Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Dirt-Poor College Student Han Yura
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Our shitty labor dispute ended without any resolution whatsoever.
The room was filled with nothing but awkward, chilly air.
We treated each other like we didn't exist, just staring at our smartphones.
It was a cold war.
'Grrrrumble-'
The silence was broken by the pathetic growl from my stomach.
Fuck, I'm starving to death.
I got up from my seat and headed to the kitchen.
I put water on for a single pack of ramen. In my current mood, I had zero intention of boiling extra for that rude bitch.
But as the ramen started bubbling with its familiar smell, Yura quietly got up at some point, grabbed chopsticks from the cupboard, and sat at the table.
Not a word, just naturally assuming the perfect posture of a shameless 'one-bite moocher', ready to steal my ramen.
I slammed the pot straight onto the table.
Unable to stand the awkward atmosphere, I broke the ice first.
"Sorry for bitching out, but I'm fucking stressed too..."
I just stared blankly at her as she started eating the ramen again.
The broth tasted ridiculously salty for some reason.
In the face of the weight of the life Han Yura was carrying, I had nothing to say.
Instead, a weird sense of kinship rose up—a shitty solidarity.
"...We're all fucking stuck together, the same miserable types. Right?"
At my self-deprecating words, Yura looked at me.
"Birds of a feather flock together, huh. Oh, but getting lumped in with your level pisses me the fuck off?"
"You fucking bitch."
"What're you gonna do about it."
We spewed insults at each other like always.
Miraculously, that shitty conversation swept away the heavy air that had been crushing the room moments before.
Anyway, we just split one bowl of ramen, and our cold war was over.
With the empty pot in front of us, Yura and I sat together, racking our brains for a realistic solution.
I rubbed my sore back and pointed out the fundamental flaw in our 'business model' first.
"First off, blindly fucking, fighting, hitting post-nut clarity, and trading non-stop without rest is physically impossible."
As I started, Yura nodded seriously in agreement and offered her own opinion.
Scraping the leftover noodles from the bottom of the pot with her chopsticks, she pointed out a brutally practical issue.
"But we can't raw creampie every day either. That gives the longest post-nut clarity, right?"
She asked matter-of-factly, like a factory manager checking which grade of raw material is most efficient.
I shrugged at her question and replied.
"For now?"
My answer meant that was all the data we had.
Masturbation, handjob, blowjob, and sex.
From our experience so far, our 'switch' got deeper, more intense, and rawer the act, guaranteeing longer and stronger 'post-nut clarity'.
The problem was that the most efficient 'raw creampie' wasn't a card we could play every day.
Our 'business model' had a serious sustainability flaw from the start.
We sat in silence for a moment, stumped by this shitty dilemma.
I stared at the empty ramen pot, Yura stared at me, and I stared back at Yura.
In the end, finding the solution to this problem fell to me, 'CEO Kim'.
To ensure the sustainability of this business, I had to check the most critical variable.
With dead seriousness, like a businessman discussing quarterly results, I asked her.
"First, how many safe days do you get per month?"
"......"
Yura stared at me for a bit at my question.
Her eyes screamed 'Is this fucker serious?' But she instantly grasped my intent.
This wasn't sexual harassment or a crude joke.
It was the most important business question to decide our next step.
Yura let out a deep sigh.
Then she pulled out her smartphone from her pocket, opened what looked like a calendar or period tracker app, and peered at the screen.
She scrolled through a few dates with her finger before answering me in a completely professional tone.
"Hmm... App says about ten days starting next Wednesday?"
Ten days. A third of the month where we could guarantee peak efficiency.
A new trading strategy synced to her cycle was already forming in my head.
"So... on average, ten days a month we can just go for it?"
As I double-checked, Yura looked at me like 'This idiot really knows jack shit'.
"Safe days don't mean zero pregnancy risk, you know?"
"There's birth control pills."
I said it proudly, like I'd just presented the world's simplest genius solution.
At my ignorance, Yura's face soured.
"On safe days, can't we just use regular pharmacy ones instead of morning-after pills?"
At my innocent question, Yura sighed deeply, like she'd given up on everything.
She explained slowly, like she was talking to a clueless four-year-old instead of her partner, laced with irritation.
"Listen, dumbass. Regular birth control from the pharmacy only works if you take it at the exact same time every day. Miss one day or fuck up the timing, and it's no better than vitamins."
"Ah..."
"And it messes with your hormones, so it's fucking bad for your body. You gain weight, skin freaks out, mood's shit every day. Morning-after pills are like nukes. You take 'em only when you have no choice and are ready to wreck your life once. Eat those often? Your body's fucked. Got it?"
After her explanation, I was speechless.
I finally realized our 'business' demanded way more risks and 'costs' than I imagined—and all on her.
