Please Be My Master
The place we chose to talk was a brand-name coffee shop near campus. Past nine on a weekday morning, foot traffic was almost nonexistent, which made it perfect for a conversation without having to watch anyone else's eyes.
I walked past the barista and sat at a window seat in the farthest corner, facing Writer Seol Yahan. I'd been too rattled earlier to notice, but she must have stopped by home in the meantime—her clothes were different from yesterday.
A plain white T-shirt that offered a slight glimpse of her lower belly, jeans, black Converse, and a shoulder tote bag.
Outwardly she looked like a fresh-faced freshman, every inch an ordinary college student. But don't let that fool you. Behind Writer Seol Yahan's perfectly normal exterior lurked a terrifying pervert so extreme she had once sent me bolting in pure horror.
...This is kind of scary for no reason.
Facing her head-on left my lips bone-dry. I wet them and forced the words out.
"Um, Seol Yahan... Writer?"
"...Seolhwa."
"Huh? Oh?"
"Call me Seolhwa. ...Don't use my pen name in front of other people. It's embarrassing."
Yesterday she hadn't seemed to care if I used the pen name. Had her feelings shifted overnight?
It struck me as a little odd, but for now I corrected myself the way she wanted.
"Then, Seolhwa?"
"You can drop the formalities. We switched to casual speech yesterday, didn't we?"
"...Um, Seolhwa?"
"Yes, Baek Hoyeong oppa."
She told me to speak casually, yet she was addressing me with my full surname attached. Just a little while ago she had been calling me by my given name alone.
Compared with yesterday, her response had clearly stiffened—there was a wall in her tone. I vaguely sensed that Writer Seol Yahan was feeling hurt.
She hadn't said it outright, but leaving her alone at the motel this morning and running off had probably been the final blow.
Well, if she hadn't been hurt, she never would have posted something as absurd as "I got dumped by the person I love" as a hiatus notice in the first place.
Separate from the fact that Seolhwa—Writer Seol Yahan—was a hopeless masochistic pervert, any woman would feel abandoned if the man she'd spent the night with bolted without looking back.
Of course, if Seolhwa hadn't unleashed her extreme sexual tastes so unfiltered, I never would have run. But rehashing what had already happened was pointless. Nothing would change.
What mattered now was dealing with the hiatus notice she had posted.
Given everything that had gone down less than an hour ago, facing her was honestly uncomfortable—but the thirsty dig the well.
I was the one who needed this, not Seolhwa. I took a breath and sat up straighter.
"About that notice you just posted. You didn't write it for real, right? You were... feeling hurt by me, so you put it up to get back at me?"
"...Well, it is true that I felt hurt by you, Baek Hoyeong oppa."
Seolhwa crossed her arms and crossed one leg over the other.
"But that and this are separate. The hiatus notice is because I genuinely can't write."
"So you're saying the hiatus isn't because of me?"
"No, you do have a share of the blame, Baek Hoyeong oppa. About... 98%?"
"What? So it's basically entirely because of me? You just said that and this were separate—so why is it my fault?"
When I pressed her in disbelief, Seolhwa looked at my face with a strange expression.
"Want me to tell you?"
"Yeah, tell me."
"...Last year, I used to finish a chapter in an hour. But at some point it started taking longer—two hours, three hours—and recently I can't even finish one chapter in half a day. Do you know why?"
"Uh? Um, a bad slump, or you just haven't been able to focus lately?"
"That's the result. I'm asking about the process. The decisive reason I hit a slump."
"I don't know... What is it?"
Seolhwa pointed her index finger straight at me.
"You, Baek Hoyeong oppa."
"Huh?"
"Because of you, Baek Hoyeong oppa. That's why I hit a slump."
"No, how is that my—"
Just as I was about to protest, Seolhwa rummaged through her tote bag and pulled out her phone.
With elegant flicks of her long white fingers, she played a video and turned the screen toward me.
It was a compilation of character voice lines I had performed as a voice actor. I jumped and paused it before the audio could start.
It wasn't that I was embarrassed to hear my own performance again. It just wasn't something you play out loud with other people around.
As the title Sadist Character Compilation and the character names on the timeline made clear, the lines were nowhere near ordinary. Words for a woman's private parts, words for a man's—basically every kind of filthy dialogue imaginable.
"Ah, you startled me... Why are you playing that here?"
"I thought you should know too, Baek Hoyeong oppa. How filthy your own voice sounds."
"...What?"
"Your voice is seriously so dirty. Just listening to it makes me wet down there. And on top of that voice, you're good at acting... so your voice keeps echoing in my ears, you know?"
Seolhwa leaned her upper body way forward, closing the distance.
