Chapter 141
Chapter 141
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 141
Chapter Title: Han Yura Maker
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Han Yura Maker.
Saturday, 4:30 a.m.
The quiet hour when all of Heyri Village lay asleep.
Han Yura opened her eyes.
Her mind always woke one minute before the alarm.
The air in the room was cold and crisp.
Beyond the large floor-to-ceiling windows, she could see the silhouette of the garden still shrouded in darkness and the faint ridge of distant mountains.
Instead of the city's noise, only the chirps of nameless crickets and the first birds of dawn filled the silence.
Sss...
She rose from the blankets as smoothly as a snake.
The silk sheets slid down her naked body.
The faint dawn light spreading from the eastern sky illuminated her skin.
A waist without an ounce of excess fat, a straight spinal line.
And at its end, small, firm buttocks like a perfectly sculpted porcelain jar.
She got out of bed and headed straight to the study without a moment's hesitation.
The cool touch of the solid hardwood floor felt good against her soles.
Her mind was already awake, sorting through the dozens of tasks she needed to handle today.
Vice President of Blue Sky Investment.
That was her new name.
And she had to produce results worthy of it.
She sat at her desk and opened her laptop.
The screen's glow lit up her expressionless face, fresh from sleep.
The New York stock market was about to close soon.
Her day began earlier than anyone else's in this suburban villa complex.
The New York market's closing report appeared on her laptop screen.
The numbers in the portfolio she managed flickered green and red.
Unrealistic rows of figures where billions moved overnight.
Gazing at those numbers, a memory from her past suddenly flashed through her mind.
Dirt-poor.
Abysmal poverty.
Words that defined her early twenties.
To pay tuition, she had to work part-time jobs.
The more time she spent on jobs, the more her grades slipped.
When she focused on grades, she lacked money for the next semester's tuition.
An inescapable dilemma.
In the end, she chose the entertainment industry for quick cash.
First, it was karaoke helper.
She endured the stench of booze and sticky men's hands with forced smiles.
Next came the Kiss Room.
In dark, cramped rooms, she accepted countless men's lips while numbing her soul.
Then, the Handjob Room.
By now, she no longer thought her hands belonged to her.
Finally, Swedish massage.
In that place filled with oil and moans, she learned to completely separate her body from her mind.
At school, she was treated like a whore.
Whispers and contemptuous stares spread across the entire campus.
She pretended not to care.
She gritted her teeth through it all to escape that hellish dilemma.
Just graduate.
Just graduate and leave this godforsaken Korea behind.
That was her only goal.
One day...
'Simple handjob, 50,000 won.' A message popped up in a random chat app on her smartphone.
Without a second thought, she headed to the meeting spot.
A rundown academy building in Siheung, in the public restroom.
The foul air mixed with cigarette smoke and air freshener.
And there, she met the one man who would change her entire life.
Her first impression of him was singular.
'Brain-on-dick moron.'
A pathetic guy fresh out of the military, still in his uniform, calling for a 'Handjob Girl' right after his discharge party.
His awkward face staring at her seemed to embody every ounce of loserdom in the world.
She just wanted to grab the 50,000 won and escape this disgusting place quickly.
Back then, Han Yura couldn't even imagine.
That this pathetic bastard would one day become her master...
"...Fucking asshole."
Thoughts of Kim Cheolsu brought last night's memories crashing in like waves.
His 'thing' that had seemed worthless compared to her pinky finger when they first met.
In just one year, it had grown into a monstrous 'giant cock' that made women drool and tears well up involuntarily.
The sharp memory of that giant cock ravaging her insides mercilessly.
Was it because of that?
A dull ache pierced through her 'back hole.'
Han Yura unconsciously twisted slightly in her chair.
As if to cut off her thoughts, she let out a small sigh and closed the monitor screen.
Right before it shut off, the number displayed was 20 billion.
The money Kim Cheolsu had entrusted to her.
A bridgehead for when he graduated from the domestic market and expanded overseas.
The portfolio he had designed was churning out monstrous returns without a single error.
His intelligence had grown as viciously as his cock.
After confirming everything, Han Yura stood and opened her underwear drawer.
Instead of her usual simple designs,
it was filled with all sorts of vulgar lingerie that could only be called perverse, existing solely for him.
Her hand paused while picking underwear for her morning jog.
On one side of the drawer, functional sports underwear was neatly folded.
Her reason naturally urged her to choose that.
But her gaze drifted to the opposite side.
There, cheap-looking panties that only a streetwalker would wear were brazenly scattered.
Gifts from him.
Items occupying the prime spots in the drawer just because he liked them.
Her hand stopped on one.
A black lace piece where the front was barely a handspan of string, and the back was just a single strap—a pathetic rag barely qualifying as panties.
'Just in case...'
The thought that crossed her mind made even her laugh at herself.
