episode_0033

33

Alcohol. When it starts dissolving into your bloodstream, tingling all over—it feels incredible.

Twelve hours of deep sleep. Waking up stretching and twisting under the blankets feels unbelievably refreshing.

Forcing a conversation with someone who openly dislikes me. Even I, the owner of this body, find it a little confusing… but… maybe this, too, feels incredibly good.

“Can’t you bend them…? Right…?” “Yes. Yes.”

Seo Woojin, politely accepting a drink in front of me. Whenever I talk to him, I don’t stop smiling the whole time. The corners of my mouth just keep twitching.

In Japan, in Korea— I’ve never met a guy who stonewalls me as hard as you do.

…That’s why. It’s so much fun.

On the other hand, I’m also curious about what’s really going on in your head.

“S? What’s bad about that…? I just wanna grab you and gobble you upppp…” “I don’t want to get hit. That’s all.” “Don’t be like thaaat… Noona will make you feel really goooood…” “No, I’m not interested. Why don’t you try posting on Twitter or something? A girl like you could get dozens of pathetic DMs from degenerates begging you to step on them.” “Pfh… Pathetic DMs… No thanks… That’s kinda gross, don’t you think…?” “Sigh…”

Huu… Hah… Taking a deep breath before boarding a packed train. From the days of my innocent middle school years, when my heart would race nervously every time… to my high school years, when years of pent-up frustration built up because no guy I actually liked ever showed up.

99% of people with dicks seem to have made some kind of pact—stealing glances at my body hidden under a school uniform, shivering as they slide their hands awkwardly into their pockets.

But you, another guy—why do you hate me? Maybe… you’ve noticed what I want and are deliberately… …Ahem, ahem.

In Japan, there’s a phrase: 皮算用 (kawazan’yō). Translated into Korean, it means: Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.

“Woojin-ah…” “Yeah?” “Are you… gay…?” “Nope.” “Strong denials are strong affirmations, you know…!” “Says who? Namho-hyung?” “Yeah…” “…I like women. You saw it yourself last time—the girl sleeping in my apartment. You said you knew her through mutual friends too.” “Well, yeah, but… isn’t that just a smokescreen…?” “Sigh…”

The 99% were all just idiots who ogled me from afar. The 0.9% who went a step further lurked close by, making creepy clicking noises. That much—eh, I could forgive it. It’s not like staring at someone’s body or snapping photos wears anything out. Considering the price of finding a decent guy, it was a bargain.

And the 0.1% who went even further—they were way more aggressive than those half-baked males. They’d make disgusting, life-ruining confessions to me. So, of course, I had to give them my answer. …In a quiet bathroom. Face to face.

“…Got it. You’re into lolis.” “Are you drunk?” “No, cough, no, it’s just… There’s no way you’d pass up a chance with a girl like me otherwise…” “I just don’t want to get hit by you.” “Mmm… Then what if we start slow, with handcuffs…?” “Sigh…”

Of course, my answer always started with NO. Some were decent-looking guys with dickhead faces, some were bald, pot-bellied uncles who looked like they had a hypnosis app, and there was even my school’s math teacher—the one all the girls hated. But no matter what—NO.

Just waggling their dicks and following me around wasn’t enough to be my type. That was just them sprinting from the starting line—there were still mountains to climb, you know? Looks aside, they at least needed a body like Woojin’s. (And being handsome would be a bonus.) And, well, a huge dick would be nice… but a guy like that wouldn’t throw away everything he’d built in life just to grope a high school girl’s chest, right? That’s just wishful thinking.

Most importantly, after following me into the bathroom, they had to be absolute scum—like the protagonist of some rapey eroge, completely obsessed with women to the very end… But somehow, the moment I scared them a little, they’d all start begging for their lives? If you want to fuck some random horny high school girl you met on your way to work in a public restroom, shouldn’t you at least get hard and fight back even if you’re about to die?

……Ugh. Annoying. I don’t need half-assed males like you… Just drop dead. You’re just ordinary perverts who get off on high school girls…

“I’m gonna sleep at your place todayyy…” “No.” “Don’t be like thaaat… Noona will teach you lots of fun things…” “…You look tired. Should we head out soon?”

If the guy I met on the train in Japan had been as stubborn as Woojin… He would’ve fought back like crazy when I jumped him… Telling me to stop, that his wrists hurt, cursing at me as I licked his lips, biting me all over with his teeth… And then… finally… …Hehehe…

So sleeeepy…

Yozora, age 22. Honestly, this is my first time in a guy’s place.