"Even when I'm writing, I hear your voice. When I'm eating, I hear your voice. When I'm in class at school, I hear your voice, and even when I'm lying down trying to sleep, I hear your voice. How is a person supposed to not go crazy? How am I supposed to not go crazy over you? I should have gone crazy way earlier. ...Right?"
"..."
"...That's also why I did those things to you."
"...What things?"
"Sending you dirty photos on your phone, saying weird things. At first, when your voice started looping in my ears, just masturbating to the voice lines you'd performed was enough to take the edge off, so it was fine. But over time, masturbation alone stopped working. My desire kept building because of your voice, and even masturbating all day didn't relieve it, so I thought I should try something—anything—and sent you my photos in a DM..."
"And... once I sent them?"
"The second you looked at them, strangely enough, I felt a little relief. Not completely, but enough that I could write, so I'd send you a photo of myself after masturbating and then immediately write a chapter. I did that for about two months."
...Huh.
So that was the reason behind all her perverted harassment.
It was far enough from common sense that I couldn't defend it, but it wasn't completely incomprehensible either.
You know how even great writers of the past often had twisted sexual quirks? I can't remember exactly who, but there's a record of a novelist whose name you'd recognize who used to go outside and expose himself whenever writing wasn't going well.
So from that perspective—maybe Seolhwa's perverted harassment wasn't meant to torment me, but was her own way of relieving stress.
"But after sending photos for so long, the effect wore off, and a few days ago it didn't matter whether I sent them or not. My desire kept piling up, and photos no longer helped at all. The only option left was to meet you in person and have you do dirty things to me. So I got you drunk, took you to a motel, and worked up the courage to try flirting in my own way..."
"...No."
How is that flirting?
The words rose right to the tip of my throat, but I swallowed them and waited for her to continue.
"You spanked my butt and then ran off, and I was left alone. I almost cried from how upset I was, but I held it in. And then I wrote the notice. A notice that compressed every bit of how I felt."
"What, the one about getting dumped by the person you love?"
"I was originally going to slap your name right in there, but I've done wrong things too, so I evened it out."
Was this something I was supposed to thank her for? Was that how it worked?
I mulled it over for a second, then found myself so ridiculous for even thinking that that a hollow laugh escaped me.
After making a sound like air leaving a tire, I leaned forward and met Seolhwa's eyes.
"So what's the conclusion? Because I didn't accept your approach, you're never writing again?"
"Well, yeah? Since you won't help me relieve my urges, I'll just have to masturbate hard while thinking about your voice. Probably for the rest of my life."
"You're about to do a reprint of the paperback, and by the end of the year there's a visual novel based on your novel coming out. You know that if the original author promotes it with them, the revenue at least doubles or triples. And you're going to give all that up?"
"Yes, it's fine. I already have more than enough money."
"..."
What a bourgeois.
Her unexpected response threw me for a second, but if something this minor was going to stop me, I never would have started.
If the frontal approach didn't work, then a detour would do. I dug into my pants pocket and pulled out my phone.
"Then what about the readers waiting for you, Seolhwa? Look at this—less than an hour since the notice went up, and over fifty people have left comments."
"It's not like I forced them to read my novel."
"Can't you see how many people are comforting you with one heart? And you're saying it's fine to disappoint them because you never forced them to read?"
"What? No, wait a second. Why are you phrasing it like—"
"And more than anything, you know I'm one of the readers waiting for your novel too, right?"
Seolhwa would know I was a hardcore fan—I'd read every novel Writer Seol Yahan had written, latest work, previous work, the one before that, and left comments on every single chapter.
Not only that—last night at the company dinner, half-drunk, I'd gone on for hours about how much I loved the writer named "Seol Yahan."
"...Ugh."
That memory must have hit her. Seolhwa bit her lower lip, looking like she'd been caught off guard.
With a face full of frustration and injustice, she glared at me resentfully, then heaved a deep sigh and muttered in a tone with a little of the poison drained out.
"...Fine. I'm truly sorry for disappointing you and the other readers by going on hiatus on my own. But separate from that, it's true that I can't write because your voice keeps lingering in my ears. It's not an excuse."
"...What?"
"Oppa. I really hear your voice at all hours. Spread your pussy. Spread it wider. Masturbate until the juices drip down. Crawl like a dog. What kind of dog puts a cock in its mouth without Master's permission—filthy lines like that keep echoing in my ears. Because of that I really feel like I'm going to lose my mi—mmph, mmph!"
"Hey, hey...!"
It was a blessing there was no one around. If anyone had overheard Seolhwa, they would have absolutely labeled us a pair of insane perverts.
I shot to my feet and hurriedly clamped a hand over her mouth, then let go after a moment.
She would have been justified in looking annoyed at the sudden restraint, but instead Seolhwa licked her lips as if savoring what had just happened.
...The way she moved her tongue was unnecessarily erotic.
