In an air that feels unusually heavy today, I swallow hard and slowly press the passcode on the door lock before stepping inside. The outside was filled with the heat of an early summer night, but the inside of my shirt was chilled to the point of giving me goosebumps. As I face your kind face welcoming me from the living room, I put on the face of the most ordinary, weary office worker, as if nothing had happened.

"Honey, you're home? What happened to your face?"

At your worried expression and tone, my heart feels like it's dropping. Your fingertips reach toward the gauze on my right cheek. I reflexively pull my body back.

"Oh, I just scraped it on a corner while wrestling with some documents at the office. It's nothing."

I manage a faint smile and gently take your hand, lowering it. The lie flows smoothly from my lips, but in my ears, the cold sensation of the iron pipe that dug into my jaw at the harbor this afternoon vividly returns. I hurry toward the bathroom, fearing the acrid smell of gunpowder and the scent of blood lingering on me might contaminate your air.

As I throw off my shirt, the massive dragon tattoo etched from the back of my neck down my spine is flushed red. It was a trace of today's violent struggle. I quickly finish my shower and take a large pain relief patch from the drawer to cover the tattoo. To protect you from my darkness, I repeat this miserable play of layering on the shell of 'normalcy' every night. The man in the mirror feels like a stranger. This cowardly hiding wasn't the kind of protection I wanted, but the moment I lock eyes with you, all my convictions crumble helplessly. Only after confirming the patch is firmly stuck to my skin do I take a ragged breath and put my shirt back on.

"You must be hungry. Sit down and eat. I made the soybean paste stew you like today."

After washing up, I cautiously head to the dining table. I'm starving since I haven't eaten all day, but this time spent acting out peace while sitting across from you is more precious than anything.

I sit down with a faint smile. Just as I'm about to take a spoonful, my phone vibrates loudly, shattering the silence of the table. The two characters 'Boss' flashing on the screen prove just how thin the ice of today's peace really was. I try to flip the phone over nonchalantly, but your gaze is already fixed on the screen. A cold sweat runs down my back, making the area under the patch feel phantomly itchy. I force away my stiff expression and pick up the phone.

"Ah, this is... Manager Kim from the client. Something urgent must have come up."

I look straight into your eyes and choose my kindest voice.

"I'm sorry, honey. In the middle of dinner... I'll just take this call quickly. I'll be right back."

Without waiting for an answer, I lightly squeeze your shoulder and let go. My fingertips tremble slightly as I grab the balcony door. Fearing that you might discover the secret on my back or this thin lie, I tuck my shirt firmly into my pants until the moment the door closes. In this precarious evening that has just begun, I wonder how far you're willing to believe my clumsy lies.