Ch.301301. Another Side of My Man – side. Hwanabi

Sometimes there are definitely people like this. The type who push forward one-sidedly, saying whatever they want without caring that I’m clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, but this is my first time in this area too. Even if you ask me for directions…”

“Ah, I see. Then would you like to exchange numbers? It’s good for strangers to help each other out, right?”

The unknown man showing me a friendly smile while holding out his phone looks to be in his early to mid-twenties.

Objectively speaking, he’s quite handsome. Perhaps that’s why he has no hesitation asking for my number.

“N-number? Um… I have a husband.”

I subtly showed the couple ring on my left ring finger, expressing my refusal. This usually works nine times out of ten. Most people back off on their own. They know how shameless it is to hit on someone who’s taken.

But… nine out of ten means there’s still that one or two who don’t belong to the nine. Just like now.

“I’m not approaching you with impure intentions. I just want to share information, and if things seem good, we could contact each other separately. Don’t you think?”

“Excuse me…?”

He says things that would horrify passersby with a completely nonchalant face. The source of this inexplicable confidence is… probably his looks?

He has the face of someone who probably casually dates multiple women without thinking much of it, and likely hasn’t been rejected much. That’s why he can make such absurd proposals so calmly.

“I hate to say this myself, but I’m pretty fun. And my family is wealthy. If you hang out with me just once, I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

“It’s not about once. I told you I’m married. For two years already…”

“Come on, it’s obvious you’re lying. I’ll really show you a good time. What do you say?”

This guy is a formidable opponent I haven’t met in a while. The way he keeps approaching as if my words don’t matter shows he intends to push forward regardless of what I say.

…When someone good-looking is this aggressive, most people would probably get flustered and give their number. No matter what anyone says, exceptional looks are quite a powerful weapon, and the same lines feel different coming from an attractive person.

But… I’m not just any woman. I see a much more handsome man up close every day, and I’ve experienced pathetic advances like this hundreds of times. No joke, literally hundreds.

With this type of man, you can’t give them any opening. If you respond passively, they think their approach is working and become even more aggressive. At times like this, you need to raise your voice firmly to make them come to their senses.

I steeled my resolve, cleared my throat, and looked straight at him while raising my voice.

“Look here. Are you not listening to me? If you keep saying weird things, I’m going to call the police…”

—Honey.

That’s when I heard a familiar voice from behind me, not too far away. He must have finished parking and returned.

I should have dressed up nicely to greet him, but instead I have to face my husband with this nuisance attached to me. I felt really sorry, but separate from that, I was incredibly relieved. Once the guy sees I have company, he’ll give up quickly.

I turned around happily, but was momentarily startled.

“Oh, hus… band.”

“Hi, did you wait long?”

Despite his affectionate tone, his face was so expressionless it almost seemed cold. Did something happen on his way here? I was about to ask unconsciously, but for some reason, I felt I shouldn’t and kept my mouth shut.

He stood beside me. Dressed in a coat, he looked the other man up and down with cold eyes. The height difference between them was about a head. Seen from the side, the difference in build was so severe it could feel intimidating.

“What… who is this person?”

…What did he just say? Did he just say “what”? I quickly turned my head to look at him. The frosty gaze that had been like a winter field was now shining on me like the warmest sunshine.

“Ah… well. This person said he doesn’t know the way. So he asked me for directions, and I was just telling him that I don’t know either.”

Right, there’s no way someone as kind as him would refer to a person as “what.” I must have misheard. Erasing the word “what” from my mind, I briefly explained the situation. To avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings, I left out the part about him asking for my number.

“Oh, really? This person didn’t know the way so he approached you?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

He nodded after hearing my explanation. He seemed to understand why I was standing with a stranger. I finally relaxed and leaned slightly against him.

But what’s this? His left arm suddenly wrapped around my waist and pulled me. Due to our difference in strength and size, I couldn’t resist and was pressed tightly against him.

“Huh…?”

“But honey, why did this person ask for your number?”

“N-number?”

“Yes, number.”

…I thought he hadn’t heard, but he heard everything. If I’d known, I would have explained that part too. I quickly tried to organize the situation in my head.

“Um… well. You see.”

“Yes, I see?”

“It’s, um…”

“Honey, you can explain slowly. No one’s going to eat you.”

“……”

You can smile and say that, but it doesn’t help when your fingers are tapping my bottom.

