DTM | Chapter 3.3

“Ugh, this is driving me nuts.”

I dragged my hands down my tired face. The alarm blared loudly in the room, but I barely registered the sound. Once again, I’d dreamed of Kwon Yi-tae.

At night, I dreamed of having sex with him, and by day, my imagination replayed endless scenarios of us together, indulging in every possible act of obscenities. At one point, I absentmindedly wrote “Kwon Yi-tae’s dick is fucking huge” into a narration draft and had to erase it in a panic before anyone could see it.

I could barely concentrate on filming as it was, and if this continued, I knew my life would crumble entirely. Desperate, I asked an acquaintance and noted the address of a fortune-teller renowned for their abilities. On my next free day, I headed straight there.

“The spirit clinging to you is wicked!”

The moment I opened the door, the shaman—lips painted a vivid red—snapped in irritation.

“Tsk, tsk… You’re standing there debating while the misfortune grows! You need to cleanse yourself immediately!”

Of course, I hesitated. The cleansing ritual alone cost 55 million won (around 37.9K USD). A whooping fifty-five! That’s not a price you casually pay like you’re buying coffee. On top of that, they charged extra per spirit attached to you. Thankfully, I only had one spirit, so that was an additional 10 million.

The breakdown was brutal: 30 million for the spirit’s exorcism, plus costs for food offerings, musicians, materials, and more. Even with a first-visit discount, it still totaled 55 million won. And they didn’t accept cards or provide receipts.

Basically, I’d have to shell out 55 million won in cash, so of course I was hesitating.

“Should I call Mom?”

I briefly considered it but quickly abandoned the idea. My parents were faint-hearted. If they found out I needed a cleansing ritual, they’d faint on the spot. The hospital bills for their stress might even cost more than the ritual itself. And once they knew about the spirit, they’d want every detail—what kind of spirit it was and how it was affecting me.

There was no way I could tell them about the delusions, so I’d have to lie, and even that felt like too much trouble. I’d also declared my independence after college, vowing not to rely on my parents anymore. Crawling back to them now was out of the question.

“…There is another way.”

There was one solution that didn’t involve spending 55 million won and could still free me from the delusions.

Kwon Yi-tae.

If he consciously stopped triggering my fantasies, everything would be resolved cleanly. I had no desire to interact with him outside of work, but my patience was at its limit.

For the sake of my mental health and my daily life… It was time to set aside my pride.

Once my decision was made, I acted immediately. I dialed the eleven-digit number I hadn’t forgotten on my phone.

After a few rings, the call connected.

– “Yoo Eunha.”

“…….””

Hearing his voice through the receiver tightened my chest with nerves. I moved the phone away from my ear and took a deep breath. His impatient voice followed.

– “What are you doing?”

“You have my number saved, I see.”

He let out a short, exasperated sigh. Clearly, my formal tone annoyed him. I knew it was a hollow gesture, but it still served to establish boundaries between us. I wasn’t calling as an ex-lover but as a writer, asking for the cooperation of Actor Kwon Yi-tae.

All I wanted was for him to stop these filthy fantasies for the sake of a better broadcast. If he agreed, great. If he refused, I wouldn’t make a fuss. I’d accept his decision and focus on work.

– “Did you call just to confirm that?”

“I have something important to say.”

– “Then talk to Manager Jeong. You like going through him, don’t you?”

There he was, being difficult again. Should I tell Manager Jeong about your gross delusions?

“No, no! This is something I have to say to you directly Mr. Kwon.”

– “You and your ‘Mr. Kwon’…”

I heard him mutter a low curse under his breath. Typical. What was he so angry about now? Ignoring him, I pressed on. I couldn’t give him time to think too hard about it.

“You’re free tomorrow afternoon, right?”

– “Wait there. I’ll come pick you up.”

He agreed, but I wasn’t entirely pleased. His words made it sound like he already knew my home address—something I’d never shared with him. I considered confronting him about it but decided against it, reminding myself of my goal.

“I’ll come to you. I’m already out.”

 

***

 

Click. The door opened, and I immediately shoved a bag into Kwon Yi-tae’s hands.

“What’s this?”

Caught off guard, he accepted it and peeked inside.

