Onboard Sex Party
Investor.
A profession where a mind that refuses to fear risk and an unshakable composure matter more than almost anything else.
Those two things are nearly the whole of it.
Everything else is just raw material for building those twin pillars. Calling it that is no exaggeration.
"You fucking bastard…"
"That's exactly why you walk around like you own the place."
They stopped by a department store. Stripping the country-bumpkin edge off Sora required professional hands.
I figured idol life would change her a little.
Still bare-faced. The side effect of being born beautiful: she never bothered to try. Tap! Tap! She needed to learn makeup too. Under the makeup artist's hands she was reborn.
"What the hell is this?"
"Can't you tell by looking?"
"No—it's weird!"
"Hey now, this is huge in Japan."
Gyaru style. The look you see all the time on Japanese women in manga and anime.
In Korea it got famous because of comedy skits.
"People aren't anime characters!" Honestly, he had never liked it. Opinions split hard. The makeup was thick, the skin tone artificially tanned.
"How does it look, customer?"
"How does it look, huh."
"Ah—it's not that I hate it… Anyway, please tell them thank you."
Lately the style had softened. White gyaru barely differed from regular makeup anymore.
Still a bit much, though.
The lines were aggressive. Like Instagram girls—strong-willed and artificial at the same time. Sora stared into the mirror, face scrunched, clearly not thrilled. She nodded half-heartedly, afraid of making the Japanese makeup artist uncomfortable.
"They caked it on thick."
"So what? You're pretty."
"Senior… is this your type?"
Over-the-top flashy. The smoky eye made her already large eyes pop even harder.
Girls who wear this kind of makeup…
Usually the party types. They cover hungover skin with heavy foundation and clock in at the club. The kind of girl who would never give him the time of day. On Sora, though, it became a turn-on.
"Sometimes it's nice."
"This is ridiculous."
"Plus you can hide who you really are."
"Mmm…"
It felt awkward to her. At best she used BB cream. Sora spent most days bare-faced. Still, she reluctantly accepted it. Wanting to disappear from society for a while was exactly what she hoped for right now.
"Thank you so much!"
They finished the nail art and stepped out. With artificial nails glued on, her sharpened fingertips jabbed him repeatedly in the side.
"If you tease me for looking weird, I'll hit you."
"I said you're pretty."
"Seriously…"
"We're not done yet."
"?"
She had become a perfect gyaru straight out of a manga. Even Hye-ri or Suhyun wouldn't recognize her at a glance.
While we're reinventing the image…
He peeled off one more layer. Simply hiding her identity still carried high risk.
Jingle~♪
A beachwear shop. They ducked in to buy swimsuits. Coming all the way to Okinawa and not enjoying it would be a waste.
"You want me to… wear this?"
"It's a swimsuit."
"How is this a swimsuit?! It's a scrap of fabric!"
Hardcore, in other words. The recommended swimsuit clearly didn't sit well with her; she shouted on the spot.
This level is what makes it a real risk.
Deep high-leg bottoms that left Sora's lewd hips completely exposed in a bold cut. The top was no milder. Fabric crossed in an X from the neck, barely covering the important parts.
"Whoever designed this and whoever wants me to wear it…"
"High risk is what makes it fun."
"There's no return!"
"I'm enjoying it."
People would believe she was a slut. In Japan, where herbivore men were the trend, guys might even avoid her.
Fine by me.
A body too good to hide. He wanted to flaunt that she was his woman as much as he liked.
"Ehhh~! Really?!"
"Seriously?"
"Are we shooting an AV or something?!"
They stepped outside. Near the beach, swimsuit outfits weren't rare, but—
"Fuck…"
They had never seen a bad-tempered older sister like this. Herbivore men flinched and looked away. The low curses she muttered—even if they didn't understand Korean, they felt the menace.
"See? Nobody recognizes you."
"This is so embarrassing!"
"So what?"
"Ah!"
He handled a woman like that however he wanted. The arm around Sora's shoulder dropped; his hand groped her breast.
This is exactly why you date a stacked girl.
She still didn't understand a man's heart. This trip would teach her the look that suited her.
"Let's enjoy the risk."
"Seriously…"
"That's what an investor does, right?"
"It doesn't stop at just embarrassing."
"That's when it gets fun."
For an investor who sometimes staked his life, this was nothing to flinch at.
Thump! Thump!
The breast he held was racing. But it gradually steadied; she was accepting the situation.
She's already been burned once.
Maybe fighting fire with fire through a scandal wasn't a bad plan either.
"I don't care—fuck it, whatever happens!"
"Good attitude."
"But if we get caught—"
"Hm?"
"I'll make you take responsibility for life."
"…"
Okinawa's beach. They strolled while admiring the beautiful sea where gentle emerald waves rolled in. Just walking barefoot on the sand was an exciting date course.
