Shower Surprises and the Slave's Collar
Splash—.
After all the twists and turns, I finally made it into the shower room. As soon as I opened the door, warm steam billowed up, and the bathtub was already filled with clean water. It seemed like she'd prepared it so I could bathe right away.
"Th-this can't be real."
But the reason my mouth wouldn't close was something else entirely.
"It's bigger than my room..."
It was just that—the bathroom was too nice, way beyond what I'd said.
"Wh-what's with a showerhead that has eight buttons?"
So, which one do I press? Splash—.
When I hit a button, hot water came gushing out immediately.
"Hah..."
The moment it hit my skin, it melted away my fatigue, drawing out an involuntary sigh. Warm...
...Yeah, this is living. Hot water really is the best.
I stood there dazed under the stream, finally starting to wash properly. Splash—.
"Eek...!"
I'd only turned the water pressure up a bit, but something weird happened.
"Wh-what is it?"
It was this ticklish sensation down below. Maybe I'd hurt myself? I checked my thighs, but there were no wounds.
Then why...?
No matter how I looked, I couldn't figure out the strange feeling, so I touched it directly.
...Stroke.
"Ahk!?"
Suddenly, it clenched and fluttered open. A twitching spasm. And then, like a heartbeat, a throbbing pulse.
"I-I've never felt this before..."
It was a brand-new tingling I'd never experienced. Maybe that's why I started searching for a reason first.
"M-maybe because her hand kept brushing against it earlier..."
No, even so, that shouldn't cause this.
The frustrating unknown built up. Or maybe it's just my imagination...
...Stroke.
"Eut..."
...Rub.
"Hah..."
When I glanced at the mirror, I saw a woman touching between her legs. Knowing it was me made it mortifyingly embarrassing. Like doing something I knew I shouldn't, even though I was aware. It felt like a guilty, naughty act.
B-but why does it feel so frustrating...?
Of course, it was my first time touching there. But it was weird— the more I touched, the more the ache intensified.
"Maybe someone needs to touch it like earlier..."
Drip.
Right then, my mind snapped clear. Why am I even imagining that...?
Touching myself was one thing, but picturing someone else's hand? That was a whole different level, and my face burned.
"Phew."
I splashed water on my flushed face to cool down. If I kept going, I'd really do something weird.
"...Y-yeah, it happens sometimes. Everyone does it, right?"
Muttering that it was normal to myself, I dried off with a towel.
...So what was that earlier?
*
"All done washing up?"
When I came out to the living room, Yoon Yerin was sitting at the dining table.
"Y-yes, th-thanks to you."
"Then, you remember what I mentioned?"
"Oh, you mean food? I'll prepare it right—"
"No, not that."
Not food? I panicked a little.
"Then cleaning fir—"
"No."
N-not cleaning either? Then what?
Swoosh.
Right then, something was thrust in front of me.
"This is..."
A red dog collar necklace.
"Your clothes."
Yoon Yerin held it out, calling this clothes, of all things.
"But I'm already wearing clothes..."
I really was—in the ones left by the bathroom—but she continued seriously, no hint of a joke.
"Do you know why soldiers wear uniforms?"
"U-uniforms...?"
"Sure, there's the practical side, but before that, it's to remind them of their duty. Like school uniforms back in student days."
"Why bring that up all of a sudden..."
"Because you're a slave, right?"
The word made my body twitch.
"Soldiers wear uniforms, students wear school clothes—so slaves need something to show their role. This is that 'clothing'."
"S-so you're saying I should wear this...?"
She nodded, pushing the collar closer.
"No need to think it's weird. It only affects your mindset—I don't have that kind of hobby."
"But still..."
Grab.
"Lee So-yul."
Seeing me hesitate, Yoon Yerin approached, gripping my shoulders and locking eyes.
"You're brand new to my bunker. Bluntly put, I don't know what you might do. Easier terms: you could kill me."
"K-kill you?"
"Maybe not outright, but people can harbor ill intentions. Most choose 'plunder' over 'coexistence' these days."
"......"
"Of course, I don't think you'd do that. Trust is crucial for living together. That's why this."
Swoosh.
"Having something like this makes our relationship clearer, doesn't it?"
"Guh..."
"So, you'll do it, right?"
She laid out her reasoning and handed me the collar.
"......"
Reluctantly, I took it. Honestly, her words weren't wrong—especially that most people would target this place, not live here peacefully. No counterargument there.
But...
Still, living like this felt like giving up something vital.
"Want me to put it on for you?"
"Ah, no, I-I'll do it myself...!"
...Click.
"...Good girl."
Pat.
"Then, let's get along well from now on."
And just like that, I officially became the bunker slave.
*
...Bubble bubble.
A bit later, the long-awaited mealtime arrived. Sure, it was well past lunch, but that didn't matter with the kimchi stew's aroma filling the air.
Slurp—.
Clink.
Tasting the stew, I nearly dropped my spoon—not from slippery hands.
N-no way.
It was just that the first normal food in ages was pure bliss. Specifically, the spicy kimchi tang mixed with store-bought add-ins, surging through my veins. In a word, perfection—and in that moment, even the dog collar felt oddly happy.
"......"
No, wait. Even so, this is too much. I'm a person.
Putting a collar on a person...
Glare.
I shot a glare at Yoon Yerin in the living room. I still didn't think she was wrong, but the weird feeling lingered.
...When did she change clothes, though?
Then I noticed something off. Her outfit had changed.
Not exactly comfy...
Tighter jeans than before, and she didn't look sweaty.
What the...?
Listing it out oddly recalled that earlier sight. The thing bulging over her thigh.
It nagged at me so much I nearly burned the pot.
...Probably nothing.
She could just change clothes, and jeans might feel better. Shaking off the unease, I finished the stew.
As it neared completion, I gave it a final taste and announced the rice was ready.
"Looks delicious."
Yoon Yerin sat lightly, ladling some into a bowl and digging in.
"H-how is it...?"
No comment as she ate made my heart pound. Food prep had to be the biggest chore here.
Like on a cooking show, I trembled.
"...It's really good. I'm impressed."
The verdict was glowing. Proof: she ate more stew than the side dishes.
"G-good..."
Honest, I'd just imagined getting kicked out.
Seeing this eased my mind.
"...Don't just stand there—eat with me. More if it's not enough."
She offered a spoon to me, staring blankly. I took it, finally receiving a proper meal.
S-so good, I could cry.
As my belly filled, a crunching sound drew my eyes.
To bell peppers from the fridge. Yoon Yerin never liked them much.
"...Don't like bell peppers?"
Flinch.
Seeing her jolt made me want to tease. She'd always startled at disliked foods back then.
A petty revenge for the collar.
"I-I used to eat them, but lately I've had so many, they don't appeal. They're healthy, sure, but not that often..."
Even her speeding speech when lying was the same.
Come to think of it, we ate together like this every day back then.
Suddenly, old memories surfaced. We had plenty of colleagues—why always come to my spot?
'I like you.'
...No, coworkers eat together, right? Similar tastes by coincidence.
Nothing more.
"Gulp."
"Eat slower."
"Y-yes..."
"And after we eat, let's tour the place. You should know what's where."
She finished and suggested a walkthrough.
"...Sure."
Normally I'd follow, but not now. I had business.
...Clink.
"Ah, my spoon fell."
My unfinished business: that nagging doubt.
"W-wait, let me get it...!"
"No! I'll get it!"
Seemed minor, but her hiding it was suspicious. I beat her under the table—and faced it.