Bait (2)
Back in time, I knew one person who hated those bitches just as much as I did.
It was back when Yujin was riding high as an idol, and the exposé about her past as a bully blew up.
The one who dropped the bomb was a baby-faced Vtuber. She'd clearly prepared for a long time, unleashing a flood of diverse, detailed evidence. But Yujin's popularity didn't crash afterward.
If anything, it skyrocketed from there. Because the baby-faced Vtuber trusted the cops and handed over what she thought was decisive proof.
Once most of that evidence mysteriously vanished under some "administrative error," she went live on stream, pleading her case in real life...
But Yujin, backed by her agency and friends, unleashed a viral marketing blitz. She flipped the script, positioning herself as the tragic victim squeezing out tears, and the tide turned.
Yujin had always been the tough-girl type—cool crush, girl crush vibes—drawing in a ton of female fans. She never outright declared it, but she had this pro-feminist image too.
So the female-dominated communities were solidly behind her from the jump, facts be damned. And then this badass suddenly wept like a fragile woman, all heartbroken sobs.
A beauty's tears are powerful. Powerful enough to conjure guilt from thin air.
The male-dominated forums stayed neutral on the school violence exposé at first, but even the sweethearts turned away. What started as a 50-50 split between female and male communities shifted to 75-25. Still, that stubborn 25% wouldn't budge: Yujin was a bully bitch, plain and simple from how she looked. But amid all the controversy from the Vtuber's reveal, Yujin powered through her schedule—including Waterbomb.
Everyone knew Yujin had killer physique, but she'd never flaunted it outright. Always bundled up tight on stage, building hype.
But that day? Full-frontal assault. She strutted out in a skimpy bikini that couldn't contain her massive tits.
Those huge, violent udders crushed the Vtuber exposé flat. Yujin's goddamn enormous, aggressive rack smashed her bully history to pieces!
After that, even the male forums—never her base to begin with—swung her way. Public sentiment flipped overnight. Sympathy poured in.
Sure, it was just vibes. The evidence was still ironclad. Most docs got scrubbed, but what remained screamed guilty as sin.
The internet buzzed for weeks across every community, but few actually checked the Vtuber files. Fewer still called out Yujin based on them.
And when Yujin slapped lawsuits on anyone who did? Radio silence. Not even her diehards—not her few Vtuber fans, the so-called "baby squad"—could stem the tide. The masses stayed put.
So the clear proof of Yujin's years-long bullying of Nayeon—the exposé she'd staked her life on—got buried under Yujin's fame and agency cash.
Once things cooled and suspicion faded after months, Yujin struck back carefully.
She secretly funneled money to internet randos to dox the baby-faced YouTuber across the web. Even leaked her borderline IQ diagnosis from way back.
Weeks of mockery filled the net: her subpar smarts clashing with that mommy character, her scrawny real body a joke.
The truth drowned in malicious laughs.
Sometimes folks who'd grabbed Nayeon's files would upload videos of Yujin beating her ass. But Yujin's rabid stans swarmed, screaming deepfake, sparking shitstorms. Agency pressure yanked the clips down fast.
Meanwhile, they forced a psych eval using her old IQ test.
Her carefully nurtured baby-faced channel was in ruins, flooded with hate comments—Nayeon's mental state was shattered.
Even a normal person sleep-deprived and stressed would tank an IQ test.
Let alone fragile little Nayeon?
The results? She's a nutjob. Except... retest showed borderline IQ, just shy of average—still normal range.
But like my case, truth didn't matter. Yujin and her crew faked the records. Nayeon got labeled insane and shipped to the psych ward.
Soon after, a tiny news blip: Nayeon suicides in the hospital. No one mentioned her again.
Facts? Baby-faced Vtuber Nayeon didn't suicide—she was suicided. Facts? I got bullied by Yujin too and wanna lick Mistress Yujin's toes lol. Sketchy rumors and weird fetishes popped up online now and then, only to get nuked.
But that didn't happen.
Now it will.
I finally hit stop on my phone camera. Uploaded Yujin's bully vid to the net right away. Even if they snag my phone, the evidence lives.
I wouldn't repeat Nayeon's mistake. My upload had a dead man's switch—auto-spreads if no password refresh. Kill me? Yujin's dirt goes viral anyway.
I shoved the volleyball box aside and slipped from my hiding spot. First thing I saw: Nayeon curled fetal on the mat like a pillbug, passed out.
Yujin always choked her with thighs to avoid marks, so yeah, out cold.
I smirked bitterly at Nayeon's poor nape. I'll avenge you, so it's fine, right? Maybe. But no rationalizing it—I lured her here, did this to her.
But I'd chosen to be the devil. Staying human cost me everything. My enemies were too strong for the old me.
Justice and truth, clean fights? No winning against those bitches. That's how my last life got wrecked.
"Ugh... uuh... M-Mommy..."
Nayeon twitched like she was dreaming nightmares, about to wake. I left her and bolted from the gym.
