Seonghwa was your husband, but he was much more like your wife. He often went about your old mansion in tight-fitting, black, tendrilled dresses, tending to the garden by cutting the heads off the roses, just how he liked them. People often called your little family creepy and kooky, but you were all happy, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Sure, your household pet was an animate severed hand, but it was cute, as well as being useful for whenever you needed a stand for golf.

One morning, after prodding at your meal of mysterious black sludge, you were seated at the dinner table, before you felt a manicured hand slide down your shoulder. "Mon Cher, what do you think of this for family game night?" Seonghwa asked, holding a magazine in front of you, the page open to a guillotine. "It's even 40% off on sale," he added. Well, that did sound like a good deal.