MCL Ch 3

Even though my crying disrupted the flow, the man’s perverse actions naturally did not end with just one instance. I was held by him until dawn broke, my backside ached, and my throat was so hoarse that I could no longer moan. Through that process, I became certain that the man had voyeuristic tendencies. A perverse sexual desire to enjoy watching someone secretly.

However, the things the man possessed, such as his title as the CEO and a penthouse worth billions, seemed to prevent him from indulging in such base crimes. So, by directly observing others’ sexual acts or watching someone’s humiliated reflection in a mirror, he appeared to satisfy his desires.

But could that provide enough pleasure? I had never once seen the man ejaculate. It was the same yesterday. His eyes, looking down at me as I panted, seemed genuinely delighted, but he merely maintained his erection without climaxing.

If he still wasn’t satisfied even after watching the intimacy between Chae Beomjun and me, what would happen? How far would I have to go to provide him with stronger stimulation?

Just imagining various scenarios to prepare myself mentally was overwhelming. Thanks to that, I could postpone resenting this damned body that responded so naturally to the man’s touch. As Kim Jihoon had said, the fact that I was ultimately no different from someone selling their body… I deliberately buried that thought. Thinking about it now would be utterly useless. No matter how much I raged, nothing would change.

Let’s focus on one thing, Yoon Heesoo…

I soothed myself and only fell asleep after the sun was high in the sky. When I woke, darkness had settled over the world. Not wanting to get up, I stared at the city lights rising for a long time, but then my stomach growled—I was hungry. It was laughable. Even in this moment of agonizing over life and death, this body was complaining about hunger.

At the same time, it was a relief. It allowed me to think that the sensitive sexual responses that plunged me into self-loathing were merely instincts, just like this hunger.

Whoever my father was, no matter how many people my mother had been with, it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t because their blood flowed in me, or because I was fated to live with my legs spread, but simply because it was natural for a body to react to stimuli. Maybe my body was just a bit more sensitive than others’. Thinking that way eased my mind considerably.

I got up and took a quick shower. The bruises on my body were almost gone. Except for the yellowish tinge in some places, it was relatively clean. However, the nipples the man had bitten and sucked were still reddish and swollen, aching, and there were bright red marks like strawberries scattered across my neck. I rubbed them with my hand, then felt embarrassed for no reason and quickly put on clothes.

I roughly dried my hair and went to the living room. The house, neatly arranged as if nothing had happened, showed no trace of human presence. Leaning against the island bar, I scanned the kitchen and living room. Something felt off.

The only people who came and went in this house were the man, Chae Beomjun, and me—three people. There was also the woman I saw yesterday, but she didn’t seem to come often, so I could probably exclude her. Anyway, I had never seen anyone other than those three while I was awake. Yet, despite that fact, the house was always spotless.

The sofa, where my semen had been splattered yesterday, gleamed like new, and the trash bin where we’d thrown away delivery food waste didn’t have a speck of dust. I’d kept a pair of leftover chopsticks in the sink drawer because I thought it was a waste to throw them out… but they were gone too.

Does the man clean himself? That seemed highly unlikely. Or does a housekeeper come by? But when? At dawn? I’d stayed up tossing and turning many times, but I’d never heard a sound. Thinking it was truly strange, I fiddled with the tablet.

After much deliberation, I ordered a pizza and hot wings, and while waiting, I lay on the sofa watching Netflix. I couldn’t focus well. Part of me couldn’t understand how I could be lying comfortably in the place where yesterday’s events happened, watching a drama, but then a rebellious thought countered: If I can’t do this, should I just sit staring at the wall and cry?

“Hello. Your pizza…”

As usual, the delivery guy ignored my greeting. Sometimes I wondered if he was deaf. Normally, someone would at least acknowledge a greeting like that… No, it’s probably because the man or Chae Beomjun gave some kind of instruction.

I was gloomily chewing on the pizza when I noticed a faint burnt smell from the toppings. It was a wood-fired pizza, but perhaps another pizza in the oven had caught fire—once I noticed it, the smell was so strong I couldn’t eat anymore. Should I order another one? I glared at the six remaining slices, and a sudden thought flashed through my mind.

I hadn’t just been eating, sleeping, and idling all day. I’d been steadily working on a plan to befriend the doorman and escape when the opportunity arose, and I’d also come up with other strategies.

One of them was to harm myself and aim for a chance to escape when I went to the hospital. I hadn’t acted on it because I suspected the man might just toss me some antibiotic ointment, thinking it wasn’t worth the trouble. Also, I was afraid that if he realized I’d injured myself on purpose, it could lead to worse consequences.

But what if… it was truly unavoidable, or caused by someone else, or for a reason I couldn’t control, and I had to go to the hospital? Even if I couldn’t escape, he probably wouldn’t get angry. Based on his attitude, that seemed likely.

My mind raced. As I began to devise a concrete escape plan for the first time, I completely forgot the crucial fact that he had bought my debt.

Finally making up my mind, I got up, pulled a frying pan from under the sink, and placed the burnt-smelling pizza in it. I put it on the induction stove, added the pizza box and some kitchen towels where the pan’s edge touched, disabled the maximum temperature limit, turned the heat to the highest setting, and fled to my room as if escaping. My heart pounded wildly.

Why hadn’t I thought of this before?

If the smoke triggered the fire alarm, the security office or fire department would surely come to check. The delivery guy wouldn’t be able to ignore it and would have to open the door, and since it wouldn’t be just one person entering, I could either ask for help or seize the chance to escape.

My fingertips trembled. Time crawled by. Was the pizza burning? Was there smoke? What if there wasn’t any smoke? Had the kitchen towels caught fire? I wasn’t sure, but the pan was metal, and the towels were… made of paper, so they’d probably ignite. As I thought this, a shrill beep beep beep sounded—the fire alarm went off beyond the door.

My heart felt like it was about to explode. I wondered if I’d die of a heart attack before the firefighters arrived. Taking deep breaths, I belatedly planned my escape route.

I didn’t know where the motorcycle keys were, and I had no ID, wallet, or keys, so I couldn’t return to the boarding house. The best option was to seek police protection, but South Korean police weren’t exactly diligent. I wasn’t a minor anymore, and if I claimed without evidence that the man and Chae Beomjun killed Kim Jihoon and locked me up, they’d probably treat me like a drunk.

Where should I go? The moment I realized I had nowhere to go even if I escaped, my vision blurred. As long as they knew about the boarding house, going back there would be foolish, and I had no one else to rely on.

The errand agency came to mind first, but going there would be insane. The boss wouldn’t let me off easily after I’d gone AWOL for days. And remembering that the boss was Kim Jihoon’s uncle made me feel even more wretched. If he asked, “Have you seen Jihoon?” what could I possibly say? It was best to avoid the boss altogether.

“Fucking hell.”

That was all I could say. Clutching my head in thought, the fire alarm continued to blare. Then, at some point, I heard water pouring. It seemed the sprinklers had activated due to the smoke. The firefighters would arrive soon. The security office would come up too, and the delivery guy must have heard the noise and contacted someone.

If the man or Chae Beomjun arrived before them, I had an excuse ready: The pizza arrived cold, so I tried to reheat it, but I fell asleep in my room for a bit. Would they believe me? I hoped they would. No, I hoped others would arrive first so I wouldn’t need to make excuses.

