The Pink-Haired Beauty with Piercings and Tattoos

With my preparations to leave finished, I approached Deputy Manager Choi Dajeong one last time.

"Deputy Manager, I'm heading out."

"Yes, Sihyun. Good work today."

Choi Dajeong looked at me with those seductive eyes of hers and smiled in a way that was anything but innocent.

Silent code for see you at the bar later, no doubt.

I answered her sultry gaze with a sly, knowing smile of my own. And I made sure not to forget letting my eyes drift down to the pale, heavy swell of her breasts straining out of a blouse missing one button.

Choi Dajeong caught me staring at those massive tits and put on a little performance of bashful embarrassment.

Fucking bitch.

I already know from her info window that her finishing move is [Twisting Her Hips for a Storm of Grinding], that she's a total slut. And she's still trying to play the pure little thing?

Unbelievable. Seriously.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and pulled on my mask. Now that I knew I was Park Jihyun—Korea's hottest idol singer—I had no choice but to cover my face completely whenever I stepped outside. Half-assing it the way I had yesterday or the day before was no longer an option.

The evening streets thronged with office workers heading home. Even with my face perfectly sealed behind the mask as I stepped out, I could still feel women's glances flicking toward me again and again. The aura of a face-genius idol was not something you could hide so easily.

*Ding-a-ling!*

When I pulled open the door of the high-end Japanese restaurant Daraejeong, the little bell fixed to the glass rang out with a clear, bright chime.

"Irasshaimase~ Welcome!"

The staff greeted every guest with loud, perfectly polished bows. As expected of an expensive, refined Japanese place—the training showed.

Among the employees welcoming customers, a woman with pink hair and an intricate plum-blossom tattoo on the back of her hand—looking like she'd seen a few wild nights—came toward me.

"Dining alone, sir?"

Looking closer, I saw a small hoop piercing in her lip as well. She stood about 165 cm—short by the standards of this other world. Her whole look was tough, the kind of female biker-gang vibe you'd see back in my original world, yet her face was young and cute like a high-school girl's. And she was an absolute beauty. That jarring mix of toughness and delicate prettiness left an impression that stuck hard once you'd seen it.

I stared a beat too long and almost missed my cue, then collected myself.

"No. Two people. Do you have a VIP room?"

"Yes, sir. One moment, please."

The pink-haired employee ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Daraejeong with the lip piercing asked for my patience in slightly awkward Korean, then disappeared to check with the manager about the VIP seats. Only then did I realize the sense of otherness I'd felt wasn't just her looks and tattoos—it was the distinctly foreign air that clung to her alone.

"Yes, sir. We have a table. I'll show you to it."

Her Korean wasn't perfect, but nothing about it grated. The pink-haired girl with piercings had clearly been hired for the foreign guests who came to Daraejeong. And because my face was completely hidden behind the mask, they'd probably assigned the foreign server just in case I turned out to be one myself.

Curiosity got the better of me.

"Excuse me—are you a foreigner?"

She smiled a little and answered kindly.

"Yes. I came from Osaka, Japan. Are you pure Korean, sir?"

"Yes, just a regular Korean."

"Ah. You looked so exotic I thought you might be mixed—Russian or British. Your skin is whiter than most Koreans too."

Honestly, even I thought I looked less like a pure Korean and more like some aristocratic half-blood with Russian or British lineage. So her question felt completely natural.

So the pink-haired employee with piercings was Japanese. That explained the height. No—wait. In Japan, 165 cm would actually put her on the tall, slender side.

The gender-reversed world existed only in Korea. Japanese women were the same as the women from the world I'd originally lived in.

Looking closer, every time she smiled dimples appeared, and she even had a tiny round ball piercing nestled in one of them. Because her face was so pretty, even that little dimple piercing suited her perfectly.

"You can sit right there, sir. And here's the menu. Please take your time deciding, then press the bell. Thank you."

Her customer-service Korean came out almost native-smooth—lines she'd clearly repeated a thousand times.

"Got it."

I opened the menu the pink-haired Japanese employee of Daraejeong had left behind. Today was the special day I would turn Choi Dajeong into my slave, so I wanted something good.

