Park Ayoung (3): The True Culprit
“Whatever spell you cast, that bastard didn't just kidnap and rape Sara unnie—he forced her to declare her own retirement as a hero and dragged her into the underground forever. That was the peak of my life. The thrill of watching my father despair like that.”
All the truths had been laid bare. Ha Deok-gu had merely been the luckiest puppet snared in Ayoung's web of malice. The real mastermind who had driven his mother, Han Sara, into hell and made her weep tears of blood for twenty years. The origin of every tragedy stood right before him—this vile, loathsome aunt, Park Ayoung.
“You... you fucking bitch...!”
Even the third command etched into his own brain felt powerless against this colossal, overwhelming truth. Black murderous intent swirled in Ohu's eyes.
“Because of you... you goddamn cunt, because of you my mom had to endure that worm Ha Deok-gu every single day for twenty fucking years...!”
The chains binding him rattled as if they might snap. Ohu clenched his jaw so hard his teeth might shatter, unleashing a torrent of furious accusations.
“All because of your pathetic inferiority complex! My mom got doped up on drugs in that shitty basement and gang-raped by loan shark scum! You're not even human, you fucking whore! I'll rip you apart with my own hands—I swear I'll tear you to pieces!”
Ayoung didn't even flinch at Ohu's tirade. Instead, she smirked as if savoring his desperate thrashing, firing back with mockery.
“Rip me apart? All tied up like that, and your mouth's still the only thing working.”
She pressed the scalpel to his chest and whispered coldly.
“And that's how you were born, right? Inheriting only trash from your normie dad, ending up this pathetic. In a way, I'm just like your mom. If I hadn't spread that info, your dad never would've kidnapped Sara unnie, and you would've never been born.”
“Shut the fuck up! Before I rip that jaw off!”
“Want some milk, baby Ohu? Craving mommy's tits?”
Ayoung grabbed her own breasts and shoved them toward his mouth before pulling back with a laugh.
“Ugh, gives me chills. Word is, if she'd known she'd pop out a son like you, Sara unnie would've chugged a bowl of soy sauce and kicked her pregnant belly till she miscarried. Hahaha!”
Ayoung's malicious taunts shredded Ohu's eardrums.
“Well, if you're not gonna spill about the hypnosis artifact, no choice. Guess I'll have to carve you up right to the brink of death.”
She snapped her wrist, adjusting the scalpel's angle.
“Some heroes awaken hidden powers under extreme stress from the fear of death. If I slice open that gut of yours and push you to the edge, maybe whatever's lurking in your blood will wake up. Then you'd make a perfect live specimen for my experiments.”
The cold metal touched his solar plexus. His skin crawled. Ohu screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Somebody! Help! Gangnam-gu, Cheongdam-dong, Hera Palace Building 104, Room 1502! Please save me! Gangnam-gu, Cheongdam-dong, Hera Palace Building 104, Room 1502!”
Ayoung scoffed at Ohu chanting the address like a madman amid his shrieks.
“Haha, you idiot. Useless. I poured hundreds of millions into soundproofing these bedroom walls alone. Even if you set off a bomb, no one outside would hear a squeak from a mouse. So quit straining your throat and shut up...”
Just as Ayoung's scalpel-wielding hand plunged downward—
“Hold on.”
She tilted her head, muttering to herself.
“That Ha Deok-gu bastard... autopsy showed no signs of Awakener mutations in his brain. 100% normie. So this pig...”
Her gaze raked over Ohu's flabby belly and feeble-looking body.
“Normies just go into shock and die at death's door—no awakening for them. Fuck, almost wasted my time. Carving you up would just be a meat party, wasting effort.”
With an irritated curse, she flung the scalpel onto the medical tray nearby. It clanged sharply through the surgery room.
One step back from death's edge, Ohu panted heavily, watching Ayoung's movements.
She giving up? No way she'd just let me go.
