Fourteen Appointments
The morning after the Special Worship Service.
A message had arrived from Pastor Kim Soyeon.
A call came through right after.
"It's fourteen, right?"
"Yes."
"And they all truly mean to go through with it?"
"I asked them again. I told them if they'd only raised their hands because they got swept up in the moment, they didn't have to do anything."
I sat up in bed.
"And?"
"Every one of them says it's her own decision."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Fourteen.
The number felt entirely different as a figure on a page than it did when I actually tried to picture that many human beings.
"Hyunwoo."
"Yes."
"But not all at once."
"That would kill me, too."
Kim Soyeon laughed over the line.
"That's why I've divided up the schedule."
Three on Tuesday. Three on Wednesday. Three on Thursday. Three on Friday. Two on Saturday. Fourteen in all.
The times were set as well. Three in the afternoon. Six in the evening. Nine at night. Only Saturday kept the earlier two slots, three and six o'clock.
Every meeting would take place at my apartment.
Kim Soyeon would deliver the address and time to each woman separately.
"And I'll send you their contact information."
A short while later, names and numbers arrived in a tidy column on my phone.
Scrolling down the screen, I muttered.
"This looks like a hospital appointment sheet."
"Stop joking around."
"I'm just nervous, that's all."
"And remember this."
Kim Soyeon's voice turned serious.
"Just because they come doesn't mean they owe you anything. Talk with them first—and if they've changed their mind, send them home."
"I understand."
"You're the one who started all this, Hyunwoo."
"Yes."
"So don't you go making it into something ugly."
The call ended.
I stared at those fourteen names for a long while. Then I opened the refrigerator. Eggs. Chicken breast. Milk. Bottled water.
"...I really do need to start on protein."
What I'd always treated as a joke had become my reality.
Tuesday. 2:53 in the afternoon.
Ding-dong—
The first visitor arrived earlier than expected.
I opened the door. It was the woman who had raised her hand first yesterday. At church she'd seemed remarkably composed, but standing in front of my apartment, her face was tight with nerves.
"Hello."
"Come in."
She spent an eternity fussing with her shoes in the entryway.
I didn't take her straight to the bedroom. I seated her in the living room, poured her a glass of water first, and asked.
"Why were you the first to raise your hand yesterday?"
She considered it for a moment.
"I was curious."
"About what?"
"About how even Pastor Kim could change like that."
That reason was more than enough for me.
We talked for quite a long time. And in the end, she was the one who said it first.
"I'm ready."
I pulled the female congregant into my arms—a woman whose name I hadn't even learned yet—and began to suckle her ear. I worked her earlobe between my lips, top and bottom, traced my tongue down the line of her throat, and buried my face against her clothed breasts.
"Mm... ngh......♡"
She let out a husky moan, and I laid her down on the floor. Pushing her skirt up and rolling her stockings down, I hooked one of her legs over my arm, shoved her panties aside, and licked her clit with slow, meticulous care. There was a faintly sour scent at first, but her flowing wetness soon washed it away.
Then I drew her pussy into my mouth, sucking greedily, thrusting my tongue in and out.
"Ahh—!!!!! Hah...."
She trembled, her body twisting little by little. With my pants shoved down and my face burning, I said,
"This is a god's gift."
And then—like driving a fist hard into someone's stomach—I used nothing but my hips and thrust in, hard.
"Ghhh!!!"
"Hah........"
"Ah.....!!!!"
"Ah.....!!!!"
"Ah..... how!!!!!
"Ah.....!!!!"
"Ah.....!!!!"
"Ah.....!!!!"
Her eyes flew wide like a startled rabbit's, then squeezed tightly shut, tears spilling as though she'd lost herself entirely—and all she could manage was moan after moan.
"Ah....nh...!!"
"Oh... ahhk....!!!!"
"Hah...!!"
"Ah.....ahn♡"
"Ah.....♡"
"Ah.....♡"
All the while, as her body rocked up and down with every thrust, I stripped her clothes away and flung her underwear aside, attending to her with focus and devotion. She clung to me even tighter, moaning like something gone mad, and I muffled those cries with kiss after kiss.
And then I gathered her up as she clung to me, lifting her legs into both my arms, and carried her to the bed.
And so I gained my fourth follower.
When it was over, she lay on the bed staring blankly for a long while. Then she closed her eyes and said,
"...So that's what it really means."
I laughed.
"Heaven, you mean?"
Blushing to her ears, she nodded.
A little past five o'clock, the first woman went home. I showered right away, straightened the bedding, opened the windows, drank some water, and ate a quick meal.
What was I, some kind of whore...
No.
