Chapter 16 — Domestic Experiments
Han Jae-in didn’t invite Seo Yuri to clean his apartment.
That was the first thought he had when she stood in the narrow entryway, sleeves already rolled up, shoes neatly aligned beside his own as if they had always been there.
“I had time before my next meeting,” she said lightly, lifting a reusable grocery bag he didn’t remember seeing her carry. “And you mentioned last week that clutter makes it hard for you to focus.”
He had. Once. Offhand. During a late study session when his brain felt like wet paper.
Behind her calm smile, the noise bloomed immediately.
‘He hesitates when he opens the door. Entry friction detected. Reduce resistance. Act natural. This is helpful. This is allowed.’
Jae-in stepped aside without consciously deciding to. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound too final for such a small action.
His apartment was a single-room studio: bed against the wall, narrow desk by the window, kitchenette that barely deserved the name.
It smelled faintly of instant coffee and old books. Until today, it had been neutral. Untouched. His.
Yuri set the bag down and surveyed the room with a thoughtful tilt of her head, eyes scanning like she was reading a familiar text.
‘Lighting suboptimal. Desk orientation inefficient. Trash accumulation minimal but psychologically heavy. He’ll feel better after.’
“You really don’t have to—” Jae-in started.
“I know.” She smiled again, already moving. “But I want to.”
That was how it always happened. Permission slid in sideways, disguised as kindness.
She began with the desk.
Jae-in sat on the edge of his bed, hands folded, watching her rearrange his life in quiet increments. She stacked papers by priority, aligning edges. His pens were sorted by ink color. The mug with the cracked handle—his favorite—was gently rinsed and placed closer to the kettle.
Each movement came with a corresponding thought, calm and precise.
‘If his environment is predictable, his mood will stabilize. If his mood stabilizes, he won’t spiral. If he doesn’t spiral, he won’t seek comfort elsewhere.’
Elsewhere.
Jae-in swallowed.
He told himself this was fine. Helpful. Normal. People helped each other all the time.
And yet.
When she shifted his chair slightly inward, angling it toward the desk instead of the window, something in his chest tightened.
‘Distraction reduction. He doesn’t need to stare outside when working.’
“I liked sitting by the window,” he said before he could stop himself.
Yuri paused. Just for a fraction of a second. The noise tightened, a brief recalculation.
‘Preference detected. Adjust. Do not push.’
“Oh,” she said smoothly, rotating the chair back. “Sorry. Habit.”
Her thoughts loosened again, approval restored.
‘Good. He spoke. That’s healthy. I can work with that.’
Work with.
The word echoed.
She moved to the kitchenette next, quietly wiping surfaces, throwing away expired snacks he hadn’t noticed were expired. Each discarded item came with a justification.
‘Empty calories. Unnecessary. He forgets to eat real meals. I’ll bring food next time.’
Next time.
Jae-in realized with a small, sinking feeling that Yuri wasn’t treating this as a one-off favor. This was a test run. A prototype.
A domestic experiment.
His phone buzzed on the bed beside him.
[Chaerin: where r u?]
The moment the screen lit up, the noise doubled.
Yuri didn’t look at him, but her thoughts shifted.
‘Incoming variable. Min Chaerin. Emotional volatility high. Presence here increases risk of conflict. Mitigate.’
Jae-in typed back with stiff fingers.
[At my apartment. Studying.]
The reply came almost instantly.
[Chaerin: alone?]
He hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Yuri glanced over her shoulder, smile unchanged. “Someone checking on you?”
“Chaerin,” he admitted.
The air changed.
Not outwardly. Yuri’s posture remained relaxed, movements unhurried. But inside—
‘Of course. She monitors constantly. Inefficient, but predictable. If she arrives now, the environment will destabilize.’
“I didn’t know you two were meeting today,” Yuri said pleasantly.
“We weren’t,” Jae-in said. “She just… messages a lot.”
‘Unstructured attachment. High maintenance. She exhausts him.’
Yuri picked up a folded hoodie from the back of his chair—the one Chaerin had left there weeks ago and never reclaimed.
‘Foreign object. Emotional anchor. Remove.’
She held it up. “Is this hers?”
Jae-in nodded.
“I can wash it for her next time,” Yuri said. “It’s taking up space.”
The noise sharpened just a touch.
‘Space matters. Objects matter. If she leaves traces here, she’ll think she belongs.’
Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.
Once.
Then again, more insistently.
The noise detonated.
From outside, Chaerin’s thoughts slammed into him through the door, loud and unfiltered.
‘He didn’t say no. He didn’t say yes. Why is he quiet? Why does my chest hurt? Maybe he’s with her. Maybe I’m late. I should’ve come earlier.’
“Jae-in!” Chaerin called, voice bright and forced. “I brought snacks!”
Yuri turned, eyes calm, assessing.
‘So she chose to arrive without confirmation. Predictable. Control the narrative.’
“I’ll get it,” Jae-in said quickly, already standing.
He opened the door to find Chaerin bouncing on her heels, holding a plastic bag, cheeks flushed. She leaned in immediately, peering past him.
“Oh! Yuri’s here too!” she said, smile widening just a bit too much. “Study party?”
Her thoughts were anything but cheerful.
‘Of course she is. Of course. It’s fine. It’s fine. This is normal. Group stuff is normal. If I act normal, it stays normal.’
“Come in,” Jae-in said, stepping aside again. He was getting good at that.
