Chapter 10: The Birth of the Doll
In Jin-seok's new hideout, a rundown basement studio on the outskirts, the humid air thick with mold blooming like black flowers on the walls was pierced by the smartphone's glow, casting Siyeon's pale, bloodless face in ghostly light.
Jin-seok perched on the creaking bed, cackling as he activated the app's admin mode—the most vicious, inhuman function: [Permanent Engraving: Hardware Synchronization].
Permanent Engraving: Hardware Synchronization
His eyes gleamed with sadistic madness beyond human reason, reflecting the screen's crimson glow.
"Siyeon, you've been thinking about Jihun too much, so I'm giving you a special ID number. A writer's precious creation needs the owner's stamp, right? Now, every time you look in a mirror or touch your body, you'll bone-deep realize your reason for existing and who owns you. Your skin isn't yours anymore—it's my manuscript."
Jin-seok's long, sleazy fingers slid across the screen. He precisely targeted the sensitive area just above her smooth, white pubic bone, then meticulously typed vulgar, filthy text on the virtual keyboard, letter by letter.
[Permanent Setting: Engrave a black tattoo reading 'Jin-seok's Exclusive Onahole No. 1' on character 'Siyeon’s' lower abdomen.]
[Additional Effect: This tattoo pulses blood-red and emits near-40°C heat from within whenever Siyeon's heart rate exceeds 120 bpm or she feels extreme shame, forcibly inducing sexual arousal.]
"Aaaagh! Ah, it's hot! My belly... my belly's burning! Please, please stop! I was wrong!"
On the screen, Siyeon clutched her stomach, writhing on the cold digital floor, screaming. Over her smooth white skin, as if pressed by a red-hot branding iron, agonizing burn spread alongside the obscene phrase searing in as a black stamp—words too filthy to utter. It wasn't mere ink on the surface. It was a brutal ritual embedding into her nerves and soul the declaration: You're no longer human—you're an object. Tears welled as she stared at the man's name 'Jin-seok' and 'onahole' etched on her belly, her mind reeling. In the space where her husband Jihun's name faded to noise in her brain, this eternal proof she'd become a beastly man's perfect sex toy was carved.
A week in, Jihun wallowed in his pitch-black studio apartment amid empty bottles and thick cigarette haze, a living wreck. After the futile failure at the Sinseoldong goshiwon, terror of losing his wife forever and his own powerlessness consumed him. Unshaven, unwashed, he looked like a corpse.
Then, on his dying laptop screen—unplugged, flickering out—a grotesque red popup appeared.
Your wife is heading toward 'Completion.' Save her before the final page closes and she vanishes forever?
Heart seizing, Jihun gripped the mouse with trembling hands and clicked. A multi-encrypted private broadcast site loaded. Center screen: Siyeon suffering live. Overlaid: a massive translucent payment window, an impassable river of lament.
⏰ Time Remaining:23:58:42 — Siyeon's memory data will be permanently deleted and erased upon expiration.
"100 million won... you fucking psycho... why are you doing this to me?!"
Jihun slammed his fist on the desk. The monitor shook, reflecting his anguished scream. His photographer savings were drained on detectives, searches, and Hacker K's fees. Jin-seok knew Jihun's financial ruin precisely. He didn't want money. He craved turning Jihun's wife into cheap pay-per-view trash, watching the husband weep in despair, unable to click pay.
Jin-seok pressed the phone mic to his lips, whispering to exhausted Siyeon like sweet poison inescapable. His breath slithered into her ear, sticky into her brain.
"Siyeon, I'm not lying. See the [System Rules]? Clear my 10 novel missions perfectly, and this phone really activates 'Reality Logout.' You'll return to your husband Jihun. It's programmed absolute—even I, the creator, can't break it. Don't you want to go back?"
[System Rules]
Siyeon, head bowed, prostrated, asked in a quivering voice. Her last survival instinct clung to this false hope-rope.
"Really... really? Just 10... finish those 10 novels... and you'll really let me go? Back to Oppa... to Jihun?"
"Of course. Why would I lie? You're already my perfect doll. But as the novel's 'heroine,' obey every writer directive perfectly—no deviation. Resist or fail and drop reader ratings? Gauge resets to start over. Got it? Your path back to your husband depends on your obedience and humiliation."
Before Siyeon's eyes floated a new transparent [Progress: 0/10] gauge and a dazzling [Logout] button, grayed out but seeming ready to hurl her to cold real-world freedom outside the screen. Sensing it was 'real,' she clutched beastly hope, eyes flashing. Her husband's face blurred in her mind, but the primal urge to return to his warm embrace burned sharper.
"I'll do it... if I can get out... if I can go back to Jihun, anything! Whatever you say, like a dog, I'll do it all!"
Jin-seok grinned slyly, loading the first genre novel file from his hard drive. His finger danced over execute.
"Good. Keep that resolve. First scenario: [Subway Ride to School: College Girl Becomes Prey for Molesters]. Shooting starts. Audience is waiting."
"Subway Ride to School: College Girl Becomes Prey for Molesters"
Hitting 'Write & Sync,' the white digital space reconfigured instantly into a sweltering, noisy crowded subway car. Siyeon's clothes swapped for a sheer silk blouse translucent with movement and a miniskirt barely a handspan long. Realizing no underwear, she gasped, hunching.
"Ahh...! Clothes... why like this... no, please...!"
But ignoring her protests, shadowy male NPCs—faceless, lips only gleaming—swarmed like dogs. At each sudden stop, they pressed blatantly against her. Dozens of cold hands groped her thighs and waist openly. Trembling in shame and terror, eyes squeezed shut, she bit her lip bloody seeing [1/10] clear count.
If I endure this, I can get out. Just 10... play dead and do what the monster says 10 times, and I'm Jihun's wife again. Hold on, Siyeon. Don't die...
But Siyeon never knew: each cleared novel etched filthy 'settings' and 'engravings' carving and reshaping her soul. The more she completed, the less Jihun's wife—more Jin-seok's perfect lewd 'fabrication.' After 10, would even 1% of the pure Park Siyeon Jihun loved remain in body or mind?
Jihun, screen beyond, wept blood watching his wife choose self-violation to survive—to return. 100 million won. That vile number towered as eternal wall between them. Smashing furniture, howling, he bit his hand raw. All he could do: watch HD live of beloved wife's fall, seek ways to fund the bastard's account.
Jihun finally grabbed his phone. Dialed an old dark-world contact sworn off forever. "I need money. 100 million... no, more. Anything. Kill if needed. Please..."
To save his wife, Jihun abandoned humanity too. Wife becoming doll, husband turning monster. Their tragedy's curtain just rose.