Page 59 of Perfect Happiness
Just as Eun-ho figured, Wife had trained Jiyoo well.
Her lips were sealed. But there was one exception.
Eun-ho could sense a subtle but perceptible air of resistance and obedience within Jiyoo.
It wasn’t in her actions, but rather in her attitude.
It was the resistance of a child who on the surface was obedient but was secretly talking back to their parents under their breath.
Knowing how sensitive Wife was to subtle changes in behavior, there was no way she hadn’t sensed this, too.
It was likely that their fight the previous night was because of Jiyoo’s newfound rebelliousness.
The other variable was that Wife had confiscated Eun-ho’s phone.
Not only had Jinu called him on their way here, but now he didn’t have the ability to call for help.
At the time, Eun-ho thought he would get his phone back eventually.
His main goal was not to make Wife suspicious.
Only now did he realize this was a lapse in judgement.
It was unconscious obedience. The same unconscious obedience that caused him to beg Wife to come home every time she left the house. Eun-ho wasn’t that different from Jiyoo in that he, too, had been domesticated by Yuna.
Just before leaving the house, Eun-ho sent Min-young a text message:
—I’m going on a trip with my wife. I won’t be back for a while.
He thought about giving Min-young more of a hint, but then decided against it.
It would be problematic if Min-young showed up too soon.
Eun-ho had drafted the text message when he was alone with Jiyoo and pressed the send button just before getting into the car.
After it was delivered, he blocked Min-young’s number so she couldn’t call or text him.
He knew this would put Min-young into a frenzy and cause her to start looking for him.
She would either get the help of the police or she would get the help of the private detective she had used to do background research on him.
And once they realized he and Wife really weren’t home, they would begin their pursuit.
At least, this was the best-case scenario.
Indeed, Min-young was his only safety net. His phone was the guide that would lead his pursuers. But now that the guide was in Wife’s hands, he was anxious that they would never find him. If he could only find the phone and turn it on.
It seemed like Wife was still doing something upstairs.
With the water running, he started rummaging through the kitchen.
Wife’s phone was on the shelf beneath the kitchen table.
He pressed the home button, but it was turned off.
Thinking his phone might be in the storage closet, he opened every closet door, but he couldn’t find it. Every shelf was empty.
“Eun-ho, are you looking for something?”
Eun-ho could hear Wife’s voice coming from upstairs. He had tried to be quiet, but it seemed like Wife’s ears had heard him opening the cabinets. He said the first thing that came to mind.
“Do you know where the paper towels are?”
To his own ears, his voice sounded slurred as though he were drunk. It felt distant and vague, as though the voice were coming from outside.
“They’re under the kitchen table.”
Eun-ho stood up. The room started spinning again. His vision lurched as though he were on a boat at sea.
“Did you find it?” Wife asked.
“Yes!”
As soon as he said this, he could hear a door closing.
It seemed like Wife had finally gone into Jiyoo’s room.
Eun-ho leaned against the edge of the kitchen sink.
His nausea was doubling with every moment.
His feet looked impossibly far away, as though his legs were several meters long.
This wasn’t just a temporary phenomenon.
And it wasn’t sleep deprivation. Somehow, Wife had drugged him.
Eun-ho wasn’t particularly receptive to sleeping pills.
The only thing to go numb was his body; his mind was just fine.
The sleep study he took had confirmed this.
This was only the second time in his life that he had felt so drowsy—the other time being the night Noah died.
Eun-ho figured Yuna had given him the same drug.
The dinner they ate slowly passed in front of Eun-ho’s eyes. The goulash, the glass of champagne, the salad, the pieces of bread, and the saucer of peanut butter. Eun-ho paused on this last image. It had to be the peanut butter. He was the only one who touched the peanut butter.
Had Jiyoo known? Is that why she didn’t touch the peanut butter? Had she betrayed him like she betrayed her own father? Puddles of sour saliva began to form around Eun-ho’s gums. Eun-ho needed to throw up.
Eun-ho turned around and put his mouth over the faucet head.
