Mr. Cheong Character Analysis

Before my wife turned vegetarian, I'd always thought of her as completely unremarkable in every way.

“Have you lost your mind? Why on earth are you throwing all this stuff out?”

I hurriedly stumbled my way through the plastic bags and grabbed her wrist, trying to pry the bags from her grip. Stunned to find her fiercely tugging back against me, I almost faltered for a moment, but my outrage soon gave me the strength to overpower her.

In that barn, what had I done? Pushed that red raw mass into my mouth, felt it squish against my gums, the roof of my mouth, slick with crimson blood.

“I couldn't let those things stay in the fridge. It wouldn't be right.”
How on earth could she be so self-centered? I stared at her lowered eyes, her expression of cool self-possession. The very idea that there should be this other side to her, one where she selfishly did as she pleased, was astonishing. Who would have thought she could be so unreasonable?

“What’s the problem, exactly?”
“I'm tired.”
“Well then, that means you need to eat some meat. That's why you don't have any energy anymore, right? You didn't used to be like this, after all.”
“Actually . . .”
“What?”
“. . . it's the smell.”
“The smell?”
“The meat smell. Your body smells of meat.”

By the time the twelve magnificent courses were over, my wife had eaten nothing but salad and kimchi, and a little bit of squash porridge. She hadn't even touched the sticky-rice porridge, as they had used a special recipe involving beef stock to give it a rich, luxurious taste. Gradually, the other guests learned to ignore her presence and the conversation started to flow again.

Though In-hye sprang at him and held him by the waist, in the instant that the force of the slap had knocked my wife's mouth open he'd managed to jam the pork in. As soon as the strength in Yeong-ho's arms was visibly exhausted, my wife growled and spat out the meat. An animal cry of distress burst from her lips.

Before my wife turned vegetarian, I'd always thought of her as completely unremarkable in every way.

“Have you lost your mind? Why on earth are you throwing all this stuff out?”

I hurriedly stumbled my way through the plastic bags and grabbed her wrist, trying to pry the bags from her grip. Stunned to find her fiercely tugging back against me, I almost faltered for a moment, but my outrage soon gave me the strength to overpower her.

In that barn, what had I done? Pushed that red raw mass into my mouth, felt it squish against my gums, the roof of my mouth, slick with crimson blood.

“I couldn't let those things stay in the fridge. It wouldn't be right.”
How on earth could she be so self-centered? I stared at her lowered eyes, her expression of cool self-possession. The very idea that there should be this other side to her, one where she selfishly did as she pleased, was astonishing. Who would have thought she could be so unreasonable?

“What’s the problem, exactly?”
“I'm tired.”
“Well then, that means you need to eat some meat. That's why you don't have any energy anymore, right? You didn't used to be like this, after all.”
“Actually . . .”
“What?”
“. . . it's the smell.”
“The smell?”
“The meat smell. Your body smells of meat.”

By the time the twelve magnificent courses were over, my wife had eaten nothing but salad and kimchi, and a little bit of squash porridge. She hadn't even touched the sticky-rice porridge, as they had used a special recipe involving beef stock to give it a rich, luxurious taste. Gradually, the other guests learned to ignore her presence and the conversation started to flow again.

Though In-hye sprang at him and held him by the waist, in the instant that the force of the slap had knocked my wife's mouth open he'd managed to jam the pork in. As soon as the strength in Yeong-ho's arms was visibly exhausted, my wife growled and spat out the meat. An animal cry of distress burst from her lips.