While we chased peak 'efficiency', the only thing breaking down was her body.
That harsh reality lingered, sticky as leftover ramen broth.
I pondered other ways out of this shitty situation for a moment.
Then, a brilliant idea hit my dumbass brain.
Yeah, there was a way.
Zero pregnancy risk. Guaranteed post-nut clarity equal to—or better than—raw creampie. Perfect solution.
I started in a serious, businesslike voice.
"Hmm... There's one option with absolutely no pregnancy risk."
Before I finished, Yura's glare turned murderous. She knew exactly what I was gonna say.
"If you even suggest anal, I'll smash your skull."
At her preemptive strike, I yelled back indignantly.
"You said it's already been broken in!!"
At my crude, shameless shout, Yura's face flushed red with shame and rage.
She nearly screamed back.
"Out of curiosity, just a tiny bit!!"
She yelled that, got up, and approached me.
Oh, fuck. Gonna get hit again. I squeezed my eyes shut reflexively.
But it wasn't a fist this time.
She just stood in front of me and said in an exhausted voice.
"Let's just call it a day... I'm tired."
Yura waving the white flag first made my tension melt away, flooding me with fatigue.
Fuck, honestly, I was beat too.
This shitty studio without AC was a steamer from midday heat, and my body was sticky with sweat from the recent fuckfest, feeling gross as hell.
We had to do something.
"It's hot. Wanna grab coffee?"
"Yeah. You pay."
Fucking bitch. Knew it. I spat a curse reflexively.
"Fuck, you money-grubbing slut."
At my swearing, Yura looked around my room contemptuously while fanning herself with her hand.
"What? Lying under a piglet in a sweltering shithole without AC, this much service is standard, no?"
I ignored most of it, but 'piglet' stuck in my ear.
No, fuck, that was unfair.
I'd built some muscle grinding in the army, and piglet?
In my injustice, a whiny voice slipped out unbidden.
".....I'm not pig-tier, am I?"
I felt Yura's gaze scan me.
Top to bottom. Like some emotion reader bullshit.
Then, with a serious face, she nuked my last shred of pride.
"There are girls with smaller tits than you, moron."
"......"
Yura's final fact bomb left me frozen solid.
Fuck, no counter to that. Total defeat.
I saw the corner of Yura's mouth curl up in satisfaction as she watched my mental breakdown.
Like a loser, I grabbed my wallet to offer Han Yura a cold iced Americano.
We ended up at the cheapest franchise coffee shop closest to the studio.
100% Yura's 'Don't wanna walk in the blazing sun' vote.
Unlike my musty room, the cool AC breeze cooled my sweat-soaked back, and I finally felt alive.
"Hoo..."
I fiddled with the condensation on the plastic cup and slurped the iced Americano.
The cold liquid sliding down my throat cooled my overheated head.
We cooled off in silence for a bit, watching people pass by outside the window.
Then, a genius idea flashed through my mind.
A fucking brilliant way to fix the biggest risk in our shitty business model.
"Hey, Yura. I just had a fucking brilliant idea."
Excited, as I spoke up, Yura replied without looking up from her phone.
"Probably some retarded shit, but spit it out."
....What the fuck does this bitch think of me?
Suppressing my rage, I laid out the main point in my most serious CEO tone.
"Anyway, the biggest risk in our 'work' is pregnancy attack, right?"
"Nah. It's blowing all our hard-earned cash in one go."
Oof... Just thinking about it is fucking horrifying...
"Whatever, pregnancy's a huge risk too, admit it?"
"Yeah."
"So, how about we go the route of slashing that probability way down?"
As I finally unveiled the intro to my 'brilliant idea', Yura stared at me blankly.
Her eyes already saw through all my schemes.
".....You're not gonna say 'use condoms', even on your deathbed?"
"Hehe?"
I grinned like an idiot, and Yura's face soured.
"Don't make that face. Makes me wanna punch you."
At her deadly line, I dropped the 'hehe' and switched back to serious CEO mode.
I'd learned the hard way through deals and punches that cutesy shit didn't work on her.
I slurped the straw hard once, then rationally unfolded my grand theory.
"Anyway, listen. The best way to avoid pregnancy... is not doing it, right?"
"Duh, get to the point."
Yura cut me off. I pressed on undeterred.
"But we have to do it every day. Right? To turn on my 'post-nut clarity'."
"....Hearing it out loud sounds fucking gross. So?"
Yura's voice held deep resignation. Finally, I dropped the core solution.
"Reduce the frequency."
"What bullshit. We have to do it daily. How?"
Yura looked at me like I was spouting nonsense, staring at a real retard.
I met her gaze and proudly dropped the final puzzle piece of my genius idea.
"Bro, pussy ain't just yours, right?"
"......"
Silence.
All the coffee shop noise seemed to fade away in an instant.
