STAGE ONE. Round Two.

Even before insertion, Seonjeong had exploited the time limit to unleash a one-sided barrage of attacks. Now, during the insertion itself, she pulled off yet another clever trick.

Baek Seongyeop lay flat on the mission table, his waist securely restrained. The only position available to him was woman on top.

Seonjeong obliged, mounting him in that position. But she didn't go for the standard cowgirl—instead, she faced toward his feet in a reverse cowgirl, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠keeping her sensitive breasts and clitoris safely out of his reach.

She didn't stop there. Leaning her upper body forward to evade his hands as much as possible, she began rapidly pistoning her hips up and down.

Seonjeong had bedded countless men and racked up endless sexual experience. Her pussy had loosened considerably from all that use, but her trained contractions were on another level. Every time she lifted her ass, she clenched her anal sphincter to tighten her vaginal grip. Then she'd release as she lowered herself, repeating the cycle with each rise.

Seongyeop was going mad. He'd already built up considerable stimulation from her flashy fellatio before insertion. Now, with the alternating squeezes and rhythmic thrusts assaulting his cock, holding back grew impossible.

To fight the mounting pleasure, he curled his toes desperately. He groped and stroked her ass and waist, hoping to stimulate her even a little—but nothing landed. Her movements only grew more rhythmic.

Seonjeong still had plenty of leeway. Dodging her own pleasure zones and sticking to basic attacks was easy for her to control.

"Aaaah... no... stop... please!"

The intense pleasure surging through his cock spread across his entire body. Unable to endure any longer, Seongyeop erupted deep inside her pussy.

Despair crashed over him. But his body betrayed him, shuddering in ecstatic release.

This was the last pleasure Baek Seongyeop would ever feel in his life.

Angel's voice remained as calm as ever. But Seongyeop would never move again.

Seonjeong, still impaled on his cock, sensed it immediately. She sprang up, pulling herself off him. Hot semen still leaked from his shaft.

She hurriedly dressed and exited the mission room.

At the entrance, all the Paradise participants stood in stunned silence. All except one.

A scream-like wail tore from Im Jiyun, Seongyeop's wife.

"Nooo! This can't be! It's a dream, right, honey? Get up and come out already!"

Jiyun lunged for the mission room door, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but it had sealed shut, unyielding.

Yumin's group—full of soft-hearted, kind souls—pitied her. They approached the collapsed woman, helping her to her feet.

Jeongho, Seohyeon, Suji, and the others half-dragged, half-carried Jiyun toward the corridor marked "Im Jiyun."

Once at the corridor entrance, Yumin's group had done all they could. They returned to their own rooms. Jiyun, tears streaming, dragged her heavy feet toward hers.

----------

Back in his personal room, Yumin flopped onto the bed. He replayed the recent events in his mind.

Seongyeop had died in the mission. His wife, Jiyun, had broken down in sobs, her face etched with despair.

With Seongyeop's death, Yumin had avenged his parents. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Well, not by his own hand exactly—but he'd witnessed the enemy's end with his own eyes. And he'd seen Jiyun's devastation too.

Reviewing the mission via the Mission Preview, Yumin felt those same mixed emotions again.

Yes. On one hand, joy and satisfaction. On the other, a bitter heaviness in his chest.

But compared to the world-shattering shock and grief when he first heard of his parents' death? This was nothing.

Yumin steeled himself. No weakness now. Hadn't those two taken two lives and lived carefree afterward?

He hadn't forgotten about Jiyun either. She wasn't the hit-and-run driver who doomed his parents, but she'd been right there in the passenger seat. She could have stopped Seongyeop, advised him. "Hey, that car looks like it went off the cliff—shouldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we check? Call 119 or something?"

Whatever. With Seongyeop drunk driving, maybe it was tricky. But clearly, a fine and punishment for him meant less than strangers' lives.

Yumin recalled that day again. Hearing the news of his parents' death. Himself, frozen in shock. His little sister Gayeong, collapsed before him, sobbing uncontrollably...

----------

As the square opened, Yumin headed there. Jiyun was nowhere to be seen, as expected. Would she even show? Or maybe to check the mission room where her husband died one more time?

The overall mood in the square was grim. When Sanghyeon died in the tutorial, the shock of the first death lingered, but it hadn't been this depressing.

This time was different. Seongyeop and Jiyun weren't close with the others, but they'd always sat together at a corner table, smiling. No one felt the same revulsion as with Sanghyeon.

Yumin's group felt it too. Especially kind-hearted Gayeong, who looked as if a close friend had died.

Yumin wondered: What if Gayeong knew those two were his parents' killers? Would her sad face turn to satisfaction? No, never. She'd be even more shocked.

He didn't want to burden her with extra pain and grief. Better if only he knew.

Jiyun never appeared, even as the square time ended. Was she thinking something extreme? Did it even matter?

Yumin parted from the group and returned to his room. As he sat on the bed, Angel's voice echoed from the ceiling.

Yumin could easily guess why Angel appeared. Round 2 had ended. The top mission participant for Round 2 was set—though it had been obvious for a while. Time for the reward.

Mission Protection completely exempted someone from missions, ensuring total safety. With death penalties now in play, it was the surest way to guarantee life.

If he'd had this at Paradise's start, he'd have picked his sister Gayeong without hesitation. But now, with so many close allies, abandoning any felt impossible.

Still, Yumin chose Gayeong. She was the only family left after his parents' death—the one he had to protect and raise.

Mission safety aside, facing her as a partner would be awkward for him too. The other women, from Minseo onward, had all slept with him. Securing Gayeong's safety let him protect the rest somehow.

For now, this was best.

"Lee Gayoung."

"Yes."

Yumin thought it over. Better to learn about strangers than acquaintances. He knew the basics about his friends already. But the new faces? Barely any conversation.

Baek Seongyeop and Im Jiyun: checked. Han Mikyung: rough idea. Left were Oh Juseok and Mun Seonjeong?

Oh Juseok it was. He looked dangerous—scarred cheek, violent vibe in speech and demeanor.

Decision made, Yumin named him to the ceiling.

"Oh Juseok."

"Got it. Thanks."

Yumin gave a wry smile. He dropped his pants and underwear, pulling out his cock.

Shaking it in one hand, he wrestled down the self-loathing. What the hell am I doing?

----------

The next day, after square time, Yumin returned to find a document envelope on his bed. Oh Juseok's info, as promised.

Thinner than Baek Seongyeop's but thicker than Im Jiyun's. No way it listed his three sizes or sexual preferences...

With some unease, Yumin opened it.

And was shocked—not by sizes or kinks, but because the contents shattered his expectations.

Yumin's head spun from Oh Juseok's endless rap sheet. Absurdity washed over him. What was Korea's justice system even for?

If they'd locked him up after the third offense, all those women listed below wouldn't have suffered.

Why sacrifice law-abiding citizens for criminals' "rehabilitation"?

Yumin didn't want Jean Valjean-style leniency—no irreversible falls for one mistake. But this? Way too far.

And this document only covered convicted cases. Unpunished ones? Multiples, dozens more.

What was the law's ultimate goal? Hoping a serial rapist of dozens suddenly repents and reforms?

But the next page made his prior outrage seem trivial. The shock dwarfed even Baek Seongyeop's file—far worse.