“……” Kinda… interesting. That a guy lives in a place this clean. I mean, I expected… Wads of tissues with weird smells rolling around on the floor? Lukewarm water bottles with spit residue left everywhere? A few sex toys covered in fluids getting in the way? I was prepared to not be surprised even if it was like that, but…

Guess I’ve read too many R-18 manga with those bright red warning labels. Of course, that stuff’s all fiction.

“Yozora-senpai.” “Mmm…”

Seo Woojin speaks first as he steps inside. Maybe because I ignored his obvious attempts to shoo me away and pushed in anyway—his voice is way sharper than when we drank together yesterday.

……My heart’s pounding.

“Just to be clear.” “……?” “I have no intention of having sex with you.” “Ehk.”

…Wha—what am I supposed to do with that? I only asked, “Wanna touch Noona’s body?”—I haven’t even brought up sex yet… This is kinda pissing me off. Should I just jump him for real…?

Since it’s a studio apartment, if I pounce on him in the entryway, we’d go straight to the bed. He’s just a healing-type superhuman anyway, and if I use my ability, it’d be easy to just…

…… …I’ll hold back. Just this once.

My fourth objective is , but my first objective is . And as a reward, Namho-chan will give me Hibiki 30-year—

“If seduction doesn’t work, just look around and leave.” “……” “Here’s some orange juice… Oh, right. Do you like orange juice?” “……”

…This is pissing me off too. The firmness I felt against my lower belly from earlier is still there. Are you just gonna pretend you don’t know?

“…D-didn’t you get hard because you wanna have sex…?” “It’s a physiological response. The structure makes it harden when stimulated.” “……”

What does physiological response even mean? Rolling the words around in my head, I finally speak up.

“Either way, it means my seduction worked… right…?” “…No.” “It diddd…” “I said no.” “You got hard from squeezing Noona’s chest—” “……”

He shoots me a disgusted look before stepping away. Hmph. I exhale through my nose and follow him inside, slipping off my shoes. The cold floor tickles the soles of my small feet.

If you didn’t want this, you should’ve run to a motel or something from the start. Idiot. You seemed smart, but there’s something airheaded about you—kinda cute.

“……”

…Of course. Those rough hands groping my chest earlier… Well… Airheaded isn’t the right word. They were exactly my type.

This is why I keep believing in that stupid old myth. The Red String of Fate. Maybe a crimson thread is tied to my pinky and Seo Woojin’s. Maybe the reason I escaped Japan and came to Korea was because that red string pulled me here.

If that’s the case… shouldn’t I do something now? If I let Woojin slip away now, will no one ever satisfy my fetishes again…?

“…Ahem, cough.”

Clearing my throat for no reason, I sidle up next to Woojin as he heads to the kitchen. Sensing my presence, he glances at me mid-pour, orange juice dripping into a cup.

I press my chest—still tingling from earlier—against his arm and ask: “…If you work with Noona, every time we’re alone, I’ll let you squeeze my chest like that again…” “Not interested.” “…I-I could do even more…? Like…” “I said no.”

Oof. My pride’s taking a hit. You know how popular these tits were back in my JC and JK days? Every time I rode the train, I’d get groped—this body’s a magnet for perverts…

“Y-you’re not being honest… If you really weren’t interested, you wouldn’t have groped me so roughly…” “You told me to.” “……”

Now that I think about it… yeah. I did ask, “Wanna touch?”—and Woojin even double-checked if it was really okay.

I press my lips shut, eyes darting around.

“I clearly said no at first.” “…W-well… Uh…” “There’s nothing to see here anyway, right? It’s just a studio.” “……” “Have some juice and go home. No matter what you do, I’m not going back to the company.”

He shoves a cup of orange juice at me. Since I like orange juice, I take it without a word.

As Woojin walks past me, he starts peeling off his clothes—

Huh? Oh. …D-don’t scare me like that. It’s just his outerwear.

“……”

My eyes flick up and down Woojin’s body as sweet orange juice slides down my throat.

…His body. Kinda nice. …No. Really nice.

“……”

…Great body. A guy with extreme tastes. Not some run-of-the-mill pervert—way better-looking than that. And yet, for some reason, he stonewalls me…

A guy who hates me. A guy with no one to call for help if something happens. A room with just the two of us. His dick. Big. Pride… seems high.

If this isn’t the red string of fate, what else could it be?

“……Woojin-ahh…” “Yeah?” “You said you’d never have sex with me, right…?” “…That’s right.” “Ah, well…”

Maybe it’s been a while. I suppress my pounding heart, the alcohol buzzing through my veins. I exhale quietly so Woojin won’t hear, steadying my excitement.

Setting the half-empty cup in the sink, I approach carefully—making sure he doesn’t suspect a thing and run.

Then, standing between him and the door, I grin and say:

“…I’m gonna rape you.”