Indifference Over Malice
They say indifference is scarier than bad reviews. Flip that around and it means even bad reviews count as attention. Haeun’s channel, after drawing so much aggro, got mentioned in every community overnight. Most of the posts were just people cursing me, her, or her fans, but who cares? We never tried to hide anything in the first place.
“Anyway, thank you all. I’ll turn it on again if I get the chance.”
While I lay sprawled on the bed scrolling through my phone, Haeun somehow wrapped up the stream, sweat pouring down her face. I wondered how many new posts had gone up by now. One thing was certain: today’s spike in recognition was bigger than everything she’d built before.
She’d earned herself a weird new label—“the cosplayer who cut her stream the second her live-in boyfriend came home, fucked him, then turned the camera back on like nothing happened”—but it wasn’t a crime. She wasn’t an idol or a camgirl. The people who wanted to hate her had never cared about her to begin with. Sure, some of her hardcore fans probably had ulterior motives, but it was better to shake those off early. Stalkers were a hassle.
“Good work.”
“Yeah… I’m exhausted.”
Once the stream ended, Haeun trudged over to the bed and collapsed beside me. I kissed the back of her neck, pulled her into my arms from behind, and kept scrolling through the communities I’d been checking earlier. Thanks to people clipping and reposting her stream, one of the popular posts now featured a clear shot of her chest. The comments were mostly horny remarks and guys saying how jealous they were of her boyfriend.
Still wrapped in my arms, Haeun suddenly turned her head, looked at me with a strange little smile, and whispered, “Everyone’s saying they’re so jealous of you.”
“Can’t blame them.”
“…I didn’t even brew any special broth or anything.”
“Where the hell did you learn that phrase?”
“Last time I collabed with that YouTuber.”
No matter what attitude Haeun put on, attractive women naturally drew attention. It couldn’t be helped. Still, she didn’t seem the least bit sorry for her thirsty fans. She just kept smirking at me. Reading her intent, I slid my hand under her shirt and cupped her breast. The soft bra felt nice, but nothing beat bare skin, so I pushed further in, gently kneading the plush flesh.
Her smile deepened, eyes curving. “Imagine how jealous they’d be if they knew you were like this with Hinami too.”
“…If they found out, it wouldn’t stop at jealousy.”
That was the line no one was allowed to cross. Or rather, it was the public’s line, not mine. A retired baseball player dating the team owner’s daughter wasn’t that big a deal. People only got excited because she looked so lewd and I was built like a tank. But Hinami and Seo Jia were different. The same guys drooling over me now would lose their minds the second they realized what had happened in this apartment and the one upstairs.
“If they weren’t jealous, how do you think they’d react?”
“They’d want to kill me. Why even ask?”
Some would worship me. Others would want to string me up. But I had no desire to be worshipped or hanged. I was far too selfish and picky for that. I wanted to enjoy the public’s attention and inferiority complexes while feeling superior, but I didn’t want to get stoned to death by them either. After all, I was one of them. They didn’t throw stones at celebrities out of any real sense of responsibility. So if they had the right to hurl rocks at me, I had every right to sneer and spit back. It was a clean, mutual exchange. We gave them something to chew on; they gave us a superiority we could never feel on our own. Perfectly fair.
“…You like getting hated on anyway, Juhyuk.”
“There’s a difference between getting hated on as a joke and getting hated on for real.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. The horny comments we’re seeing now are just jokes. A couple of guys with loose screws having a laugh. But if you dig through the comments that’ll pile up later, you’ll find the serious ones.”
Among the crowd were people who didn’t throw stones—they threw bombs. The type who lived to dig up dirt and drag someone into ruin, or the ones who felt personally betrayed by Haeun and had gone completely dark. Those were dangerous. There was a clear difference between people who enjoyed throwing rocks and people who only felt satisfied once someone was dead.
“Haa… Why do people love watching someone fall apart so much?”
“It’s fun.”
“What is?”
“Watching someone who used to stand at the very top come crashing down right next to you.”
“…”
The irony was that she and I were no different. I’d gone crazy with excitement the moment Hinami, someone I could never have reached, willingly fell into my lap. Even Haeun, who had zero interest in women, had accepted a threesome after seeing the great idol crawl beneath her. And when I shattered the untouchable painting that was Seo Jia, my feelings had probably been identical to the crowd’s when they buried someone alive—disgusting, ugly, violently filthy. I knew it was wrong, but I never thought it needed to be erased.
“…I feel like I’ve climbed pretty high too. Do you want to see me fall?”
“No.”
“Why? You said it was fun.”
“If you fall, I fall with you.”
“Huu…”
…If I’d never felt that way to begin with, I wouldn’t be here with her now. I might not have even started playing baseball. What motivation could a man who felt no thrill from crushing someone else possibly find in a simple game of catch?
“Then if I ever go down… will you fall with me?”
“Yeah.”
“…That’s surprisingly refreshing.”
The same went for her. Someone without the courage to fall together had no right to push anyone else down. I didn’t see it as responsibility. I saw it as karma.
“Haa, then… knock me down right now.”
“What?”
“Do it like you did with Yeeun. Trample on a woman’s dignity, use her body like an onahole, ruin me however you want with that cock of yours.”
“…”
“You did it to my sister. Can’t do it to me?”
So I didn’t mind at all when she touched my phone or went through my computer. I was the one who had turned her into this.
“Ah……♡”
Pressed beneath my hard body, she let out that sweet voice, lifting her hips without being told, showing me that abnormal obsession. Everything about her was exactly to my taste. Without this twisted affection, I could never be satisfied again.
**
“Ugh… ugh……!”
Breathing was difficult. My eyes were open, but I couldn’t name the colors in my vision. It wasn’t blurry or sharp—it was simply that my brain had lost the ability to understand. All my thoughts were devoted to pleasing Master’s cock.
“Ha, fuck…”
As always, he cursed while slamming his hips against my ass, pouring out his lust. The only difference from usual was the hand around my neck. Normally I wore a choker, so the collar replaced it.
“Haah, ha…ah… M-Master…♡”
“You fucking bitch, from earlier…”
Of course, he wasn’t always violent during sex. After work, when he came into the bathroom looking a little tired, I’d already have warm water and bath salts ready. He’d smile, sink into the tub, and wait for me. The sex we had then was so gentle it was almost warm—nothing like now.
“Ha, fuck… Seo Haeun.”
“Yes… M-Master…”
“If you ever fuck another guy, I’ll lock you up. Be careful.”
“Okay… ngh……!”
He didn’t show his obsession. He didn’t show his anxiety. He simply took my presence for granted.
“Ugh… ock… ooh……♡”
That was why I loved violent sex so much. It let me feel his obsession with me, exactly as deep as mine for him.
“Ock, ooh… huu…”
I loved it when he filmed my lewd appearance too. It was both the weakness he held over me and the weakness he offered me in return. The moment either of us betrayed the other, we would both be destroyed.
“Huu… Seo Haeun. Haeun-ah…”
“…Juh…yuk…ah…”
We ruined each other, carved wounds into one another, wrote our names inside those wounds. I loved this relationship so much. Men on the street, men on the same bus, even my friends’ stares—my body had only ever been something for them to ogle. He was the one who gave it value.
“…Even if you get pregnant later, take care of your body. I’m still gonna fuck you like crazy once the kid’s born…”
“…Yes, Master……♥ Ock, ooh……♥”
…All the joy of being a woman, all the identity of being a female—he was the one who taught me that.