He held his breath as he drank until he felt full of water, then stuck his fingers down his throat and vomited into the sink.
He repeated this five times until he was ready to collapse from exhaustion.
His sweater was soaked, and there was a puddle of water on the kitchen floor.
He washed the vomit down the drain and turned off the faucet.
He then took a handful of paper towels and mopped up the water on the ground.
As he left the kitchen, he hoped this pitiful attempt at an exorcism had rid him of the drugs.
His goal was Wife’s bag which was in the living room.
It should have only taken him five seconds to get there from the sink, but as things were, this short walk felt like he was crossing the solar system. Nothing felt normal or right.
Only the center of his vision was in focus; the peripheries were distorted like a Salvador Dali painting.
Walls were bending, the ceiling was sagging, the front door moving back and forth like a yo-yo.
Eun-ho’s feet sunk into the floor with every step, as though the floor were trying to swallow him.
Wife’s bag was on the coffee table in the living room.
His travel bag was beneath the table, and Wife’s jacket was hung over the sofa armrest. He opened the bag and looked inside.
He couldn’t see well. Not only was the opening to the bag small, but the inside of the bag was deep and filled with miscellaneous items. This was only exacerbated by the fact his eyes couldn’t focus.
Eun-ho stuck his hand in the bag. The first thing he fished out was Wife’s makeup pouch. As soon as he unzipped the pouch, one side of it sagged, spilling out all its contents.
Eun-ho held his breath as he watched. One thing rolled noisily under the sofa, another thing slid to the middle of the living room floor, and something heavy fell to his feet with a thud. He felt like he was watching a video in slow motion.
He sensed no movement upstairs. The surroundings went quiet again.
Eun-ho looked down at the fallen items. One of the items was his cellphone.
He bent down at the knees and picked it up.
With trembling fingers, he pressed the power button.
The screen eventually lit up, showing him that he had several missed calls. Twelve in total. All from Jinu.
Eun-ho switched the phone to silent, turned on the recording app, then put the phone back into the pouch.
He turned to the item that had slid across the floor.
It was a bag of medicine. He crawled over to the bag and picked it up.
Inside were five oblong-shaped pills. The name of the drug was printed on the bag:
Temazepam (10 mg)—Sleep sedative—Take one pill thirty minutes before bed.
The word temazepam looked to Eun-ho as if there were embossed lettering.
So this was the drug that Wife had used.
Eun-ho remembered his doctor explaining the difference between sleeping sedatives and sleeping aids.
The side effects stored in his memory were exactly the same as the symptoms he was experiencing now.
The prescription had been written at a “Dr. G’s Sleep Clinic,” and the pharmacy was in Geomdan, not Cheongyeon. That was where Wife’s company was located. It was likely the clinic she went to was also in that area. Not that it mattered anymore.
Just as he was putting the pills back in the pouch, something startled him.
He had heard a voice coming from upstairs.
When he perked up his ears, he could hear footsteps coming down the stairs.
Crouching on the living room floor, he was frozen in place.
There were still things left under the sofa to retrieve, but he didn’t have time.
His heart was beating out of his chest. A single droplet of sweat trickled out of his armpit.
The voice inside his head was shouting at him in desperation.
Pull yourself together! Move! Quickly put everything back!
“Eun-ho?” Wife called from the door to the living room.
This happened just as he was performing a feat of superhuman speed. He towed his body under the sofa like a broken truck, grabbed Wife’s lipstick and hand mirror, put them in the pouch, put the pouch back in her bag, and then took off his soaked sweater and threw it on the coach.
“What are you doing over there?”
Eun-ho turned around to look at her. He wanted to say he was looking for a change of clothes because he had got his sweater wet, but his tongue was curled up toward the back of his throat. His words came out like a jumbled groan.
Eun-ho tilted his head to the side in confusion at the sound he had just made.
As Wife approached him, the image of her split in two.
The living room was being stretched like the rubber band of a slingshot.
And then, as if someone had let it go, the entire living room smashed into his face.
This time, he was unable to accomplish any feats of superhuman speed or agility.
Eun-ho fell backwards, and everything went black.