Chapter 1: The Grand Finale Reader's Gift

It had been exactly 184 days since my wife disappeared.

For me, a photographer, 'light' had always been a blessing that perfected the subject. But over the past six months, the light cast on my life was nothing more than cruel illumination. The days spent in the darkroom, inhaling developer fumes while printing her smiling face, now felt more distant than legend. The horror of that instant when my wife's shy waving figure beyond the smartphone screen fragmented into noise and decomposed pixel by pixel—it was a grotesque phenomenon beyond human comprehension, the sound of my world collapsing.

The police, of course, didn't believe me. Who would buy the ravings of a madman claiming a person vanished into a smartphone? They saw me either as the prime suspect who murdered his wife and dumped the body, or as a pitiful lunatic driven mad by grief. No matter how I screamed and wept under the interrogation room's cold lights, all I got back were cynical stares. "Park Siyeon got sucked into the smartphone screen? Jihun, it'd be more convincing if you said aliens took her." The detective's mocking tone still rang in my ears.

I had lost my wife, and along with her, that ominous smartphone trapping her soul had been stolen by that bastard. After that day, my camera lost its light. Instead of viewing the world through the lens, every night I used a liquor bottle as my lens, staring into blurry despair. Her camera bag, abandoned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and gathering dust in the living room corner, looked like a grave without its owner, and Siyeon's traces scattered throughout the house stabbed my heart like razor blades with every glance.

"Siyeon... please, just tell me where you are... At least answer me if you're alive..."

In the empty living room, dust piled up thickly in front of the shoes that still held her warmth. Every night, I tormented myself staring at photos from before her disappearance. If only I hadn't launched that bizarre app. If only I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hadn't pressed that red shutter. If I could turn back time to before that cursed lens devoured her soul, I would gladly sell my own to the devil. But time flowed indifferently, and hope rotted away like a decaying corpse, stinking into oblivion.

That was when it happened.

Ding-dong—.

2 a.m. My heart pounded against my ribs like a hammer at the doorbell shattering the silence. The alcohol buzz vanished instantly. No one came at this hour. A mix of terror and anticipation, I checked the front door monitor—but the hallway held only stillness, no one there. Just a massive wooden crate sitting alone on the floor. Crude, sinister handwriting scrawled in marker over the rough grain caught my eye.

"A gift...? Jin-seok... that fucker?"

A foreboding chill swept over me. With trembling hands, I ripped open the tape. The moment the lid lifted, a pungent, fishy body odor stabbed my nose, mingled with an indescribable, grotesque heat. The living room filled with humid, sticky air, like emerging from a den where thousands of beasts mated. It smelled of rotting bodily fluids, or the rancid pheromones of a woman in extreme arousal.

The instant I peered inside, I lost even the strength to scream and collapsed. There was my wife, Park Siyeon.

"Ah... aaah... Siyeon...?"

But it wasn't the Siyeon I knew. Gone was the elegant woman from six months ago, with her neat brown bob and pure smile. Crammed forcibly into the crate was something like a 'meticulously crafted, lewd adult toy in human form.' Her body had transcended human anatomy, her skin gleaming with an eerie luster.

What struck me first was the vivid neon pink long hair. Once a soft bob barely grazing her shoulders, it now draped past her hips to her thighs, writhing like a living thing around her naked body, teasingly covering and revealing her shameful parts.

Her height, once 167cm, had been compressed to 147cm. Her skeleton seemed reconstructed—shorter, but her breasts and hips swelled unnaturally. The reduced mass concentrated there: her grotesquely bloated breasts jiggled faintly with every moan, her pelvis tracing obscenely voluptuous curves that filled the crate. It was less feminine beauty than a bio-tool redesigned solely for 'reproduction' and 'pleasure.'

Especially horrifying was her skin texture. Poreless and smoothly remodeled, it radiated a lewd heat from her entire body, the crate slick with her ceaseless secretions. Every time her ass met the bottom, vulgar sounds echoed: "chiiigek, tsububuk❤️." Her skin was silicone-fresh elastic yet disgustingly soft.

"Siyeon! Snap out of it! It's me, Jihun! Oppa! Open your eyes, please!"

I grabbed her shoulders and shook wildly, but her eyes floated unfocused in the void. Whatever torture she'd endured for six months, pink heart patterns were tattooed in her pupils, blinking grotesquely. Her gaze, intelligence utterly castrated, fixed on me—not with my name, but with base moans.

"Ah... ajussiii...? ❤️ Who... hehe... Siyeoni's belly... empty... scaryyy... ❤️"

"Siyeon, what are you saying...! Snap out of it!"

"Unng... ❤️ Gulp... fill meee... ❤️ Ajussi cock... in Siyeoni's bitch pussy... gulp... tsububuk❤️ chiiigek chiiigek❤️ do ittt... ❤️ Ajussiii... Siyeoni's womb hungree... ❤️ Cum... cum full uppp... ❤️"

On her inner thigh, against flawless white skin, a black QR code writhed like a living tattoo, pulsing like a worm beneath. Trembling, I scanned it with my phone. The screen filled with an icy System message.

"Heek... ❤️ Ajussiii... why just watchhh...? ❤️ Siyeoni's pussy... chiiigek chiiigek❤️ do it like I saiddd... ❤️"

She shook her ass in the crate, spreading her sex wide. Her glistening lower belly, soaked in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fluids, reeked of indescribable lewdness. Siyeon roughly kneaded her own breasts, fingers plunging into her pussy with slick sounds filling the silence: "Tszek, tszek, chyurup❤️." Foam-mixed transparent liquid splattered the floor with every thrust. Her melted mind oblivious to shame, she twisted her hips craving more, tongue lolling out to lick the air.

Choking back vomit, I pulled her into my arms. But then, hellish contradiction struck. This unrealistically lewd, perfectly broken body in my embrace... struck me as devastatingly beautiful. I'd photographed thousands of models, but no subject ever stirred such primal desire. The shiver at her skin's touch signaled I too was infected by that bastard's seed of corruption.

"So pretty... so fucking hot..."

Horrified at the honest words slipping out, my first emotion toward my ruined wife wasn't sorrow or rage, but aesthetic ecstasy and conquest lust. I heard my humanity crumbling. Like a beast, she nuzzled my chest, wet breaths escaping her pink hair. Her body's heat seeped into my skin, igniting my groin.

"Ajussiii... ❤️ Siyeoni... wants ajussi's cum... ❤️ In my pussy... unng? ❤️ Fill me full... ❤️ Put your cock in... chiiigek chiiigek❤️ do ittt... u❤️"

Her wet hand groped blatantly at my zipper. The shy woman from six months ago, holding my hand to stargaze, was gone. Only the perfect 'bitch' forged through countless data mods and textual violations drooled in my arms. The pink hearts in her eyes mocked me from my reflection.

Where had it all gone wrong? How was this hellish delivery completed? Jihun's trembling hand plunged into her pink hair, gripping her nape roughly. Memories rewound to six months ago—scorching sunlight at that cursed Amusement Park, and to Jin-seok's dank room where he'd tormented her in the phone for 184 days. The infinite hell my wife endured now unfolded before me as 'reality.'

Tears streaming, Jihun bit her shoulder. Not affirmation of love, but a broken man's scream. Siyeon thrashed wildly in the crate, shrieking louder.

"Aaat❤️ Ajussiii❤️ It hurts❤️ But so gooooddd!❤️"

The overture to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠true hell had begun.