Our First Wedding Night

Our first night together. How much time had passed? We simply held each other in silence. There was no conversation, but feeling each other's warmth, it felt like we'd grown a little closer. She, who had been entrusting her body to that cozy heat, suddenly seemed to snap back to reality, her shoulders trembling faintly. Perhaps only now realizing the filth on her body, she turned her flushed face away from my gaze and spoke in a wet voice.

"Kanghan... I'll go wash up...."

I desperately wanted to wash her myself, but since we were still awkward with each other, I stepped out to the bathroom as she asked. But the moment I entered the living room, a pair of white high heels sitting forlornly under the sofa caught my eye. The white high heels that had been yanked off her feet like a dog's while Lee Hak-su dragged her around. Even inside those heels, the brutal traces left by the males were overflowing. It wasn't just stuck on—it was a viscous pool of saliva and semen congealed thickly on the insole.

First, I pressed tissues firmly into the heels to scrape out the disgusting muck clinging inside. Every time the sticky mix of saliva and semen smeared onto the tissue, reality hit me anew.

"Ha......"

A rough breath escaped through my lips. The stubborn stickiness that tissues couldn't handle, I tackled with wet wipes, pulling them out one after another.

"That should do it now, right?"

It looked clean on the surface. But I couldn't erase the acrid residual scent teasing my nostrils. Inside, the males' fishy musk was tattooed in like a permanent mark, mingled with her oddly musky, earthy aroma.

Back when I was the lowest rung composer at the agency, I unintentionally overheard all sorts of juicy gossip. It mostly came from the junior stylists venting their intense work stress through trash talk. The dark underbelly of girl groups, hidden beneath the dazzling lights, was mercilessly dissected in their chatter.

"God, that unnie sweats so much it's driving me insane. I have to change her outfits constantly."

"At least that's better. XX is filthy—she never washes. No matter how grueling the schedule, just wash up a bit."

A cesspool of jealousy and stress-fueled rumors, even fabricating stories. But there was always one common thread in those talks.

"Ah... I'd be so happy to handle Unnie Lee Seol. Even wearing the same outfit multiple times in a summer concert, she never smells. It's miraculous."

"Must be so easy. I'm so jealous of her stylists."

In their backbiting that invented facts, the one thing they all agreed on was undoubtedly true. These were brand-new-looking heels, pristine as if just taken from the store. Yet they smelled—on the woman famous for never having any odor. It didn't make sense.

"Ha...."

But as I examined the high heels closely, I began to understand. In stark contrast to the dazzling white exterior leather, the insole where her feet touched was unrecognizably ruined. The leather, warped and cracked from layers of sweat-soaked abuse, had countless male traces embedded in the crevices like tattoos. These weren't new shoes. They were thoroughly worn-out ones, merely resurfaced with fresh outer leather.

While I was inspecting the high heels, the bathroom door opened, and she stepped out.

"Ah.....!"

An exclamation slipped out unbidden. With just a bathrobe draped over her, wet hair cascading down, she was a goddess who transformed even the air in the living room. Every trace of the ugly violation by the males had vanished. Only her pure, noble grace remained. But her bulging lower belly, like irrefutable evidence that couldn't be washed away, preserved the grotesque reality of today, evoking a twisted sense of depravity.

".......!"

Spotting me with the high heels, her eyes quivered. Her face flushed crimson in an instant. She rushed over like a shot and snatched them from my hands, clutching them to her chest.

"....Haa, haa....."

She pressed the heels to her bosom like someone caught with a shameful secret. Her reaction was utterly incomprehensible. So what if the shoes smelled a bit? Sure, a normal woman might feel embarrassed being caught with worn, odorous heels. But this was the woman who, just moments ago, had reveled in masochistic pleasure before me, writhing like a bitch in heat.

"Ah..... Sorry, Kanghan."

With the heels hidden against her, she forced open her tearful lips in a quavering voice.

"The truth is... except when appearing in public... these high heels are the only shoes I'm allowed."

Hearing her shameful confession, all the questions swirling in my head clicked into place. Five long years. Whether stepping out privately or being mercilessly ravaged as slave Lee Seol, these shoes had been the only ones wrapping her feet. An insole of leather that couldn't even be properly cleaned. No matter her naturally odorless, noble constitution, it was nearly impossible for foot scent not to seep in over that suppressed time and heat. Moreover, my bride—Lee Seol—had been remodeled into a body that oozed pheromone-laden sweat when aroused in pleasure. That musky scent from the high heels she now clutched in shame? It was the indelible brand of her conditioning, the pathetic trace of her slow breakdown and modification over five years.

"I'll... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠definitely make it big and buy you new shoes."

Unable to suppress the surge of emotion, I blurted out another embarrassing vow. I knew the weight of my words. To defy her owners' rules just for a new pair of shoes, the fortune and power required—I couldn't even fathom it yet. Me, just starting anew as a composer after washing away my disgrace, embarking on an endless path I couldn't predict. But my heart pounded hotter than ever.

This moment was surely being vividly recorded. To Pantheon members, I was just an amusing episode—a laughable clown spouting empty bravado. Their mocking laughter echoed in my ears like a hallucination, but I didn't care. I simply approached her and pressed a deep kiss to my wife's lips, as she clutched the worn shoes.

"......................"

