Lying Our Way to Motel Sex
As expected, the news feeds were plastered with stories about me for a good while.
"Don't these people have anything better to do?"
Why won't they write about something else? There has to be a reason they're dragging this out for days.
"Hmm... This incident has definitely stirred up all sorts of problems."
"The government's not even complaining about what I did, though."
LV60+ players are national assets with immense power. Even without being the Sword Saint's disciple, someone at my level wields more social influence than local politicians or congressmen.
"Obviously not a domestic issue. China's lodging protests. Hand you over or punish you."
"Hmm... And if not?"
"They'll restrict exports."
Makes sense. The average level of the players I killed was late LV50s. Industrially, each one's worth billions—like walking factory machines. As war assets, equivalent to a battalion armed with cutting-edge weapons. And one was even LV70s? That's a massive loss for China; no wonder they're flipping out.
"The assassins you killed were just scum earning cash by murdering people—fair game. But the ones you killed were Babel raiders. That's why they're losing it."
"Got it."
I felt nothing hearing this. If I'd pulled off a stunt like that back when I was low-level, I'd have been sweating bullets day and night. But now that I'm higher level... maybe it's the perks. No worries, just annoyance at the noise—stirring up a faint murderous urge.
"You're a real player now, huh? Get a grip. Or you'll end up like those psychopathic assassins."
Master flicked my forehead hard. Yeah, I've been off lately... They say player psychopathy spikes from the chemicals and hormones gained during level-ups. No doubt I'm affected too.
"Won't nag you this time. But lay low for a bit. China runs state-sponsored hit squads."
"Got it."
A few days later, I understood what she meant.
"Whoa... So this is how they fight dirty?"
Most Chinese and Indian players are low-level. But players are players—with stamina to strap on grenades and survive suicide bombings repeatedly.
"Heh, ridiculous."
Even so, doing this in downtown? Overkill much?
Amid acrid smoke, explosions, and total chaos, Hyunwoo quickly assessed and responded.
"Die, you enemy of the people!"
A Chinese player, strapped with grenade bundles, charged. LV15. Superior physique let him pull off suicide runs back-to-back.
"This in public? Kinda rude, no?"
Their goal wasn't to kill Hyunwoo. If it was, they wouldn't waste grenades on an LV67 player.
"Want me to handle it?"
"Nah, I got this."
It was to tarnish his rep with public terrorism and pile on mental pressure. Korean government complaints? Just sacrifice some pawns. Lowbies are dime a dozen.
"You know not to kill 'em, right? Babel rules changed—no red tags like you're in the Marines..."
"Quit nagging."
Taking down an LV15 festooned with cluster grenades? Simple. Hyunwoo timed his short leg perfectly, thrusting it forward. His small, fragile-looking limb nailed the Chinese player's ribs dead-on.
"Yah!"
"Guhk!"
KWAANG-!
The blast dwarfed modern weaponry, shattering nearby windows and blaring car alarms. Crash! The assassin flew 50m, tumbling. Hyunwoo's kick pulverized the sidewalk blocks.
"Told you not to kill!"
"Didn't. Felt like compound fractures, tops."
"Yeah? But how you gonna pay for this mess?"
Easy fix. Hyunwoo grinned at his master.
"From your wallet, Master!"
"Putting it all on your tab."
"Tch, don't be stingy. You're loaded."
How bad could it be? A few porn vids would cover it.
'Hmm... Four Benzes, five BOWs, building wall sliced? Worse than I thought. Not billions—forty billion easy...'
Hyunwoo's estimate was way off. Damage was catastrophic. No covering with a few vids.
'Heh... Perfect excuse to play rough. My womb's already clenching in anticipation.'
Ryu Ga-eul groped Hyunwoo's soft side. Thick smoke hid them from prying eyes.
"Uh, excuse me..."
"Hm? Oh, officer. Contact us later."
"Th-thank you!"
"No thanks needed. We're the ones who caused damage—gotta compensate."
These damn rich pricks. The cop muttered curses at high-level players ignoring authority downtown. At least Ryu Ga-eul had manners; most players spat on public power.
"Actually, not why I'm here. You need to come with me."
"What? Statements? No time now."
"No! Your disciple committed a diplomatic faux pas. Big issue."
"Hmm... We'll handle it later. Text the contact. Busy."
"Pl-please, if you don't come now, I'm screwed."
Ryu Ga-eul flaunted players' worst traits: contempt for authority.
"Fuck! Know how busy players are? Country's economy grinds to halt without us."
"I get it, but hurry..."
"Yeah, yeah, coming soon. Bye!"
The Sword Saint vanished with her disciple. The cop calmed her jitters watching them go.
'What the hell's so urgent? Players are incomprehensible. Grenades exploding and they act casual.'
She imagined wildly but missed the truth.
"Don't look up. I'll get mad."
"Mmph..."
"Oh? Trying again? You wrecked my wallet today. Not pocket change."
"Gulp..."
Makes sense—Korea's strongest player banging her disciple in a motel, broad daylight, filming for porn sites? Unimaginable.
"That's it, suck it all down. Spill a drop, and I'll drain every last bit from your balls."
Into their usual roleplay. Ryu deemed it shameless: middle school her with high school Hyunwoo. Age gap made it depraved.
"Heh, high schooler cumming from eating middle school pussy."
"...Not cumming."
"What? Dick's rock hard. That's cumming, you pathetic shrimp-dick loser."
Hyunwoo was 21, fresh out of high school—fit the role. Ryu? Middle school 15+ years ago—fuzzy memories now.
"I'll show a high schooler like you how humiliating it is to get wrecked by a middle schooler!"
Hyunwoo thought: A 31-year-old in a uniform skirt pretending to be middle school for sex—not embarrassing?
No shame for Ryu. This reclaimed her lost youth—poverty stole her middle school days. Living it through her disciple.
'Perfect...'
So Ryu truly loved her disciple. He accepted her twisted lust without recoil.