Chapter 96: Side Story - Mother (17)
Chapter 96: Side Story - Mother (17)
It was a long time later when Lee Seon-mi finally came to. She felt the unpleasant stickiness of dried cold sweat on her skin, but more than that, a heavy, irrepressible sensation of something foreign remained coiled deep within her womb.
She opened her eyes, still pinned to the bed.
As soon as she saw the message floating before her, her pupils trembled.
When did I lose consciousness? And how long has it been since then…
Usually, waking up after fainting comes with a headache, but the sharp realization that her current state was no different from having blacked out made her overlook any physical pain.
My legs have given out. My waist, too.
An aching throb pulsed through her, and she could barely move her legs. Feeling a weight that threatened to make her collapse the moment she stepped on the floor, she flinched and turned her head toward the bed.
Her son was asleep there.
He lay limp, as if utterly drained. For a moment, a chilling sensation ran down her spine. Breathing raggedly, she reached out and placed her hand under her son’s nose.
No, it couldn't be. Surely not.
The fear was sudden and irrational, yet it was a palpable terror.
And fortunately.
…He’s alive.
Feeling his breath against her hand, she slumped against the bed and let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't dead. That fact alone made her feel as though she might burst into tears.
Though there was still a long way to go before they were out of the woods, the emotional turbulence was overwhelming.
It was as if she were reaffirming her will, arming herself with a newfound resolve.
Carefully, so as not to wake her son, she stood up. Managing her trembling legs with great effort, she made her way into the bathroom.
It’ll be a disaster if I slip and fall. I have to be as careful as possible…
Being careful didn't guarantee she wouldn't fall, but she knew that if she ended up in the emergency room now, it would be a total catastrophe. She did her best to prevent any accidents.
Calculating every possible risk, she finally stepped into the shower booth. She closed her eyes as the hot water poured over her.
…Should I buy the emergency contraceptive pill first, then get something for my son to eat? Given how many times we did it, he’s going to be exhausted.
As she stood under the cascading water, her eyes instinctively drifted downward.
Only then did she see her own face reflected.
The corners of her mouth were turned up. Her eyes were open as usual, but she could see the lingering heat within her pupils.
Her cheeks were flushed a deep, beautiful crimson, a healthy glow that had spread across her entire body.
Because of that radiance, her already youthful face looked even younger.
Realizing it was a sort of "afterglow," she stopped the hand that had been moving to wash herself.
I am…
Her thoughts cut off, and her eyes trembled. A sudden surge of nausea scraped at her throat, forcing her to freeze and gasp for air.
What have I done?
It was disgusting. There was self-loathing, but beyond the sense of depravity, there was also a beckoning pleasure and joy.
The sex she had enjoyed after so long had been pleasurable. It truly had been. Even if her partner hadn't been her son, she wouldn't have been able to enjoy it with a clear conscience, but reflecting on the fact that it was her son…
She felt disgusted with herself.
She had personally violated her lovely, precious child—a child she wanted to see find a good woman and build a peaceful, ordinary family.
Furthermore, she had defiled him, turning him into a pervert who lusted after his own mother.
The realization brought a wave of shame. All the excuses she had used were forgotten, and she collapsed in the shower booth, weeping.
Muttering apologies to no one in particular, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and hugged herself tightly.
She desperately wanted to apologize, to atone.
Even if it was to save her child’s life, the fact that she had defiled him would never disappear.
And yet, separate from her desire to apologize and atone…
She didn't want to regret her actions or wish they hadn't happened.
There was still work to be done. Her eyes shifted toward the numbers.
[Son Kang Yu-jin’s Ejaculation Count toward Mother Lee Seon-mi: 35/100]
There were 65 times left. She couldn't remember what the number was before she lost consciousness.
But 65 remained. Conscious of the semen still leaking from her pussy, she forced herself up on trembling legs.
My son, my precious son.
Her gaze drifted toward the bed beyond the closed bathroom door before returning.
Mom will definitely save you.
Despite the surging self-hatred, revulsion, depravity, and guilt, she knew what she had to do.
My consciousness was hazy. It was only after lying there for a long time with my eyes closed, replaying everything, that I finally remembered what I had done.
Right. I… I had sex with my mother.
And it wasn't just sex. It wasn't something that could be excused as crossing the line while drunk.
My reason might have been clouded, and I might have barely been conscious, but it was definitely not something that could be described as just "happening."
It was the opposite. I had lost my mind, yet I had chosen, through my own thorough will, to have sex with my mother.
I had buried my cock deep inside my mother’s pussy, not caring if she got pregnant.
No, rather, with the hope that she would get pregnant, I had poured my semen into my mother’s uterus to my heart's content.
Into the very uterus where I was conceived, where my eldest noona was conceived, where Kang Yu-min was conceived, and even where Yu-ri was conceived.
Into the place that was once my shelter and my home, I had poured my filthy semen without restraint.
It was loathsome. I loathed myself, and the wickedness with which I had exploited my mother’s kindness.
