First Prey: Delinquent Girl Kim Hyejin...♥

BDSM.

An acronym taken from the first letters of three major subcategories of sexual preference.

Bondage and Discipline.

Dominance and Submission.

Sadism and Masochism.

These break down further into twenty-seven distinct leanings, and right now a hologram floating before my eyes was displaying every last one of them.

A so-called status window.

The status window had first appeared back in middle school — the day my assigned delinquent girl beat me senseless and, somehow, I woke up to a pleasure I couldn't name.

The ability let me turn any qualifying target into a slave of whatever inclination I chose. Once a slave was registered, I gained the power to check, amplify, reinforce, expand, fuse, mutate, or suppress their leanings at will.

I had wanted to try it immediately. But I was sixteen.

…Adults have their reasons for certain things, so I gritted my teeth and waited four years.

And now, a legal adult at last, I had chosen the delinquent bitch who used to thrash me — Hyejin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— as my first slave. They say a gentleman's revenge is never too late even after ten years. Four years? Practically lightning-fast.

Anyway, if I was going to make Hyejin my slave, I needed information. In this day and age, a little social media digging and you can find anyone.

…What inclination would suit that bitch Hyejin best…? Masochist, if I want to pay back every beating she gave me? Or… Sadist, for old times' sake…? Or maybe break her into pure obedience and hire her as a live-in maid?

Before long I confirmed through her socials that she was working part-time at a department store.

So that was where I headed.

Kim Hyejin's workplace was close to home.

A department store in the shopping district.

First floor, cosmetics. No idea which brand… but if I wander around I'll find her. That face hasn't changed. Kim Hyejin's face…

She had always been pretty. If she grew up without wrecking herself, I figured she'd cash in on those looks. Judging purely by the personality I remembered from childhood, though, her current job would be… well, worst-case scenario, the kind of woman who "helps out" at karaoke rooms, or a bar girl, something along those lines. Instead she was working a perfectly respectable job.

The first floor was all cosmetics counters and luxury goods displays — clearly aimed at a female clientele. Not that men haunt department stores much anyway. For someone like me who finishes all his shopping online in five minutes, the whole place was incomprehensible.

So I strolled the first floor at a leisurely pace. No rush. I was the one who could bind her as a slave; she was just the slave-to-be. There was no running from this contract.

The contract had conditions.

Most people carry multiple distinct sexual leanings — anywhere from one to more than ten. You check them through the status window, and the higher a given BDSM inclination ranks, the better the odds of a successful contract.

Which meant failure was possible.

And once you failed, that same person could never be contracted again.

Acquired leanings showed up on the status window too, so if you wanted a particular inclination, you just had to push the numbers higher through outside influence.

What was Hyejin's inclination?

I cast my mind back to the girl she used to be.

Makeup far too heavy for her age. Skirt hemmed shorter than the dress code allowed, shirt worn tight enough to strain. At a school that strictly banned dyeing or bleaching, she had spun some lie about preparing for an idol audition, played the teachers against each other with carefully planted rumors, and walked around with soft blonde hair.

She laced every conversation with cheap curses. Her hands — nails filed into assassin's claws — always held a smartphone, the screen locked on social media.

How do I know all this in such detail?

I used to sneak glances now and then…

A humiliating past, but she had been my personal assigned delinquent. A little like a tribute gift the male bullies offered up to win her favor.

Middle school had been hell.

Bread shuttle and homework shuttle were the bare minimum — shakedowns, bag-carrying, the works. She even made me finish the ice cream she'd already been licking, complaining it was frozen too hard…

…That part wasn't so bad, actually.

The fact that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I deliberately bought the rock-hard ones is a secret. An indirect kiss now and then was the only consolation I had.

Anyway, I cross-referenced the brief descriptions in the status window and narrowed down the leanings Hyejin was most likely to carry.

The inclinations I expected her to hold were roughly—

…Something in that neighborhood, I figured. Across the board, the leanings of someone who takes the lead in sex.

Hmm. Without a masochist streak, though, there's no real revenge for everything she stomped into me.

