Suddenly, the Door Opened
“For all you know, you might end up getting fucked by me and your friends at the same time.”
“Ahh~ but nobody knows that for sure, do they~”
Lee Yeoreum’s pussy tingled at the words, but she forced herself to keep her expression steady.
Still, in her head, the image had already formed with startling clarity: herself and her friends on a bed, all of them being fucked by Song Hoon at once.
With Song Hoon, it really could happen. It felt like something he’d actually do.
Slurp—
Overwhelmed by the sudden flare of desire, Lee Yeoreum kissed him with all the heat she could muster. Tongues tangled and traded places, while Song Hoon’s hand slipped inside her clothes to stroke the soft, smooth flesh beneath.
“Do your viewers ever even imagine that Yeoreum is such a filthy girl?”
“Hehe… who knows? They might spend all night using me as their little release toy. The real thing is right here, though. That’s imagination over there. This is reality.”
Lee Yeoreum guided Song Hoon’s hand onto her breast.
He squeezed hard, and the fabric wrinkled as her breast packed tightly into his palm.
“Haaah—”
She was on the verge of stripping off her clothes and taking Song Hoon’s cock right then and there, but just as she reached to peel her shirt away—
Broadcast start alarm ringing from her phone.
“Eeeh….”
Lee Yeoreum made a tearful face, wiped away the saliva slipping from her mouth, straightened her clothes, and steadied her breathing.
“I’ll see you later. I can’t skip today’s broadcast too.”
“Well, now. You get me this worked up and then just walk away?”
“Hehe… punish me lots later.”
His cock was already standing hard as a rod. There was nothing for it. The only choice was to wait until afterward and torment her properly.
Song Hoon watched her wave her hand sweetly as she slipped into the soundproof booth, then pulled out his phone, turned on the stream, and started skimming company materials on the laptop he’d brought with him.
About five minutes passed—enough time, probably, for her flushed face to calm down and her breathing to settle.
“Ahh~ can you hear me~ I’m Yeo~u~m. Cough. Hello.”
He couldn’t help laughing. Just moments ago, they’d been kissing as if they were about to jump straight into sex, and now she was coughing because something had gone down the wrong pipe, not because she was actually sick. This was one hundred percent clear.
The camera turned on.
The chat flooded upward so fast it was almost impossible to read.
A slightly baggy shirt and shorts. If you looked at them by themselves, they were nothing special, but the outline of her shoulders and collarbones showing through the loose fabric, the slightly wan makeup, the face still flushed from all that kissing, and the strange, dim lighting combined into something that felt like a fantasy come to life.
She really did have a slick way of dancing with viewers. And those expressions, that flushed face, the way her legs were twisted together in a coy little fidget.
There was no mistaking it: she wanted sex.
“She chose this herself, so I guess that’s that.”
Song Hoon let out a small laugh and accessed the company system.
“Hmm. This is definitely convenient.”
Since the employees were all his subordinates, he didn’t need to wear out his feet or rack his brain trying to dig up information.
Once he logged into the company system, a mountain of film scripts filtered and sorted through the company was waiting for him.
And it wasn’t as though only the rejected ones were there. Naturally, there had to be raw gems hidden among the things that had been filtered out, so he’d already ordered that they be kept available to review.
“Ah, points.”
His current Sex Points: 962.
“Buy thirty-two six-sided dice.”
Thirty-two dice rolled all at once, tumbling and stopping, tumbling and stopping again.
1, 3, 5, 1, 6, 2, 1…
When the thirty-two dice finally came to rest—
Current Dice Points: 120
Excluding the points he’d already had, that came to a total of 113 Dice Points.
He clenched his fist tightly, keeping the sound down.
“Buy at least three eyes.”
Damn system bastards. Dice Points really did disappear in the blink of an eye.
And now it was time to check the numbers on the works that had been uploaded.
“But…”
Song Hoon pulled up the list and fell into thought for a moment.
Last time, he’d checked the probability of investment success.
He could ask the same question again, but this time he wanted to phrase it differently, in a way that suited the direction he was aiming for.
Just like with the comfort stat.
Besides, the question he’d asked last time hadn’t let him confirm how much money it would make.
“What matters is this: I need an image that never fails.”
This wonderfully accommodating system was basically like an open-world game that dumped you into the world and told you to figure out everything from one to one hundred on your own.
In other words, depending on what question he asked and what category he invested points into, the result would clearly change.
“An image that never fails. Certain success. The indicator for that is money.”
Investment success rate wasn’t intuitive. He needed to change the question.
“Check return rate.”
How much he’d earn relative to the investment. That was the important part, wasn’t it?
