Feels Just Like Being Married
Right after hanging up with Si-hyeok, Sona's heart pounded wildly. Fresh from her morning shower, she sat on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but his dress shirt. She thought back to Si-hyeok from last night. He had been so cool. Haa, what's going on with me? My heart's racing like it's about to explode.
She definitely liked Si-hyeok. But that affection was a bit twisted. To be precise, it was the thrill of lusting after her blood-related stepbrother that she enjoyed. Sneaking into his room every night or masturbating like a bitch in heat outdoors had been part of it.
But not anymore. It's different now. Definitely different! Her pupils shook. That's how her feelings had been until now. But last night's confession had turned everything upside down. Now, Si-hyeok popped into her mind unbidden. Like a housewife waiting for her husband to come home from work!
Sona swallowed hard. She never imagined she'd feel this way. She'd thought it was just warped love. It had to be, since society tabooed incest.
Not anymore. Taboo or whatever, I'm going to be true to my feelings! Si-hyeok had the resolve to face it head-on too, didn't he? She wanted to be with him. Even if it led straight to hell.
I miss Si-hyeok. Haa.
She'd built fame as a model. Her life looked enviable. But it wasn't at all. It suited her aptitude but not her tastes.
Days of suffering. I wanted to quit. Especially after the stalking incident. Hiring Si-hyeok as a temporary manager had been for mental care. But it turned out better than expected. Knowing her favorite person was always by her side felt like a dream come true.
"Feels just like being married. Haak♡" Sona trembled unwittingly, kneading her breasts. The space between her slightly parted thighs grew wetter by the second. She wanted to hold back, but she couldn't. No, there was no reason to.
Is this how it is for couples? Should I ask Romi? Nah, she's still a virgin anyway. A scorching heat she couldn't control surged through her. She smiled—it wasn't bad. She'd feel it often from now on. She swung her feet lightly back and forth. Her white soles glistened with sweat, dangling in the air.
Si-hyeok, come back soon. Stay by my side. Let me hear your voice. Let me smell you. Her breathing grew ragged. She reached toward her crotch but stopped. Shaking her head. Si-hyeok wouldn't like that. They'd agreed to enjoy it together.
"I wonder if he's okay. Manager Do-hoon might not be famous, but he's a former fighter. Trained in boxing, judo, jiu-jitsu, and more." She chuckled, doubting he'd just swing wildly at Si-hyeok. She believed he wasn't that reckless. Stretching with a yawn, she smiled. She wanted to plan a surprise for Si-hyeok.
I watched him stick to the ground doggedly. Do-hoon in orthodox stance.
Typical right-hander. I was reading his patterns when suddenly he switched to southpaw. He grabbed my lead hand with his lead.
What the—? I clicked my tongue. I was used to hand-fighting. I'd gone to the gym for more than just sweating it out.
Do-hoon kept pressuring my lead hand, then blurred his movement.
Blurred? Whoosh! Something came at me. I dodged reflexively. It was a jab. I reset my lead and went for a rear straight, but—
Crack! No dice. A sharp low kick sliced in. Followed by a one-two combo. I slipped it with a duck and moved my lead. Do-hoon tried to grab again. I switched stances immediately. Peppered him with jabs.
Crack! Whoosh. Fast, huh? Do-hoon threw a low kick and backed off. In-and-out was textbook. His body moved featherweight light. Who knew I'd find someone like this outside the gym.
Like Conor McGregor. It was ridiculous. With that build, shouldn't he fight like a prime Ganunu or Overeem?
Do-hoon kept switching to match my stance. Pressuring the lead while tossing jabs or kicks. Rush him, and he'd vary his footwork to keep distance.
He's waiting for me to overcommit. Counter city. I grinned. Tricky opponent for sure. High skill ceiling too. So why was my heart racing like this?
This is the thrill you can't get in the gym! I smacked my lips. A jab flew in. I slipped it, dropped my level, and pressed forward. Saw him pull back on a kick.
Smart. But a mistake. 'Cause it's tight in here. Compared to the wide octagon, this makeshift yard was maybe 150 square feet tops. And just us two? Nah—flower beds, sculptures everywhere.
"Hup!" Flying knee.
"Kuh." Do-hoon blocked with a cross guard. As I landed, he reached out instead. Grabbed my leg for a single-leg takedown. I clamped his head with both hands and sprawled.