I paced anxiously in the room.

Then I noticed something strange. It felt like about ten or twenty minutes had passed since the alarm went off… but there was no sound from outside.

I’d done a lot of deliveries around here, so I knew the area well. There was a fire station just across the bridge from the apartment complex, and it would take less than five minutes to get here after a call.

Since this was a newly built complex, the fire alarm would have immediately triggered a report, and the management office would have been notified. When I was a kid, three fire trucks showed up at my old apartment because I burned some ramen, so a high-end residential complex like this would surely have an even more sophisticated crisis response system.

So why wasn’t anyone coming?

My legs trembled with unease. I decided I had to check, so I cautiously opened the door and stepped out. The hallway was silent. The electricity was cut, and only emergency lights illuminated the path from the backup power. The living room and kitchen, as I slowly approached, were utterly devastated. Everything—TV, sofa—was drenched in water.

The cold water soaking my feet snapped me to attention. And then I realized.

Fuck.

I’m screwed.

Standing dumbfounded in the middle of the waterlogged chaos, my mind raced. It made no sense that no report had been made. The fire alarm had gone off, and the sprinklers had activated, yet no one came. That could only mean someone had blocked the security office and fire department from intervening.

Why?

Did someone not want anyone entering the house? Did they not care if a big fire broke out and I died, so they prevented entry? Or, what if… the man already knew everything?

My lips were chewed raw. If it was the latter, I’d have to worry about getting beaten to death right now. What should I do? As I hesitated, unable to decide, the lights suddenly came on, and I heard movement from the entrance.

My body froze. I wanted to flee to my room, but I hesitated, unsure how the man would react to the state of the house. If he didn’t know I’d done it on purpose, hiding in my room while the house was in this state would look suspicious. Swallowing hard, I turned my gaze to the hallway leading to the entrance.

“Yoon Heesoo.”

It was Chae Beomjun who appeared. The man was nowhere to be seen. I wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not, but relief seemed to outweigh the uncertainty. As expected, Chae Beomjun, quick to read my reaction, clicked his tongue and walked toward the kitchen, still in his shoes.

“You know you’re lucky the boss isn’t here, right?”

“…”

The nuance was subtle.

Standing there tensely, Chae Beomjun surveyed the living room and kitchen before approaching me. The sound of water sloshing accompanied his steps. With a slightly furrowed brow but an otherwise indifferent tone, as if this was no big deal, he spoke.

“The boss is busy and won’t be back for a few days, so keep that in mind. He asked me to pass on a message.”

Clearing his throat, Chae Beomjun let out a soft voice, almost mimicking the man’s tone.

“Baby, was playing with fire fun?”

Ah…

My legs gave out.

“If you collapse here, you’ll crack your head open.”

Swoosh—he caught me with the bag he was holding as I started to sink to the floor. Then, clicking his tongue in disdain, he pushed me toward my room.

“Get out of the way so I can clean. You’re in the way.”

“Sorry…”

“Fine, you get it. I thought you were adapting well, but you went and caused a huge mess.”

Mumbling at his accusatory tone, I stepped aside. With every step, questions surged. How did they know? Was there a CCTV in the house? I looked around, but there wasn’t anything resembling a camera in the hallway or anywhere else. Were they hidden? Was that part of his voyeurism too? Sighing at my own stupidity for not considering cameras, I entered my room and closed the door.

And to say I was lucky the man didn’t come—it sounded like he was furious. Well, with the mess I’d made, it’d be strange if he wasn’t angry. He’d have to be a saint, not a human.

Anyway, the conclusion was clear. I was screwed.

To pull myself together, I slapped my cheeks a few times and paced the room. I was too scared of getting scolded by the man to sleep, and I was hungry too. Meanwhile, it was noisy outside. I could hear Chae Beomjun making loud noises, and the floor thudded at times. Curious, I opened the door and peeked out, only to lock eyes with Chae Beomjun, who was standing in the hallway with his arms crossed.

“Go back inside.”

“Yes…”

At his irritated command, I bowed my head and closed the door again.

With nothing to do, I lay on the bed. I tried to soothe my hunger with water, going back and forth to the bathroom, and I must have dozed off briefly. I woke to a knock on the door, and by then, Chae Beomjun was already inside. Holding a pizza box in one hand, he looked down at me with an exasperated expression.

“They say a dog’s life is better than some people’s.”

“I wasn’t sleeping…”

I protested weakly, but he didn’t seem to buy it. Snorting as if it was absurd, Chae Beomjun left the room. Assuming he meant for me to follow, I hurriedly got up and went out. The living room and kitchen were spotless. But even though it was dry and pristine, traces of what had happened lingered.

For instance, the living room had only a glass table without a sofa, and the wall where the TV used to be was bare. The kitchen didn’t even have a fridge or induction stove. It was as empty as if we were moving out. As I looked around, Chae Beomjun placed the pizza box on the island bar and said:

“The furniture and appliances will arrive tomorrow, but don’t come out of your room between 10 a.m. and noon. Eat beforehand or after noon, and just behave, alright?”

His thuggish, swaggering tone was completely different from when he was with the man. I nodded glumly and cautiously asked:

“Is there… maybe CCTV in the house?”

“So your brain’s working that much, huh? If you figured that out, you should also realize you need to stop doing stupid things.”

As expected. Thinking that hidden cameras had captured all my foolish actions made me truly embarrassed.

“Yes…”

I nodded meekly, and Chae Beomjun tapped the pizza box with his fingertips. When I looked at him curiously, he spoke in his characteristic mocking tone.

“You must be hungry from playing with fire and scheming, so the boss says to eat.”

“…”

Opening the box, I saw the same pizza I’d ordered earlier. The smell of cheese and tomato hit my nose. Feeling a sudden pang of hunger, I glanced at Chae Beomjun and took a bite. This time, there was no burnt smell.

It was warm and delicious.

🍫

New appliances and furniture filled the house. A slightly smaller TV than the previous one, a soft fabric sofa, a plush rug so cozy it made you want to roll around on it.

I didn’t know what he did or why he was so busy, but as Chae Beomjun said, the man didn’t come home for days. I’d been bracing myself for a big scolding, but when no one showed up, my treacherous heart began to relax. I was eating ice cream I’d ordered after lunch and napping on the sofa when it happened.

“Heesoo.”

The hand stroking my hair was gentle. The winter sunlight streaming through the window felt as warm as summer, and the cool fingers brushing my sweaty forehead were pleasant. I stretched out my arm to rub my cheek against that cool palm. A low chuckle followed, and a whisper came again.

“Save the cute stuff for later—it’s time to get scolded. Get up.”

The flat voice snapped me awake. Opening my eyes, I saw the man casting a shadow over my face. He smelled of winter, as if he’d just returned, still in his coat and suit. I immediately sat up and greeted him.

“You’re… back.”

Seemingly pleased with my words, he nodded and ruffled my hair. “Wait a moment,” he said, then got up and went to his room, likely to wash up. Sitting upright on the sofa, rubbing my dry eyes, I heard movement behind me. Thinking he was back already, I turned, but it was Chae Beomjun, not the man. Holding a folder and looking very pleased, he waved it at me and asked:

“What’s this?”