A gigolo. That was the feeling.
And yet the fact that I got to feast on women this delectable still felt like an outright dream.
And then, six o'clock. The second.
Nine at night. The third.
After the last visitor left that night, I lay right down on the living room floor.
"This is insane......."
I stared up at the ceiling. Three. Three in a single day was far harder than I'd imagined. Counting the conversation time, I had spent practically the entire day attending to people, one after another.
But one thing was certain: all three had been completely different. The first had been careful and cautious. The second had kept asking questions right up until the moment we began. The third, if anything, had been bolder than I was—and her body was astonishingly springy.
And they had one thing in common. All three wore a different expression walking out of my apartment than they had walking in.
Wednesday. Three more. Three o'clock. Six. Nine.
From that day on, I made myself a rule: whoever came, we would talk for at least thirty minutes first. About why she had raised her hand. About whether she truly wanted this. About what she thought of the things I preached.
In that process, I learned something for the first time. Not everyone had raised a hand because they believed in me. Some were simply curious about men. Some trusted Kim Soyeon. Some wondered why Ma Hyunju and Jeong Areum's attitudes had changed so abruptly. And then there was the one who said, point-blank:
"I still don't believe you're a god, Hyunwoo."
She said it straight to my face.
Oddly enough, I liked it.
"That's the normal reaction."
"Doesn't that hurt your feelings?"
"If you believed me on the strength of a single sentence, that would be far stranger."
Only then did she laugh.
That night, too, she spoke just before leaving my place.
"I still don't know whether you're a god."
"Yes."
"But I'll come to the next gathering."
That was more than enough.
Thursday. After the ninth visitor went home, my body began to grow heavy. I had never in my life kept up so disciplined a regimen.
By Friday morning, my lower back was stiff. Climbing out of bed, I muttered.
"So even becoming a god isn't for just anyone."
But when three o'clock arrived, the doorbell rang yet again. The tenth.
Six o'clock, the eleventh. Nine o'clock, the twelfth.
The visitors grew more and more distinct from one another. One barely said a word. One had copied my entire sermon into a notebook and brought it along. One hurled jokes at me from the very first moment. One, once she was actually inside my home, trembled so hard with nerves that her hands shook.
Only then did I understand. I wasn't acquiring fourteen 'followers.' I was acquiring fourteen people. Each with her own thoughts. Her own desires. Even her own shade of faith. If I ignored that truth and reduced them to nothing but a number, I could see how it might one day go badly wrong.
And then came Saturday. The last day.
At three o'clock, Ma Hyunju came and went. She was far more candid than the first time—and even told me to finish in her mouth next round. There was a far bawdier side to her than I'd expected.
At six, Jeong Areum arrived. Perhaps it was payback for the contorted position we'd managed in that café restroom, but on a proper bed, Jeong Areum was spectacularly lively—like a live fish straight from the tank. And she was a raving nympho. From the second round onward, she seemed to draw out, little by little, the self she had hidden away. Or perhaps kept carefully buried.
Jeong Areum didn't leave until well after dark. Once the door closed behind her, I stood in the entryway for a long moment.
Five days. Fourteen people. Every woman of Somang Church had now lain with me, each in her own way.
I returned to the living room and collapsed onto the sofa. Before long, my phone buzzed. It was Kim Soyeon.
Then the phone rang.
"Is everyone all right?"
"Yes."
"Any of them regretting it?"
"Not yet."
A brief silence. Then Kim Soyeon said,
"So what will you do tomorrow?"
Sunday. Exactly one week since I first stepped into Somang Church.
I thought for a moment. Until now, I had met them one at a time. But things were different now. A small church of fifteen. Pastor included, that entire community knew my story. And tomorrow, they would all gather again in one space.
I rose slowly to my feet.
"Pastor."
"Yes."
"Starting tomorrow, may I deliver the sermon myself?"
The line went quiet. Then, after a moment, Kim Soyeon asked,
"What exactly do you intend to talk about?"
I laughed.
"It's time we talked about what comes after Somang Church."
"If it's you, go ahead. I believe in you now, too."
"Thank you."
"By the way—you're still going to send me to Heaven, aren't you?"
"I... what?"
"What are you waiting for? Get over to my place right now. My pussy is already soaked."
"Ah... I'm, uh, a little worn out, though..."
"Do you have any idea how much I held back and endured while you were sending all those followers to Heaven? Come this instant!"
"Ah... as if I could refuse. Hahahaha..."
I got ready to head for the pastor's residence. And I thought: Somang Church was only a beginning.
If I had gained one church, then the question was what came next—
Another religion? Or an expansion to yet more churches?