She was just going for an early morning jog—what was she even expecting?
But in the end, Han Yura picked 'that' instead of the sports underwear.
A tiny rag designed to strike Kim Cheolsu's tastes, too small to even cover her plump labia.
She slipped it on and casually pulled on tight workout leggings over it.
The perfect vice president, the perfect bitch.
She opened the door and descended the stairs to the first floor.
In the kitchen at the far end of the living room, two figures were visible.
Yoon Chaewon and Kim Cheolsu, fully immersed in their newlywed 'play.'
Wife Yoon Chaewon was lovingly preparing a nutritious green juice for her husband.
Husband Kim Cheolsu repaid her devotion by grimacing through the bitterly unpleasant juice, forcing it down.
Crunch.
At the heartwarming scene, Han Yura unconsciously ground her teeth.
'Why the fuck did I bring that bitch into this?'
She was the one who started this crazy game, for sure.
Yet somehow, that woman was playing the role of 'lady of the house.'
For a moment, fiery jealousy clawed at her heart.
It was right then.
Kim Cheolsu, having finished the green juice, gently stroked Yoon Chaewon's belly.
That single tender touch slowly dissolved the jealousy in Han Yura's eyes.
'Pregnancy...'
She'd do it someday.
Bearing his child.
It wouldn't be a bad choice.
But for now, Han Yura's desire for 'success' took priority.
Yoon Chaewon's role was 'wife' and 'sanctuary.'
My role was his 'partner' and 'vice president.'
Our roles were clearly different.
Having perfectly sorted her emotions, Han Yura tossed out curtly toward the kitchen.
"Quit the lovey-dovey bullshit... You ready?"
At her prickly voice, a smirk crept onto Kim Cheolsu's lips.
He lightly kissed the forehead of Yoon Chaewon, who was lost in her devoted wife role, then stood.
He approached Han Yura as she headed for the entrance.
Coming up behind her, he smacked her exposed ass over the tight leggings with a sharp slap and teased.
"Asshole not sore? Gonna jog today too?"
Han Yura turned to him with eyes full of contempt and shot back.
"No matter how much you poke with that tiny dick, damage is zero, you shrimp-cock fuck."
She knew.
If Yoon Chaewon's role as 'wife' fulfilled his gentle fantasies, her role as 'partner' was to stimulate his dominance and sadism.
That's why she deliberately chose the crudest words to get his cock hard.
She didn't miss the satisfied smile on his face at her venomous reply.
He opened the front door.
The two stepped out into the cold dawn air together.
The chilly morning air pierced deep into their lungs.
Han Yura and Kim Cheolsu jogged side by side down the quiet roads of Heyri Village.
Only the steady rhythm of their sneakers and even breaths filled the silent dawn.
After running wordlessly for a while, Kim Cheolsu spoke first.
His voice was that of Blue Sky Investment's CEO, stripped of all playfulness or lust from moments before.
"How's Blue Sky Games coming along?"
Without disrupting her breathing, Han Yura answered immediately.
She already had all the updates sorted in her head.
"Wrapped up another 3% stake acquisition yesterday. Combined with our friendly shares, that's 28% total now. Still second-largest, but barely trailing the top holder. They're probably catching on."
"Good work."
Kim Cheolsu replied curtly before asking again.
"The 20 billion we sent overseas?"
"Running it per your portfolio. Hit over 12% target return at New York close yesterday. At this rate, 30 billion by year-end is no problem."
"Knew I could count on you."
A faint smile tugged at Han Yura's lips at his praise.
The brutal stud who ravaged her body, the genius who built this vast fortune.
And now, the partner who recognized her skills and entrusted her with billion-dollar projects.
She relished the thrilling tension of this precarious relationship.
Suddenly, Kim Cheolsu grabbed her wrist.
He led her to an old public restroom beside the jogging path.
Feeling her lower belly heat up, Han Yura grumbled anyway.
"This fucker can't go five minutes without his bullshit? Your libido's gotten way too high lately, you know that?"
"Quit bitching and follow, you slut."
In the cramped toilet stall of the public restroom.
Kim Cheolsu locked the door, grinned, and said,
"Hits the nostalgia spot, huh? Wanna handjob for old times' sake?"
"Do it then."
Instead of grabbing and stroking his giant cock, Han Yura casually braced one hand against the stall wall and stuck out her ass.
"...Asked for a handjob?"
At his baffled question, she turned her head and replied.
"I'll give you a pussy handjob."
"Pfft... You creative slut."
"Shut up and fuck me."
Peeling down Han Yura's leggings, Kim Cheolsu discovered the vulgar underwear she'd deliberately worn out this morning.
Rather than removing it, he shoved it aside and thrust his erect cock in without hesitation.
In the narrow restroom stall, their rough breaths and wet squelching echoed.