I felt a surge of irritation. How would I know? I wanted to snap but held back and shrugged. Chae Beomjun smirked, his handsome face—not one anyone would call unattractive—somehow unpleasant. I glared at him, wondering what he wanted, when I saw the man’s door open behind him. Noticing my shifting gaze, Chae Beomjun quickly moved to stand beside the sofa.

The man, perhaps having only taken off his outerwear, appeared in a shirt and dress pants. Sitting on a single-seater sofa and crossing his legs, he gestured at Chae Beomjun with his chin. I noticed a hint of fatigue on the man’s face, which I was only now seeing clearly. Careful not to provoke him, I listened intently, wondering what new information would come. And this time, Chae Beomjun delivered a shock even greater than the 280 million won debt.

“A Korean-made Chef Collection built-in refrigerator, 12.07 million won; a German-made high-power induction stove, 5.84 million won; an Indian-made cashmere rug for temporary use since the desired color wasn’t available, 11.9 million won; a French designer Arlang sofa collection for temporary use since the original was custom-made, 28.82 million won; and a Korean-made 8K 90-inch TV for temporary use since the 120-inch one isn’t readily available, 14 million won. Those are the big items. Smaller ones include two stools for the island bar, 2.3 million won; a system air conditioner remote, 30,000 won; two pairs of indoor slippers, 370,000 won. So, the amount Yoon Heesoo needs to pay immediately is…”

What?

“Pardon?”

“75.53 million won, but we’ll round down to 75.5 million won. Added to the 280 million won debt the boss took over, Yoon Heesoo’s total debt is now 353.3 million won.”

My head spun. What was this guy talking about?

“Uh, I don’t understand…”

Stammering, I asked again, and Chae Beomjun gave an uncharacteristically friendly smile. The man, legs crossed, said nothing. His faint smile was the same as always, making it impossible to guess his thoughts.

Chae Beomjun added an explanation.

“The temporary items will be re-evaluated when the new ones arrive. The price we get from selling the used items will be deducted from your debt, and the cost of the new items will be added. The rug’s price is similar, so it’s hard to say exactly, but we expect a difference of about 2 to 3 million won. The sofa’s custom-made version is about 30 million won more than the temporary one, so probably around 35 million won. The TV will add about 6 million won. So, when it’s all settled, your total debt will be around 398 million… let’s say about 400 million won.”

“…”

The price of my foolish escape attempt was astronomical. One fire stunt had turned 280 million into 400 million, like magic. As I mulled over Chae Beomjun’s words, I felt utterly hollow. It was as if a hole had opened, letting disbelief and absurdity pour out endlessly. Part of me wanted to argue whether this calculation even made sense, but since I’d brought it on myself, I couldn’t easily open my mouth. I just felt wronged.

If they hadn’t locked me up here, none of this would have happened. This is too much… While I hung my head, I heard Chae Beomjun leave. Left alone with the man, neither of us spoke.

What expression was the man wearing? Was he reveling in my misfortune, or did he think I was a pathetic idiot who’d trapped himself? Cautiously, I looked up. The moment I met his emotionless eyes, devoid of any fragment of feeling, a wave of sorrow surged. How can you be so unaffected?

“Why… are you doing this to me?”

I was tired of self-justifying. Why did this have to happen to me? What did I ever do to you? What crime did I commit to deserve this absurdity…?

The real injustice was that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been trapped here in the first place. Was it because of what he said about blaming myself? All my resentment turned toward the man.

I swallowed the tears threatening to spill. My eyes burned, but I succeeded in not crying, as he’d instructed. Pinching my thigh hard, I asked:

“That time… with Kim Jihoon… is that why you’re doing this? Are you afraid I’ll tell someone? Is that why you’re keeping me locked up? If that’s the case, please trust me and let me go just this once. I swear I won’t tell anyone. Please let me out… If that’s not it, if it’s not that…”

My voice choked up. I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he was doing this because he genuinely liked my face. If that were true, there’d be nothing I could do. The only option would be to endure everything until he grew tired of me.

To my question, the man remained expressionless. He gazed at me, then reached out. Thinking he was going to hit me, I flinched, but there was no pain.

“Heesoo, I’m angry.”

His touch on my cheek was gentle, but his usually kind tone had a sharp edge, as if he was truly upset.

“Have I ever hit you? Have I ever hurt you? I’ve given you a place to sleep, fed you, made you feel good—so why are you saying these things?”

His words were bizarre. Was choking me not hitting? Forcing me to masturbate while I was terrified, and tormenting me when I couldn’t—was that not hurting me?

He described what he’d done to me as simply “making me feel good.” Yet his expression was utterly serious, unshaken. He didn’t seem to even consider that his actions might have caused me pain or misery. Though we were in the same space, it felt like he was in a different world.

A memory flashed through my mind. His nonchalant face as Kim Jihoon collapsed and convulsed, kissing me while choking me, then asking the next day if I’d slept well as if nothing had happened. A dizzying realization hit me, and goosebumps raced across my body.

“Heesoo, you need to think smart. I’m taking responsibility for you, I cherish you enough, and this situation isn’t harming you at all—so I don’t understand why you want to leave this house. I can’t comprehend it. That’s why I’m angry.”

He couldn’t empathize with my feelings at all. He didn’t know I was terrified that he might kill me, like he did Kim Jihoon, and he didn’t seem to think he was imprisoning me. Instead, he believed he was… protecting me.

My mind raced.

Many thoughts arose, but the biggest question was whether Kim Jihoon was truly dead. The man might be a psychopath, but if Kim Jihoon wasn’t killed that day, it was possible he couldn’t understand the immense fear I felt.

“Just one thing… please tell me.”

I needed to confirm immediately. To know how much I should fear and guard against him, I had to know exactly what happened to Kim Jihoon.

Even if Kim Jihoon was a piece of trash to me, him being alive was better than the man being a psychopathic murderer. For the first time, I sincerely hoped he was alive. Watching the man’s reaction, I hesitantly asked.

“What happened to Kim Jihoon? That time, at the door…”

The man, who had raised an eyebrow at the mention of Kim Jihoon’s name, seemed to understand only after my added explanation. Tapping the armrest with his fingertips, he called for Chae Beomjun. He asked Chae Beomjun, who appeared from the direction of the entrance:

“That ill-mannered bastard from back then, where is he now?”

Where is he now? Those words sounded as if Kim Jihoon were still alive. My heart tightened rapidly.

If that guy isn’t dead, then maybe, just a little…

“He’s in Busan.”

In this calm moment…

“Also in Gwangju and Gyeongsan.”

I could let my guard down…

“Oh, and probably in Yangyang too.”

A shiver ran through me, as if all the blood in my body had frozen. Listening to Chae Beomjun’s words, the images conjured in my mind and the metallic smell of blood that had struck me the moment the man removed his helmet that day came rushing back. I couldn’t hold it in. Retch—a dry heave surged up, and as I ran to the bathroom, I heard the man muttering behind me.

“Oh… I haven’t even touched him yet, and he’s already got morning sickness.”

It was a playful question that didn’t fit the situation, but his voice was deadly serious. That stark contrast made me even more terrified.

“No way, maybe it’s an imaginary pregnancy?”