Startled by the sudden kiss, she flinched back, but instead of refusing, she accepted the feel of my lips. Our first kiss, under Park Manager's command, had been tainted with the fishy taste of semen and humiliation. But now was different. Her lips were flawlessly clean, and the warmth from within was intoxicatingly sweet. This kiss, forged from our true feelings for each other—this was our real first kiss.

The damned old Pantheon bastards were probably cackling at this scene. Hell, they might even be grateful to me. Simply raping a fallen woman no longer entertained them. The more tender affection flowed between us, the more they'd thrill at crushing that pure bond and shattering it. They might project this on a big screen and condition her brutally. Make her aroused, craving pleasure, then force her to badmouth me with her own mouth. But right now, none of that mattered. I focused only on her warm, fragrant breath. In this kiss, free of others' commands or fishy traces, we conveyed our true hearts.

Then—

Grrrooowl—.

My stomach clock rang out insensitively. Come to think of it, I hadn't eaten anything today.

"Ah....."

"Pfft, pffft!"

"Puhahaha!"

"Kyahaha!"

After a brief silence, we burst into laughter as if on cue. The bastards watching from beyond the screen were probably rolling on the floor at this sudden comedy. Unintentionally, I'd upgraded from melodrama to gag show for them.

She laughed brightly, like a child untouched by the world's filth. Facing that transparent, dazzling smile, my heart throbbed with excruciatingly sweet pain. Ah, in the ruins of this crumbling goddess, I had glimpsed her soul still shining. And I realized—I'd fallen helplessly for her again.

As I stared at her dazedly, she said,

"Shall we order room service?"

"Ah..... Yeah."

Shaking off the embarrassment, I hurriedly called room service. She told me to order what I wanted, so I sensibly chose food that wouldn't be too heavy late at night but would satisfyingly fill us up.

The silence returned. Sitting across the table, an odd awkwardness hung between us. But even that clumsy quiet was an indescribable everyday happiness to me.

Ding-dong— The doorbell rang, and I rushed to open the hotel door. About to let the staff in absentmindedly, I froze. The cold reality I'd forgotten amid our sweet kiss resurfaced. Her juices, flowing as she was dragged like a dog by Lee Hak-su and lost in masochism, were still stickily staining spots around the room. And despite her humiliatingly licking them up, the carpet still bore the men's ugly semen stains.

I tipped the staff generously and sent them away politely. Then wheeled the dining cart to the table.

She carefully arranged the food from the cart onto the table. The way she neatly set the dishes made it seem like she was truly savoring this mundane act. Thinking about it, since that tragic day five years ago, her normal family life had shattered. She surely had no friends to share her plight or hearts with. Setting the tableware and food with care for someone—it was this simple, humble routine that made her look genuinely happy.

But she could barely eat. Not just her swollen womb, but her stomach too was filled with the males' semen. Knowing that, I didn't push her. I just forced myself to eat heartily, delighted by her joy at my appetite. Seeing her fully immersed in this precious everyday bliss was joy enough for me.

"Ah..... I can't eat any more."

I rubbed my now bloated belly with exaggerated complaint. Finding it funny, she smiled brightly and began clearing the table. I naturally stood beside her to help. Amid the small sounds of moving plates and wiping the table, a warm sense of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠being truly married enveloped us.

Still, it was our wedding first night, so lewd male desire stirred in me. But I quickly quelled it. Her body, violated all day, had surely reached its limit.

"Shall we... go to bed now?"

At my tentative suggestion, her eyes seemed a bit sad. She weakly shook her head, pointing to the USB in the corner. My chest ached sharply. Her gesture—obeying her master's command at any moment—mocked the simple happiness we'd just shared, thrusting the harsh reality upon us.

My wife took my hand and slowly led me to the sofa. In her fleeting glance flickered a strange excitement from fulfilling her inescapable master's order. Like a man bewitched by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a siren, I let her guide me to sit on the sofa.

She plugged the USB into the hotel TV, then sat beside me. Her smile was subtle, her face flushing seductively. Like a switch flipped, she seemed to shift into female mode. But simultaneously, an inexplicable anxiety shadowed her eyes.

Playing the video, our wedding ceremony appeared.

It was the scene of me taking my vows.

"Oh shoot..."

I paused the video and dashed to the desk. I pulled out the ring box we hadn't exchanged because of that massive dog acting as ring bearer. Kneeling before her with trembling heart to slip the ring onto her slender finger—

".....???"

But she refused my hand with shaking fingers. Had I not noticed earlier because I didn't look closely, or had she hidden it? On her left ring finger was already a wedding band.

".....????"

Utterly baffled, I stared at her. Indescribable sorrow swirled in her eyes. Even as tears blurred her vision, beyond them flowed an eerie heat of masochistic submission she couldn't refuse.

"I'm sorry..... The masters said to wear the ring with you only for public activities..."

She bowed her head like a criminal. Thick teardrops plopped to the floor. In a voice heavy with sorrow, she barely continued.

"Normally... they told me to wear my real husband's ring......"

"....Real husband???"

My bewildered question met only mournful silence.

'..................'

With trembling fingers, I pulled at the ring on her ring finger to examine it. It had a flashy gem, but up close, I stopped breathing. The intricately carved gemstone was none other than a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rough dog's paw print.

"..............."

I went blank, as if hammered on the head. Amid my stalled thoughts, an indescribable ominous foreboding crashed over me like a tsunami. Why she'd wept so bitterly in the bathroom earlier—the truth of that sadness now approached me terrifyingly. Lee Hak-su's words echoed: all the answers were in the video. I immediately hit play.