These fingers touching my bottom from behind his coat have a simple message: if I don’t explain quickly in a way he can accept, he’ll knead this bottom to his heart’s content.

…How am I supposed to explain this? It seems like there will be misunderstandings no matter what I say.

I was anxiously squeezing his arm and mumbling when:

“Um… are you perhaps her boyfriend?”

The stranger, who had been standing still like a statue, asked while gesturing toward me.

He glanced at me, then looked back at the other man and replied in a voice with unclear intonation.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said I’m not her boyfriend.”

“…You’re not her boyfriend?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No, are you playing with me? If you’re not her boyfriend, what are you? Like someone she’s seeing? If you’re not dating, why are you butting in…”

As the stranger was about to snap back, he looked down at him and smirked. It definitely wasn’t a smile of amusement. How should I put it, it was more like he found the other man ridiculous.

It was a kind of smile I’d never seen before, so I found myself staring at him in a daze.

My husband can smile like this too? I was surprised to discover this new side of him when his fingers, which were holding my waist, moved secretly where others couldn’t see.

“…Hehe.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as he tickled me through my clothes. He looked at me and smiled back, then turned his head and replied coldly.

“I’m this person’s husband.”

“…What? Husband?”

“Yes, husband.”

His left hand, which had been touching my waist, came forward. He turned his palm so the other person could see it clearly. Then he wiggled his ring finger, showing off the matching ring we had as a pair.

“This is our wedding ring.”

“Ah… oh, you’re really married…”

When I showed him the couple ring, he didn’t believe me, but when my husband showed his, he nodded stupidly as if he understood immediately. As expected, when dealing with men, it’s more effective when another man speaks.

“Well, anyway. Do you have anything else to ask? Except for the number.”

“What? Ah, no. Nothing else…”

“Then, could you please move along? We still have a lot to do.”

He gestured behind him, having switched back to formal speech. As he said, it meant the other man should leave if he had no business.

The stranger tilted his head for a while as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, then slowly walked away.

One step, two steps. When the man finally disappeared into the alley and was completely out of sight, I let out a deep sigh I’d been holding.

“Ah… he’s finally gone. Thank you, husband.”

“We’re close, no need for thanks.”

“What kind of relationship are we?”

“Well, an inseparable one, I’d say?”

“…Hehe, really?”

An inseparable relationship. Somehow it sounded nice, so I spread my arms wide and fell into his embrace. When I do this, he usually smiles bitterly as if he has no choice and hugs me back. That’s how it was before, and recently too, so he should hug me tightly now as well.

But, strangely enough, he doesn’t hug me back even though I hugged him. Sensing something odd, I lifted my head slightly to look at him.

…His face was expressionless.

“Nabi.”

“Ah, yes. What is it?”

“Earlier, when that guy, I mean that person, asked you something weird. Why didn’t you reject him right away?”

“What? What do you mean…?”

It seems he’s seriously misunderstanding something. I was about to reject the guy. No, not just reject him—I was about to threaten to call the police if he kept saying strange things. But coincidentally, my husband appeared at that exact moment, so I couldn’t say it.

As I was trying to summarize this complicated situation to explain, he suddenly pulled me close and brought his upper body near mine. His incredibly handsome face filled my vision as our bodies pressed together.

“I’m just asking in case, but you didn’t have any strange feelings, did you?”

“Strange feelings…?”

“……”

“…Ah, husband. Surely not.”

Surely you’re not misunderstanding and imagining something weird?

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Yes, I was. Jealous.”

“…Huh?”

“I said I was jealous, extremely.”

This is another unexpected answer. I never thought my husband would admit it so readily… How should I respond?

What would be the best way to reply? As I was trying to think it through, he tightly embraced my waist. Thanks to that, I was held by him in the middle of the street, unable to escape or move at all.

“I told you before, didn’t I? That I’m extremely jealous by nature.”

“…Did you?”

“Yes, I did. So answer me. Nabi, you didn’t have any strange feelings, right?”

“What happens if I say no?”

“If you say no, nothing happens. I’ll just quietly let you go.”

“Then conversely, what happens if I say I did?”

He slowly raised his head and looked down at me without saying anything.

His eyes are strange.

Just like the eyes of a beast waiting for the opportunity to devour its prey.

“Why, curious?”

“……”

Yes.