Chae Beomjun wasn’t in his right mind either. Leaving them behind, I rushed into the bathroom and buried my head in the toilet. A bitter, sour taste lingered in my mouth. Gastric juices poured out, accompanied by a pain that felt like my insides were being wrung out.

My vision blurred, and soon my cheeks were wet. I was scared and terrified. The two men who spoke so casually about such things frightened me. The thought that one day I might become a topic of their conversation, like “Oh, that guy from back then,” sent chills down my spine.

As time passed, the nausea stopped, but I didn’t even think to wipe my ruined face. I buried my head between my knees. No more tears came, but my body trembled uncontrollably. It was hard to calm down. It felt like I was holding death itself in my arms.

“Heesoo.”

At some point, the man’s voice reached me. But I couldn’t lift my head. I knew I should respond, but my body simply wouldn’t obey. I wished he couldn’t see me. I wished he didn’t know I was here. But it was a futile thought. The cool touch of his fingers settled on the back of my neck, gliding over my spine.

“Look up.”

His firm words made my trembling worse. The sound of his breathing nearby, his body heat, made my head spin. Taking a deep breath, I struggled to lift my head.

The man, now in a bathrobe as if he’d showered, looked at me expressionlessly. He toyed with my ruined face. His touch was so careful and gentle that it didn’t seem like he would ever kill me. The gap between what he did to Kim Jihoon and how he treated me was vast. Without realizing it, my mouth opened.

“Are you going to kill me too?”

My voice was no different from a sob. The man looked down at me with an expression of pity. Then he asked:

“Oh… is that what you were afraid of?”

I nodded. I was terrified. Clutching his arm, I pleaded.

“Please spare me. I’ll behave. I don’t want to die. I’ll stay quiet. Please don’t…”

“Why are you so scared?”

The man pulled me into his embrace. I hugged him back. Trapped in his large frame, I waited for an answer. I begged and begged again. Please spare me. Please don’t kill me… Smiling as if he found my desperation cute, the man lowered his head and buried his lips in my hair.

“Don’t worry. I found something so pretty and lovable, so I have to take responsibility.”

I shouldn’t torment you, he muttered, as if making a vow to himself. His words reassured me a little, but they could never bring complete relief. How long would I remain pretty in his eyes? How could I keep looking lovable? I wanted to live. I wanted to survive.

“Heesoo, killing that bastard was a mistake. It was an accident that happened by chance, and it was cleaner to deal with it than to take him to a hospital. That’s all.”

Mistake, accident, deal with. In a soft voice, the murderer said so.

“If you behave, nothing like that will happen to you.”

Those words were the most chilling of all. It was practically a threat that he’d kill me if I didn’t obey, and my body trembled like a quaking aspen. Then the man tightened his grip around me. He was a terrifying person, but the scent of him seeping deep into my lungs was nothing but warm and comforting.

This man had no intention of killing me right now. I had to exploit that as much as possible. Acting on near-instinct, I rubbed my cheek against his chest. The skin I touched through the gap in his robe was unbelievably firm.

“Then… please don’t make that kind of mistake with me… Don’t hurt me… I’ll really behave.”

I didn’t even know what I was babbling about. I just wanted to beg him not to make the same “mistake” he made with Kim Jihoon. The man laughed out loud. Releasing the hand around my waist, he cupped my cheeks and lifted my face. The eyes meeting mine were no longer expressionless.

“I thought you were completely tame, but you’ve got a bolder side than I expected.”

He looked pleased. It seemed he preferred me actively seeking his affection over passively following orders. A sudden realization hit me. He was treating me like a pet he’d picked up.

Even a herbivore, mere prey, looks cute in a predator’s eyes when it’s young. To survive, I had only one option. I had to keep looking like a lovable pet to him.

“Please keep cherishing me…”

Tightening my arms around his neck, he pulled me close and stood up. His gaze, looking down at me, brushed my cheeks. A thick desire lurked in his unwavering pupils.

Seeing that, a sour taste suddenly filled my mouth. My racing heart felt like it might melt away. Whether from the lingering effects of nausea due to mental shock or the fever, it was hard to steady my heated body, and hot breaths kept escaping my slightly parted lips.

Leaving the bathroom, the man sat me on the edge of the bed. Standing before me, he pressed my shoulders to make me rest my head against him. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but my cheek happened to rest near his lower abdomen. I could feel his fully erect penis twitching beneath the thick robe.

“So that’s why you tried to escape.”

He muttered. I felt my sweat-soaked hair slipping through his fingers. Before I could respond, yank—he grabbed my hair. The force pulling me back wasn’t painful, but it tilted my head sharply upward.

“Heesoo, don’t do that again. The outside world is so dangerous.”

His lips curved beautifully as he spoke gently, but his eyes looking down at me weren’t smiling. I recalled what he’d said when he woke me from my nap.

“Save the cute stuff for later—it’s time to get scolded.”

My stomach twisted with tension. As he smiled slyly and untied his robe, a large thing sprang out. His ferocious-looking penis didn’t seem much different from a horse’s genitals I’d seen at a riding stable as a child.

I had a vague idea of where he intended to put it. I’d never sucked one before, but my jaw already ached at the thought. Biting my lips nervously, he chuckled softly and caressed my lips with the hand not holding my hair.

“You said you’ve never sucked a dick, right?”

“Yes…”

“Here.”

His long finger pushed my lower lip inward.

“Here.”

My upper lip was pushed inward the same way.

“And here.”

Tapping my throat, he added: Open it.

“Ugh!”

Before I could say I understood, his cock thrust into my mouth. The distinct male scent hit me. The glans grazed my tongue, blocking my throat. My breath caught instantly. He’d told me to open my throat, but just curling my lips to avoid scraping him with my teeth was overwhelming, and I had no room to think about my throat. Ah—he let out a languid moan and slowly rotated his hips. I could feel the cock filling my mouth swelling even harder.

“Look up.”

He spoke in a commanding tone, pulling my hair painfully. Only when I tilted my chin up, as if looking at the sky, did the pressure on my scalp ease. I thought he’d be smiling, but his brow was slightly furrowed. I couldn’t tell if his narrowed eyes were a reaction to pleasure or dissatisfaction. All I knew was that his cock was barely halfway in my mouth. Unsure what to do, I reached out to grasp the remaining part, and a short laugh fell from him.

“Swallow.”

And then… before I could prepare, he began thrusting his cock in forcefully. The glans stabbing my tightly closed throat was so hard it didn’t feel like part of a human body. It was agonizing, like torture, and nausea surged again.

“Mm, hic!”

My throat refused to open. It only clamped tighter against the oncoming pain. My vision blurred, and tears welled up in my eyes. His scent, the weight in my mouth, the coarse hair under my fingers gripping his shaft, and the chilling eyes looking down at me were all too much.

“Ha, I told you to swallow.”

He said this, tightening his grip on my hair. His cock and my esophagus seemed almost aligned, but he couldn’t push further than he already had. I was terrified he’d get angry for not obeying. But no matter how I tried to swallow, it was impossible. This couldn’t be doable. Shaking my head, I grabbed his thighs. No, it won’t go in, I looked up at him, hoping he’d understand, but…

“Mmgh!”

