Chapter 5: Readers' Reactions
Jin-seok hadn't slept a wink all night. Dark circles hung heavily under his eyes, giving him a ghostly pallor, but his gaze gleamed with a grotesque ecstasy. The reactions to the Character Sheet of Siyeon that he'd uploaded to the lowbrow erotic novel site, along with the bizarrely altered photos rendered in LaTeX, had exploded.
Normally, he'd never see sums like this even if he scavenged trash for a lifetime—massive sponsorships poured in real-time, and the comments section overflowed with the deranged demands of readers who'd abandoned all humanity, screaming like banshees.
The cramped goshiwon room vibrated with the stench of rotten cup ramen mixed with Jin-seok's ragged breathing. He drooled at the sponsorship totals flashing on his monitor. It wasn't just money. It was spoils from butchering someone else's noble life, the first taste of power for a man who'd scraped the bottom his whole existence.
Jin-seok's lips twisted into a crooked grin. He jabbed the phone screen with his filthy fingers. Inside that narrow glass prison, Siyeon huddled in shame, her breasts and hips grotesquely exaggerated in the LaTeX outfit. Every time his heavy breath fogged the screen, she shuddered as if chilled to the bone. He savored each twitch, muttering.
"Hey, Park Siyeon. Hear that? The readers want you out for a little picnic. Stuck in this room's getting stale, right? I'll treat you to some fresh air—way more raw and hellish than those fake pretty landscapes your hubby snapped."
"Shut up... I'll kill you. You filthy trash bastard... If you touch me even once, the day I get out, I'll rip you limb from limb...!"
Siyeon glared at him with eyes burning hatred. A flicker of unbroken nobility still lingered in her pupils. But to Jin-seok, her venom was just sweet submission, a moan goading his conquest. Leisurely, he opened the app's [Special Settings Window] and punched in new system values. With each tap, her nervous system glitched and rewired amid data noise.
'Indirect Experience (Sensory Link)' Enabled
Effect: External physical pressure, noise, and gazes from others transmit 100% directly to the character's nervous system.
"What the hell are you doing...! Aaagh! My head... my body's burning up! It's too hot—feels like knives carving me!"
The instant Jin-seok snatched the phone and kicked open the goshiwon door, Siyeon screamed and tumbled to the screen floor. Even the cold hallway air and moldy stench stabbed her like thousands of needles. When he boarded the packed rush-hour Subway Line 2, true hell opened for her.
The humid body odor from hundreds of commuters, sweat, murmurs, shoulders and elbows brushing Jin-seok—all transmuted via data linkage into the overwhelming crush of dozens of giant men squeezing into her tiny screen prison.
"See? Everyone's staring at you. Feel it? All those eyes licking your skin. You're basically naked in front of the whole nation. These pervs are ogling your tits."
Passengers couldn't see the horror on his phone. But the forced empathy setting turned casual glances into slimy, lewd caresses on her hypersensitive skin. A mere brush near the phone, and Siyeon shrieked as if rough hands kneaded her breasts and thighs.
"Stop... please stop! Someone keeps... touching me... No, Oppa! Jihun! Save me! Eugh...!"
In the cramped data space, she flailed against invisible hands, but the sealed screen offered no escape. Visual data from countless eyes ground against her LaTeX suit like physical friction, ravaging her body. Her brain buckled under sensory overload, blurring reality and simulation. Breaths came in gasps; foam-flecked moans bubbled from her lips.
Meanwhile, in his studio, Jihun dissected real-time cloud-synced photos pixel by pixel. Eyes bloodshot from skipped meals, he unleashed every photographer's trick. Zooming Siyeon's distorted face—terror-widened eyes—to 2000%, he scrubbed noise, revealing a faint reflection: the station name etched in a subway window.
Sinseoldong Station
A fragment of the station name in the glass—for a split second. Jihun's heart thundered. The bastard was riding Subway Line 2 with his wife trapped in the phone, broadcasting this cruelty to voyeurs worldwide. Jihun ground his teeth; blood trickled from his gums, pain unfelt.
"Found you... you piece of shit. I'll kill you with my own hands."
Grabbing his prized heavy pro tripod—a weapon now—he bolted out. In his grip: precise analysis of ad positions on subway pillars from the last photo, station travel times calculated. Jihun's rage transcended humanity; he was a starving beast, unstoppable until he claimed the life defiling his wife.
Meanwhile, as Siyeon's screams peaked, Jin-seok couldn't hold back. He slipped into a subway bathroom stall, locked it, leaned on grimy tiles, sat on the toilet lid. Lips to the phone mic, he whispered low, voice slick and slimy like a shedding snake.
"Siyeon-ah, liked those vivid sensations from outside? Now smile pretty for the camera. Readers want your smile. Don't, and I'll shave another 10% off your self-preservation—starting with hubby memories. Want 'Jihun' erased forever? Turn your husband into a stranger, just some street rock?"
Siyeon trembled under shameful phantom touches and neural jolts. Lips bleeding from chanting Jihun's name, she resisted—but the system's direct brain command gnawed her last sanity. Rewired nerves twisted her muscles into humiliating obedience.
Mental Strength Threshold Reached. Character's Refusal Rights Fully Lost.
'Author' Command: Unconditional Compliance Mode Engaged
"Haa... haa... Author... nim... I was wrong... Please, not Oppa... spare my memories of Oppa... Hic... I'll do anything you say..."
Convulsing, she forced her trembling lips into a smile. Unshed tears beaded her eyes, but the expression she beamed at the camera was sultry allure. The pure, radiant smile Jihun loved most was now etched as lurid erotica, fodder for anonymous leers.
Satisfied, Jin-seok pocketed the phone and exited. In the dark, humid pouch, Siyeon felt coarse fabric grind her body anew, mind fading. External noises crashed over her like tidal waves.
But Jin-seok didn't know. Rage-maddened Jihun had vaulted the turnstile, tracking faint phone signals, storming toward him. Jihun's footsteps drummed the cold station floor, closing in from behind.
Station speakers blared the shrill incoming train alarm. Amid the crowd, the gap between the two men shrank. The tormentor's hellish game and the husband's soul-bargained pursuit hurtled toward fatal collision. In her narrow phone hell, Siyeon held her breath, sensing the storm about to break.