episode_0313

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The internet search history contained nothing particularly noteworthy.

It wasn’t so much that it was regularly cleaned—rather, it felt like nothing that would be embarrassing to show others had ever been searched in the first place. Aside from a few restaurant searches, presumably made to visit with someone, there was nothing of significance.

Soon enough, interest waned, and I moved on to the next secret.

KakaoTalk did have an unfamiliar name—“Lee Hayoon”—but it was within expected bounds.

Of course—last time, I had memorized that Jiyoon’s older sister’s name was Lee Hayoon.

…But still.

Whether it was the chats with Hayoon or those with Jiyoon,

the tone of their conversations felt slightly… strange.

It almost felt like the three of them had slept together before.

Especially since, in the past, they used to schedule separate meetings on different dates,

but then, at some point, they started inviting each other home or meeting on the same day…?

…Ah,

and here, there were even conversations about condoms…

….

…Damn.

“Hmm….”

These two.

They’re sisters—biological sisters.

And yet he’d had them both laid out beneath him in bed, pounding into them relentlessly. Just how much dopamine must have been surging through him?

If he’d ever fucked one while hiding it from the other, just how thrilling must that have been?

If he’d made them both kneel and give him head at the same time—

Wouldn’t his dick have been trembling uncontrollably…?

Unlike the boring sex he had with me, wouldn’t he have been utterly thrilled?

Seo Woojin too.

Both of these girls here.

Just how good must it have felt?

I gulped, staring at the filthy conversations between the three of them left in KakaoTalk.

“Haah….”

Was it because of those habits from my school days—constantly agonizing over being thoroughly raped by garbage men?

I imagined the conqueror’s high only men could understand and scrolled through KakaoTalk a little more, but there was nothing else of note—X.

Ah, there was one thing, but at most, it was just a brief exchange with a woman named Seol Dabin.

Judging by the content, she seemed to just dislike Seo Woojin, so I ignored it and moved on to the next secret.

“…Excuse me…”

My fingertips now pointed toward none other than the phone’s gallery.

Photos, videos—considering how perverted Seo Woojin was, surely there was something, right?

…Not to mention, those photos of me he supposedly deleted when he said we shouldn’t get involved anymore.

Couldn’t they have been backed up somewhere? With a sliver of hope, I tapped in.

“…Tch.”

Disappointingly,

there were no photos from when I first took his cum.

…But there were

lewd videos of another woman.

“…Seriously, what a pervert.”

And of all people—they were of Soa-chan, who had just been yawning lazily beside me this afternoon.

Extremely explicit videos of her fingers moving relentlessly.

Fingers and wetness dripping between them—videos of her masturbating…

Not just one, either.

There were multiple.

“…….”

Carefully turning the phone’s volume down to zero, I pressed my fingertip against the first one.

“…Wow, oh wow……. So wet…”

Well.

It wasn’t like I tapped on it because I, as another woman, actually wanted to see it.

…If I got caught like this while snooping through his secrets—

“….”

I might end up in the same embarrassing position as Soa-chan, right?

Because he might record me like this too, right?

…Wouldn’t I be able to get a little closer to his preferences…?

In the briefest moment of anticipation—

313

Recording.

Separate from the regular masturbation videos Han Soa sent over, I quite enjoyed capturing sweaty, noisy, and sticky moments myself.

The sound of a woman moaning—something you’d never normally hear from her around others.

The sight of a man’s hard hips relentlessly pounding against pliant, jiggling flesh.

Even just a short 10-second clip was more than enough to satisfy my conquest hunger.

I never considered it an unusual fetish.

Nor did I feel any need to hide it.

So, as I smoothly pulled my wrist free from Yoruka’s grasp—

“I like it. Not like it’s something I have to do, though.”

I answered without hesitation and slipped my phone back into my pocket.

If it had been a stranger, things might’ve been different, but with Yoruka, there was no need to beat around the bush.

“…Aha. So you’re into that, huh…? Forcing girls who say they hate it, filming them, keeping it all… Threatening to spread it around…”

“Did you even listen to me?”

“Mhm, mhm. Not exactly hard to misunderstand.”

Ignoring my words entirely, she tacked on her own interpretation before grinning shamelessly.

As expected, rather than being disgusted, her red eyes gleamed brighter.

…Earlier, she had hesitated a little, but—

Maybe she was afraid of upsetting me with her question?

After that unpleasant incident last time, I could tell she was being more careful with my reactions.

For a woman who had never cared about others’ opinions in her life, this was serious effort on her part.

With idle thoughts, I walked forward.

Wordlessly sinking into a cushion in the corner, I felt Yoruka’s gaze follow me like a pet’s.

Then the sound of her crawling closer.

Just as I looked at my phone to check the time—her grinning face overlapped with the screen.

Had crawling over been harder than she thought?

My eyes lingered briefly on her flushed cheeks before pulling away.

“Sooo, you’re saying you like this kinda stuff~? Now stare right into this camera and state your name, age~ …Something like that.”

“…You sound like some creepy old dude.”

“Hehe~ Wanna do something fun with a pervy, creepy noona~?”

