Breaking the School Idol Yujin's Pride (2)
"Doesn't matter. That's not what's important anyway."
I spoke as calmly as possible, so there shouldn't have been any hint of it, but Yujin picked up on my agitation all the same. Her cowed demeanor shifted just a little. She was starting to get cocky.
Of course, Yujin wasn't a stupid girl. She clearly knew the situation—that I could kill her at any moment—and quickly schooled her expression.
But her face so blatantly screamed, I'd love to kill you right now, but I can't, so I'll play nice for the moment that it was worse than not bothering at all.
Yujin was the kind of person who'd spent her whole life basking in admiration, treated like the star of every room.
So this was probably her first time ever trying to manage her expressions like this.
Even so, I never imagined she'd have the gall to flaunt her pride with a knife at her throat.
"Ha."
I sneered at Yujin. Looks like I wasn't the only crazy one in this room. Yujin was just as twisted as me, in her own special way.
But she had misjudged me. I wasn't shaken because I feared prison or lacked the guts to commit a crime.
I just briefly faltered at the thought: What's the point in forcing someone who doesn't even know my name to admit my innocence?
I shook off the pointless notion. Meaningless? Then why bother with that rigged trial I was guaranteed to lose? Enough thinking. Now was the time to break Yujin—not her body, but her mind.
"No need for long talks. We both hate each other's guts anyway."
Yujin stayed silent at my words, but her eyes said it all. She had something to say—go ahead, spit it out.
"Straight to the point, yeah? You agree?"
Yujin nodded, still afraid of me.
"Good. But first..."
I slammed the pillow down over Yujin's face with all my strength and raised my fist again, smashing it into her gut. This time was different.
Last time, I'd aimed for just enough pain to establish dominance. This time, I just hit her hard.
My fist sank perfectly into her lower abdomen.
"Urghhh!"
Yujin screamed.
A sadistic thrill surged through me, and I raised my fist to strike again—but then I lowered it.
Pain becomes familiar fast, especially physical pain. It just breeds habituation and defiance without instilling real fear. Not efficient.
Sure, if I hit harder—hard enough to make her fear for her life—I could plant terror beyond mere pain. But that was a bad move.
Any marks on Yujin's body, and her mom or friends would suspect me immediately.
The demons I had to deal with weren't just Yujin. Even if she was utterly destroyed, the other three would eliminate me without hesitation if it meant removing the threat to themselves.
They weren't real friends—just allies of convenience, bound by mutual gain.
Yujin gradually stopped thrashing on the bed and calmed down. I slowly lifted the pillow. In her eyes, which had tried to underestimate me after sensing my earlier waver, fresh fear of me returned.
Or rather, fear of this situation, not me. Change the circumstances, and she wouldn't fear me at all. Fine, then. I'd force a new situation on her. That's why I came here.
To do that, I grabbed my bag and dumped its contents over her head. Cable ties and duct tape rained down. Finally, a high-definition camera dropped last, bonking her on the head.
Yujin grasped the situation instantly. She knew why I'd brought the camera, and the humiliation—worse than fear of death—made her forget her terror as she glared at me.
My right hand twitched. Thinking I was about to hit her again, she squeezed her eyes shut. But when no pain came despite the wait, she cracked them open.
Just like how she'd slapped Nayeon's cheek, I wanted to smack Yujin's—but I absolutely couldn't. Anywhere but the face. No marks there.
If the school's idol showed up with facial injuries, rumors would spread through every class before first period ended.
As I stood still, Yujin—without me even ordering her—grabbed a cable tie and started binding her own wrists.
Not because she'd tasted fear and submitted. A quick glance showed she'd tied them loosely on purpose. Even now, instead of cowering, she was biding her time for an opening. Impressive, in a way.
I grabbed the cable tie around her wrists to tighten it fully, then stopped and sat up instead.
"Nah. No need for that yet."
I lifted the pillow that had been pressing her face and tossed it aside. Then I removed my lower body, which had been pinning her hips to keep her from bolting, and stood beside the bed.
I set the camera on the table, meticulously adjusting it to capture her face perfectly. While my back was turned, Yujin just lay there quietly. She didn't even grab the kitchen knife I'd left by her head to fight back.
Incredibly composed for someone jolted from sleep into a life-threatening crisis. Probably her ironclad pride keeping her that way.
Once setup was done, I turned back around. Looking down at her, I asked,
"You have any guess why I'm here?"
Hearing that, Yujin let out a disbelieving scoff. She stared blankly at the cable ties and duct tape on the blanket, then at the camera lens aimed at her face. Finally, she looked up at me.
Her gaze dripped with disgust.
No second thoughts about managing her expression now?
Didn't matter. I wasn't here to win her over anyway.
I hit record on the camera and sat in the chair. Yujin, hating my gaze from above, propped herself up against the wall. Her nightshirt shifted, thrusting her massive breasts toward me.
"Withdraw the charges. Admit in front of everyone that you framed me."
"Why talk? Just force me on camera."
Yujin jerked her chin at the camera.
Brutally pragmatic. I'd snuck in at night, held a knife to her throat—committed crimes worse than sexual assault. What "truth" now?
But I didn't care about pragmatism. More than anything, I needed the world to acknowledge my innocence. So I ignored her and pressed on.
"Admit it, and we're done. I won't do another thing. I'll leave."
I knew evidence coerced like this held no weight in court. But that didn't matter. The verdict I craved wasn't from this country's long-corrupted courts, stripped of justice and truth—it was from the world itself.
"Won't do a thing? That you're innocent?"
Yujin smirked, seeing through the obvious lie that wouldn't fool a child.
Crazy bitch. She still had the leisure to mock me in this situation? Actually, perfect for me.
Forcing a trembling, terrified person to declare me innocent meant nothing. I wanted her sincerity.
"Admit it, and I'll admit my crimes too. Just the ones I actually committed. So you admit the truth. That I never touched anyone."
Yujin fell silent. She even crossed her arms, deep in thought. Her huge breasts atop her arms rose and fell slightly with each breath.
Finally, she turned her gaze to me.
I'd longed for this moment forever—the words you're innocent; we framed you from her lips. I couldn't even sit straight in the chair, anticipation buzzing through me.
My butt lifted slightly off the seat, my upper body leaning forward as if to embrace her,
and Yujin opened her mouth.
*Ptooey!*
What hit my smiling, expectant face wasn't the truth of the incident—but a glob of filthy spit. It slid down my cheek to my lips. My smile vanished.
"You fucking pervert! Filthy Korean pig! Dirty scum! What? Truth? You're sneaking in at night, knife to my throat, threatening me—and talking truth? The truth is you're worse than a rapist now! Think I'll fall for it? Think I'll submit to a loser like you? Do it! Go ahead, do whatever the fuck you want to me!"