The Record of the 9 Hours She Disappeared. 2

Lee Hyun's chilling voice sliced through the auditorium's air.

"Now, bride Lee Seol. It's time for you to make your sacred vows before your eternal partner."

Her face filled the massive screen in a close-up. Beads of sweat dotted her flushed skin, unnaturally hot to the touch, while her unfocused eyes chased only the lingering afterimages of pleasure, reason long abandoned. Her lips glistened, slick with dog precum, and with every ragged breath, thick sweat trickled down between her heaving cleavage. Even the horrifying weight of a vow to live eternally as a male dog's bride melted powerless before the fishy fluids filling her mouth and the ecstasy they brought.

"I, Lee Seol..."

"Ah... wait a second..."

But the organization wouldn't allow her to recite her vows lost in bliss. Lee Hyun paused his urging and raised a hand.

"Ah, hold on a moment. Before the vows, shall we take a look at our bride's 'beautiful' memories? There's a fun truth you all don't know."

Five years ago, in the hallway outside Erebos Entertainment's practice room, she stood there. About three months into her training, her eyes half-unfocused, her steps unsteady. Korea's largest entertainment empire, Erebos. Beyond its glittering glass walls lay the reality: a massive training facility selecting and breeding 'bitches' to offer up to Pantheon members. Beneath that glamorous building lurked damp underground conditioning rooms. Fresh from brutal sessions, she instinctively headed to the practice room to cling to her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crumbling mind. Music was her last bastion of humanity.

Then, from behind the closed door at the hallway's end, piano notes flowed out. It was my clumsy but heartfelt performance—the junior composer's work.

After a day of grunt work, alone at night once everyone left, my first rough draft taking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shape. The crude yet warm melody traveled the cold marble hallway to her ears. On screen, Lee Seol stopped before the door. Her head lifted slowly. Shoulders hunched from hellish training trembled faintly in response to the tune. In that moment, tears welled in her half-dazed face. Her soul, butchered by vile lusts, was healed by this nameless junior composer's lyrical melody.

Lee Hyun's low voice echoed through the auditorium.

"Even as her body turned into a lewd bitch, her spirit held out nobly. Curious, we tailed her after sessions and witnessed that intriguing truth by chance."

The on-screen footage sped through what followed. Every day after training, she quietly leaned against my practice room door and sat. While I composed and played, she listened in silence. Then, after weeping soundlessly for a while, she'd leave. That tragic routine repeated endlessly.

".......??"

I stared at the screen, stunned by facts I'd never known. She'd secretly listened to my embarrassing drafts...

The pure-souled her from the video. But now, five years later, she knelt wordlessly sucking my cock.

"Slurp, sluuuurp, chup, chuup"

Her upturned eyes held sorrow for irrecoverable purity—and the ripe seductiveness of a fallen goddess.

Lee Hyun began a tale I couldn't comprehend.

"This one intriguing video will utterly ruin one man's life. The life of Na Kanghan, destined to reach the industry's peak with his natural talent."

CCTV footage secretly installed throughout the agency played my humiliating past. Filling the screen was Kang Jin-woo, my most trusted mentor and close brother. The date: after I first gave him a song, when it topped charts under his name. A year into my time at the agency.

Kang Jin-woo. He'd been a great teacher and senior. But eventually, he coveted my talent. Trusting him, I fell for the 'industry custom' excuse and lost my first song. Lee Seol, who knew my originals better than anyone, wouldn't stand for the deceitful theft.

Already Korea's top actress and singer with solid standing in the agency, she confronted him directly.

"How can you call yourself a senior? How dare you release a junior's song under your name?"

On screen, Kang Jin-woo looked ridiculous. Sweating and floundering before a much younger woman, his cowardly 'industry custom' excuse failing, he groveled with promises to fix it. Watching, I felt a strange thrill of satisfaction.

But it was fleeting. The scene blacked out, then new footage from another room played.

"Haa... haa... ♥"

That moan belonged to Lee Seol. My Lee Seol. The goddess who'd just cornered him with divine dignity now lay naked, beast-like on all fours, taking his brutal thrusts with her whole body.

"You bitch, I apologized that day not knowing you were such a filthy bitch. How dare a dirty slave like you defy me!"

Kang Jin-woo's vile curses filled the room. He yanked her hair, pounding mercilessly. But more shocking was her reaction. Eyes that should weep in pain and shame glistened with masochistic pleasure.

"Haak, haa...! S-sorry... How dare a bitch like me... speak so arrogantly without knowing my place...! Haaang ♥"

The haughty justice warrior was gone. Her reason paralyzed by forced aphrodisiacs, she lay under him, moaning sweetly.

Lee Hyun gripped the mic and shouted to the crowd.