…If she didn't have one, I'd settle for a cane.

Still too early ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to give up based on assumptions alone. There was hope. A person's sexual leanings don't always match their outward appearance. There are secret ones people never want anyone to know about. And if hers turned out to be masochist?

Nothing could be better.

And then—

I'd made it about halfway around the first floor when I spotted a familiar face behind a counter done entirely in black.

Kim Hyejin.

No question. Every trace of the girlish look was gone; she had become a fully grown woman. Baby fat still lingered in places, but the air around her felt mature.

Her makeup was actually lighter than before — just the basics.

…Aren't you supposed to wear it heavier as you get older? She's living life in reverse…

Identity confirmed. Time to go check her leanings.

Thud. Thud.

My hands were shaking.

Coming face to face with the girl who used to torment me… What if she treated me the same way she had back then? Her voice from those days rang in my ears as if she were standing right beside me.

— Hey. Loser.

— Rub my shoulders.

— Got any food? Hand it over.

— Hey, go to the convenience store and buy me some pads.

The way she ordered me around like a butler — and "butler" was putting it kindly. More like a lackey. What was I going to do if she started that again?

When I'd image-trained at home it hadn't felt like this. I'd expected to be calm…! I'd thought I could just grab her by the hair and bellow, "You're my slave, you fucking bitch!!"

But the old loser habits buried deep in my chest were trying to claw their way out — the kind of kid who got beaten by a delinquent, went home, and thrashed around under the blankets fantasizing about knocking her flat…

Of course, once I hit high school and put on size, nobody bullied me again. Even when I crossed paths with the old delinquents downtown, they either didn't recognize me or just walked past. Probably hard to pick a fight when I had friends with me.

At last I stepped into the cosmetics shop where Kim Hyejin worked.

And then—

She hurried over with quick little steps and bowed nearly ninety degrees.

"Welcome!"

"Ah — yeah."

Kim Hyejin lifted her head. Up close, her looks really were the kind that made a name for themselves around the neighborhood. She'd been one of the top five pretty faces of the 2007 birth year cohort trending on social media back then. Thinking about that only made it more pathetic — reduced to selling cosmetics here. This is exactly why you don't become a delinquent. She'd even made contact with an agency, only for her hanging around with bullies to get exposed and kill her entertainment debut. Look at the other four of those top five: actors, idols, models, influencers — still growing, still showing up on broadcasts now and then.

Tsk.

Poor thing…

No. No, no, no. Who the hell was I feeling sorry for right now?

The grown Hyejin studied me. Her irises glittered like blue sapphires. Do Korean people have blue eyes? Mysteriou—

I almost got swept up in those eyes — no! Those are colored contacts!

I'd nearly fallen for it.

Our eye contact stretched a beat too long, and Hyejin tilted her head. Her face was full of question marks. Had she recognized me?

"Is there something you're looking for, sir? This is a women's cosmetics shop… A gift for your girlfriend? Or… are you looking for the restroom?"

Ah. Right. Women's cosmetics.

"Just, uh, some lotion I can put on my crotch. It's summer and it's getting raw down there… Doesn't matter if it's for men or women, right?"

"Excuse me? Ah… one moment, please!"

She crouched down behind the counter and started searching for something. A completely different posture from the girl who used to stroll around with her hands jammed in her skirt pockets, radiating pure delinquency.

Kim Hyejin really pulled off a full identity wash, huh?

Not that it mattered. She hadn't recognized me? She was sticking strictly to the polite-employee-serving-a-customer routine. I'd waited on her for over a year and she didn't even remember? Why did that leave me feeling weirdly disappointed…

Whatever. As long as I was close to the target, I could read her leanings.

It felt exactly like scanning a QR code. I framed the crouching Hyejin inside the square—

There it was.

Hyejin's sexual inclination was masochist.

I'd hit exactly what I wanted. So this was why people gambled? Getting what you'd hoped for felt this electric!

Having found the product, Hyejin approached with her professional sales smile — and I smiled right back.

It was summer.