Suddenly, his hand clamped over my nose. The moment I opened my mouth wide to breathe, thud. His long cock rammed in brutally. With a tearing pain in my throat, the distant pubic hair rubbed against my cheek, and his languid breath fell over my head.

“Good job.”

The hand released my nose and stroked my head. I trembled, consumed by indescribable terror. The cock moving inside my throat felt like it might pierce through my flesh at any moment. Each time his hips thrust without consideration, the lack of oxygen made my vision white out. It didn’t feel like punishment—it felt like he was trying to kill me.

I kept dry-heaving, but the force pushing in was stronger than my attempts to push back. Whenever I tried to close my eyes, the hand gripping my hair tightened, forcing me to take in his expression. Unlike his usual self, his face was contorted as he thrust his cock into me.

“Hic, ugh!”

It was like molten lava was being poured into my mouth. As his movements quickened, the pain in my throat flared hotter. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I’d tried not to cry, but this was beyond what I could endure. My jaw felt like it would dislocate, my insides were a mess, and saliva dripped down my chest with every movement of his cock and my lips. I was wretched.

“Ah…”

The fellatio, which felt like it would last forever, ended with his short moan. With a sensation like my hair was being torn out, his drenched cock slipped out of my mouth. He stroked his cock with one hand, spilling semen onto my face. The hot liquid poured over my eyelids, my cheeks. It splashed into my mouth, where I was dry-heaving without anything coming up.

“Ugh, hic…”

The smell of the semen smeared on my face stung my nose. I wanted to run to the bathroom, but he wouldn’t let me go. His still-rigid cock, as if he hadn’t ejaculated, poked at my eyes and rubbed against my cheeks and nose. The semen in my eyes stung, but the endless tears washed the pain away.

“Hic… It hurts…”

My throat felt like it was tearing, and my jaw seemed shattered, devoid of sensation. Speaking even a single word was difficult. I hadn’t cried much in my life, but since coming to this house, I’d shed every tear imaginable. Clutching the hand still rubbing his cock against me, I pleaded. Please, stop.

“I’m sorry, I was wrong…”

“Open your eyes, Heesoo.”

At his soothing voice, I struggled to lift my eyelids. The face that had radiated cold intensity was now flushed with pleasure, an unfamiliar sight. Even when watching Chae Beomjun’s sex, he hadn’t shown excitement, but now he was different. Then I remembered something I’d forgotten.

He never stopped at just one…

“…You’re pretty. The semen suits you.”

Smiling tenderly, he slid his fingers between my tightly closed lips.

“Open up. The second time will be easier.”

…He didn’t know the meaning of moderation, shoving his cock into my mouth like an animal. After his rough movements, his semen soaked my face for the third time, and as I coughed and dry-heaved, spitting up gastric juices mixed with blood, he tied his robe with a regretful sigh.

The sensation of him stroking my semen-matted hair was still vivid. Looking down at me with eyes full of amusement, as if gazing at something very pretty, he left with a chilling remark: Next time, do better. Staggering to the bathroom, I washed my face multiple times, but the fishy smell wouldn’t fade. Only after scrubbing with soap ten more times could I crawl into bed, feeling clean.

It’s over, I thought before falling asleep. Thank goodness.

But the respite didn’t last long. From dawn, a fever rose. The floor was so warm it was hard to walk, but curled up in bed, I felt the chill of a winter field. My body was drenched in cold sweat, but my throat burned like a pit of fire. Swallowing was painful, so I pressed a towel to my mouth and curled up.

Someone came when exhaustion was finally overpowering the pain, lulling me to sleep. A knock scattered my drowsiness, snapping my eyes open. It wasn’t my house, so I had no right to tell them not to come in. Assuming they’d enter on their own, I turned to look at the door. “I’m coming in,” said the voice, and Chae Beomjun entered with an unfamiliar middle-aged man.

“Are you feeling okay? I heard you were in pain.”

Chae Beomjun’s words made my shoulders flinch. How did he know? But remembering I’d vomited blood in front of the man earlier, I realized “pain” referred to that, not the fever and chills. I nodded slowly and sat up.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

The middle-aged man, who spoke politely, seemed to be a doctor. The way he pulled a stethoscope and penlight from a medical bag, like something out of a drama, was quite natural. He listened to my breathing, had me open my mouth, and examined my throat. His slightly furrowed brow, accompanied by a faint groan, mirrored my feelings. Click—he turned off the light and touched my forehead.

“Your throat is very swollen. It seems the esophagus is swollen too, and the inflammation is severe, so you’ll likely have a fever. Eat soft foods that are easy to swallow, take your medicine, and rest well.”

Did the doctor know my name? Probably not. Working for the man for money, he likely didn’t care whether I was Yoon Heesoo or Kim Cheolsu. Still, one more person now knew I was staying in this house. That wasn’t bad. The more people aware of my existence, the harder it would be to make me disappear.

After the examination, the doctor stood and took Chae Beomjun’s phone. He typed something, likely a list of medications I needed. Packing his bag, he said to Chae Beomjun:

“If the fever goes above 40 degrees, contact me again, Manager. I’ll bring an IV.”

“Yes, Doctor. Please go ahead, and I’ll follow shortly.”

Chae Beomjun bowed respectfully. Unlike how he treated me, his demeanor was very courteous. The doctor left, closing the door. Chae Beomjun stayed silent until he was sure the doctor was gone, then turned to me.

“How are you feeling?”

Can’t you tell? Unable to speak, I pointed to my throat and shook my head. Tch—Chae Beomjun clicked his tongue.

“I’ll bring medicine and porridge later, so don’t forget to eat.”

His tone was like someone delivering food to a prisoner. I nodded vaguely and turned away, lying down. His footsteps faded, and the door closed.

A wide-open view, luxurious bedding, heating cranked up with no complaints, meals provided, and a doctor called when sick. Wasn’t this like the VIP prison cell you only hear about? With that silly thought, I fell asleep.

While dreaming of someone shoving a torch down my throat, I thought I heard a bell ring several times. But I couldn’t easily come to. Food, medicine, whatever—I was pouring all my strength into just breathing.

I came to in the late afternoon. How did I know the time? Because the man tapped my cheek and said:

“Heesoo, it’s 4 p.m.”

His quiet voice woke me. I knew I should respond, but it was bothersome. I had no energy. Pretending not to hear, I buried my face in the pillow. My throat still hurt, and if I could avoid the psychopath who’d caused this pain for even a day, I wanted to.

“Heesoo.”

Cool fingertips brushed my forehead. His hand, lingering to gauge my fever, pulled away, and he stood. Then, a long silence. He moved so silently I couldn’t tell what he was doing.

Hesitating, I decided to act awake if our eyes met and slowly turned my head. But the room was empty. When had he left? The lonely space filled my view. Feeling relief and closing my eyes again, the door quietly opened, and he appeared.

“You’re awake?”

“I…”

I tried to say “You’re back,” but only a hoarse sound came after the first syllable. Embarrassed, I bit my lip and nodded. He placed what he was carrying on the nightstand: a brown syrup bottle, a bag of medicine, and a bowl of porridge. Chae Beomjun had told me not to forget to eat… Fearing a scolding, I glanced at him, but he casually sat me up. He propped a pillow against the headboard, had me lean back, and sat on a chair beside me, picking up a spoon.

