Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: 86x
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"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The ground-shaking roar jolted me awake from the sticky swamp of sleep.
It sounded just like a battering ram smashing through castle gates. My head throbbed like it was splitting open, and my mouth tasted like an ashtray full of rot.
"Fuck... who the hell..."
I muttered in a raspy voice as I dragged myself upright.
That instant, memories from last night crashed over me like a tidal wave.
Yura's threat. Her photos. And that final moment when I'd given up everything and passed out.
"Bang! Bang! Hey, Kim Cheolsu! You dead in there, you fucker?!"
The voice from outside the door. It was Han Yura, no doubt about it.
Come tomorrow... with 1 million won...
Her words overlapped perfectly with the threat burned into my brain.
I practically tumbled out of bed.
My heart was going berserk.
First things first—I had to check. The fate of my balls was on that monitor.
I staggered on shaky legs to the computer desk.
💰 Account Balance 💰 Total Assets: 897,000 KRW
My Funds: 288,000 KRW Yura's Funds: 609,000 KRW ...Huh? Wait a sec, Yura's money is untouched.
I frantically checked the transaction history.
That last "fuck it all" trade I'd made last night? It was only with my own 126,000 won.
Somehow, in my subconscious, I'd drawn a line. I hadn't touched Yura's money.
And that final trade? It'd pulled off a miraculous win.
126,000 won had ballooned to 288,000 won.
I'd made 162,000 in one night.
But... Yura's share was intact.
The 609,000 we'd grinded out together. Not a single won more.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Hey! Ten seconds! If you don't open this door, I'm breaking it down!"
Her urging yanked me back to reality.
Failure was failure.
With a face full of resignation, I shuffled to the front door and opened it.
Standing there was Han Yura, her face stiff as stone.
She glared at me like she was about to punt my balls into next week.
"So,"
she said, her voice cold as ice.
"1 million won. Did you hit it or not?"
I couldn't bring myself to say "I failed."
Instead, I went with the only thing I could.
"Come... see for yourself."
Her brows furrowed even tighter at my response.
She shot me a look packed with suspicion and contempt, then stormed inside and plopped down in front of the computer.
I stood behind her, holding my breath, waiting for judgment.
"......"
Yura froze as she stared at the monitor.
For a long while, she just drilled holes into those numbers on the screen.
Then, slowly—agonizingly slowly—she turned to look at me.
The rage and disdain in her eyes? Gone.
In their place was pure shock and confusion I'd never seen from her before.
"...What the hell is this?"
Her question unleashed a torrent of babble from my mouth.
Excuses, complaints, all wrapped in pathetic desperation—a full report on last night's battle.
"No, see... You told me to make 1 mil, right? Said you'd smash my balls if I didn't... So I tried using those pics you sent however I could... But just staring at photos? No dice, the switch wouldn't flip! Had no choice but to... you know... do it myself..."
I rambled incoherently about the mechanics of my "talent" I'd discovered last night.
Yura's face shifted from confusion to shock, then pure disgust, but I couldn't stop.
"But fuck, I really thought I was done for! I jerked so hard last night my dick skin nearly peeled off, and that was the limit! Those 600k were bought with my fucking life! For real!"
I raised my voice like I was proving my misery.
"And weirdly, it's different when you do it yourself! With your pics, Post-Nut Clarity hits way too fast! Like 10 minutes? 15 tops? Then the high wears off and I gotta go again! Spent the whole night looping that shit! Thought I'd drop dead from exhaustion!"
Once my pathetic wail petered out, a heavy silence blanketed the room.
Yura said nothing.
She just stared at me with the most bug-eyed look of revulsion I'd ever seen.
After an eternity, she finally spoke.
Not a word about my suffering or effort.
Instead, one cold, crystal-clear line that cut through it all.
"...So, bottom line."
She looked at me, tone purely business.
"Jacking it yourself? Shitty efficiency."
"Uh... yeah... obviously?"
I nodded dumbly, and she jumped right in like she'd been waiting.
No hesitation in her voice now.
Like a CEO who'd crunched every scenario and found the optimal fix.
"Alright, drop your pants. I'll handjob you."
She nodded at my crotch.
Before I could react, she crunched the next calc.
"Plus 50k extra for today's service, on top of my 170k principal. Times 86x—what's that?"
I couldn't help it—my brain auto-calced.
170k times 86...
