Han Ju-ae
February 12th, Wednesday, 10 a.m.
After a thoroughly enjoyable round of sex with Emily and Ji-yu in their cosplay outfits, I had dozed off for a while and woken around nine. I stepped out to the sea and was walking along the shore when Hyeon-ju’s call came through midway.
At first I assumed it was just a report that the marriage registration had gone through without a hitch. The content that reached my ears was nothing of the sort.
I had told Hyeon-ju it did not matter whether my legal mother on the family register was Jo Eun-kyung or Park Yu-mi, yet a sense of betrayal still boiled up into uncontrollable rage.
Rage without a clear target.
Jini, do not activate Mental Protection.
Understood, Kim Ian. Your thoughts will not function properly under rage, but keep in mind that what is happening right now is nothing at all.
I tried to think coldly, yet the head heated by anger refused to obey. In the end the greatest culprits were my biological father and mother, but on second thought that had been the best choice available to them.
Father was rich, so they must have decided it was better to put me on that register.
The household had not been grindingly poor, yet even Eun-hee’s university tuition had been a burden. If they had only been as well-off as Hyeon-ju’s family next door, Mother would have put me on her own register.
The real problem was why they had kept lying about it all this time. Hyeon-ju and Eun-hee had clearly known nothing. Ignorance was still a sin, of course, yet the rage now boiling inside me rightly belonged to my late maternal grandmother and my maternal uncles.
Those sons of bitches…
There had been no particular damage. Even with Mother listed as Park Yu-mi, school life had never been hindered; nothing about my school years had been obstructed. The only real issue was that I myself had lived without knowing the truth.
What an idiot.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you? Standing there on the beach all by yourself striking some dramatic pose?”
Mental Protection.
I could not vent the rising fury on my women, who were completely innocent. So I activated Mental Protection and felt the heat settle almost at once.
It really is nothing, when you look at it that way.
The rage that had surged up had been nothing more than the betrayal of having been deceived. Myeong-hak and the rest would have shrugged it off as trivial. Thinking with a clear head, there was not a single thing Myeong-hak’s side could have gained from it. Whether the mother was Jo Eun-kyung or Park Yu-mi, I still never got to see her; compared to the act of hiding me from Mother herself, this was nothing.
“Hm? Ah… just got some news that left me blank for a second. It’s nothing.”
“Honey? Really?”
I nodded and wrapped both of their waists tightly in my arms. It truly was nothing, yet I had burned so much energy on rage that I let out a short laugh and continued walking the beach, savoring the envious glances around us.
I lifted my phone and found Michael’s American number. Ji-yu and Emily, noticing my steps had slowed, linked arms and chattered away together. I smiled faintly and dialed Michael.
“Dude. What’s up?”
“I’ve got a favor, Michael.”
The only person I could think of who actually lived in L.A. was Michael. Ours was a brief acquaintance, and he still owed me, so I was certain he would help with whatever I asked to the best of his ability.
“Oh… my little sisters? Got a firm yes. They were happy to hear there’s a man who can handle them. Sent photos by email—check them out.”
Black women…
Of course I was curious about pure black women as dark as Michael, and about mixed coffee-colored ones as well. But this was not the time for that kind of talk, so I went straight to the point.
“No… can you find some people for me in L.A.?”
“Huh? Koreans?”
“Yeah. Two Korean-Americans and one Korean. Kim Ji-suk and Park Yu-mi are a married couple, plus a woman named Jo Eun-kyung.”
Whether they were still married was uncertain. But they had definitely been a couple once, so I phrased it that way, and while I was at it I decided I might as well look for Mother too, so I gave her name as well.
“Hmm… text me everything you know. I’ll give it a shot. That all?”
“Yeah. I’ve actually got the will to go to America on the 19th now. Look forward to it. How many people need treatment?”
“Mm, seven. The women currently with Father make six.”
Five percent each—thirty-five percent total. A Vitality Pill would refill that stamina in no time. Since I had already asked a favor, I figured that if I was going to meet Michael for several days anyway, I might as well settle everything in one go.
