DTM | Chapter 2.3

“Ahhhh—!”

 

Who the hell falls onto a bed and yells, ‘Ahhhh—!’

 

“Who are you putting on this pathetic act for?”

 

Oh, is he a drill sergeant now?

 

“Yi-tae… Don’t hold back on me today.”

 

Wow, seriously?

The Kwon Yi-tae in my imagination took off his wristwatch. Clink. The cold metal made a threatening sound as it hit the side table. With one hand, he skillfully stripped off my jeans. The denim slid off like shed skin, revealing long, pale legs.

Oh, look at this rose-tinted memory. My legs were never this long.

Kwon Yi-tae opened a drawer and pulled something out. Ah, this perverted bastard. Stockings again? With his graceful fingers, he tore open the plastic and approached me, holding a pair of black stockings.

As if on cue, I bent my knees, hooked my fingers into my panties, and slid them off in one go.

 

“Look at you, doing it without being told now.”

“Ngh… ah…”

“Fuck, maybe I should just shove it in.”

“Ahhh, haaah.”

 

I coldly watched the version of myself writhing and acting all ridiculous. Say something, Yoo Eunha. You have a perfectly functional tongue, don’t you? My self-loathing was indescribable. Meanwhile, the Kwon Yi-tae and Yoo Eunha in this hallucination continued their shameful antics without a care.

A large hand wrapped around my foot as if to engulf it completely. Kwon Yi-tae slowly ran his thumb down the arch of my foot. I pathetically brought my clenched fist to my mouth, sobbing like an idiot.

He carefully slipped the stockings onto me, one leg at a time. This must be the sixth pair of stockings in his fantasy already. Kwon Yi-tae seemed to thoroughly enjoy undressing me completely, only to personally put the stockings on me.

If I’d known he had this thing for stockings, I might have tried wearing them when we were dating. It makes sense now—how his gaze would burn strangely whenever I had them on. But he never let that preference slip, so how was I supposed to know?

“This concludes today’s shoot!”

As the camera’s red light turned off, Kwon Yi-tae finally set down the pencil he’d been pretending to study the script with. I wondered if that bastard even read a single line of it. The Kwon Yi-tae captured on camera appeared every bit the professional, deeply immersed in his analysis. His mere silence created an air of credibility, which, annoyingly, was often quite useful.

Who would dare imagine that instead of reading the script, Kwon Yi-tae was conjuring up filthy fantasies in his head?

There had been a moment earlier when he slightly furrowed his brow, but it wasn’t because he was stuck on his lines. No, it was because the hallucinated version of me in his imagination had tried to escape to the edge of the bed.

I cast my gaze downward, sneaking a glance at his crotch. I’d seen, touched, and had his dick in my mouth and elsewhere so many times that even now, I could probably sketch it from memory. I knew which side it leaned to when tucked away and exactly how much it swelled when aroused.

“Still not hard, huh.”

I muttered to myself. The fact that he could imagine such kinky, detailed scenarios and yet remain physically unaffected made him seem like even more of a perverted freak. It left me disgusted.

“Ah.”

At that moment, his toned thighs spread apart. Startled, I looked up and locked eyes with him. Kwon Yi-tae rested his chin on his hand and deliberately widened his legs. Was it because I had been staring too obviously? His lips curled into a smirk.

Great. Now the pervert thinks I’m the pervert. I quickly averted my gaze, pretending to be indifferent. But no amount of effort could stop my eyelids from trembling.

Then, out of nowhere, Kwon Yi-tae stood up.

He was definitely heading toward me. I hastily began packing up to leave, but he moved faster.

“Enjoying the view?”

Before I could even react, he leaned in close and whispered slyly, his voice grazing my ear like a shockwave. My body instinctively tensed up like a startled turtle.

“Sorry, what are you talking about?”

Feigning ignorance, I pulled out my best poker face.

“You were practically undressing me with your eyes. I let you, but then you just leave after your free show? That’s cold. I was all ready to be devoured.”

“……!”

My pupils dilated to their limits. I quickly glanced around to check if anyone had overheard. Fortunately, it seemed no one had.

“Are you insane?”

“Give me a moment. I need to talk to you.”

Talk, my ass. I knew whatever he wanted to say wasn’t work-related. It would be nothing but infuriating nonsense designed to mess with me.

“You can pass it through Manager Jeong. I’ll hear it later.”

“Hey, Yoo Eunha.”

“If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss the last train home. See you at the next shoot, Mr. Kwon Yi-tae.”

I bolted from the scene, practically running. When I glanced back briefly, I saw Kwon Yi-tae standing there, one hand on his hip, the other roughly raking through his hair.

It seemed my attitude had rubbed him the wrong way. If he weren’t my ex or if I couldn’t see his lewd delusions, I wouldn’t have fled like that. He was, after all, the benefactor who saved our program. What’s a last train compared to that? I would have stayed until the first train rolled out the next morning.

Suddenly, my situation felt pathetic. I hadn’t done anything particularly wrong, so why was I stuck walking on eggshells?