"14.62 million won?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly at my answer.
"Quick math, huh?"
"Kinda... my thing?"
I shrugged, clinging to my scraps of pride.
She didn't mock me, just dove back in.
"Anyway, deal or no?"
Her question snapped me alert.
14.62 million. Our target had just jumped 4 mil from 10.32 mil on her say-so.
Frustration boiled over, and I whined before I knew it.
"...But why does it feel like the money I gotta make keeps ballooning?"
"'Cause my investment's grown. Duh?"
Her logic was ironclad. No rebuttal.
But this was too much. I finally snapped.
"Hold up, lady. Letting me hit that pussy for 14.62 mil? You ain't some fucking celeb."
For a split second, the ice on her face thawed—just a flicker.
Not a smile.
More like a bitch-mom eyeing a dumb pup, thinking What the fuck is wrong with this idiot? Pity mixed with faint curiosity.
She let out a hollow chuckle, then crouched to meet my eyes, stepping closer.
"Listen up, you ugly fuck..."
Her voice was low and steady.
Which made it sink deeper into my bones.
"You think you'll get another shot at banging a smokeshow like me?"
I was speechless.
Her arrogant, unassailable logic melted my anger away.
Almost.
But that insane 14.62 mil figure yanked my last thread of reason.
I looked up, stared her dead in the eyes, and fired back.
"Real talk—in a country where prostitution's legal,"
Her brow twitched at my curveball.
I pressed the attack with my best logic.
"14.62 mil? That's enough for a month straight with a top-tier ace in a Gangnam love hotel. Cosplay every course, ass-eating included, and you'd still have change. I get the rarity, but the cost-performance is trash."
My all-out counter left her face blank.
That smug pity? Vaporized.
Her eyes went ice-cold. I flinched instinctively.
Oh, fuck. I'd scratched where I shouldn't.
She glared silently for a beat, then spoke.
"You think I'm like those whores any dude with cash can buy?"
Her voice dripped contempt, drawing a hard line: she was above that "tier."
Her arrogance fired me up. I'd nailed her weak spot.
"Sorry to fact-check again, but..."
I faked remorse while twisting the knife.
"You're out here handjobbing randoms for cash. Why trash your fellow industry girls? Conscience fried?"
For the first time, her face truly hardened.
She had no comeback.
"Industry" had shattered her last wall of pride.
First win in this endless spat, I thought.
Grinning inside, I waited for her excuse.
Instead of salvaging her ego, she looked defeated and asked,
"So, what do you want?"
Victory assured. I stood tall, meeting her gaze, laying out my case.
"You saw—I didn't hit 1 mil, but I made bank, right?"
"...Yeah."
Reluctant agreement.
"And I work best zero distractions? Admit it."
"What're you getting at?"
She snapped curtly. Nailed the negotiation core.
"I jerked till my dick was raw. You gotta match that effort, no? It's your money anyway."
I played the wronged worker, cornering her.
She boiled my ramble down to one line.
"You want pussy for free."
I dropped the act, looked her straight on.
And nodded with pure, innocent eyes.
"Yep."
My brazen innocence broke her.
Yura eyed me with world-weary disgust and sighed deep.
"Fuck, this pisses me off... for real..."
She clawed her hair, pondered, then ordered in resignation.
"Go buy condoms, you fucking asshole."
I grinned like I'd conquered the world.
Pathetic pleas and shameless stalling? Victory.
Yura's pussy, basically free.
I snatched my wallet, ready to bolt to the convenience store.
Then her voice stopped me cold.
"Hey, but let's make this clear."
I turned, puzzled.
Her face was back to cold businesswoman—no resignation, no annoyance.
"I'm giving it up. But if you fail? What then? You covering my whole stake?"
I smirked. Battle won.
"That 170k? Gimme a sec to refund it."
I said casually, hand in pocket.
My cockiness iced her over.
"What bullshit, asshole. Not 170k—14.62 mil. Do the math right."
"......"
My smile vanished.
Wait, what? 14.62 mil? That's the target, not—
But her eyes were dead serious.
No joke.
Then it hit: the true trap in her crazy contract.
To her, "failure" wasn't losing principal.
It was torching all future profits—the full opportunity cost.
And that fell on me.
Miss the target? I'd owe her 14.62 mil.
This wasn't partnership.
Pure slave contract.
......In my book, she's a straight-up soulless bitch.