“You didn’t want coffee, but soju’s fine, I see.”

“I don’t think I can talk about this soberly.”

“Can’t you just drop that nausea-inducing polite speech?”

I paused while taking off my shoes to glare at him.

 

“Oh, Master! I want to suck it! Please give me your cock!”

 

If only he knew how much his mind made me nauseous. Without a word, I stepped inside. The familiar scenery made me move without hesitation. I placed two of the four bottles of soju in the fridge and set the remaining two on the table with a firm thud, thud. Then I retrieved a single glass.

Dressed casually in light loungewear, Kwon Yi-tae sat at the table, fiddling with the soju glass.

“Why just one glass?”

“It’s for you, Actor Kwon. I figured I’d just chug straight from the bottle because sipping slowly might drive me insane.”

Where should I start? How should I explain this? I’d spent the entire trip to his house debating how to bring it up, only for fragmented, disorganized sentences to circle in my head. I figured a bit of alcohol might help me gather my thoughts, so I stopped by a convenience store and grabbed the soju. But as soon as I reached for the bottle, Kwon snatched it out of my hand.

“You’ve got your own bottle…Sir.”

“Slapping ‘sir’ onto the end of your words doesn’t make them polite.”

“…….”

“Do you even know what time it is?”

I glanced at my phone out of habit, though I knew he wasn’t actually asking. Of course, suddenly barging into his home in broad daylight to drink strong liquor seemed strange to him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get myself home just fine. But I might make a bit of a scene first.”

His steady gaze faltered slightly. Unbothered, I reached for the other bottle of soju, the one I’d poured for him, but before I could even touch it, he grabbed that one too.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t respond, instead shoving his chair back and standing up. I let out an irritated sigh, bowing my head briefly before following suit.

“Sit down.”

“I don’t care if you’re worried about me right now. I really can’t do this sober.”

Even as I begged, my frustration bleeding into my voice, Kwon showed no reaction. He was as unyielding as ever, and it only made my insides churn. Maybe I should’ve skipped the soju and written him a heartfelt letter instead:

 

“Dear Kwon Yi-tae,
          Regrettably, your filthy sexual fantasies are showing up in my mind. It’s embarrassing and disruptive, so please keep it in check. Signed, Yoo Eunha, whom you’ve mentally fucked a hundred times.”

 

Ignoring my plight, Kwon opened the refrigerator. For someone with his awful personality, you’d think he’d be messy—tossing clothes everywhere, only eating food someone else prepared—but the reality was quite the opposite.

When we used to live at each other’s places, he’d hire a housekeeper three times a week. Even so, he’d often clean the place again after they left. He handled all the cooking too, practically taking care of all the housework.

Efficiently, he began pulling out neatly organized ingredients: lettuce, tomatoes, and red onions. He washed everything thoroughly and shook off the water with practiced ease. On the stove, eggs and ham sizzled, filling the air with a savory aroma.

He sliced a bagel in half and spread a thin layer of basil pesto. Then he carefully stacked the lettuce, tomato, red onion, cheese, and freshly cooked ham and eggs. The sandwich was perfectly assembled, no ingredients spilling out.

Initially, I watched with irritation, but as the sandwich came together, my forgotten hunger crept back. Kwon placed the finished sandwich on a round plate and set it in front of me.

“You should eat first.”

“…Alright.”

Taking the plate, I returned to the table and began eating quietly. Even as I ate, he remained in the kitchen, preparing something else. Once my stomach was full, a wave of self-awareness hit me.

What am I even doing here?

As I sat, staring blankly at the last bite of my sandwich, two familiar green bottles appeared on the table with a firm thunk. This time, he’d also brought a white plate with thinly sliced melon topped with jamón, roasted almonds, and green grapes. For a moment, I almost asked if he had dried squid but decided against it.

Leaning his chin on one hand, he watched me silently, as if his role were done now that I’d been fed. But as the atmosphere shifted, preparing for the inevitable conversation, my mind blanked again. I put the last piece of the sandwich back down.

He handed me a tissue from the box nearby, and I used it to wipe my mouth before picking up a soju bottle.

Closing my eyes tightly, I tipped the bottle to my lips. The icy liquid burned as it rushed down my throat.

