusted axe.”

“What happened?”

“I told you—he came back from the barbershop. But that night, something felt off. A woman's intuition, you know?”

“…Yeah.”

“He said he was tired and went to bed early. But me? There are times when I feel… restless. That night, I did.”

Sarah Kim nodded, her expression vague.

“I started getting angry. The idea of a degenerate barbershop popped into my head.”

“…

I couldn't just sit there. I thought I smelled something—like another woman's scent—on him.”

Grace Suk paused, then downed half a glass of beer. Her drinking ability clearly surpassed Sarah Kim's.

“He was passed out, didn't even notice me touching him. So I… decided to check.”

Sarah Kim, already tipsy, blurted out,

“What an idiot. How would you even find a mark? It's not like there's a stamp on his body.”

“Exactly. We women are the same. Unless you do a medical sperm test, how would you know?”

“That's what I thought.”

“But I did.”

“What?”

“There was a sign.”

“What are you talking about? How could there be a mark on a man's body?”

“Listen. I'm not making this up. It's unbelievable.”

“…?”

“There was toilet paper stuck to his penis. Dried. Can you believe it?”

Sarah Kim's eyes widened. She understood immediately.

Back when they were dating, she had begged him, “Just wait until we're married.” In return, she'd serviced him countless times with her hands.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Some young, slender girl must've used her hand, then wiped him with toilet paper. But she left a trace.”

“…

And you know what it felt like? Disgusting. That night, he was like an animal.”

Sarah Kim, as if trying to comfort her, said bluntly,

“At least it was a hand. That's cleaner than if she'd used her body.”

But her words offered no comfort.

After that, Grace Suk said, her husband started staying out more often—once or twice a week. And just last night, she'd caught him.

He'd rushed home, flustered, and put his underwear on inside out. Whether the woman he was with was careless, or whether he was too drunk to care, she didn't know. But in the pocket of his suit jacket—she found something strange.

A small object wrapped in tissue paper.

When she unwrapped it, she couldn't believe her eyes.

It was a man's condom.

Not new. Used.

And worse—crumpled at the end, there was still a small amount of semen inside.

No explanation was needed for how she must have felt.

Sarah Kim, listening, frowned deeply. A strange, illicit thought crept into her mind.

It wasn't sympathy she felt for her friend. It was something darker—something stirring.

Maybe it was the alcohol. But the image of that condom, still damp with semen, sent a shiver down her spine.

“Sarah Kim,” Grace Suk asked suddenly, “what would you do if you were me?”

“…Huh? I don't know…”

Sarah Kim snapped out of her daze, flustered. The image of the condom still burned in her mind.

“See? All men are thieves. I never refused him when he wanted sex. Sometimes I was annoyed, but I did it anyway—because I enjoyed it too, eventually. But this? How could he do this? Sarah Kim?”

“…Yeah?”

“I'm not saying this to hurt you. We're friends.”

“What is it?”

“I don't trust your husband either. He's a man, isn't he? And over there, there aren't just Korean women. There are blonde women, blue-eyed women. Western women—they're hairy, their bodies are strong. Once a man tastes that, he can't let go.”

Grace Suk's face was flushed, her eyes bright.

“You've seen them in photos, right? So beautiful. Big breasts, long legs, tight asses. Any man would want to hold them. Wouldn't he?”

“You're talking nonsense. You sound like a man yourself.”

“This is the truth.”

Then, her eyes changed.

“I once saw a large photo of an American woman. And even though I'm a woman too… I felt desire. Strange, isn't it?”

She took another drink. Her tolerance was incredible—already two bottles more than Sarah Kim had consumed.

“Wait… where's the bathroom?”

Grace Suk stood, looked around, then shrugged.

“Screw it. There's no one here but you.”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think? I'm just going to pee here.”

“You're crazy.”

“Who's going to see?”

People under the influence lose shame. They regress, become primal. Grace Suk walked a few steps to the base of a nearby tree—just beside their platform. Without hesitation, she lifted her skirt, squatted, and began to urinate.

“Hey!”

Sarah Kim scolded her, but it was useless.

A loud, steady stream poured out between Grace Suk's pale, wide hips. Sarah Kim instinctively glanced around, then found herself staring at the forceful arc of urine.