In the end, the direction changed depending on what question he asked and what number he drew out.
“Yoohoo~”
Seventh City - 78%
Quantum Jump 485%
Final Countdown 15%
Perfect Target -99%
……
Golden Time 20%
Perfect Crime -19%
Promise of Thirteen Days 11%
Portrait of the Devil 37%
As twenty-one points vanished, a string of numbers started dancing wildly before his eyes.
“What? 485 percent? Are you fucking kidding me?”
That meant if he invested one hundred million won, he’d get back nearly six hundred million.
The investment required for Quantum Jump was two hundred million won.
“This looks… not like a movie, but more like a documentary.”
Something like Michael Moore’s Sicko or Fahrenheit 9/11—a social-issue documentary, that kind of thing.
“Entrance exams? Well, the exams probably are brutal…”
The description was vague enough that he couldn’t make out the exact content.
Maybe because it was a social exposé, they’d blurred the details to prevent information leaks.
“And this is 485 percent?”
He’d thought this sort of thing would never work in Korea. But the system—no, the numbers—didn’t lie.
Out of the twenty-one works, after excluding the negatives, there were only eight that would make even one percent profit.
“So the film industry really is that hard, huh.”
Only eight out of twenty-one could make money.
He stretched lightly and looked at the screen. Because of Yeoreum’s “I’m sick” concept, she wasn’t moving around too much; instead, gentle music played while she chatted away.
Even so, she kept subtly shifting her posture to reveal a bit of flesh here and there, leaning hard into an innocent image.
Intentional, but never seeming intentional.
A slightly rough-edged, innocent image.
“She really is a fox. A complete fox.”
In the chat, whenever a shoulder, collarbone, or the curve of her waist peeked out, there were definitely reactions like, “Whoa,” but Yeoreum simply acted like she didn’t see them and brushed it off at the right time.
And yet, in bed, she was the type of filthy bitch who got soaked just from being used and discarded.
“First, let’s wrap this up.”
He wrote down the list of the eight works whose profits were guaranteed, including both the uploaded titles and the discarded ones, and sent it back.
Especially Quantum Jump, which hadn’t even been uploaded to him in the first place but had ended up on the discard list; he attached a note saying it was a solo-investment essential.
They’d probably be confused.
Especially in the case of Quantum Jump, no matter how they looked at it, it was an investment bound to fail—at least on the surface.
And on top of that, he’d gone and torn apart the very work they’d marked as a major “will succeed” title.
“How could I possibly resist 485 percent?”
Even if you added up the combined profits of the other seven, they still wouldn’t reach 485. Of course, the actual amounts were different by a huge margin, but still.
“That should make a decent first impression, at least.”
After all, this was the success of an investment everyone had assumed would never pay off.
Click—
Suddenly, the door opened, and Lee Yeoreum came in.
Then she shut it firmly behind her. Just in case, he checked one more time.
“Hmm? Aren’t you live?”
He turned his gaze to the phone screen. The display had already been switched to a photo, soft music was playing, and the viewers were busy chatting among themselves.
“Short break time.”
Lee Yeoreum flirted coyly, dropped to her knees, and crawled over like a puppy until she slipped between Song Hoon’s thighs.
Sniff sniff—
Then she buried her face in the center and drew in a deep breath.
“Ahh. I kept thinking about this the whole broadcast so~”
Riiip—
The zipper came down, her panties were tugged aside, and Song Hoon’s massive cock sprang out with a heavy thud, smacking Yeoreum’s face.
“You really can do this while you’re still on air?”
“Hee… just one bite. Just one…”
She must have been starving for it.
“I’ll enjoy this, then~”
She took a bite, then started slurping and greedily sucking his cock.
“Ahh… so tasty…”
The scent and taste of that cock filling her mouth drove Lee Yeoreum nearly insane.
All throughout the broadcast, Song Hoon’s cock had been floating around in her mind like a stubborn little cloud.
“Nice.”
Since she was live, he couldn’t exactly grab her by the hair, so he simply leaned back against the sofa and enjoyed Yeoreum’s blow job to the fullest.
Her eyes grew hazy, and little by little she got impatient, taking his cock deeper into her mouth and repeating the motion of swallowing it down to her throat and pulling back out, each pass faster than the last.
She couldn’t take forever at this, after all; she had to hurry up, finish, and get back on broadcast.
Just as Song Hoon was getting close from Yeoreum’s eager, frantic sucking—
Rattle—!
Suddenly, the door opened.
“Yeo~u~m~~ We’re heeere~”
“Kyaaah—!”
With the sound of the door bursting open, a scream rang out at the same time.