“Hmm.” I heard a short hum of amusement from across the table.

Thud. The bottle was left half-empty. As I exhaled deeply, the sharp scent of alcohol filled my nose, clouding my thoughts further. Feeling slightly dazed, I finally spoke.

“Actor Kwon Yi-tae.”

“Talk.”

“…Goddamn it.”

I took another gulp of soju. Though I didn’t drink as much this time, the sharp taste lingered stronger than before. Wincing, I wrinkled my nose, prompting Kwon to pop a grape into my mouth.

I chewed the grape slowly, letting its tart sweetness wash away the soju’s bite.

“Listen carefully to what I’m about to say. This is serious. I’m not crazy, I’m not messing with you, and this isn’t some misunderstanding. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Stop dragging it out and just say it.”

“You want to shove me under this table and make me suck your dick, don’t you?”

The hand propping up his chin slipped slightly.

“What did you just say?”

“You want to cum on my face.”

Bringing soju was definitely the right call. I couldn’t have said any of this sober. My blurry gaze locked onto him as I studied his reaction. For once, Kwon Yi-tae looked at a loss for words.

“Am I wrong?”

“Ha, fuck.”

He cursed under his breath, his voice low and rough, as if he were gearing up to berate me for spouting nonsense. I had a prepared response ready for that scenario, but—

“You feel the same way?”

“…….”

“…….”

What came out of Kwon Yi-tae’s mouth was completely unexpected. I thought he’d vehemently deny it or at least look flustered, embarrassed that I’d figured him out. But instead, he was asking me to empathize with him? I already knew he was insane, but this was a whole new level of madness.

The man had absolutely no sense of shame.

“Yoo Eunha, answer me.”

“Wait, you’re not…!”

The fantasies invading my mind grew even more explicit, taking on a life of their own.

In my imagination, I pushed the dishes off the table and climbed up onto it. Kwon Yi-tae’s gaze drilled into me with such intensity that it felt like it might burn a hole in my face.

Without breaking eye contact, I slowly removed my pants and underwear. His veiny hands, brimming with impatience, trailed over my feet, calves, and knees.

When I tugged gently at the hand gripping my ankle, it obediently followed my lead, stopping just above my lips.

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

His voice teased as his fingers brushed against my mouth. Instead of answering, I stuck out my tongue, licking his index and middle fingers. With my half-lidded eyes fixed on him, I slid my tongue between his fingers, stroking the sensitive skin between them.

 

“Mmm….”

 

Eventually, I sucked on them like a child with a candy, my cheeks hollowing with the motion. Then, guiding his now slick, saliva-coated fingers, I dragged them between my legs.

I adjusted myself on the table, scooting forward slightly, as his hand slid to the inner curve of my thigh. A soft rustle came as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, his wrist the only part visible.

A wet sound filled the air as the fabric of my shirt lifted slightly with his movements. My thighs quivered as I clutched at the table behind me, accidentally knocking over unwashed dishes. The crash of breaking plates barely registered—neither of us seemed to notice.

 

“Yi-tae, ah… not there… oh!”

“Where then? How do you want it? Don’t just soak yourself; tell me.”

“Deeper, ngh… there! That’s good!”

 

My chest heaved as my breathing quickened. The obscene squelching sounds were deafening in my imagination. I tilted my head back, my neck straining as veins bulge and my tightly shut eyes trembled with the intensity.

 

“Haa… ah!”

 

When he pulled his hand away, it was only to grab my hips and yank me forward in one swift motion. My limp calves swung weakly under the table.

 

“Wait, hang on….”

 

Without warning, his face pressed between my legs. My mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish as I struggled to breathe, moaning his name alongside strangled cries of pleasure.

My pupils dilated to their limits, leaving me screaming mindlessly, feeling nothing but waves of euphoria. Desperately clutching at his thick hair, I rocked my hips against his face.

 

“Ah, Yes! Ohh… more, more! Stick your tongue in, suck harder!”

 

The sight of him furiously rubbing his face down on me was obscene beyond belief.

“Stop it…!”