Even though my mother had said it was what she wanted, that didn't absolve me of my guilt.
A proper son would have rejected such a temptation and refused to give in…
But I couldn't.
Even though I thought I might just be a substitute for my father, or that she was simply using me to satisfy her lust.
I had succumbed to the desire of the moment and surrendered to her. While doing things I should never have done with my mother, I had poured my semen into her over and over again, knowing full well she might end up with a child.
I wanted to die. I didn't actually want to stop living, but emotionally, I felt like I wanted to die.
I couldn't understand how things had turned out this way. Was I always such a piece of trash?
My eyes trembled with a vague sense of disappointment as I opened them.
I froze, unable to say a word, staring blankly at the vast field of white snow spread out before me.
"Are you awake?"
My mother was there, lying naked and looking at me.
It went without saying that my gaze was no longer that of a son looking at his mother.
No man can look at a woman he has just shared an intense, lover-like sexual encounter with in the same way as before.
And since I was just an ordinary man, I groaned at the unspeakable impulses and emotions that surged within me the moment I saw her.
Even setting that aside, my mother was startlingly beautiful.
Her half-exposed breasts transitioned into smooth, flawless skin. The pleasant, soft scent of soap—likely from a recent shower—mingled with the unique, comforting scent of a woman’s body.
The sight of her lying on her stomach, hugging a pillow…
It was beautiful, yet it reminded me so vividly of what I had done that I completely forgot what I was going to say.
"Son?"
"…Ah, yes. Mom."
For a split second, I sensed a mix of relief and disappointment in her eyes. I was afraid because I didn't know the reason, yet I felt like I could guess, so I desperately ignored it and spoke.
"Mom… I guess you’ve been awake for a while."
"Yes, a little while."
Her skin, clean from the water, felt cool against mine. Her hair, which still held a hint of dampness, spilled over the pillow; even though it was tied up as usual, it felt different.
She looked comfortable, yet vulnerable—disheveled in a way that was unlike her usual self.
I stared at her, wondering what I should say.
"Are you hungry?"
As if reading my worries, she spoke to me first.
My concerns didn't vanish, but at least I could stop showing them for the moment.
"A little, I think. But what time is it now…?"
"5:12 AM. You can sleep a bit more."
"I’ll eat first and then sleep."
"If you’re going to eat, do it in thirty minutes."
It was a very motherly thing to say. It was just that hearing it while she was naked after sex made it feel incredibly strange.
The advice itself was something she would normally give.
I barely managed a nod. My mother frowned slightly as if her body was stiff, then sat up.
"I bought some things. Eat."
"Ah, when did you…?"
"An hour before you woke up."
"Ah."
I thought she had just woken up and showered, but that wasn't it.
Realizing that made me feel strange.
"So… you showered, went out to buy food… and then took your clothes off again?"
It was because of the fact I had just voiced.
One might think that after coming to her senses following the act, she would feel that this was wrong, but she had simply returned to my side and taken her clothes off as if nothing had happened.
Did she not feel the same confusion or self-loathing that I did?
Did she feel nothing but desire or love for me from beginning to end, such that shame didn't even exist?
And what about the consequences?
What if she suddenly got pregnant from the semen I ejaculated into her uterus? How would she explain that to the people around her?
Even if she found a way to get an illegal abortion, what about our relationship after that?
How would we explain ourselves to others?
We didn't know how long we could keep this a secret, or how well I could hide it.
As if to dismiss my worries, a soft hand suddenly touched my cheek.
"Then, would you have preferred it if Mom put on her clothes and acted like nothing happened?"
The words flowed out just as my thoughts were reaching an extreme.
As I listened in silence, I found I had no rebuttal.
My mother was always like that. With just a single word or a small action, she could silence me and bring me to a realization.
She was someone worthy of respect and adoration, a truly great person. She was a world-class ballerina and a wonderful mother.
Even if my eldest noona might not agree, she was that to me.
"…No."
It was the same now. If my mother had put on her clothes and acted perfectly composed as if nothing had happened, I would have felt betrayed and carried an even greater sense of guilt for participating in the act.
I would have tried to ignore the fact that we had crossed the line, yet I would have continued to look at her with those eyes, chasing the intense pleasure that remained in my body.
I would have suffered alone, thinking that she might not want this.
My mother had acted this way because she knew I would be like that. Since we both crossed the line, we should take responsibility together.
She was telling me I didn't need to worry or suffer alone.
Seeing that, even in this situation—even after we had crossed the line as mother and son and finished a rough sexual encounter—my mother was still my mother.
And so, leaning on her benevolence, I wiped away all my worries at once and accepted the triangular kimbap she naturally handed to me.
"That alone isn't a balanced meal, so eat this and this too."
She followed it up with a salad and a hot bar, telling me to eat it for protein.
As expected, even in this situation, my mother was still my mother.
That was a great relief.
Though our relationship would change completely from this point on, as long as I was with her, there would be no problems.
Or rather, I desperately hoped that would be the case.