Breaking the School Idol Yujin's Pride (4)
Actually, there was no need to lead with something like a deal. But there was a clear reason for going through this cumbersome process.
My ultimate goal wasn't just to ruin Yujin's life. My true aim was for Yujin herself to admit her sin—to acknowledge that she'd falsely accused me—and for her to receive a verdict of innocence from the world.
No, to be more precise, since I was about to be hauled into court and branded a rapist, if I couldn't achieve that goal first, I couldn't pursue any others.
No matter what incredible feats I accomplished with my knowledge of the future, that rapist label would negate everything I'd built and deny my very existence.
I sat back down in the chair. And I played the video I'd just shown Yujin for her again. It didn't seem to faze her. She wasn't even looking.
She didn't seem to grasp why it was a problem, acting like she could bury it no matter what if I leaked it.
Of course, I'd anticipated that reaction. The reason I'd filmed this video—while committing the sin of letting an innocent Nayeon get beaten—was something else entirely.
"Minjun."
Yujin's body, which had been flopping around on the bed like a live fish despite her arms and legs being bound, suddenly went rigid.
I thought maybe she'd finally calmed down and reached out to touch her hand, but as if she'd been waiting for it, Yujin lunged her head toward me.
Her head slammed into my chest. It hurt pretty bad, but I smiled instead. She looked way more pained by it than I was.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!"
"Calm down. Getting mad won't change anything."
With a smile tugging at my lips, I tossed back the words Yujin had mocked me with before my regression—this time, aimed right at her.
Naturally, Yujin wasn't listening. Even bound by cable ties and unable to move, she thrashed toward me like she didn't care. Like a dog on a leash charging forward.
No need for me to deal with a rabid bitch like that.
I sat back down in the chair. And I thought about Minjun, the name I'd just dropped.
A guy in my class. And that's all there was to it. That was everything I knew about Minjun. Even though we were classmates, before my regression, I'd transferred in not long before getting labeled a rapist and outright ostracized in the classroom, so I'd never even had a real conversation with him.
But I knew about Yujin. And I knew what Minjun meant to her.
Yujin had one secret she kept even from her friends: she and Minjun were childhood sweethearts.
Childhood sweethearts who, not long before my regression, would even have a lavish wedding, evolving into husband and wife.
When Yujin's marriage was suddenly announced, not just me but everyone was shocked. Up until then, Yujin—who'd had zero scandals, not even rumors (mostly paired with Minhui that she might be a lesbian)—made it all the more surprising.
She was at the absolute peak of her popularity back then. The kind of era where she made bank just by breathing.
Idols have short careers, so hiding a boyfriend during that time was the smart play, even if you had one.
But the controversy exploded even more because her husband-to-be wasn't some famous male celeb like her, or a chaebol heir, or even a judge, prosecutor, or doctor—just an ordinary cop.
In the early days after the news broke, there were dark rumors swirling: something shady was going on, maybe Yujin was being blackmailed. But Yujin's beaming face full of love for her husband, and the fact that she'd announced it herself—not exposed by paparazzi—quickly quelled the bad press.
The general reaction from the public, excluding her diehard fans, was something like: She really loves him? Well, can't be helped then.
I pictured Minjun from my memories and continued.
"I wonder what Minjun would think of this? From what I know, he's no thug like you—he seems like a good guy who dreams of becoming a cop."
"Mmmph!"
"What would a guy like Minjun think of you if he saw this?"
The moment I finished speaking, Yujin went limp in a way that didn't match her fierce resistance up to that point.
I crossed my legs in the chair, waited a bit, then peeled the duct tape off her mouth.
"So, you in the mood for a deal now?"
"……."
Yujin, who'd buried her face in the bed, slowly lifted her head to look at me. Dead eyes. Looked like I'd hit her weak spot dead-on.
She bit her lip hard and slowly lowered her head again. That was her assent.
"What do I have to do?"
Her voice came muffled from where her face pressed into the bed.
"Simple."
I reached out and squished her cheek hard.
"Right here."
Yujin bared her teeth like she wanted to bite my hand, but she didn't—maybe thinking I'd dodge, or maybe she'd finally broken.
I pointed my finger from her cheek to my still-hard cock.
"This goes in and out."
Her face twisted in disgust, like she'd seen a cockroach.
"Disgusting……."
"So, you gonna do it or not? Your choice. If not, I'll send this video to Minjun's phone right now and leave."
Unlike what I said, Yujin had no real choice. If she didn't want to lose Minjun, she had to do it. She had to suck my dick.
It was just like my trial. At first, it seemed like I had options—guilty or innocent—but it was all an illusion.
And that illusion was key. The fantasy that Yujin herself had chosen to suck my cock.
The school violence video alone wasn't enough insurance against Yujin reporting me. But I couldn't brutally rape her and use that to blackmail her either.
Two reasons.
First, the risk that a cornered Yujin might choose mutual destruction.
Of course, the odds were low. She rated herself sky-high and me rock-bottom—the exact inverse. Self-destruction only works when the underdog attacks the top dog.
But low probability wasn't zero.