But then came the rustle of Ayoung rummaging in the tray and pulling something out. When she turned back, her hand held not a knife or forceps, but several small square foil packets.
Riiip—
The sound of foil tearing. Transparent condoms.
“Wh-what the hell are you doing...?”
Ohu's eyes widened. Ayoung approached between his bound legs, his thighs splayed wide by the restraints. She squeezed generous gel hand sanitizer onto her thick latex surgical gloves and rubbed it in thoroughly. Alcohol stench stabbed his nose.
“We can figure out the mental artifact by ransacking Sara unnie's place later. For now, you're due for disposal.”
Ayoung averted her gaze in disgust but reached out with her slick, cold gloved hand and grabbed Ohu's cock outright.
“Ah...! What the fuck are you doing, you psycho bitch!”
“Squeeze out Sara unnie's half of the genes still in your balls before you die. With this, Han Sara's DNA is mine.”
Schlick. Schlick. Breathing shallowly through her mouth like she hated even inhaling, Ayoung roughly pumped his cock up and down. Forcing him to cum, extracting his semen by hand.
“With this bloodline... if I cultivate and bear a grandchild just like Sara... then Dad will finally acknowledge me. Not as the useless regenerator daughter, but as the vessel carrying Sara unnie's lineage—he'll love me then!”
Ayoung's goal was crystal clear. Ha Ohu was vermin, but the Shooting Star genes hidden in his blood were real. She'd harvest his semen for artificial insemination or whatever to breed an heir.
“Ugh...! Let go, you crazy—!”
But even with hero genes stacked in his junk for a healthy, massive tool—no way it'd get hard amid extreme stress, blood flowing from his gut wound, utter devastation.
“Fuck, this limp-dick piece of shit won't stand!”
After rough tugs yielded nothing, Ayoung irritably released it.
“Hey, you eunuch fuck, get that cock hard already! In the car earlier, one thigh brush and you creampied your pants—now I've laid out the red carpet and it's playing dead? Unbelievable.”
She scowled, openly eyeing his flaccid-yet-still-larger-than-average monster.
“Your dad's autopsy said his micro-dick was under 6cm. This pig has a huge one, though. Thought it'd get hard and prepped the condom! Hurry up and cum, or I'll slice it off, blender the balls whole.”
“You mad bitch... just kill me already, you fucking whore!”
“Ugh, reeks, filthy, disgusting. Or is it? Sorry.”
Ayoung tossed the opened condom aside. She yanked her surgical mask down below her chin, revealing red lips. Grimacing in revulsion but compelled for semen extraction, she brought her face between his legs.
“Cum quick.”
Slurp—
“...!”
Ayoung's hot lips and wet tongue enveloped his cock. An S-grade hero's daughter, elegant beauty executive, fellating a bound man—grotesque, decadent scene. But zero affection or lust. Pure mechanical violence, grinding tender flesh with gloved brutality for one goal.
Slurp... schluuurp... nngh... fuck, my pussy itches...
As Ayoung sucked, frowning in disgust—
Ohu ignored the sensation, cranking his screams louder than ever, desperately.
“Help! Gangnam-gu, Cheongdam-dong, Hera Palace Building 104, Room 1502! 104, 1502! Please! Ack!”
“Fuck, enough!”
Patience snapped at his racket—Ayoung yanked it from her mouth, clamping the shaft in her latex glove like it'd burst.
“Agh! Hurts, you fuck!”
“Told you the soundproofing blocks everything outside! I hate your pig squeals—shut that trap before I rip out your tongue!”
Her tyrannical roar echoed through the surgery room. Crushing pain and domineering abuse seeped into his ears.
Then, astonishingly—
His cock, limp even in death's terror, twitched like a heartbeat in her grip. It flushed blood-red, swelling to savage size in seconds.
“...Huh?”
Ayoung stared down at the overflowing mass and searing heat filling her hand, eyes wide in shock. The thing unresponsive to her sucking now fully erect from one dose of violent control and curses.