There have to be fans who would recognize her in Japan, even in Okinawa.
It was a Korea-Japan co-production. The show had made serious waves inside Japan and built a meaningful fanbase. He was enjoying a secret date with that Sora—flaunting it openly, no less.
Gulp!
It was hard on her. Claiming she couldn't walk around sober, she was sucking down the whiskey they'd been given on the boat.
"Kya~ This is killer."
"Like it?"
"Feels good. Kimochi. Hic!"
She was turning into an excellent alcoholic. At least she was forgetting the messy business that had happened in Korea.
She's just blanking it out, though.
Nothing was actually solved. But that alone was enough. Time to reset the mental. The whole point of travel was a change of mood.
"Want something that feels even better?"
"Your dick?"
"Not quite as good as my dick, but close."
They ate delicious food too. Scottish local spirits were excellent, but—
Jingle~♪
Japanese local liquor. They bought nihonshu, what Koreans call sake.
"Whoa, so much booze!"
"Right?"
"Why is there this much?"
"Because it's a liquor store."
They entered a nearby liquor shop. Tipsy enough that her vocabulary was slipping, Sora looked around curiously.
Not common back home, true.
Just a shop that sold alcohol. The difference was the sheer variety and higher price range.
"I've never even heard of most of these…"
"Just grab the famous ones."
"You can tell just by looking?"
"I can."
But every country was the same. The best-selling products were the ones that satisfied mass appeal.
Kubota Manju Junmai Daiginjo
Sake made by Asahi Beer, famous even in Korea. Among their lineup, the top grade.
"I've always wondered—what's junmai and all that mean?"
"Grades."
"So what does it mean?"
Sake split roughly into two: "junmai" made only from rice, and "honjozo" with other additives.
Ginjo and the rest are polishing grades.
Ginjo—polished to 60% or less.
Daiginjo—polished to 50% or less.
It meant how much of the rice surface had been milled away.
"Rice surfaces have all sorts of impurities. The more you polish them off, the cleaner the flavor you can pull out."
"Ah… so that's why it's higher grade."
Plenty of other categories too—whether it was pasteurized, which rice variety, and so on.
Korea has the same thing.
Only the terms differed. Brewing methods were similar everywhere in the end. Classification systems shared common ground. It looked complicated, but nothing was actually hard.
"So this one is Manju polished more than fifty percent…"
"Manju is just the product name. Kubota's premium line made from rice and steamed rice."
"Oh~!"
Because it was a mass-market brand it wasn't expensive. Around three thousand yen—maybe a little disappointing price-wise—but—
Gulp! Gulp!
The taste. Especially the mass appeal was guaranteed. Even Sora, tasting sake for the first time, drank it well.
"Killer."
"Glad to hear it."
"Goes down smooth. There's even a fruit scent."
The steamed rice made it lightly sweet. Kubota itself was dry, so not overly so.
Easy to drink casually.
They naturally started chugging from the bottle. Completely hammered, they toured Okinawa's beach.
Vrooom~!
They rented a small yacht—a weekender with a motor. Same-day rental was a bit pricey, but nothing he couldn't cover.
"You know how to drive a yacht too?"
"It's not that hard."
"I want to try."
"Planning to drink and drive?"
It was perfect for setting the mood. They had done enough outdoor play; now they would spend private time somewhere quiet.
That ass is seriously huge.
He had wanted that too. Sora hung on the boat railing, looking out at the sea. The bold high-leg cut left the full shape of her hips exposed. Not just anyone could wear that. You needed a good body. Beyond lewd—sexy and voluptuous enough to pull it off.
"Hey."
"What, punk."
"You know this is the middle of the open ocean with nobody around?"
"I can see that."
He cut the engine. They had already left the coast far behind; not a person in sight, not even a seagull.
A woman this good…
He could do whatever he wanted and no one would come help. He tried to scare her with that fact.
"Yeah."
"Meaning if I jumped you right now, nobody's coming."
"Guess so."
"Huh?"
She wasn't scared at all. One hand kept working the bottle while she simply gazed at the distant sea.
This bitch…
She needed a lesson to snap her back to reality. He slipped a hand into Sora's barely-there lewd swimsuit and stroked her gently. She had to feel this was no joke.
"Want Oppa to fuck you?"
"No."
"Then stop acting up and—"
"I'll just fuck you instead."
"Huh??"
He had taught her body everything. Sometimes that backfired.
Thud!
She suddenly shoved him. Putting her full weight into it, she toppled him and crushed his lower half under her big ass. On the yacht deck. In the brightest place on earth, where the sun poured straight down.
"It's broad daylight."
"There's nobody here anyway."
"…"
"No one to help, right?"
Anything over 0.05 percent was dangerous.