“Open your mouth.”

It was the same phrase as last night, but the meaning was worlds apart. Holding the bowl to feed me porridge, I reached out to say I’d eat myself, but he pulled his arm back. “Do as you’re told,” his coaxing voice wasn’t exactly welcome. It was like giving me a disease and then the cure.

But refusing meant he might pour the porridge down my throat and clamp my nose, so I had no choice. Slowly opening my mouth, a small spoonful touched my tongue. The utterly bland porridge tasted so bad I’d rather not eat. I managed to swallow, but even that was painful. A sharp ache made my face scrunch up. Honestly, I didn’t want to eat, but he didn’t stop.

“Open.”

“…”

With no choice, I ate as he fed me, and he looked at me with a pleased expression. The contrast was so stark it felt like the man who’d looked at my semen-covered face yesterday was a different person.

His duality twisted my insides. Shamefully, I couldn’t deny that being cared for by him brought me comfort.

Was I that lonely?

I recalled the days of riding a motorcycle fourteen hours a day in a drastically changed environment, returning to the boarding house to curl up and sleep.

Looking back, those were days I desperately needed comfort. The boss often hit me for no reason and hurled verbal abuse at any time. I was tormented by him, scared of him.

It was the same with this man. I was terrified he might kill me, and the sexual acts with him caused me pain. But at the same time, he gave me a warmth I couldn’t reject. It was ironic. His actions were soothing the anxiety they caused.

After swallowing the last of the porridge, he set the bowl down and poured powder medicine into the syrup bottle. Adding syrup, he capped it, shook it well, and handed it to me.

“Don’t spill it. Eat.”

Taking the bottle, I squeezed it into my mouth. The unpleasantly sweet syrup was followed by a bitter taste. Frowning, I took the glass of lukewarm water he offered and rinsed my mouth a couple of times before swallowing.

“No crying… good job.”

Tossing out praise, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to my forehead. But smack—as his lips pulled away, I instinctively grabbed his wrist. Why did I do that? In my flustered moment, a faint desire stirred in a corner of my heart.

I… didn’t want to be alone right now.

“Just a little…”

Lifting my head to meet his eyes, I pulled his arm. I have to look good to him anyway. I have to be cherished by him anyway.

“Don’t go,” I rationalized, struggling to say the words as I leaned toward him. Looking at me intently, he soon smiled softly. Another kiss landed on my forehead. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, gently prying my hand off.

Carrying the tray, he left and returned a few minutes later, holding the tablet he’d once placed on my head.

“Come here.”

Moving to the inner side, he leaned against the headboard and patted the spot beside him. Hesitating, I approached, placed a pillow next to him, and lay down. A pleasant scent, unnoticed when alone, filled my senses. Sandalwood, musk… the familiar fragrance calmed me. Cautiously placing a hand on his thigh, I closed my eyes.

“I didn’t know you’d be this pretty…”

The touch of his hand stroking my head brought on a wave of drowsiness. The words the man muttered didn’t quite register in my ears. The effect of the medicine swept over me, and I fell into sleep as is.

“That won’t do.”

I think I heard something like that…

🍫

I was sick for two more full days. After the first day, the man returned home in the evenings as before, but after changing his clothes, he always came to my room to take care of me. He personally fed me meals, stayed by my side until I took my medicine and fell asleep, and then left. It would be impossible to say I didn’t see affection in his actions. The man was cherishing me… very much.

After getting up and moving around, my daily life changed slightly. The man imposed a ban on delivery food, and instead, lavish lunchboxes began arriving three times a day. During my illness, it was clear even at a glance that I had lost weight, and that was probably the reason.

Today’s lunchbox featured steamed sea bream topped with colorful garnishes. I ate the fish, coated in sauce, with rice, and picked at the side dishes of seasoned vegetables. The thinly sliced, salted bellflower root tasted better than when it was cooked thickly, but it wasn’t a ingredient I liked to begin with. After eating one piece and leaving the rest of the bellflower root, I was tidying up the lunchbox lid when the tablet vibrated.

…There was one more thing that had changed besides meals.

Shin Gyoyeon

You shouldn’t be picky with your food.

12:13

A chat window with the man had appeared in the messenger, which previously only had Chae Beomjun.

The man’s name was Shin Gyoyeon, a rather peculiar name.

I’m sorry…

12:14

I sent a reply and opened the lunchbox lid. Staring at the bellflower root, I picked it up with chopsticks and shoved it into my mouth all at once. The characteristic bitter taste of root vegetables spread across my palate. Frowning, I chewed and swallowed with difficulty. Not long after, another message arrived.

Shin Gyoyeon

Good job.

12:15

I was being watched by the man.

I didn’t know how many CCTVs were in the house, but it was certain there was at least one in the kitchen. No matter where I sat, a message came whenever I left side dishes uneaten, suggesting there were no blind spots.

Even though the world had advanced a lot, it was both fascinating and chilling that surveillance could be so invisible. I wanted to know how far Shin Gyoyeon was monitoring me, but I couldn’t risk causing trouble just to find out. So, for now, I decided to be cautious about my actions in shared spaces like the living room.

After putting away the empty lunchbox container, I sat on the living room sofa. Fiddling with the remote for the temporary TV, I looked for a movie worth watching. The temporary sofa and rug were right in front of me, but honestly, it didn’t feel like all of this was my debt. Shin Gyoyeon wasn’t putting any financial pressure on me, and neither was Chae Beomjun.

I didn’t know how or in what way I was supposed to repay that money, but given that they said nothing despite my inability to engage in economic activity, they must have their own plans. Whether that involved selling my organs in some remote mountain or human trafficking, I decided not to think too deeply about it for now. Being afraid wouldn’t change anything.

While debating what to watch, I settled on continuing the drama about a psychopath I’d left off yesterday. All I knew about Shin Gyoyeon were fragmented pieces of information. He had a lot of money, he seemed like a psychopath with impaired emotional empathy, he had voyeuristic tendencies, and he casually crossed the line between normal and abnormal.

His endlessly tender actions were certainly those of a normal person, but choking someone until they passed out and then asking if they slept well, or shoving his penis down someone’s throat until they vomited blood, definitely fell into the realm of abnormality. To survive, the thing I had to be most wary of was that abnormality, that psychopathy.

If Shin Gyoyeon suddenly hit me one day, I needed background knowledge to stay calm and stop him. Without access to a phone or the internet, I had to gather information this way. …But the drama I focused on for four hours, hugging my knees, was utterly unhelpful. Why is that bastard acting like that? That was the extent of my thoughts. It was an incomprehensible realm for an ordinary person.

As my focus waned and I began to lie on my side, I felt a commotion behind me. Chae Beomjun’s voice came, though I hadn’t noticed him entering.

“Yoon Heesoo.”

He tapped my shoulder, and when I turned, he gestured toward my room with his chin.

“Some workers are going to be in and out of the boss’s room, so go inside for a bit.”

I didn’t know what business they had in Shin Gyoyeon’s room, but like when cleaning up the flooded house, Chae Beomjun was trying to send me inside. However, thinking back to when the doctor came, it didn’t seem like my existence had to be absolutely, necessarily hidden. So, I decided to act tactfully.

“I need to watch my drama.”