My turn. High kick. Do-hoon raised guard in surprise. I dropped low instantly, grabbed his lead leg, and drove forward.
The high kick was bait! Do-hoon sprawled back. Agile for his size, great athleticism. Couldn't fathom why a guy like this was just a manager.
But. I read his sprawl intent. Dug under his armpit and stood, shoving hard. He tried to move but jammed up.
Thud! "Ugh."
"Tight space here. In the cage, you'd side-step. Not here."
"Brat!"
"That brat's about to school you."
I targeted his legs with knees to draw eyes up. He went stance wrestling, shouldering me. I turned my face and shed it. Then snagged his torso and tripped him with an inside hook.
"Ssireum? You bastard, what the hell!"
"Turns out MMA's pretty fun?" Grinning, I went for guard pass. Blocked. He desperately butterflied, wrapping my waist with both legs. I sighed.
"Women who do this are the best."
"Filthy bastard!"
"Don't want that from you."
I pressed my face to his torso and shook. Hard to escape. Gripped one wrist and pinned it. Slammed an elbow to his gut with the other.
Thump, thud! Do-hoon gritted teeth, holding butterfly. I rained more elbows. He punched back. But mine hurt more. He twisted for side escape.
Insane speed, even after all this. I slid my knee on the ground. Half guard pass position. Went for knee-on-belly, but he uprighted and shrimp-escaped.
Ridiculous. Knows jiu-jitsu too? Nuts. I chased, aiming to dump him again. Block what he does well, impose what I do best. MMA basics.
Whoosh, thwap! But Do-hoon snagged my shirt tail. Spun his body. Chill ran down my spine. Judo throw?
Seoi-nage? Before lifting, I dropped ass to grass. Even Do-hoon couldn't reverse downward momentum. He panicked; I popped up and elbowed.
"Hoo!" He slid back like greased.
I tsked. "Stalker fights pretty good, huh? Brat."
"Stalker's you, trash. Criminals always 'rules for thee but not for me,' huh."
"What're you on about? Sona has no schedule today. Why're you here?"
"Why? To smash the stalker. Don't turn yourself in. Let me hit more."
"What're you—"
"Huh?"
Wait, something's off. I eyed Do-hoon, tilting my head. Conversations kept glancing off. No rhythm.
Hold up, what? Bad feeling. Do-hoon asked cautiously.
"Why do you think I'm the stalker?"
"Awards ceremony—you matched the description. Texts to me and Sis traced to near this building."
"That's it?"
"Strong hunch. Who else around here, living practically in this building, targeting Sona?"
"Haa, wasn't me."
Flustered. Then, "Why suspect me then?"
"Never heard Sona mention a little bro. You don't vibe as blood. Seemed like a leech stalker plotting dirty after glomming on. College junior, right?"
"Not blood. Our dad remarried her mom."
"Huh?"
First real fluster on Do-hoon's face. Big guy could look like that too. We both dropped fight mode, staring, awkward laughs.
"Not you?"
"Nah?"
Speechless. Massive sigh.
"Wait, then who?"
"Idiot? If I were stalker, manager me's first suspect."
"Same here. Temporary manager or not."
"Wait, I couldn't be. We live together."
"R-Right."
Family lives together, duh. Why's he shocked? Felt anticlimactic. Wasted effort?
Haa, what an embarrassment. Forehead slap, swallowed curse. Me, wrong?
"Ah, wasted time."
"Post-stalker, I wanted to help Sona."
"Got a sense of duty."
"Stepped back for it."
"Doing what?"
"Checked traces, cooperated with cops."
Surprised. Behind-the-scenes work. No results, though.
"Nothing?"
"Sadly."
Deflated. Empty. Real culprit who? Restart investigation. No clue where.
"Come anytime if you want. I'll arrange access."
"For real...?"
"No reason to block Sona's brother."
Why refuse help? First...
"Sorry."
"Nah, my bad. Assumed you were perp, cold-shouldered. Apologies."
"No biggie. You fight good, though."
"You too. Pro?"
Not yet. "Training up."
"You'll make it."
Awkward grin. We parted. Man way.
Headache, though. Now what.
Out front of the building. Hesitated, then headed off. Needed help.