God, I Love Mondays!
Monday. God, he loved Mondays!
With his resignation letter neatly folded and tucked beside his wallet, Jihoon simply could not contain the dopamine boiling over inside the cramped semi-basement room.
His heart felt ready to burst, and it was as if energy drinks instead of blood were coursing through every vein in his body. In the end he sprang up from his seat, jammed his feet into his slippers, and bolted out to the riverside walking trail near his building.
It was early Sunday morning.
Before the sunlight had fully turned scorching, the trail was dotted with a fair number of neighborhood residents who'd dutifully come out for their morning exercise.
The old Jihoon would have shuffled along in the shade, head hung low, in a sloppy short-sleeved t-shirt with hair like a magpie's nest. But to a newly minted aristocrat of capitalism with 5 billion won (scheduled to be) sitting in his bank account, other people's gazes weren't even worth the dust on his shoes.
"I love Mondays~! Best day ever~! I look my finest when I'm working~! Gotta work hard starting today~! I love Mondays~!!"
Jihoon strutted boldly down the center of the trail, humming a tune.
No—humming didn't even begin to cover it. As if possessed by some demented hybrid of Squid Game's antagonist and SpongeBob, he was swinging both arms and belting out a song at full volume, loud enough to give the neighbor's squid sleep-deprivation-induced baldness.
At the utterly blasphemous "Ode to Monday" ringing out across a peaceful Sunday morning, every stroller's eyes snapped toward him at once.
"What kind of lunatic at this hour..."
"Tsk tsk, poor young man must be under a lot of stress. What a troubled world we live in."
The local aunties and uncles stealthily backpedaled, doing their best not to meet Jihoon's eyes, and the path ahead of him parted like Moses himself had waved his staff.
But Jihoon didn't spare it so much as a thought.
No—if anything, the spectacle of people clearing a path around him was downright delightful.
Grinning so wide his face nearly cramped, he strode down the walking trail like a man on parade.
He'd been walking along in high spirits for quite a while when it happened.
A familiar and distinctly unpleasant silhouette came ambling toward him from the opposite direction.
Uh...?
Bird's-nest hair, a greasy tank top, and a swaggering waddle.
It was unmistakably the ahjussi from the upstairs unit.
The very alcoholic who'd spent all night hurling pots around and screaming curses—apparently he'd decided to get some exercise before the heat set in, because a man rarely seen on this trail, an honest-to-god endangered species around here, had appeared. Jihoon briefly wondered if maybe he'd shown up because getting blasted awake at dawn was still on his mind.
The moment the ahjussi spotted Jihoon, he scrunched his brow and came stomping over.
A mixture of cheap soju and rancid, ground-in sweat wafted off him like vomit.
Ignoring the furious glances of passersby, he flicked his lit cigarette onto the trail and ground it out under his filthy slipper sole. Utterly oblivious to the stench and nuisance he radiated—your textbook piece of garbage.
"Hey, you little punk!"
The ahjussi jabbed a finger at Jihoon and bellowed out of nowhere.
"You crazy bastard! What the hell was that screaming at four in the goddamn morning, like a dog having a seizure?! You get shot in the head?! Everyone in the neighborhood's trying to sleep—where do you get off pulling that crap, huh?!"
Apparently his own noise pollution from earlier hadn't even crossed his mind.
Under normal circumstances, Jihoon would have bowed and scraped his way past—Oh, I'm so sorry. I had a nightmare—avoiding the confrontation like stepping around dog mess.
But the Jihoon of today was different.
Behind his back, an invisible 5-billion-won golden aura was blazing brilliantly.
Far from getting angry or flustered, Jihoon's eyes curved into crescent moons and the corners of his mouth stretched all the way up to his ears.
It was, in a word, a spotless—pure, radiant, and deeply unsettling—smile.
"Maybe I really am an emotionless psychopath... Seeing this, I don't even flinch."
"Wh-what the...?"
The ahjussi's face twisted in bewilderment. But Jihoon, paying him no mind, just kept beaming.
"If anything, I'd say it makes me laugh? This is nothing, lol. I'm a psychopath who's watched hundreds—thousands—of unfiltered gore videos lol. And when I watch that stuff, I smile. Fufufu."
"...!"
"Hic!"
"R... right..."
The ahjussi quietly lowered the hand he'd been pointing at empty air.
Then, forcibly dragging the corners of his frozen stiff mouth upward, he began to back away, step by careful step.
"Y-you have a nice walk... son..."
Unable to tear his eyes away—terrified Jihoon might pull a weapon out of his clothes at any moment—he retreated in a flustered shuffle. Then he nearly tripped over his own feet, caught himself in an awkward stumble, and bolted toward the far end of the trail without a backward glance, tail tucked firmly between his legs.