Hmm. This should keep Choi Dajeong happy. Perfect bait for reeling her in.

I reached for the bell to call the pink-haired Japanese employee back—then stopped.

I was curious how well the Pheromone Perfume ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the Coin Shop actually worked.

*Spritz!*

Without hesitation I pulled out the Pheromone Perfume and gave my wrist a light spray, then sniffed it. To me it was just a subtle, cool, high-quality fragrance. Would this stuff really work on women? Doubt crept in.

*Ding-dong!*

The moment I pressed the bell, the pink-haired Japanese employee of Daraejeong knocked politely on the VIP room's sliding door.

"Sir. May I come in?"

"Yes. Come in."

She entered. I deliberately took my time asking about the Special Full Course A I intended to order. Even the best Pheromone Perfume wouldn't make a woman react instantly—she needed time to breathe it in and feel the effect.

"I'd like to order the Special Full Course A. Is this one popular at Daraejeong?"

The pink-haired Japanese employee smiled kindly.

"Yes, sir. It's our most popular signature menu. You won't be disappointed."

I pointed at the menu with my finger, drawing her a step closer.

"Then what about drinks? Recommend one of these three for me."

All of them were fairly expensive sakes. The pink-haired Japanese employee still smiled sweetly as she answered.

"If it's a special occasion, I recommend the Daiginjo Kiseitsuru. It goes down clean and doesn't leave much of a hangover. It's especially popular with women—our signature sake."

A line she'd repeated countless times; her Korean came out clean. A drink women love, huh. Then Daiginjo Kiseitsuru was perfect for tonight.

"Ah, so women like this one? Then... sorry, but what's your name?"

"Huh? M-me?"

The pink-haired Japanese employee stammered, a little flustered.

"I'm Miyuki, sir."

"Ah. Miyuki. Miyuki, the truth is I have a drinks appointment with a certain woman here at Daraejeong tonight, and it's a very important one. So I put on some perfume and dressed up a bit. How do I look to you?"

I pulled off my mask and looked straight at her. Miyuki's face flushed faintly as she stared back.

"Ah, t-to Miyuki... you look handsome and cool enough that it should go very well."

The Pheromone Perfume was probably already working, but my god-tier face after the mask ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came off was clearly making her heart race—her voice trembled just a little. She was nervous.

I held out the wrist I'd sprayed with Pheromone Perfume toward her.

"This is a new perfume I bought today. If it's not too much trouble, could you smell it once? The woman I'm meeting later is sensitive to scents."

"Y-yes. Miyuki will smell Oppa's scent for you."

The Korean she was using now wasn't the polished customer-service lines she repeated every day; it came out awkward and faintly lewd.

*Sniff. Sniff...*

Miyuki brought her cute little nose close and breathed in the Pheromone Perfume on my wrist.

"Oppa. Oppa's scent is really go-good."

Hmm...

Her way of speaking had definitely shifted into something more suggestive. I decided to test it.

"Miyuki, could you close the VIP room sliding door for a moment and sit down so I can talk to you?"

As if entranced, the pink-haired Japanese employee closed the sliding door, came over, and sat right beside me.

"Yes. Miyuki will listen to Oppa's story."

She stared at me so intently it was almost uncomfortable. And she kept pressing her body closer and closer against my side.

Honestly, I hadn't expected much from the Pheromone Perfume on Miyuki. First, she wasn't a Korean woman, so her mindset was closer to the Japanese women of my original world—her sex drive couldn't possibly be as fierce as the women here. Second, she wasn't some feminist slut, so there was no guarantee an item from the Coin Shop would even work on her.

But contrary to every expectation, the Pheromone Perfume proved lethal even on a foreigner like Miyuki—an ordinary woman who wasn't a feminist slut at all.

As she kept pressing closer and closer, it became too much.

"Miyuki. You're getting a little too close."

She puffed out her cheeks in a cute little pout.

"Oppa. Oppa, Miyuki just wants to listen to Oppa's story. Do you not like it?"

Miyuki looked up at me with sultry, half-lidded eyes, seducing me exactly like an AV actress out of a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Japanese porn video.