Clutching my ears and squeezing my eyes shut didn’t help. I tipped back the remainder of the soju, but even that didn’t drown out the scene. My shaking hand reached out to grab Kwon’s collar—at least, I tried to. My weak grasp merely brushed the edge of his shirt before falling away.

At that moment, his large hand reached out, wrapping around mine, pressing it firmly to his chest as he leaned in close.

“Are you done with the polite speech yet?”

“I told you…”

“Yeah. That you want to suck my dick.”

“That’s not it! What I’m saying is… I can see it. Every disgusting fantasy you have about me!”

My voice rose as I glared at him, my face burning with heat. Once I started speaking, it all came pouring out.

“Should I spell it out for you? You imagine me wearing nothing but stockings, calling you master while you fuck me. Or, like just now, you had me up on the table with your face buried between my legs!”

“…….”

“Do you remember the set where we met again after three years? There’s a legend about that place—a virgin ghost who drowned himself in the pond. Lucky me, I fell in and now this damn ghost is taking out his unresolved desires through me!”

I spewed the words in a rapid burst, my voice trembling with pent-up frustration. As my shout echoed, the intrusive fantasy vanished abruptly, leaving only a tense silence.

Kwon’s face came into sharp focus. His earlier teasing smirk was gone, replaced by an expression of mild bewilderment. An oppressive stillness hung between us.

“Kwon Yi-tae… what are you thinking?”

“Are you seeing this in other guys’ heads too?”

“What?”

I squinted, trying to steady my spinning vision.

“Anyone else fantasizing about you like this?”

At least he’s aware his mind isn’t exactly a temple of purity.

Faint anger flickered and subsided across his sharp features. The hand stroking the back of mine was surprisingly gentle, but his gaze was chilling, as if daring me to name another man. Shaking my head, I tried to calm the storm of his unspoken threat.

Dealing with one person’s fantasies was exhausting enough. If I had to deal with more, I’d quit the industry and go live in the countryside to recover my sanity.

For once, Kwon remained uncharacteristically quiet. Before long, as if struck by a sudden thought, his tense lips loosened.

“Just me?”

His eyebrows raised as he asked again.

“Yes. Just you.”

“So I’m special.”

“…….”

“Like destiny.”

“How is being possessed by a ghost destiny? Don’t romanticize my suffering.”

“Why is it suffering? You’re not actually having sex; it’s all in your head. Are you just frustrated because it’s all one-sided?”

“…….”

“Is that it?”

His insidious voice sent a jolt through my chest. It felt like he was framing me as the one who was desperate to be with him. I wanted to deny it immediately, but for some reason, I couldn’t open my mouth. Instead, I became hyper aware of the warmth of his hand over mine.

And it wasn’t just that. The way his Adam’s apple moved when he spoke, the outline of his muscular chest beneath his shirt, his broad, perfectly proportioned frame—they were all distracting, maddeningly attractive.

“First of all, let go of my hand….”

The realization hit me like a freight train, my body growing hot and heavy with the weight of rising desire. But Kwon didn’t let go; in fact, his grip tightened.

Ha, this is driving me crazy. Those dreams had reawakened something dormant in me, and the earlier fantasy only fueled it further. The alcohol that was supposed to give me courage had instead robbed me of reason.

My body craved him. Admitting that only made the hunger burn brighter, the need rising until it felt like my vision was swimming. My breath came out in uneven pants, scattered and heavy like I’d been running.

“Answer my question first.”

The last shred of my patience burned away. Between the dizziness from the alcohol and his relentless pestering, I felt a surge of frustration and helplessness.

“…I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. Because I keep dreaming about it…!”

The words spilled out in a torrent, raw and unfiltered. I didn’t care how it sounded to him anymore—I just needed to get it off my chest. My frustration had hit its boiling point.

Instead of asking him to stop the fantasies, I ended up blurting out everything else. My mouth wouldn’t stop, spouting disconnected fragments while my mind flickered like a faulty light bulb.

Virgin ghost… pond, ass, cum, 55 million won, dreams. Random words tumbled out, punctuated occasionally by Kwon’s calm responses: “Hmm.”, “I see.”, and  “Isn’t calling it ‘brain cum’ a bit much?”

At some point, my consciousness flickered out entirely. I floated in a pitch-black void, my thoughts scattered like dust.