Sun had fully set. Moon was up. Perfect. My plans suited shadows over light.
Plan was simple. Not even a day back in time, cops dragging me tomorrow—no room for complex prep.
Yujin lived alone with her mom in a luxury villa. Mom barely home, so basically Yujin's solo pad. Probably tonight too.
So: sneak past CCTV, infiltrate, finish the job.
Not much plan—just break in and pounce. Why bother filming? 'Cause my goal wasn't just raping Yujin. It was shattering her mind.
And she wasn't the only demon. Pace it right. Hit all four at once. One dropping charges means jack. One going soft? Raises suspicion.
I eyed Yujin's luxury villa.
Simple plan, low risk. But if it goes south...
I checked the kitchen knife from home. Last life, I stayed human—never used it. Not anymore.
Worst case: slit Yujin's throat quick, then kill the rest before dawn. Anyone blocking me? Dead too.
Just worried about Mom left as killer's parent... and Nayeon caught in my web...
"Snap out of it."
I scolded my weak moment and looked up at my climb.
Pipe to the luxury villa's second floor. Kinda thin, but backing out now? Laughable.
I hunkered in nearby bushes, waiting for dawn action.
Time.
Scanned around—clear. Gripped the pipe. 3 AM. Normies asleep.
But if Yujin's up?
Other risks: Nayeon wakes, calls cops (unlikely after years of silence). Spots my weird chat, tells someone (no friends, low odds).
Her last-life heroism didn't guarantee loyalty. Needed insurance on her too.
Mulling that, I scaled smoothly to the second floor. Glanced at door CCTV—no pipe coverage.
Reached left arm diagonal-up, eased the window. Luck: unlocked.
Opened it tweezers-delicate, like building a ship in a bottle. Slipped in cat-footed, crouched, scanned.
Sink, fridge—kitchen. Open space: hide quick.
Where?
Too dark. Knew everything about them, but not every nook of Yujin's childhood home.
I'd gathered proof for innocence, not stalked blueprints.
No choice: sneak quiet, room-to-room hunt.
Slipped from kitchen. Hallway ahead. Luxury villa—sprawling, weird layout.
Held still, breath held till eyes adjusted. Silent. She was asleep.
Shapes emerged from dark.
Blinked a couple times.
Good. Can navigate clean, I thought, stepping into the hall—
"Nngh? Who's there?"
Door creak somewhere. Sleepy Yujin voice, like she'd just woken. Finger-scratching belly-under-pajamas rustle.
Hyper-alert nose caught it: sweat beading in her cleavage.
Shit. She's in the hall, heading here.
Drew kitchen knife from bag. Waited outside forever for her to sleep—wasted. Fine.
Gag her, knife to throat, threaten quiet—
No.
Stay cold.
Not caught yet.
Decide quick. Dove to kitchen corner, yanked open cabinet. Unused utensils, near-new—tiny gap.
Shoved in. Normal kitchen? No fit. Hide-and-seek? Busted.
But hers was huge. And she couldn't dream I'd strike the day after the accusation.
Jammed legs in, but toes poked—door ajar.
Peeked slit: outside view. No Yujin yet. Footsteps closing.
Thud thud.
Louder. Legs appear. Fresh from bed—no pajamas. Hippo-print panties only.
Thud thud.
Sees me?
Nah. Keeps coming. She'd scream.
She's fully in the kitchen now. Legs up: upper body's in a top, but tits shoved buttons aside—cleavage blatant.
Stared at sweat pooled in her rack. Not even hot at dawn—what was she doing sweating?
She froze mid-step, scanned around.
"...What the?"
Her puzzled voice from diagonal above.
Gripped knife tight. Brain flashed revenge: jamming it into those uselessly huge tits. Adrenaline surged.
Heart pounded. Blood raced. Dick throbbed harder than ever, rigid as the blade, brushing my gut.
"Misheard?"
Her follow-up yanked me back to calm.
Not just kill the bitch. Stay cool.
Revenge deeper than smashing her guilty cunt.
Waited. Fridge creak—rummaging inside.
She's at fridge: not facing me.
Edged head out, peeked.
Her pussy mound bulged toward me.
Like it was coquettishly begging for a stab. Fridge door widened—light spilled my way. Slammed mental brakes, held silent.
More light: clearer view of that pussy vista.
Thick ass cheeks squeezed it slit-straight. Whatever. Question: why's her panty soaked like she pissed herself, glistening?
Grabbed water bottle, stretched straight, gulped. Set it sloppy on shelf, spread legs, heel-kicked fridge shut.
Dark again.
But that scent I'd caught, exploding when she spread—imprinted vivid as daylight.
Mystery solved. Why she was up masturbating till dawn.
Heart raced. Not lust. Rage.
The pure maiden act in court.
The clueless virgin fooling fans during idol gigs.
Beats Nayeon senseless, comes home horny, jerks till 3 AM...
And that calls me rapist scum?!