"Forcible mouth-covering play... Ah, I should use that later. Thanks for the episode material, oppa."
"You said you were going on indefinite hiatus because you can't write because of me—so why bother taking notes?"
"...Ah."
I'd tossed the line without thinking, and I saw Seolhwa's expression tighten slightly.
I realized too late that I'd put my foot in my mouth and bowed my head.
"Never mind, sorry. That was a slip."
"Ah, no. It's not like you said anything wrong. It's fine..."
"..."
"..."
One wrong word and suddenly I felt like the guilty party.
I felt bad about the slip, and if we just sat there like this it would get awkward, so I carefully watched her reaction and broached the subject carefully.
"Hey, Seolhwa. You just said you can't write because of me."
"Yes, I did...?"
"Then what do I need to do for you to be able to write again? If there's anything I can do..."
"...!"
The moment I was about to say I wanted to help—
For a split second, a gleam lit Seolhwa's eyes.
Before I could even identify the emotion thick in her gaze, she rummaged through her tote bag and held something out to me.
"Oppa, here."
"Huh? Why do you have my wallet?"
"You dropped it on the motel floor when you left, so I picked it up. Just in case, I only checked your ID and didn't touch anything else, so you can rest easy."
"...Ah, really? Sorry. Thanks for looking after it."
"Heh, yeah..."
Seolhwa's faintly flushed cheeks, the pure side of her that peeked through for an instant—my heart suddenly thumped hard.
...Am I an idiot?
After everything I'd been through, I was almost falling for the simple sight of her tucking her hair behind her ear.
Stay calm. Stay calm. I steadied my heart and tried to settle my chest—then Seolhwa leaned her upper body slightly and tapped the back of my hand with a fingertip.
"Um... Oppa."
"Yeah?"
"So, the conclusion got a little messy, but... the truth is, I really, really like you a whole lot, Hoyeong oppa...?"
"...Huh?"
"So. If Hoyeong oppa would accept my feelings... I think I'd be able to work up the energy to serialize again, and I'd also be really happy..."
As Seolhwa shyly flushed and trailed off, my own heart started pounding along with hers.
"..."
...Well. Seolhwa's way of thinking was a little twisted, and the way she expressed her feelings was weird, but other than that, she didn't have any glaring flaws, did she?
She was pretty, cute, had a great body, and made good money. Objectively speaking, she was better than me.
If Seolhwa truly reflected on yesterday and today and showed me she was turning over a new leaf, there was no reason we couldn't date. No—if that happened, I'd be the one begging her to go out with me.
"Oppa..."
A short breath.
Seolhwa steadied her breathing, then looked up at me.
"...Would you become my Master?"
"Y-yeah. I also..."
...Huh?
...Wait a second. Did I mishear that?
Just now Seolhwa hadn't asked me to date her—she'd asked me to be her "Master."
Doubting my own hearing, I blinked stupidly at Seolhwa.
"Seolhwa, what did you just..."
"—You just said yes, didn't you?!"
"H-huh? No, that was..."
"Yessss...! Yes! Oppa! No, Master, I love youuu...!"
Seolhwa shot up from her seat, planted her knees on the table, and threw herself into my arms. Suddenly holding her, I held my ground in place despite the shock—and in that moment, the overwhelmingly soft, voluptuous sensation far beyond anything I'd imagined made me swallow a startled breath.
...What is this?
It felt like cradling a giant jelly, a soft pudding. The corners of my mouth lifted on their own. Far across the shop, the female barista kept glancing our way.
This was near campus—meaning not just the barista, but students from the same school might be watching us.
Once that thought landed, I first peeled Seolhwa off me. She grabbed my wrist tightly, wearing a smile full of excitement, joy, and something unreadable and strange.
"Master! Just give me any order. What should I do first?!"
"No, Seolhwa. Calm down first..."
"Should I crawl like a dog? Take my clothes off? Or should we go somewhere right now and you can do whatever you want to m—!"
"...Ah, just wait a second, you hopeless pervert!"
"Ah, haaaanngh...!"
I'd raised my voice meaning for her to calm down—but instead of calming, Seolhwa shuddered all over and looked delighted.
With slightly unhinged eyes, she giggled with uneven breaths. The barista staring at the two of us was looking at us like we were complete lunatics. Only then did a sense of crisis hit me, and I grabbed Seolhwa's wrist.
"Hey, Seolhwa!"
"Yeees, Master...!"
"...Wow."
Master my ass. What the hell kind of Master. This is driving me crazy. But I couldn't leave a thoroughly unhinged Seolhwa here and walk out alone, so with a feeling of biting the bullet, I pulled her along.
"F-for now, follow me. We'll talk again outside."
"Aaaah, yeeees...! Wherever you go, I'll follow. Masteeer...♡"
"...Ah, seriously, enough!"