“Bring them all that day. I’ll treat them. In exchange, put some real effort into finding those people.”
“For real? OK. There’s a Korean among Father’s women, so I’ll start digging from that side… Thanks, dude.”
“Ah, and I’ve got an American license. Think you could arrange a vehicle for me?”
“Hmm, can you ride a motorcycle?”
A motorcycle was even more familiar than a car. I had been riding without a license since sophomore year of high school.
“Yeah. Why?”
“L.A. is traffic hell, man. Seoul’s nothing compared to this place. A bike’ll be better.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Michael hung up. I texted Eun-hee asking her to send the three people’s resident registration numbers. The reply came almost at once; I forwarded it straight to Michael.
I was going to just let it go, but since I’m heading to L.A. anyway I might as well meet them… see how they’re living.
We spent the day wandering the city center of Busan on a date and only headed back to Seoul after dinner. It was nearly eleven at night by the time we entered Seodaemun-gu. I checked the text A-jeong had sent around nine and the one Kang Ho had sent around ten, and found a target for my remaining anger.
“Emily, just keep going straight for now. When I tell you to stop, drop me off, then wake Ji-yu and head up together.”
“Huh? Yes, Honey.”
The car never left the overpass leading toward Geumran Tunnel and simply continued through it. I stroked Ji-yu’s hair as she slept with her head on my knee and sank into thought. After a U-turn at the intersection the car stopped in front of the apartment complex where I used to live. I carefully lowered Ji-yu’s head, opened the passenger door, and exchanged a few words with Emily.
“Emily. Thanks. Drive carefully. Tell Jeong-mi absolutely not to let Hye-yun and the others know.”
“Yes? …I can still hear about it later, right?”
I nodded. Emily unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned toward the passenger side with her lips pouted, and I gave a short laugh before lightly kissing them and closing the door.
Then I walked through the apartment complex I had once found so sickening—seeing it again after five years—passed Hyeon-ju’s place, and climbed toward A-jeong’s unit.
I completely revised the leisurely plan I had been considering. Right now the only thought filling my head was that I needed to vent this anger on Han Ju-ae immediately. She was a woman I could treat that way without reservation.
She was Hyeong-cheol’s mother, and in her case she was also the one who had driven a wedge between A-jeong and me. A-jeong might have become Rank 1 wife and Hye-yun Rank 2; this woman had twisted that fate. And A-jeong had conveniently handed me the justification.
I looked up at A-jeong’s unit, glanced briefly at the neighboring door that had once been mine, then pulled a mask from subspace and put it on.
Pain Reduction, Pleasure Transfer: Off.
Cold rage?
I had thought the phrase made no sense, yet after the boiling fury subsided the residual emotion remained, and now I found myself thinking with perfect rationality about how to inflict even greater suffering.
I would pretend to be a robber, rape her while causing pain, and spend the entire day taming her.
I had not originally intended to go as far as rape, but this anger needed an outlet, and three suitable women had conveniently appeared. Once I finished with Ju-ae—A-jeong’s mother—and the two teacher bitches, the rage would probably be gone.
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.
Six tones rang out, followed by a click and a light on the door lock, then a soft electronic chime. I gripped the handle and pushed. The interior reeked of alcohol.
Just in case, I checked the living room; every curtain was drawn tight. I stepped carefully around the soju bottles rolling on the floor and the dried squid skins, surveying the space.
A family photo caught my eye first—pretty A-jeong’s face. Her looks fell just short of Hye-yun or Ji-yu, yet she was still a stunning beauty; standing next to Hyeon-jin or Hye-rim she would not lose. She was still young, after all.
Then the irritating face of Hyeong-cheol, the uncle, and Ju-ae’s face that so strongly resembled A-jeong.
The TV was off. She had clearly been drinking here, yet Ju-ae herself was nowhere in sight. I approached what looked like the master bedroom and opened the door. A strong smell of liquor and the sound of heavy breathing confirmed it; I closed the door again and stepped back out.
A-jeong must have been waiting anxiously; the reply came the instant I sent the message. I also texted Kang Ho a quick thanks.
Even a sleeping pill.