“I haven’t even committed a crime.”

I kicked a stray pebble hard. It hit a wall with a soft thunk before rolling away into the distance.

“Writer Yoo! Wait up!”

Go Hyeong-woo came sprinting toward me, clutching the strap of his messenger bag. Despite my brisk pace, his long strides easily caught up.

“Whew, this is tough. Why are you in such a rush?”

“Running away.”

“What? Ohhh! Too much work lately, huh? I get it. I can’t even look at the editing room anymore—I practically flee the office every day.”

Go Hyeong-woo, in his usual obliviousness, interpreted my words however he pleased, grinning all the while. As we walked toward the main street, he kept chattering non-stop, from showbiz gossip to a story I’d heard multiple times about the time he almost choked on a piece of octopus. I nodded along absentmindedly, but my thoughts were elsewhere—on Kwon Yi-tae.

“Oh, right, speaking of the actor, Kwon.”

“Huh? Kwon Yi-tae?”

I instinctively turned my head sharply, immediately regretting it. Was my reaction too obvious? Thankfully, Hyeong-woo didn’t seem to notice.

“They say he’s been sleeping around with young models like crazy. Supposedly, he’s got size, stamina, and technique down to an art. Everyone’s dying for a second round, but apparently, he never sleeps with the same person twice.”

It was your typical celebrity sex scandal. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but since he was the subject, my ears perked up.

He had always been the center of attention, trailing rumors wherever he went. In college, there were whispers about him juggling multiple relationships, with people exaggerating until they claimed he had a harem.

But Kwon Yi-tae never seemed to care about the rumors. If anything, he’d get disproportionately defensive over gossip about me, not himself.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Oh, my friend is Cha Eun-seo’s stylist. Isn’t it wild? He acts like the type to be devoted to one woman, but I guess he’s just living up to his looks.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean, he’s known for being nice to his fans but his actual personality is kind of… you know. You know what they say, you should never trust a pretty face.”

Go Hyeong-woo could talk endlessly even on his own. Without a single moment of silence in the conversation, he kept chatting away until the subway station came into view and quickly said goodbye.

“Writer Yoo, I’ll head this way now. See you tomorrow!”

“Alright. Get home safe.”

Hyeong-woo waved his arms energetically and walked off. Then he nearly tripped over a curb he hadn’t noticed behind him. That clumsy moment made me chuckle briefly, but once everything around me went quiet again, I found myself deep in thought.

Endless, intrusive thoughts kept flooding in.

…Did the world change while I was being ground down by the broadcast industry? Have humans evolved naturally, and as a result, I’ve gained the ability to see my ex-boyfriend’s sexual fantasies? If evolution was headed in this direction, it’d be better for us to just go extinct faster. I slapped my forehead with my palm repeatedly.

The one thing I couldn’t figure out was why Kwon Yi-tae was having those fantasies in the first place.

“It’s been three years since we broke up.”

If he approached me out of a desire for revenge, wouldn’t his thoughts be filled with an image of me suffering and regretting things, rather than vividly imagining rolling around in bed together?

I know full well that physical desire doesn’t necessarily equate to love. But the Kwon Yi-tae I used to know wasn’t the type to treat sex as a casual pastime.

Even during our school days, when it was trendy for boys to indulge in crude evaluations of appearances, he was the only one who didn’t bother to join in. He didn’t get excited over female celebrities, and he never, even as a joke, used sexual metaphors to talk about women.

Moreover, he never talked about the intimacy we shared with anyone. That’s why our peers thought, until I opened up about it, that we were the type of couple who only engaged in platonic love.

“He wasn’t into clubs, never had a single porn file on his computer.”

Judging from the past, it’s hard to believe he’d orchestrate such an elaborate act just to sleep with me. But now…

“…Can I be sure?”

I didn’t even realize Kwon Yi-tae had any unusual preferences. Thinking back, he could’ve hidden them if he wanted to. And putting aside the past, just looking at the present—his head seems to be filled with nothing but thoughts about having sex with me.

“Does he seriously just want to sleep with me once…?”

This is the same Kwon Yi-tae who would get hard several times a day when we were dating. If he genuinely wasn’t interested in sexual things, his damn dick should’ve behaved itself back then.

“The more I think about it, the stranger it seems.”

There are plenty of people who are into Kwon Yi-tae, both in Korea and abroad. The idea that someone like him would deal with his sexual needs on his own doesn’t make sense. Maybe he’s had a few casual encounters here and there, gotten used to it, and over time, loveless physical relationships became a habit. My thoughts chased after one another until they reached a conclusion.

“…What a man-whore.”

I have zero interest in getting caught up with him again in such a filthy way. My goal is solely to get this broadcast out successfully. I absolutely don’t want to get tangled up in any scandals.

“Does he seriously think I’d give in?”

I still don’t know why I suddenly started seeing Kwon Yi-tae’s fantasies. But the mere thought that he’s conjuring up those fantasies because he just wants to sleep with me once—it’s both ridiculous enough to make me laugh and disgusting enough to put me in a bad mood.