#01 Beast's Playground (3)
1. To sum up a counselor's day at the academy: consultations with clients, and everything else is free time. It was an absurdly lax workload, but the pay was so meager that without the inheritance from his uncle, he'd have needed a second job. On the flip side, now that he'd inherited it, this was a dream gig. What other job in the world had wounded, fragile prey with voids in their hearts walking right in on their own?
"Helllooo."
As he lounged on the cot after a late lunch, basking in the sunlight, the counseling room door slid open and Yujin bounded in. Startled by her sudden entrance without a knock, Yuchan sat up awkwardly, twitching an eyebrow as he asked,
"What's up?"
"Aww, come on~ When have I ever come here for a reason?"
Having his rest interrupted was irritating, but he didn't show it.
"Shouldn't you be studying instead of...?"
"No way! I studied super hard today! Three straight hours of pure focus before lunch even!"
Waving her phone's stopwatch in his face, she bounced around hyperactively before scurrying over to plop something on his desk. A slice cake from the nearby café. Thanks to female students who believed post-meal sugar was essential, it was a shop with top-notch quality and steady sales—Yuchan frequented it himself.
"Teach, teach, teach! I brought it to share. Their crepe cake is amazing, but it sells out crazy fast even if you go early. So I snuck out before lunch to grab it."
"Nice. I'll brew some coffee then."
"Mine with tons of syrup!"
Leaving her gazing adoringly at the unwrapped slice, he pulled espresso from the steam machine where he'd prepped the grounds. Mix in hot water from the purifier, and voilà—Americano.
"How much longer?"
Unable to wait, she poked her head past the curtain, then wrapped it around herself playfully. He added her syrup and sat on the sofa; she waltzed over in little hops and plopped down opposite.
"Can't you sit next to me? This feels awkward."
"Nope. Gotta save the spot for my girlfriend."
"You don't have one yet. Just for eating?"
Without asking further, she scooted over and leaned against him. It was a two-seater sofa, plenty spacious, but she plastered herself right up—blatantly obvious.
"Don't stick so close."
"Aww why? It's cold."
Too bouncy might backfire, but this was the sweet spot for handling her. Her Black Box told him everything. Yujin harbored a crush on him, so she felt no pressure initiating contact. But if he got too close, she'd slam her heart shut and turtle up. Having observed countless people, Yuchan was a master at decoding Black Box symbols.
For reference, her phlox flowers weren't fully bloomed, and even minor touches turned them to buds. Yujin was a virgin—looks notwithstanding.
"Whoa... this tastes like pure happiness."
"That good? You finish the rest then."
"No way! I bought it for you. We gotta share. Here, ahh~ ahh~."
If anyone caught a teacher and student cozied up like this, feeding each other cake, his position would be toast. He stayed hyper-alert to noises outside, barely tasting the cake as it went in his nose or mouth—who knew. Oblivious, Yujin just grinned happily, swaying side to side.
"The coffee you make is sooo good, teacher."
"It's the beans. Friend owns a café, brings 'em fresh."
"Whoa, no wonder! Guess I'll come every day now~"
"You already do."
A light scolding sent her into peals of laughter as she popped the last bite in her mouth. Chewing vigorously, crumbs and a dollop of cream dotted her lips.
"Done eating? Wipe your mouth. Aigoo, it's all over."
"Mmph, you wipe it for me."
Pouting with her lips thrust out, he eyed them. Glossy pink from Chanel—not the cheap lip shop stuff kids used. No clue how much pocket money she got. Voluminous just right, perfect shape and texture. Biting down would yield that satisfying chew, skin clinging tight. He couldn't deny the raw sex appeal wafting from this much-younger girl. Not something peers could fake—it was innate, the kind that ensnared men.
Crushing the sudden urge, he tossed her a napkin casually.
Devouring what's right in front of you is easy. But fruit that falls too readily sours fast. Like aging premium meat, you simmer slowly for that ultimate feast to savor the extreme flavor.
