The Reason I Quit Being a Trainee (3)
"Is... is my taste a bit weird?"
I mutter softly, standing in front of the front door. I have no idea how I even made it from the cafe to here. From the moment Uju-mong's hand touched my neck until now, everything's a blur—what I said, what I did.
"Ah, feels refreshing."
That's when the bathroom door swings open, and my second sister steps out. Her naked body, towel-drying her wet hair... my face scrunches up on instinct.
"Jesus! Put something on before you come out!"
"Huh? You're back? What's the big deal? No guys in the house anyway."
I turn away with a heavy sigh. Why the hell does he like a woman like that?
Sis picks up the baggy dress left by the bathroom. A floral-patterned nightgown explosion—no way to call it pretty, even as a white lie.
"You bought that?"
"Cute, right?"
I pull out my phone without a word. Gotta show Uju-mong this bumpkin's getup.
Click!
"Oh, taking my pic? Sweet!"
"Ugh..."
She strikes a model pose like it's nothing, and I freak, shoving my phone away.
"Forget it. Hurry up and get out. I need to shower."
I toss my bag into my room, strip down.
"You were at the cafe this whole time?"
"Yeah."
"Seriously? Studying at the cafe till now?"
I shove past her suspicious glare and slip into the bathroom. Warm water's filled it halfway with steam.
"Should I ask Joomong?"
"Go ahead if you want."
I start closing the door but pause.
"Sis, you off tomorrow too?"
"Nah, gotta work. Readers bail if I slack too long."
"Got it."
"Why? Worried about me? I'm fine~. Jangmi sis's meds helped a ton..."
I slam the door before she finishes.
"Like I'd worry about keyboard warrior sis making easy cash."
I grumble under my breath, wipe the fogged mirror. Then slowly slide my hand to my neck.
"How can it feel so different?"
Nothing. Earlier, just a graze sent electricity shooting through me, all tingly weird. Now? Just skin on skin, no matter how I touch it.
"Maybe because of the dream?"
Those steamy dreams I've been having nonstop lately. Always getting choked till I black out in bliss. When Uju-mong grabbed my neck for real, it all flooded back?
"Or... do I actually like him now...?"
I shake my head hard. No way. Absolutely not.
"As if. Liking some dream guy from a couple naughty dreams? Me? I've never liked a guy my whole life. Over something that flimsy?"
Doesn't make sense. And falling for someone over that? Total perv territory.
"Especially a guy who doesn't even like me back... He's been pining for sis for ten years... Way older, not even my type..."
I clamp my mouth shut, look up. My flushed face stares back. A face I see every day—should be familiar, but somehow feels... strange.
"First time fucking with a condom, huh."
Naked on the bed, I roll one on. Flip through Ari's pics, pump up my size first, then slide on the convenience store rubber. As time ticks, it shrinks back—reality hits, but what can you do.
"Ended up manipulating the dream anyway. Better wrap it... or the sheets get cum-soaked again."
I grab my phone, double-check the app. How to tweak Deulle's trauma without derailing her past. Draft, delete, repeat. I'm no writer like Ari—ain't getting perfect. Settle for good enough.
"Sorry, Deulle. This is my best shot..."
Apologize in advance, flop onto the pillow. Set phone by the bed—
Bzzzzt.
It buzzes loud.
"Huh?"
From Deulle. No text. Just one photo attached.
Got today's already—more Ari pics? I tap it. Screen fills with Deulle. Bathroom selfie, underwear only.
"Why send something like this...?"
Instinct saves it. Seconds later—delete notification. Pic vanishes.
I stare at the phone. No follow-up from her.
Can't hold back, send it. But no reply, even after ages.
Mistake? Or some intent? Thoughts swirl, sleep won't come.
Oh, here we go.
Consciousness snaps back. I'm driving. No—manager's driving.
"Happy birthday, Deulle."
My mouth opens on its own, unfamiliar voice spills out. Not mine—some guy's, higher, lighter.
"Isn't it super late? Birthday was yesterday."
Grumpy Deulle snaps from shotgun. Wanna turn, see her, but body won't obey yet.
"More worried, though. I'm an adult now... We really debuting?"
"You'll debut for sure. I'll make it happen."
"How many times you said that?"
Silence. Then:
"Where we headed anyway?"
"Meeting a VIP. Says he'll push Honeyboob."
"Huh? Why me alone? Sisters?"
"Girls... probably there already."
"Something's off..."
Tested experimental tweaks in the app. Dialogue matches their real past, mostly. Working fine.
"Honeyboob, though? Too on-the-nose. Means honey tits."
"Gotta hook 'em somehow. You know how many groups debut and flop yearly. Gotta stick in minds."
"Guess so... Not how I wanna be remembered."
"Members all stacked anyway. It'll pop."
"Oppa. Sexual harassment."
Ice-cold from her side.
"Ah, sorry sorry. Not like that. I mean... it's a weapon. Y'know."
"I wanna win with song and dance. Trained to death for that."
"Know. But don't obsess."
"..."
Spot on. She was set for Honeyboob debut. Got pillow service offer right before, quit on the spot.
Suddenly, world outside warps. Time-lapse fast-forward—cars, people streak by, manager moves inhumanly quick.
"We're here."
Car stops at apartment lot. Deulle sighs huge, snaps sharp:
"Fuck... This shitty dream two nights in a row? Rather have the naughty one again..."
But I'm still peeking through manager's eyes. He digs in pocket, grabs pills.
"Deulle."
Head turns. There she is—middle finger up, face pure disgust, like I'm a bug.
"No thanks. Not going up. You choke on that shit yourself."
Grabs door handle.
"What? Won't open."
"Deulle."
"Don't say my name—! Wha... huh?"
She freezes, staring. Body starts obeying me bit by bit.
"J-Joomong oppa?"
To avoid real-world ripple, add dream-only twists. Creampie room you can't leave without, milk from deepthroating my cock root to tip.
"Deulle. Joomong oppa?"
Voice fully mine now. App line worked: Manager swaps to Uju-mong in a flash. No past manager. Just me and that day's Deulle.
"Joomong? Who's that?"
"No... What kinda dream bullshit! Everything's mashed up weird!"
"Deulle. This isn't a dream. It's real."
Dreams are like that, right? Scenery swaps, people change. Apocalypse flips to romance, horror to comedy.
"Snap out. Oppa said it—impress this VIP, Honeyboob debuts."
"Insane... Plot keeps going?"
She blinks, emotions flashing, eyes on the birth control and water I hold out.
"Here, take this and..."
"Enough. Don't say it. Hate hearing that from you—even in a dream."
"Huh? What'd I say?"
She snatches the pills.
"Eat this, go to 1203! Debut, one night! Pick you up morning! Run now, all effort wasted! Sisters lose dreams too! Don't wanna hear that from you!"
"No. Not that."
"Huh? N-not?"
Her anger eases, flustered. I drop the killer line.
"Deulle. I love you."
"Ah...?"
"Take it. Do it with oppa. I'll make it work. Debut without that crap. I'll figure it out. Your first... Give it to oppa?"