Chaerin slipped past him, shoes kicked off haphazardly, bag dropped onto the bed without asking. She flopped down beside it like she belonged there.
This is ours.
The thought rang clear as a bell.
Yuri watched, eyes soft, hands folded in front of her.
‘Boundary violation. Expected.’
“I didn’t know you were cleaning,” Chaerin said, glancing around. “Wow, it looks different already.”
Yuri smiled. “Just organizing a bit. Jae-in mentioned he’s been stressed.”
Chaerin’s thoughts wavered.
‘He tells her things. That’s okay. He tells me things too. Probably more. He has to.’
She laughed lightly. “You’re always so responsible, Yuri. Like a wife.”
The word landed between them.
Yuri’s thoughts sharpened, then smoothed.
‘Interesting. She frames me as domestic. Acceptable. Reinforce without confirming.’
“Someone has to be,” Yuri said gently.
Jae-in felt like a piece of furniture being discussed.
Chaerin lay back on the bed, stretching exaggeratedly. “I like it messy,” she said. “It feels lived-in.”
Her thoughts spiked.
‘If she changes it too much, it won’t feel like ours anymore.’
Yuri turned to Jae-in. “Do you mind if I move a few things? It’ll make it easier to clean.”
He opened his mouth.
Paused.
The noise pressed in from both sides—Yuri’s quiet expectation, Chaerin’s fragile dread.
If he said no, Yuri’s thoughts would tighten, recalibrate. If he said yes, Chaerin’s would fracture.
He nodded.
“Go ahead.”
Relief, immediate and warm, flooded from Yuri.
‘Good. Trust established.’
Chaerin’s thoughts dipped, then rallied.
‘It’s okay. He didn’t say I couldn’t stay.’
Yuri moved with renewed purpose. The hoodie was folded and placed into a bag. His books were rearranged by subject instead of whatever chaotic system he’d used before.
Each change was small. Reasonable. Hard to argue against.
Each change made the room feel a little less like him.
A knock sounded—soft, almost polite.
Not the doorbell.
Jae-in froze.
He didn’t need to open the door to know who it was.
The noise arrived not as a rush, but as a steady, unsettling presence.
‘Occupied. Multiple entities. Threat potential elevated.’
Kuroe Hana stood in the hallway when he opened the door, dark hair pulled back, eyes unreadable. She wore her usual black jacket, hands tucked into the pockets.
“I was passing by,” she said flatly.
Lie.
Her thoughts flickered.
‘Lights on. Voices. He is here. Confirmed.’
“Oh,” Jae-in said stupidly. “Um. Hi.”
Behind him, Chaerin had already sat up, eyes narrowing. Yuri turned slowly, assessing.
Hana’s gaze moved past Jae-in into the apartment, cataloging.
‘Two rivals. One unstable. One controlling. Environment compromised.’
“You can come in,” Jae-in heard himself say.
The words felt like a mistake the moment they left his mouth.
Hana stepped inside without hesitation, shoes left neatly by the door. She didn’t sit. She stood near the wall, close enough that Jae-in could feel her presence like a shadow.
Chaerin’s thoughts spiked violently.
‘Why is she here? She doesn’t belong here. This is our place. Our place.’
Yuri’s thoughts remained cool.
‘Unexpected variable. But manageable. She observes more than she acts.’
Hana’s eyes lingered on the reorganized desk, the folded hoodie bag, the bed with Chaerin sprawled across it.
‘Territory markings detected. Multiple. Conflict probability rising.’
No one spoke for a moment.
The silence pressed down, thick and awkward.
“So,” Chaerin said brightly, patting the bed beside her. “We were just hanging out.”
Her thoughts begged.
‘Sit with me. Choose me. Don’t leave me.’
Yuri picked up the grocery bag. “I brought dinner ingredients,” she said. “I thought it would be easier if he didn’t have to think about it.”
Her thoughts wrapped around the statement.
‘Provision reinforces dependency.’
Hana said nothing.
Her thoughts didn’t either.
That was worse.
Jae-in’s chest tightened. He’d learned by now that Hana’s silence wasn’t absence. It was assessment.
The three of them existed in the same small room, each convinced in their own way that this space belonged to them.
The apartment felt smaller by the second.
“I—” Jae-in started, then stopped.
What could he even say?
That he needed space? From all of them? That this was too much?
Yuri would adjust. Chaerin would break. Hana would decide something.
He sat back down on the bed, between Chaerin and empty air, feeling like a fault line.
Yuri resumed cleaning, humming softly.
Chaerin leaned into him, head on his shoulder, fingers curling into his sleeve.
‘He didn’t push me away. We’re okay.’
Hana remained standing, eyes fixed on the door.
‘Exit compromised. Monitor.’
Jae-in stared at the wall, listening to the overlapping noise until it blurred into something almost normal.
This was his apartment.
And somehow, it wasn’t his anymore.
By the time Yuri finished and announced she should leave—“You need rest,” she said, already planning the next visit—Chaerin had claimed the bed, shoes off, jacket draped over his chair.
“I might fall asleep,” she said, smiling. “It’s fine, right?”
Her thoughts hummed with certainty.
‘He won’t say no.’
Hana lingered at the door last, looking back at him.
For a moment, a single thought slipped through, clear and unsettling.
‘Location memorized.’
Then she was gone.
Later, much later, lying rigid beside Chaerin’s warm, sleeping form, Jae-in stared at the ceiling.
The apartment was clean. Organized. Quiet.
He had never felt less at home.
