SSS-Grade Chewy Pussy – Grant Takeoff Permission?
"These fucking idiots are Korea's mystical sorcerers? What a disgrace."
I muttered to myself while stabbing a straw into a KGB—a gay-exclusive booze—and sipping it. Lately, I'd taken a beating left and right and been running around nonstop, so I was feeling like I needed a break. With the end of November creeping up, I was kicking back, waiting for December to cap off the year with some heat.
Hongdae was already decked out in early Christmas vibes to catch the influencers' eyes, the dazzling decorations so bright they hurt just walking the streets. How long ago was Halloween? These trend-chasers couldn't wait and were already hyping the next event. Christmas is still a month away? Then live that Christmas mood for a whole month, duh.
Maybe Korea's low birth rate stats are bullshit? Night after night, they swarm the streets like moths to a flame, pounding booze and fucking like rabbits—how could the birth rate be that low?
If you rounded up every chick I'd banged in Hongdae this year and threw a mass wedding, you'd hit 10,000 couples easy. Unification Church mass weddings? Total dogshit.
Of course, I'm not out here hating on the influencers' parties. I love booze, women, and gambling too. Just don't have the time or need for it right now.
KBA consolation prize and pay... a grand. About three grand saved up now?
The KBA's big winter horror special got canned. But they acknowledged saving Eom PD and the crew from that pig evil god, so they tossed me a cool grand in consolation. A bit skimpy for over a hundred lives, but hey, consider their side—the show's scrapped.
Scraped together about three grand over months on my own dime, but still a hundred mil short. Next year, pay off Hongdae's big shot, and I'm back to square one, debt-free but broke. Life with debt ain't life, so my second chance hasn't even started.
No wonder I can't get close to booze, women, or gambling. Closest things in my life? Ramen and gukbap, probably.
Lounging on the leather sofa, debating another nap, when a text pinged my phone. Too intriguing for spam, couldn't ignore it.
"Can't pass up a free creampie right now."
Even free, they say. Nothing beats the joy and relief of something free that dumps your built-up stress. But this tempting site wasn't easy—demanded my personal info and address. Free, though, so I plugged 'em in.
Ping—new text.
"Oh yeah, house call service? Insane."
Elite service for the privileged, now for a pleb like me. Should've set up the office smack in Gangnam to flex.
Debating a shower when—knock knock knock on the office door. Already here? Opened up: empty hall, just a letter on the waiting chair.
Ripped it open: neatly folded note inside.
November 30th, 11:30 PM – Gwangmyeong-si, Gyeonggi-do, Doseoksan Camping Ground, Cabin 3
Up to 2 guests allowed (men only)
No entry fee
"......"
Shoved the note in my pocket quick—no one spotting this. Can't drag a woman into this.
Dialed S-man pronto.
"You, come with me somewhere."
"Where to this time?"
"Doseoksan Camping Ground, Gwangmyeong-si, Gyeonggi-do. Intel says a hot new encounter's waiting."
"Calling like this means we gotta move soon—when do we head out?"
Glanced at the clock: November 29th, 11:30 PM. Exactly 24 hours.
"Now."
Early bird gets the worm; early mover Han Daeri gets the hookup.
"What about Yonghwa Seonnyeo and the cafeteria kid...?"
"How could mere women grasp the grand ambitions of real men? Ships heading to distant seas never take women aboard—and you wanna drag chicks to Doseoksan?"
"But there's no rule against bringing women to mountains."
"There might be! Ditch that narrow mindset! No point dragging women anyway."
"They holding some idol fan club group meetup or what?"
"Kinda... yeah."
A meetup's a meetup. Left the madwoman and cafeteria kid in Seoul, headed to Gwangmyeong-si.
Korea's winter rivals Russia's, so most tourist spots wrap up in the off-season. But one spot rakes it in year-round: outdoor campgrounds dotting every mountain.
Korea's lousy with mountains—you can't swing a cat without hitting one—and with national hiking fever as a passive trait, campgrounds boom all seasons. Well, warm spring, crisp fall, chilly winter. Summer? Rain, scorching heat, bugs—camping dips.
Chilly winter shines with campfire wood crackling, outdoor grilling, stargazing under clear skies. Humans crave cool when hot, warm when cold. Better than bleak city—cozy, atmospheric campground winter nights win.
Rookies exist, so cabins cater to noobs without gear. Like those school retreat centers at mountain bases. Summer: groups, students, corporate. Winter: casual campers.
Bonus: semi-isolated, perfect for discreet fun. Groups, discreet, pussy. Three magic words fueling male hearts as we roll to paradise.
Remember: groups, discreet, pussy.
"Bottom line: this ain't a job."
"Fact: We've busted ass through 160 chapters of Han Daeri and Supernatural Phenomena Resolution Office chaos. Gotta rest sometime."
"Exactly. But camping this season... might not be what we expect."
"Koreans are mountain-crazy, fact. But winter mountains? Hiking's fun, but camping where you could freeze? Pros only. Too tough for newbies, costs a fortune."
"Camping gear can't be that pricey."
"Not fishing-level, but proper gear? Hundreds of thou easy. For common folk: cold, unfamiliar, all the hassle, low payoff—high barrier leisure."
"But you're no commoner."
"Yep. Grabbed all the camping gear on the way. Department store dared close at midnight—tossed the card, bought it out."
We rolled into Doseoksan Camping Ground like kings. Even a Forestry Service grandpa couldn't stop us now.