Suddenly, she remembered childhood.

Back then, they'd lived in the countryside. They'd played anywhere, peed anywhere. But Grace Suk wasn't a child. She was a woman—her body full, mature, undeniable.

Sarah Kim caught herself laughing.

She had never seen a woman relieve herself so openly, so directly in front of her. The beer kept flowing, and so did the stream.

Then Grace Suk said,

“Wanna see?”

And she lifted her clothes higher, spreading her legs wider so Sarah Kim could see clearly.

“Crazy!”

Sarah Kim turned her head—but only for a second. Then she looked back.

And suddenly, she felt the urgent need to pee herself.

Without another word, she walked to the same spot. And did exactly what Grace Suk had done.

Grace Suk, unlike Sarah Kim, stared intently, head bowed, watching until the end. Then, with a mischievous grin, she said,

“Yours is a bit bigger. And you've got more hair.”

Unthinkable sober. Even as childhood friends, even as women—this was beyond reason. Beyond morality.

But now, Sarah Kim's face was even redder than Grace Suk's.

A strange emotion gripped her. The image of the condom kept returning—growing more vivid, more sensual.

She imagined a woman peeling it off after sex.

Then another scene unfolded in her mind—her husband.

In some luxurious bedroom, holding a woman—perhaps a local, her dark skin smooth and taut, her body lush and firm.

The fantasy wouldn't stop.

In her mind, they were writhing, moaning, then screaming in climax. The image morphed—into something she'd once seen in a porn film, raw and intense.

Sarah Kim shut her eyes tightly, shaking her head violently.

No. No, that can't be true. It's not happening.

“Hey, Sarah Kim.”

Grace Suk called out, noticing her strange expression.

“What's wrong? Are you okay?”

“No… nothing's wrong.”

Cornered, Sarah Kim grabbed her beer and gulped it down.

Perhaps this was inevitable. Nights of loneliness, a body burning with unmet desire—this moment had been building. But to Sarah Kim, it felt sudden, unplanned.

Grace Suk, sensing her state, leaned in.

“You feel it too, don't you?”

Sarah Kim flinched, shrinking into herself.

“I know, girl. We're both at that age—when we finally understand the pleasure. Denying it would be unnatural.”

“Don't say that.”

“No need to play innocent. As long as we keep it a secret, it's nothing compared to what men do.”

“You're really…”

“Be honest. Don't you miss a man's touch?”

“What does it matter? There's no one here.”

Two young women, their conversation spiraling deeper into the forbidden.

Their tone, their energy—had shifted into something strange, electric.

“Hey.”

Grace Suk's eyes sparkled.

“What if… we just close our eyes and enjoy, just once?” she whispered.

“What? Enjoy what?”

“Leave it to me. I'll take care of everything. We came this far—why not sneak a little fun? No trace will be left. What do you say?”

“Are you crazy? Someone might hear. How can women do something like that? Impossible.”

“Be honest. You don't hate the idea. I'm not saying we fall in love. Just one moment of pleasure—then it's over.”

“Still…”

Sarah Kim trailed off.

The truth was, she didn't hate it. In fact, she seemed to want it—quietly, deeply.

Didn't someone once say that pleasure in love was never a man's monopoly? Ancient queens summoned healthy slaves to their beds, indulged in secret, then erased all evidence.

And history is full of such tales—stories not of modern promiscuity, but of raw, instinctual desire, expressed with dark humor and cunning.

All evidence pointed to one truth: women, too, under the right circumstances, were no different from men.

And now, that truth was unfolding between Sarah Kim and Grace Suk.

Sarah Kim, showing no resistance, finally asked,

“But where… how could we even do something like that here?”

Grace Suk smiled, as if she'd been waiting for the question.

“Where else? Right here.”

“Here?”

“Yes. I have a plan. Just wait a little.”

Sarah Kim stared, curiosity burning in her eyes.

Grace Suk stood and walked down toward the inn.

Alone, Sarah Kim's heart pounded.

Why am I like this?

No matter how hard she tried to stay calm, she couldn't. The anticipation only grew.

But what could possibly happen here?

She had no idea.

When Grace Suk returned, it had been a while.

Sarah Kim didn't speak. She just looked—waiting.