I was hardly in a position to criticize, given what I was about to do, but the guy was a real piece of work. He had gone so far as to drug her and apparently do more…
I ended the call and, now reassured, began stripping. The carefully drawn curtains in the living room had clearly been another of Kang Ho’s bitch-dog tasks.
Once naked I approached the master bedroom, heart thudding. A flicker of guilt toward A-jeong rose, but A-jeong and Hyeong-cheol were separate matters. To take proper revenge on Hyeong-cheol I had to turn Ju-ae into a bitch.
I gripped the door handle again and opened it.
Creeeak.
As I had noticed earlier, the lights were on bright and the balcony-side curtains were meticulously closed. The problem was the cameras—four of them—and the stack of tapes sitting on the vanity.
Crazy…
Fully inside the room I spotted one more camera: side angle, diagonal from the head, diagonal from below, and one aimed straight up from the foot of the bed—four cameras trained on the mattress.
A-jeong’s mother lay under the blanket wearing a sleep mask. The heavy breathing I thought I had heard earlier had been a mishearing.
A ball gag.
She was exhaling through a ball gag; the sound of air whistling through the holes was what I had taken for snoring. A soft shhhk-shhhk continued, and the blanket over her legs rose in a distinct bulge—knees bent and held up.
I picked up the topmost tape from the vanity. My own handwriting was on it.
Owner, you didn’t seem prepared for filming, so I set everything up. Take the cameras too.
I snorted and looked at the label on the tape itself.
February 12, 2003 — First Sex with Bitch Han Ju-ae
…Yeah, I had completely forgotten about this part.
I carried the four tapes around, loading each camera, then took the remote and approached the bed. I seized the blanket and yanked it completely off.
“Holy shit…”
Her thighs and calves were bound with thick leather straps. She could not straighten her legs at all. In that position they were forced wide open, wrists chained to ankles with metal links.
And the secret place now fully exposed.
A bare pussy… a completely bare pussy.
Was a bare pussy really that common?
No shaving marks—natural bare skin. I summoned two talismans from subspace and stuck one to her belly. They melted away with a soft hiss.
If the depilation talisman left any underarm hair I could simply reapply it. The dark-red labia minora would soon turn clean as well.
I gazed at the C-cup breasts rising and falling with her breathing while her legs stayed spread wide, then sat down between them. I gripped my fully erect cock, pressed it against her cleft, and parted the folds until the tip found her entrance.
“Auntie, blame your son Hyeong-cheol for this.”
I pointed the remote at each camera in turn and pressed record. The machines whirred to life. I partially transformed my vocal cords so a slightly sleazy voice emerged.
I checked the sleep mask—no gap underneath at all—then adjusted my mask. She would never see my face, but the cameras were rolling.
Now there’s zero chance she’ll ever learn my identity. I’ll keep violating her like this until tomorrow afternoon… until she’s drowning in pleasure…
“Heh heh. Walked into a house tonight and found some auntie passed out drunk. So I tied up the auntie who was only wearing a nightgown like she was begging me to eat her. Everyone watch carefully.”
I performed for the cameras in that sleazy voice. Then I hooked my left arm under her bound legs, gripped my cock, and thrust hard.
Squelch.
Only then did she seem to wake; she thrashed with muffled “mmph-mmph!” sounds. I spoke down at her.
“Hey. Finally awake? What kind of auntie sleeps through getting completely tied up… heh, works for me though…”
“Mmph-mmph!!!!!”
Drool leaked from the ball gag. Her upper body jerked up then slammed back into the mattress; her arms jerked against the chains.
I grinned.
The trembling of her body told me exactly how much pain she was in, and the sensation only made the residual anger drain away more satisfyingly. On top of that, though she fell just short of Hyeon-ju, she was clearly a myeong-gi—her walls clamped down hard around my cock, which only increased my satisfaction.
Revenge and a rare treasure at the same time—killing two birds with one stone. I began thrusting faster.
If my theory that myeong-gi is hereditary is correct… then A-jeong will definitely be one too. Of course Hyeong-cheol might have strong stamina, but…
“Mmph!!!!”