Grumbling as she wiped her mouth, she helped rinse the cups before sashaying out with, "Does this make me top bride material?"
2. Clocking out earlier than yesterday, Yuchan ate dinner while tablet-researching Nayae's ex-boyfriend issue. Name: Kim Hyunwoo.
"Research" might sound grandiose. With a phone number and name, SNS was all you needed. For active Facebook or Instagram users, it yielded plenty. In under thirty minutes, he had his address, middle school, the high school he dropped from, friends, current gig—everything.
No wonder PIs were dying out. To Yuchan, broadcasting your details to strangers was laughably sloppy self-management. Drunk on online bonds and showboating, exposing yourself so carelessly? Baffling.
"Cartoon thug."
Chewing his chicken breast, veggies, and sweet potato meal, Nayae's ex hung with sketchy types. No Black Box from photos, but his mug screamed "not diligent"—stats don't lie. Pals were all rough: tattooed muscle pigs in tank tops despite the weather, bleached blond tanned punks, cookie-cutter Gangnam plastic chicks. Worked used cars now, blowing cash on clubs, luxury flexes—no future-planner.
Digging deeper via his post-work bar revealed his address and route home. Walked drunk every time—self-preservation on point, at least. Easy to intercept.
3. Best to rip the band-aid off. Solving Nayae's nagging issue quick would boost her view of him. Sure, it'd need epic lies, but whatever.
Packing a sports bag with essentials, he headed out around midnight. Black mask, cap, winter joggers—all black. Classic nighttime jogger dad vibe. Sneakers looked normal but had steel toes like boots.
Parked the car, jogged CCTV blind spots. Decent distance, but just a light night run. Passed neon-lit streets still buzzing late, hitting the old residential area near Baeksuk Station—specifically, its parking lot. Sparse people, low eyes. Luck from here on.
If Hyunwoo came straight home, plan as-is. If late, bail by 2 a.m. Early drive and workout tomorrow.
Leaning on a lamppost as his post-run heat cooled, clock read 1 a.m. Quiet alley—easy to check passersby. Then, a staggering climber yelling into his phone caught his eye. Unmistakable, even afar—he'd seen 2,000+ pics. Build matched.
"So I flipped that fake Benz three-day rental hard and sold it, yeah?"
Chuckling up the stairs, good mood. Pity. About to sour.
Blocking his path as he shuffled groundward, Yuchan drew his gaze up. The phone-call grin twisted oddly.
"You Kim Hyunwoo?"
"Yo, hang up. I'll call back."
Tossing his cig roughly, Hyunwoo glared, cracking his neck gangster-style. 23? Looked pickled—drugs? Rude thought, but how was this Nayae's type?
"What the fuck, blocking my way? Where'd you get my name?"
Built decent—178cm, 80kg-ish.
"Nayae's boyfriend. Heard from her."
"Voice kinda smooth, huh? That's why the mask and cap pulled low? Gonna shank me?"
Leaning in threateningly. What if Yuchan swung? Amateur street-fighter, drunk—no contest. But eyes on them? Avoid. Yuchan lightly smacked his cheek—not hard, just hand-back taps, exploiting the gap.
"Huh?"
Kim dazed, tracking the hand—then bloodshot rage. Better than punching: scraping pride provoked punks perfectly.
"You fucking shit!"
No block—Yuchan bolted without looking back. Daily workouts vs. booze-and-smoke life? No chase possible. But he paced to keep Hyunwoo barely hanging on, luring toward the outskirts department store.
"Huff! Huff! Stop, fuck! Gonna rip your guts out..!!"
Rage-fueled pursuit; Yuchan dangled just out of reach, heading to the ghost-mansion building—padlocked front cut earlier. Hyunwoo's near-collapse gasps persisted doggedly. Ten minutes in, curses faded. Out-of-shape body plus yelling? Toast. Just trimming stamina for contingencies.
Slipping through the half-open construction fence, Yuchan heard Hyunwoo stagger in behind.