Yura said nothing.
She just stared at me with wide eyes, like trying to process what I'd said.
The plastic cup in her hand seemed to tremble faintly.
I believed she was awestruck by my perfect logic.
After a long silence, Yura spoke very quietly, mechanically.
"So, you're saying if there's another girl to fuck.... my pregnancy odds halve? Right?"
She reframed my crazy rant as a pure math probability problem.
Thinking she'd finally grasped my profound intent, I beamed.
"Yeah, exactly! Oh, Han Yura's got good comprehension?"
The instant my praise ended, she slammed her coffee cup on the table with a 'bang!'.
"You fucking asshole, you joking?"
Her face twisted in anger.
I genuinely couldn't understand why she was mad.
"No, not joking. Fucking serious."
"Bullshit."
Frustrated, I presented a new hypothesis backing my claim.
Once she heard this, she'd get my deep meaning.
"Not joking—my post-nut clarity duration seems tied to my 'satisfaction level', no matter how I think about it."
At my absurd hypothesis, Yura's face stiffened briefly.
She looked at me like a cult leader who'd just founded a new religion.
I figured she'd grab my collar or spit coffee in my face.
But instead, she sighed deeply and long.
"...Hoo... fuck... fine, spit it out."
Yura mercifully decided to hear my nonsense to the end.
I eagerly launched into my grand analysis of this bizarre phenomenon.
"Okay, listen. This ain't just my brain fart. It's based on perfect data from the past few days."
I counted on my fingers, explaining systematically.
"First, jerking off to your pics alone. Lowest satisfaction. Pure imagination. Result? Post-nut clarity caps at 10 minutes. Barely two trades. Worst efficiency."
"Second, your handjobs. Actual contact boosts satisfaction. Result? About an hour. Enough for daily earnings. Stable, but not big money."
"Third, this morning's blowjob. Requires higher skill and... intimacy. Way higher satisfaction. Result? Two-hour buff. Solid for scalps."
Finally, the clincher.
"And last, real sex. Especially raw creampie. Gave me the max 'satisfaction' of all. Know the result? Minimum 4-5 hours, up to half a day of 'awakened post-nut clarity'. Our one jackpot, NBLS, came from that state."
I wrapped up triumphantly.
"Get it? It's not just 'cumming' that's the switch. My 'sexual satisfaction' is the key variable deciding post-nut clarity duration and power. More satisfied, longer and stronger genius mode."
After my explanation, Yura was silent.
She just stared at her empty coffee cup.
I was convinced she was speechless in admiration of my flawless logic.
After a long pause, she finally looked up.
Her eyes pierced me like she'd X-rayed my brain, seeing everything.
"So, you're not just bullshitting 'cause you wanna threesome?"
"......"
She nailed it perfectly. I was speechless for a second.
All my lowbrow desires stripped bare before Han Yura. I chuckled awkwardly and dodged.
".....Well, that thought's not entirely absent."
At my pathetic admission, Yura sighed deeply.
I thought she'd curse me out as a psycho and storm off.
But her words shattered all my expectations.
"Haa... fuck.... Fine, I'll do it."
"......Huh?"
"But what if not?"
I doubted my ears. Do it? This crazy bitch offering a threesome?
Her next words confirmed it was no joke—a thorough 'business' proposal.
She was demanding risk coverage if my 'satisfaction theory' was wrong.
I swallowed dryly. Offered the only thing I could stake.
"Uh.... Drop the 10% commission?"
At my answer, Yura's lip curled slightly.
"Deal."
Her short word left me dazed, replaying this surreal situation.
Me, staking future commissions for a threesome?
What the fuck kinda situation is this? As my head spun in chaos, Yura was already onto the next step.
This bitch's brain was optimized for business.
"Anyway, that's me. How about the other girl? Know anyone?"
"What're you saying. Who else would I know besides you."
I summed up my loser life proudly in one line.
At that, cold killing intent flashed in Yura's eyes.
"You want me to find your threesome partner?"
"Yeah."
At my sunny affirmation, a vein looked ready to pop on her forehead.
"You fucking ridiculous asshole."
"Didn't you do helper and kiss room gigs before? No slutty bitches from then?"
At my efficient suggestion, a long, heavy silence fell.
I thought she'd stand up, spit coffee in my face, and leave.
But moments later, Yura replied in a voice dripping pure irritation—but clearly.
"...Tattoo bitch slut, cool?"
"Hot?"
My first question, naturally, was looks.
"....Fuck, what am I even discussing with you. Contact her? No regrets."
"Big tits?"
My second was pure instinct.
Yura sighed deeply, voice full of defeat.
"Fucking huge."
I silently gave her double thumbs up vigorously.
Perfect.
Yura shook her head at me, then pulled out her phone and started messaging someone.
Shit was really happening.