Honestly… Chae Beomjun felt strangely easy to deal with. That’s why I could say something so bold.

“Ha…”

“It’s an important scene.”

At my words, Chae Beomjun twisted his lips as if dumbfounded. It felt good to land a hit on someone who always sneered and got under people’s skin. Staring at him, I added before he could respond:

“I’ll lie down and stay still. That way, no one will see my face.”

“Unbelievable…”

Muttering in disbelief, Chae Beomjun sighed and nodded. Alright, he’s easy, as expected. I eagerly pressed my cheek against the sofa cushion and lay down. I planned to pretend to go to the bathroom later and make my presence known to the workers.

But… Chae Beomjun wasn’t as easy an opponent as I’d thought. Creak—with the sound of the leather sofa crumpling, he sat on the headrest above my head.

“…What are you doing?”

“I’m keeping watch. What makes you think I’d leave you alone, Yoon Heesoo?”

Did I ask him to trust me? Feeling a pang of guilt but pretending not to care, I said curtly:

“If you wrinkle the sofa, it’ll fetch a lower price when sold secondhand, so don’t sit. You’re not going to cover the difference for me, are you?”

The image of Chae Beomjun explaining that the sofa cost tens of millions was still vividly irritating in my mind.

“Do I look that easy to you?”

Glancing up at him with his annoyed tone, I saw his displeased expression, eyes narrowed as he looked down at me. It almost felt like he was saying, “Know your place and don’t get cocky.”

But I wasn’t without my own thoughts. Shin Gyoyeon had taken care of me so diligently when I was sick. Could Chae Beomjun really harm me? I had a certain confidence, albeit not absolute, that while he might say hurtful things, he wouldn’t lay a hand on me.

“You feel like a brother.”

Still, there was no need to make enemies unnecessarily, so I threw back the nonsense he’d once said about me feeling like a younger brother. As expected, he just clicked his tongue in disbelief and didn’t bother me further.

A while later, after Chae Beomjun made a phone call, several people entered the house. I half-watched the drama, focusing my attention behind me. The people were heading to Shin Gyoyeon’s room. Countless individuals, I couldn’t tell how many, went in and out of the room that was always tightly closed, allowing only its owner’s entry.

Thud, thud—the sound of dragging large furniture, the whir of an electric drill, and noises like interior work echoed for a long time. It seemed they were installing something in Shin Gyoyeon’s room. Unable to suppress my curiosity, I asked:

“What are they doing?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, so I won’t waste my breath explaining.”

His reply was cold. Still, I was glad he responded at all. My verbal interactions these days consisted mostly of staying silent at home and greeting Shin Gyoyeon in the evening, so even this conversation was welcome.

“I have another question.”

“Just watch your drama.”

“Is he… a voyeur?”

My cautious question was met with a scoff. Chae Beomjun, frowning deeply, looked down at me again.

“By ‘he,’ you mean the boss? What do you call him when you talk to him?”

“I… haven’t used a title.”

I’d just mumbled my way through. At my response, Chae Beomjun clicked his tongue. Sensing he was about to mock me, I preempted him.

“Then what should I call him? Shin Gyoyeon?”

“Are you out of your mind? Do you know how old the boss is to call him by his name so casually?”

His words sparked curiosity. From their interactions, Chae Beomjun seemed younger or similar in age to Shin Gyoyeon, but Shin Gyoyeon looked younger in appearance. It was probably his natural features, but for Chae Beomjun to react like that, how old was he?

“How old is he?”

“The boss is…”

Chae Beomjun, who had started to answer, suddenly closed his mouth. Looking at me with a thoughtful expression, he turned his head back to his original position and said:

“You don’t need to know. If you’re unsure, just call him ‘Boss.’ Don’t be rude and brush it off.”

He wasn’t my boss, so why bother with the honorific? But it was better than fumbling awkwardly. I’d often felt uneasy about it anyway. Still, Chae Beomjun hadn’t answered my question about whether the man was a voyeur. I wasn’t sure if he was avoiding it on purpose, but I felt I knew the answer without pressing further, so I searched for another question. I wanted to prolong this trivial conversation, even a little. There was a loneliness that Shin Gyoyeon’s care alone couldn’t alleviate.

“Go on.”

“You talk a lot.”

“Does the boss… want me to have sex with you?”

I asked that question because I had a favor to ask. If possible, I wanted to ask him to be gentler than when he was with that woman. He might not listen, but I thought I could at least try. At my question, Chae Beomjun sighed and shook his head, then asked me back:

“Does Yoon Heesoo want to have sex with me?”

More nonsense. Frowning, I shook my head.

“No way. But the boss told me last time, when you were with that woman, to learn well. How… to do it.”

Listening to me, Chae Beomjun rummaged in his pocket. He pulled a cigarette from the pack inside his suit jacket and put it in his mouth. Without lighting it, he chewed on the filter, seeming to think, then spoke in a quiet voice.

“Want to know what they’re doing in the boss’s bedroom? They’re installing mirrors.”

Mirrors? Was that a big deal? Not understanding immediately, I looked up at Chae Beomjun, and he threw a question at me.

“Why do you think the boss only watched me have sex that night?”

“Voyeurism…”

“Exactly. The boss is a voyeur. But here’s the thing, Yoon Heesoo. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have sex at all.”

What was he trying to say? Soon, Chae Beomjun whispered in a more serious tone than usual.

“The boss doesn’t do penetration, but it’s not that he can’t. So, even if it hurts, endure it… and do as he says. That way, you’ll get hurt less.”

Chae Beomjun’s words were a chilling warning. I put that advice into practice that very night.

🍫

By the time Chae Beomjun and the workers left, the sun had already set. I ate a late dinner from the lunchbox and returned to my room to shower. “Endure it even if it hurts,” Chae Beomjun’s voice echoed in my ears. The mirrors installed in the room only Shin Gyoyeon could enter and the words Chae Beomjun left behind clearly implied something.

The torturous fellatio might have been just a taste. The fear that something worse was coming made it impossible to fall asleep early. My heart raced so much I couldn’t even close my eyes.

After agonizing in my room for a long time, I finally went out to the living room. I thought it was better to face the whip sooner, and that if I stayed holed up in my room when I wasn’t sleeping, the man might get angry. A disobedient pet was perfect for punishment.

Shin Gyoyeon arrived while I was sitting at the island bar watching TV. Hearing the doorbell, I went to the entrance to greet him, and he opened the door right on cue. Dressed in a dark brown suit and a black long coat, Shin Gyoyeon, carrying the winter breeze, smiled at me.

“Hi.”

“You’re back.”

“Yeah.”

Shin Gyoyeon took off his shoes, neatly placing them aside, and slipped into the 180,000-won slippers. They irritated me every time I saw them. Why were those things worth 180,000 won? Glaring at the heels of the man walking ahead, I bumped my head against his back with a thud. Startled, I looked up to find Shin Gyoyeon tilting his head, looking down at me.

“Why don’t you eat the bellflower root? You left it last time too.”

He openly admitted to watching me. Avoiding his eyes, I answered:

“It’s bitter, so I don’t like it.”

“Still, don’t leave it next time.”

“Yes…”

Answering while staring at the floor, I felt his hand stroking my hair. Chuckling softly, he praised me, “Good boy,” and started walking again. Hiding my churning stomach from tension, I followed him.