“Stop talking like some creep. …Just keep doing what you were doing earlier.”

“Whyyy~? You said manga was boring~”

“You said it was fun.”

“Mehh~ Doesn’t matter. Something else would be way more fun for both of us, right~?”

“…….”

I was momentarily speechless.

If only because Yoruka had said it, I felt an urge to argue—but racking my brain didn’t change the outcome.

Losing in logic to an alcoholic married to booze…

Though I didn’t say it aloud, it stung my pride a little.

Especially since this had never happened before the regression.

Maybe my inner turmoil showed.

With her trademark smirk, Yoruka inched even closer before continuing.

“Hey, hey~ Any ideas for stuff you wanna do with me now~?”

“…Dunno. Nothing comes to mind.”

“Hmm~ Doesn’t have to be something we can only do here, y’know~?”

A playful hint.

Or maybe just fooling around.

With that, she flopped down beside me, pressing close like before.

Then, as if urging me to look, she subtly tugged at the collar of her shirt—blatantly obvious.

The whisper of Wanna? You do, right? was just as teasing.

Even without pronouns, her meaning was glaringly clear.

Maybe that’s why—

The thought from earlier abruptly resurfaced.

That Yoruka loved Seo Woojin because he raped her.

That if she dismissed the reasons and clung only to the intensity, she’d lose interest quickly.

That since they were fundamentally incompatible, maintaining their current physical relationship was—

The most ideal outcome.

“… .”

Rather than dragging out her misunderstanding, it’d be cleaner to say it now.

For some reason, the idea of fighting with Yoruka again felt unbearable.

I didn’t even want to risk it happening.

And to prevent it—some distance was necessary.

Even now.

Even lying side by side like this, exchanging words as we were—we were pointlessly close.

The distance between us, where we’d once bickered and tangled endlessly, hadn’t changed much.

But unlike before, so much unseen now lay between us.

We needed some separation.

I sat up from where I’d been lying, leaning against the wall—prompting Yoruka to scoot up beside me.

Her ever-present mischievous smile unchanged.

Meeting that smile, I spoke.

“Yoruka.”

“Mhm?”

“Do you… like me?”

“… .”

Beyond the curtain separating the private room, lighthearted chatter filtered in.

Not loud enough to be disruptive—probably inaudible if immersed in a manga.

That faint murmur was the only sound between us—Yoruka’s voice never came.

Only our gazes met, unwavering.

Since silence was answer enough, I chose my words carefully and continued.

“I don’t… think I’m the kind of man you want.”

“…Pfft—”

Then—

Immediately after my awkwardly earnest admission, Yoruka—still beside me—covered her mouth with the back of her hand and burst into breathless laughter.

As if watching someone seriously explain an utterly wrong guess.

Had I just misread everything from the start? I wasn’t sure.

Maybe my words were just that ridiculous—though if my assumption was wrong, it would be pretty funny.

Yoruka’s laughter stretched on for nearly a full minute.

“God, that’s hilarious…”

“What’s so funny? My words?”

“Uh-huh~ Obviously~ You dumbass.”

“… .”

“Hmm~ Let me ask you instead~”

“What?”

“What kind of man do you think I even want—enough to say you’re not it?”

The kind of man who would punish her when she deliberately pissed him off.

The kind of trash who’d rape her no matter how much she resisted.

Not wanting to drag it out, I summarized.

“A sadistic rapist.”

“Mmm~ That was back when I was younger~”

“What do you—?”

Back then?

Just a few months ago, in winter, that was still her type.

Irritation flared reflexively at her trademark nonsense-answers—but it never left my mouth.

Because Yoruka, head tilted slightly downward, gave another Cheshire grin before adding—

“Now that I’m 22, trashy men hit just right~”

Her gaze locked onto me.

“The kind who loves women—always running off to fuck others.”

Her slender fingers poked at my chest through my clothes.

“Ignores even the girl whining for sex right beside him because he’s got another woman waiting.”

The poking fingers slowly trailed down.

“And has zero fucking social awareness.”

Rustle.

She pressed closer.

“The man who deleted my precious, one-of-a-kind photo because it was ‘useless.’”

Then—still grinning—she tilted her head as if to say, Still don’t get it?

Against the shoulder of this man who’d said nothing but cruel words to her—

Like it meant nothing—

She affectionately nuzzled her cheek.

“…Ah, right. Should I save some new photos to make up for it~?”

Leaning against me, Yoruka reached into my pocket.

In moments, she fished out my phone, typed in the password to unlock it, and—

…After a quick glance outside past the curtain—

Where no one could see—

Lifted her shirt—

Bit the hem—

Click.

A sight no other man would ever witness—

Not taken by my hand.

But hers.

Deliberately saved onto my phone.

And then—

A stupidly wide grin.

“If you blackmail me with these…”

“… .”

“…I might let you record even more embarrassing things…”

“… .”

“Won’t my perfect-trash-type even blackmail me…?” ….

Honestly—who even was the trash here?

As she rattled on nonsensically—

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The translation maintains the original tone, pacing, and stylistic choices while ensuring readability for English-speaking audiences. Let me know if you’d like any refinements!