It was the desperate flight of a herbivore meeting a predator in the wild.
"Fufufu."
Watching the pathetic retreating figure of his upstairs neighbor, Jihoon let out a short, sinister chuckle, riding the afterglow of his performance like a genuine psychopath.
The overwhelming ease and confidence that capitalism had gifted him was turning Jihoon into an invincible being whom no one could touch.
"I love Mondays~ Best day ever~!"
That night. Or rather, perhaps it was the small hours tipping over into Monday.
Jihoon, sunk deep in sleep, snapped his eyes open at a strange sensation—something pressing down with a heavy weight on his lower half, yet enveloping him in a softness so warm he could barely breathe.
"Uh...?"
As his bleary vision slowly sharpened, the scene unfolding before him was breathtaking enough to stop his heart.
On top of him, bent over his body, was the blonde beauty from his maddening fantasy—Yevgenya. Once again she was dressed in that obscenely sheer white wedding corset and garter belt, and beneath her veil, strands of blonde hair fluttered against his stomach, tickling him.
But what seized Jihoon's gaze—no, what hijacked every sensory nerve in his body—was her chest.
Yevgenya had gathered her two enormous, overflowing breasts in both hands, spilling out over the corset, and was wedging Jihoon's massively risen cock into the deep, plush valley between them without a sliver of space to spare. With her saliva and his pre-cum mingling into a natural lubricant, she rocked her upper body up and down, rubbing his shaft furiously between her breasts.
"Oh my, husband. You're awake?"
The moment their eyes met, Yevgenya flushed her cheeks and shot him a seductive, knowing smile from beneath her emerald eyes.
"You said this is called... a 'paizuri,' didn't you? I wanted to please you, so I practiced... Do you like it?"
"Haah... I'm losing my mind..."
The perfect friction created by her snow-white, silky skin. The heavy weight of her breasts pressing down, the full, engulfing tightness. And the swamp-like pleasure with her body heat soaking straight through—Jihoon couldn't help the moan that escaped him.
Whew... a dream again, huh?
Jihoon looked up at the ceiling and gave a wry laugh. There was no way this was reality.
Aside from his Sunday morning walk (which he almost never took), he'd spent the entire day cooped up in the corner of his run-down semi-basement, staring maniacally at a computer screen. He'd checked the prices of luxury new apartments with sprawling floor plans he'd move into the moment the 5 billion won hit his account, and browsed top-tier Rolex and Patek Philippe models to flash on his wrist. That wasn't all—he vividly remembered drooling himself to sleep while imagining the exhaust roar of a red sports car with a prancing black horse on its hood, the one he'd kick down showroom doors to flex in a few days' time, front hooves raised with a gleeful hee-hee-hee!
So this unrealistic elven beauty from the North rubbing his cock with her chest on top of him right now was, one hundred percent, a dream.
But... dream or not, I swear to god, I never want to wake up from this exact moment.
Jihoon closed his eyes and drank in, with every fiber of his being, the supreme pleasure her breasts were granting him.
That multi-billion-won Han River view apartment he'd drooled over before bed? The tens-of-millions-won luxury watches shining like little suns? The hundreds-of-millions-won supercar tearing the road apart with its roar?
Astonishingly, even if the very pinnacle of capitalism—all the material pleasures he'd craved so desperately—had appeared before his eyes right this instant, he realized they would all be nothing but scrap metal and chunks of concrete compared to the warmth and loveliness of Yevgenya, serving him with such devotion as she radiated her sweet scent above him.
This softness. This blind adoration that existed only for him. This primal communion that set every drop of his blood ablaze.
They said money could buy anything in the world—but perhaps this perfect dream of a wife was the one priceless thing that no amount of billions, no amount of trillions, could ever purchase.
Jihoon gently cupped Yevgenya's sweat-dampened cheek and whispered in a drunk, low voice.
"Yevgenya... no matter how many expensive, wonderful things overflow this world... you are the one thing nothing could ever compare to. My greatest treasure."
At that sweet confession straight from Jihoon's heart, Yevgenya's movements faltered mid-stroke.
Transparent tears of emotion welled up in her deer-like eyes, and she smiled, radiant and beautiful, as if she owned the entire world.
"Heehee... thank you, husband. I... I love you with all my heart too..."
With her love confirmed, the instinct of the female bloomed all the more obscene and luscious.
As if she'd resolved to plunge Jihoon completely into the abyss of pleasure, Yevgenya lowered her upper body until it hovered just above his.
"For those warm words of yours, husband... I'm going to make you feel even better."
And then, aiming at the red, swollen head of his cock jutting up out of the tight crush of her ample cleavage, she twisted and gathered her breasts tighter around it.