Without looking back at me, Shin Gyoyeon headed to his room. Unlike usual, he left the door half-open instead of closing it completely, which felt significant. But I didn’t want to follow him into the room. I’d thought it was better to face the whip sooner, but when the moment came, I wanted to delay it as much as possible. Above all, the human heart is treacherous.

Lingering in the kitchen, a considerable amount of time passed before Shin Gyoyeon appeared, dressed in a robe. His wet hair, languid expression, and leisurely gait pressed down on me with every step.

Without a word, he went to the cabinet and took out a bottle of liquor. The whiskey he always drank and two glasses were placed on the island bar. Glug—his movements as he poured the liquor were very calm. But in contrast, my heart was pounding as if it were having a seizure.

“Drink.”

Grabbing the glass he slid toward me, I downed it in one go. The alcohol, sliding down my esophagus and kindling a fire in my stomach, was no longer unfamiliar. I wished that fire would spread to my head and melt my reason. It seemed better to be unable to think at all.

Once more, the glass was filled. I drank without hesitation this time too. The man chuckled softly and approached me. His hand gently cupped my cheek, and looking up at his smiling face, I steeled my resolve.

“Come here.”

His fingers lightly lifted from my chin and pushed my shoulder. Moving my reluctant feet, I followed where he led. Shin Gyoyeon’s room waited for me, its dark maw wide open.

And… the door closed.

The interior was dim. A short hallway led from the door, and only after passing through it did the bedroom appear. In the spacious room, the only furniture was a bed and a large mirror beside it, and beyond a glass wall that replaced one side, a massive water flow and the boulevard were visible.

The Han River reflected the sparse moonlight, glinting ominously. Unable to tear my eyes away, I stepped toward the bed, feeling as if I were being sucked into endless water.

A pristine white sheet, without a single wrinkle, covered the high mattress. Thud—my knees hit the edge of the mattress, and I stopped moving. Shin Gyoyeon released my shoulder and reached down toward the bed. Slowly, he pulled out what was likely gel and lubricant meant for me. There was no condom. Thud—tossing them carelessly, Shin Gyoyeon said to me:

“Get on the bed.”

My heart was pounding so fiercely it felt on the verge of bursting. Taking a deep breath, I kicked off my slippers and climbed onto the mattress. As I crawled to the center on my knees, Shin Gyoyeon took a position near the window. His scent wafted through the cold, settled air, enveloping me. My tongue curled with tension.

Kneeling properly, I looked up at the man. Leaning against the window, he gestured with his chin. Take off your clothes, he commanded, and I obeyed. I removed my T-shirt first, then folded my pants and underwear and tossed them to the corner of the bed. And then, silence for a while. He observed me, and I observed him.

The hair scattered over his forehead softened his appearance, but the piercing gaze beneath his strong eyebrows canceled it all out. His eyes, with deeply curved inner corners and slightly upturned outer edges, were terrifying to meet head-on when he wasn’t smiling. His sharp nose and tightly closed lips, too, looked chilling without a smile. An expressionless Shin Gyoyeon truly looked like a psychopath, in every sense.

Swallowing dryly, I gazed at Shin Gyoyeon. Unlike me, trying to meet his eyes, his gaze didn’t linger in one place. From my eyes, nose, lips, collarbone, nipples, and lower abdomen, he stared long at my wilted pink penis before finally speaking.

“Can you do it yourself?”

Voyeuristic pervert…

“…Yes.”

Erasing the nickname that came to mind unbidden, I moved my hand downward. I could do better than last time. …Probably.

Swish—I grabbed my limp penis and held it in my hand. The soft flesh rested on my sticky, sweaty palm. Compared to Chae Beomjun’s or the man’s, it was a pitifully small and laughable cock. Biting my lips tightly, I rubbed the area around the glans with my thumb. As if waiting, a ticklish sensation arose, and my thighs clenched.

“Spread your legs more.”

“Hic, yes…”

Following his instruction, I spread my knees while kneeling and sat down in that position. Between my M-shaped thighs, my hand shook the cock I was gripping. I was moving diligently, but due to extreme tension, my fingers creaked like a wooden puppet.

“You were like this last time too—why are you so clumsy? Heesoo, have you never masturbated?”

Even to his eyes, my state must have looked pathetic, prompting such a question. Mimicking how he’d done it, I curled my fingers and gently stroked around the glans, answering:

“Ugh, no, about four or five times… hic, I’ve done it…”

My voice trailed off as I met his eyes. Seeing his face staring intently at me reminded me of the sofa incident. Shin Gyoyeon, holding and shaking my cock, smiling with a delighted expression. Remembering that day, absurdly, tension gathered in my lower abdomen. A clear liquid beaded at the tip of my twitching cock.

Seeing it, I acted on impulse, smearing the precum with my thumb and digging into the urethra with my nail, just as he’d done.

“Ahh!”

My thighs tensed sharply, and my hips jolted. The needle-like pleasure made my toes curl and blood rush to my cheeks. Holding me, my cheeks flushed like a matryoshka doll, he’d disgustingly toyed with my nipples. Recalling that, I moved my other hand to my chest. I’d never touched myself there, so I hesitated briefly, but hearing Shin Gyoyeon’s chuckle gave me courage. Strangely, I didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Ha… mm…!”

Gripping the rigid shaft and balls, I kneaded them while touching my nipple with my fingertips. Twisting the tip like he did, rubbing the areola, precum beaded at the glans with every motion. The droplets were crushed again by my fingers. The sticky sound of the glans splitting and closing mixed with my moans.

I was glad I’d drunk the alcohol. If I’d had enough reason to judge what I was doing, I’d have wanted to throw myself out the window.

“Ah, hng, ugh!”

Gathering my chest, I scraped my nipple with my nail. The sharp sensation shot straight to my lower body. The pleasure, piercing my cock like lightning, erupted as a fishy liquid. There was no shame. Panting heavily, I looked up at the man, my hand soaked with semen. My vision spun. The slightly swollen tips of my chest still tingled. I wished he’d come help, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it and kept my mouth shut.

“What’s next?”

Then came an ambiguous question. What’s next, what’s next… Mulling over his words, I blushed. The next thing he’d done to me was to make me ejaculate by probing my rear.

It was embarrassing, but I had no right to refuse. Hesitating, unsure how to position myself, he spoke.

“Turn slightly, lift your hips, lie on one cheek, and do it facing me.”

I followed his instructions exactly. To look good for him, I knelt, slightly raised my hips, pressed my cheek against the sheet, and met his eyes. The center of his loosely tied robe bulged prominently. Watching me in a fully erect state, I reached back.

This, too, made me hesitate at first. But as my fingers brushed the heated folds, my sensitive body reacted intensely. Feeling the hole quiver and grip at my hand, I pushed the tip in.

“Ugh…”

It was hot, like slicing open my stomach and shoving a hand inside. My finger, coated with the semen I’d just released, slipped between the tightly gripping muscles. How had he managed to fit multiple fingers in last time? The hole felt so narrow it made me wonder.

Each movement of my joints caused the sensitive interior to writhe, feeling almost like a living creature. I diligently probed the textured inner walls, trying to find the spot he’d stimulated, searching for that pleasure.