Chapter 27: How to Hunt in the Club
They say the 21st century is the age of self-promotion. The same held true here. If you couldn't flaunt yourself and your charms, even good looks were useless.
I'd never known how to dress up or understood the importance of fashion.
'I even avoided dressing up on purpose, scared I'd hear that "drawing lines on a pumpkin" line.'
But damn, there were so many guys in the world who knew exactly how to groom themselves. Even guys who looked average at first glance came to the club all polished up, shaking their bodies with confidence.
Watching them, I felt a twinge of envy. These were people with a self-assurance I'd never had back then—even without the app's appearance buffs.
'I need to learn how to dress. How to stand out in everyone's eyes.'
In that instant, the gap between my body and soul widened. I could see it—my soul, ablaze with the flames of desire at its core. One flame swelled with a whoosh, then split in two.
Transformation Desire begins to branch off. A new desire, Display Desire, is registered in the Desire Fulfillment App.
The newly born Display Desire craves people's attention.
With that, my vision snapped back.
Quest: Dress to Impress has been created.
Dress to Impress
📍 Objective: Learn how to dress up, then score a one-night stand using only your external appeal.
🎁 Reward:300 GP
I left the club. Staying longer would've been a waste of time.
It wasn't defeat. If anything, it sparked my fighting spirit and a burning urge to challenge myself.
The next day, I dove into YouTube to study fashion trends and bought new clothes.
I had to succeed in a one-night stand using only external appeal.
'No matter how handsome I am, most women won't say yes if I straight-up ask for sex on first sight.'
From the affection stat descriptions, I'd guessed that for club regulars open to hookups, an affection of +50 or so would make sex possible even with strangers.
So, I needed to transform myself into someone who could hit 50 affection with just a glance or a brief chat.
I set my goal: Study grooming to look like a solid 70—no, over 70—in appearance.
But the moment I stood in front of the mirror in the carefully chosen outfit, realization hit.
"I'm a total fashion disaster."
I'd forgotten that a lifetime of ignoring it wouldn't magically fix in a few days of cramming. Fashion sense was just that—sense. It didn't grow overnight.
I tossed the clothes aside. My resolve hardened even more.
If my sense wasn't enough, I'd buy someone else's.
After scouring the internet, I found the answer.
"If my sense fails, buy someone else's sense."
There were boutiques—beauty shops that styled you head to toe.
They were pricier than expected, but for self-improvement, I went all in.
"What vibe should we style you in, sir?"
"Make me stand out the most in a club."
The stylist gave me a baffled look. I doubled down.
"The hottest club outfits and hairstyles right now—do that."
She dragged me around for about two hours.
Finally, I checked the mirror.
A trendy black semi-suit vibe with a white shirt and light brown loafers. My shaggy hair trimmed just right, parted and permed for a natural sweep. Makeup that highlighted my features.
A total 180 from two hours ago. Another person stared back.
I'd remade my face and body with reality tweaks and been reborn, but that was only half. Now, I truly felt like a new me.
Mesmerized, I reached for my reflection in the mirror. Cold glass met my fingers.
"Beautiful."
Grooming. Pursuing beauty. Beyond superficial looks-obsessed society, chasing true beauty had meaning in itself.
I got why Transformation Desire branched into Display Desire and gave me this quest.
Display Desire smiles in satisfaction, praising the user's realization.
'Time for a rematch.'
The moment I entered the club, I knew. The reactions were night and day.
Unlike before, eyes locked onto me. I felt it.
Swaying slowly near the stage edge, enjoying the vibe, someone tapped my shoulder from behind.
A woman in a clingy off-shoulder dress held a beer bottle in one hand.
'That's why grooming matters.'
Affection 48 on first sight. Properly styled up, even the status messages were worlds apart.
"Hey. Hi! I love tall guys—dance with me?"
Our eyes met, and she flashed a smile. Sexy outfit, heavy makeup—the classic image of a fun, open club girl.
Her sultry vibe was straight-up alluring. No reason to say no.
I grinned and wrapped my arm around her waist. She melted right into me, no resistance.
Standing on tiptoe, she whispered in my ear.
"Up close, you're even taller. How tall?"
"183."
"Whoa! My perfect height!"
As she spoke, she twisted, grinding her ass teasingly against my crotch.
'She's aggressive.'
Obvious she'd clubbed plenty. Unlike two days ago, I didn't even need to start the convo—she led, keeping it flowing just by standing there.
'First time with this type. Not bad.'
We wanted the same thing, so things escalated fast. We danced till our bodies heated up, then I suggested round two and we bounced.
She couldn't finish half a bottle of soju before passing out wasted.
Part of me wondered if she got that drunk hoping for a motel run, but her status said otherwise.
'She seemed tipsy when she approached, but this is ridiculous.'
I piggybacked her to a motel and got a room. Gently laid her on the bed.
Staring at her body, I made up my mind.
My monumental first trophy from clubbing. No way I'd let her sleep through it.
From her first words—"You're the one for tonight"—her intentions were clear. That experienced vibe, her slim, toned figure. Not quite my glamor type, but her makeup and outfit stirred something.
Like turning from loser to stud banging a hot club chick.
I stripped off her club clothes. The off-shoulder dress clung tight, accentuating every sensual curve.
Her deepened cleavage made me swallow hard. Off-shoulder meant no straps—from below the neck to upper chest, all exposed. No bra straps visible, so probably a stick-on.
I grabbed the fabric at her chest and pulled down. Her tits bounced free, silicone patches on the nipples screaming lewd.
My junior stirred below, slowly lifting its massive head.
Her breasts were definitely past A-cup, but way smaller than Shim Uran's.
'Still, they fit nice in hand.'
They looked bouncy, and they were—springy resistance under my fingers. Couldn't hold back; I gripped the nu-bra over her nipple.
Slowly peeled it up—her tit stretched conically, then pop, snapped back, jiggling elastically.
I dove in, sucking the nipple hard. She twitched faintly—strong stimulus even in her drunken haze. Pleasure hit through the fog.
Kept sucking, and her hips squirmed subtly.
Looking into her half-lidded eyes, I murmured,
"Feels good?"
Rubbing her clit hard, she moaned instead of answering.
"Hng... haa..."
After teasing a bit, her crotch soaked through.
'Time to slide in.'
Before thrusting, I laid my cock across her face. It draped over, covering half her features.
Average Korean woman's face is 22.8 cm long. Mine's 23 cm—makes sense. Tip to her forehead, base to her chin.
The absurd proportion got me rock-hard. I lowered, pressing my erection to her entrance.
"Oh, condom."
No way I'd risk knocking up a stranger, and STIs worried me too. Her look screamed club slut—probably tons of one-nighters. Better safe.
Slid on a rubber and pushed into Lee Ji-ae's pussy. Like poking custard bread—smooth entry.