“...Ha.”
A disbelieving scoff escaped her. She looked up at the bound, heaving Ohu and sneered.
“What? You like it rough?”
“Fuck off! Coincidence!”
“Un-fucking-believable. Abuse boner perv? No wonder your dad got docile beating Sara unnie. Blood tells, huh.”
Mocking him fully, she snatched a fresh condom from the floor.
“Well, this way I can milk you dry and dispose in five minutes. Be good and cum.”
As she moved to roll it over the engorged head—
“...”
Ohu, who'd been mindless-screaming for help, went silent. Then, low and grave:
“Of all the bullshit you've spewed...”
“...What?”
“Everything up to calling my cock huge... all true, right?”
Ayoung's brow furrowed at his sudden calm. “What the fuck, you lost it?”
She ignored, trying to sheath it. But Ohu swallowed a cold smirk inwardly.
Think I'd crawl in here naked with zero backup?
A smile crept across his lips.
“Soundproofing? Hundreds of millions so no noise leaks?”
Ayoung froze. First flicker of alarm in her eyes.
Why Ohu had chanted location nonstop since waking in the bedroom: one target for sound. His smartphone, plugged in and on.
He turned toward the foyer beyond the bedroom. Ignoring gut pain, bellowed into the void:
“Protect me! Na Miyang!”
Simultaneous—Crackle! Electric sizzle from the living room entry. Door lock internals fried black by high voltage, melting away.
“Wh-what...!”
Ayoung whipped around in panic—
A beast cloaked in blazing blue lightning burst into the bedroom.
“Haa, haa... Master!”
Nyaistlinger. Exhausted from hypnosis afterglow and roadside masturbation, rushing on rescue signal—drenched in sweat and fluids.
“I'm here! Get off my master, you fucking bitch!”
No time to assess—Miyang saw: master bound. Knife bitch beside. Thus—
Fwoosh!
“H-how dare you...!”
Execution. No combat experience—Ayoung's reflexes couldn't track the C-grade heteromorph villain's lightning charge.
Miyang's palm slammed mercilessly into Ayoung's gut.
Kraka-ka-boom!!
“KyaAAAAAHH!”
High-voltage current pierced Ayoung's body. Waterproof gown useless. Eyes rolled white, foam spewing from her mouth.
Thud crash! No real resistance—she crumpled beside the bed, convulsing into unconsciousness.
“Hoo... haa...”
Ohu, limbs bound, panted raggedly, eyes flicking between fallen Ayoung and Miyang catching her breath above.
Park Ayoung. Suspected you since you groped my thigh in that pickup truck.
He knew his body: loathsome, repulsive. No sane woman shows unconditional favor to this trash heap—except in eroge. Except Mom, Shooting Star.
Before charging his phone at Ayoung's, he'd inputted a new command for Miyang. Post-masturbation exhaustion, piss-soaked—she got the apartment address, ordered to sprint here full-tilt. Fancy secure building: scale walls, heteromorph villain—wait on rooftop for summons.
While Ohu showered and drank beer, Miyang waited atop, poised for master's call.
Hypnosis app had voice recognition in command input. Soundproof or not—close enough for phone mic. His repeated address and pleas transmitted real-time as orders to Miyang.
Interlocked with her #3 command: protect Ohu's life. Rescue signal screaming in her head for minutes.
Yet he hadn't yanked phone for instant hypnosis on arrival. One reason:
Craved hearing praise for Mom's shining youth. Not app-faked—genuine from someone's lips. Just once.
Detective Park's offhand words had comforted. So he endured. Showered. Beers.
When Ayoung spilled on Mom—
Ohu had felt guilt inwardly. Too twisted, doubted her kindness. Planned sincere thanks. For sharing Mom's brightest days.
But betrayal. Worse than his cynical fears—this psycho deceived him and Mom utterly.
That searing betrayal: for the first time, real tears—not smoke or hypnosis—streamed from Ohu's eyes.