If Yujin sued me before I finished my revenge and cleared my name, I'd end up in prison for trespassing, assault, false imprisonment, death threats, and more. My life would end there. The priceless future knowledge in my head—more valuable than diamonds—would rot unseen in some moldy prison corner.
But the real core reason was the second one.
If I forced myself on Yujin, what would set me apart from those four demons?
I don't lie. I keep promises.
I'd vowed to become a devil, but that was one line I wouldn't cross.
So every evil act I'd commit from here on had to stem from their own will.
Thinking about it, it was ridiculous.
How stupid was it to commit far worse crimes just to prove my innocence?
How twisted to respect those bitches' free will while getting revenge to force a sincere apology from the devils who ruined my life?
I let out a small scoff. Yujin's voice snapped me out of it.
"I'll do it, but……."
I finished her sentence for her.
"You want the video deleted, right? Fine. Deal."
Yujin didn't reply. She probably thought I was lying anyway. And even if I deleted the school violence video, she figured I'd just film new ones to blackmail her with—pointless.
"I'm not like you. I don't lie."
She glanced at me. A smirk flickered across her lips, like bullshit.
Didn't matter what she thought. As long as I was clean with myself.
I spun my finger toward the camera on the table.
"Same goes for that. I won't use it to blackmail you. It's just insurance to keep you from reporting me. The day you bitches admit my innocence, I'll delete every last one. Hell, I don't even wanna see your tits later anyway."
Yujin's expression shifted slightly—not quite believing me, but wanting to.
"For real?"
"Yeah."
"Keep your promise."
"I will."
After agonizing over it, Yujin finally seemed resolved. She slowly raised her upper body. Her massive tits sagged slightly under gravity, but their elasticity kept the shape perfect.
A deep, long sigh escaped her, sinking into her cleavage. Then she closed her eyes. And slowly—very slowly—opened her mouth.
"F-fine, I'll do it. F-fucking shit."
Her words were slurred with her mouth wide open, but it was assent.
I stood from the chair and stepped closer. Yujin, her face twisted in humiliation and shame as she stared at the floor, reflexively looked up at the hot presence she felt.
I thrust my cock right in front of her face, close enough for her to smell it. I gazed down at her with cold eyes, hiding my burning desire to wreck her with this dick.
For Yujin—who'd just this afternoon stood on the stairs, arms crossed to flaunt her huge tits while looking down on me—this was unbearable humiliation. Tears welled up in her eyes almost instantly.
Yet in that brief moment, why did she flare her nostrils to sniff my cock, stick out her tongue, and try to touch the tip? Was it just reflex? Or is it some female instinct to react unconsciously to a blowjob, even if she doesn't know what it is?
No clue. And it's too soon to figure it out.
I lifted my cock upward with my hand. Yujin, who'd kept her mouth wide despite the filth of her humiliation, preparing to take it, looked up at me in confusion.
"But there's one condition."
"……Condition?"
"Yeah. You gotta hear me out to the end. Five times."
"Five times?"
Her face twisted in further confusion, like what the hell?
I poked her cheek with my finger, then poked my cock. And leered down at her with a vicious smirk.
"You think you're worth that much? That you can satisfy a guy in one go? With a slut like you, I need five loads to make it worth one person's share."
Her eyes were already glassy with tears. Unable to hold back under my insult, they spilled down her cheeks. But even crying, the look she shot me was defiant.
I was thrilled. That Yujin hadn't broken from this crap—that her spirit was still alive. That's what made revenge fun. And getting an admission of innocence from someone still kicking would be the truest verdict.
"……You bastard."
"So, you refusing?"
"You bastard! You bastard! You bastard!"
"I asked if you're rejecting the deal."
Her head, which had been glaring up at me, drooped again. But Yujin's pride was beyond what I'd imagined.
It didn't take long for her dead, despairing eyes to reignite.
She lifted her head again. And stared.
Not at my face—at the head of my cock thrust before her.
Then, as if resolved, she slowly raised her hands from her thighs, fingers splayed and trembling, toward my cock.
And grabbed it.
Yujin did.
My dick.
With her slender white hand.
That hand that gripped mics in front of tens of thousands.
That hand that wrote lies on paper accusing me of rape.
That hand that flipped me off every time she saw me—now folding slowly, gripping my cock tight enough to burst.
It was hot. Her hand.
Suddenly I recalled her saying on some talk show that her hands and feet got cold at night, so she stuck them out from under the covers to sleep.
"Five times?"
With her face brought low under my cock, she looked up and asked.
"Yeah. No more, no less—exactly five. Cum five times, and the video's gone."
I answered, gazing at her half-obscured face.
"Trash bastard…… Keep your promise. And……."
Mid-sentence, Yujin suddenly smirked. My cock twitched. Just from her two hands touching it, I nearly blew my load. That expression was that seductive.
"I don't know what a blowjob is, but sending off trash like you is nothing to me. I'll make you cum in one go—so brace yourself."
It was pride strong enough to overcome humiliation, shame, rage, and despair.
"Let's see you try."
I said.
"Shut up, you perv bastard."
Yujin didn't yield a word to the end, then brought her wide-open mouth to my cock. Her lips touched my glans. My dick throbbed hard, a bit of precum leaking out.