"Everyone! Give a hot round of applause to the hidden contributor who helped birth today's 'Goddess of Masochism', Lee Seol—Kang Jin-woo!"

Under bright lights, a man rose slowly from his seat. Without a hint of shame, he waved arrogantly, like receiving a medal of honor. The bastard I'd once called brother. Kang Jin-woo.

"The day Lee Seol demanded copyright fixes and cornered Kang Jin-woo, Pantheon made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

Lee Hyun's voice dripped with deeper vileness.

"To crush Na Kanghan even harder. In return, full Pantheon membership—and rights to fuck the insolent Lee Seol as he pleased."

Lee Hyun stifled sudden laughter before continuing.

"Ah, not for free, of course. But with the perk of cost price, no commission. 10,000 won per hour—no, 7,000 back then, five years ago."

The screen footage rolled on without pause. I confronted Kang Jin-woo. My fully produced song was about to release with his name as composer. Accepting the organization's offer, he'd risen to head producer. In his office, I exploded in rage. He calmly soothed me with a disgustingly sincere apology.

But under his desk, by organizational order, my Lee Seol sucked his cock.

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

Holding her breath to avoid my notice, she swallowed every drop of his cum without spilling.

I looked at the real her now sucking my cock.

"Slurp, chup... haa..."

As her shameful past was exposed, she grew aroused by the misery. Sucking me, she reached back, relentlessly fingering her own anus.

The footage continued. Like a wild stallion, Kang Jin-woo ravaged her anytime, anywhere. Before me, he'd feign kindness with a fake smile; behind, backed by the organization, he'd even tamed the agency CEO, plundering all my talents.

On screen, over two long years, endless theft and false hopes butchered my soul until it withered.

But the tragedy didn't end. She had to watch me deteriorate daily. Guilt that I'd become the organization's prey because of her, driving me deeper into ruin. And her powerlessness as the agency's star, unable to act. It crushed her.

"Look! See how beautifully the masochistic instincts bloom over this lowly maso's soul!"

Lee Hyun's mad commentary burst out. The conditioning room screen edited and played footage of my growing ruin. Weeping from guilt toward me, her body reacted to the masochistic pleasure of that despair.

The hellish fact that I crumbled because of her paradoxically became the richest fertilizer, fully blooming ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the masochistic bud within.

Finally, two years of pent-up rage exploded when the pants-wearing CEO tossed my song to his nephew. I stormed out of that hellhole without regret.

But the world sides not with the righteous—with power and wealth. The company countersued shamelessly. Over the next three years of brutal legal battles with a mega-firm, I withered away.

Pantheon captured every moment of my pathetic fall. Even as I despaired on my knees, sobbing, their vile cameras rolled. Those feeds went straight to her conditioning handler.

The more I suffered on screen, the more her guilt twisted into perverse pleasure; the deeper I fell, the more gloriously her masochism bloomed.

A moldy semi-basement. Kneeling before the crushing despair of hundreds of millions in damages and settlements. Gulping bitter soju, vomiting a weakling's sorrow in bloody tears—that was my wretched sight.

Before my door, she paced with her crumpled bankbook. Earning billions yearly from ads, streams, concerts, and gigs—but not a penny was hers. All revenue went to the organization; her 'income' came only from selling her lowly body.

Korea's goddess Lee Seol commanded astronomical sex service fees. But the organization took most as commission. Managing her packed schedule tightly—conditioning shows twice or thrice weekly, one-on-ones limited to 2-3 hours daily.

Her take after commissions: 70,000 won per show, a measly 7,000 per hour of prostitution. So monthly, grinding her body yielded barely 1.4 million won.

"Behold! The bankbook of star 'Lee Seol,' sweeping Korea's ad world."

With Lee Hyun's slimy grin, her bankbook balance close-upped.

Five relentless years: 76 million won earned. But under 'five years of conditioning costs' to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tame her into a lewd bitch, they mercilessly took 90%. Leaving her with 7.6 million—laughably short to save me from my debts.

On screen, clutching her pathetic bankbook, she paced my door repeatedly. But each time, her lowly status sapped her courage; she hesitated, never knocking, fleeing into the dark.

Those nights, she walked into the conditioning room herself. Her eyes already half-glazed upon return. Despair at failing to save me, her powerlessness, guilt—pushing her deeper into masochistic abyss.

She begged wildly for training.

"More... trample me harder...! I'm a lowly bitch who can do nothing but take masters' lust...!"

Brain-numbing immoral ecstasy was her only escape.

On screen, tears streaming, a seductive smile on her lips, she threw herself into self-destructive climax.

"Haa... no way..."

My life's ruin at their hands—all because she found solace in my songs? I shuddered at Pantheon's ruthless sadism, terror at their obsession flooding me.

Seeing video-her cry pity for me, I felt not resentment but deep sorrow. Yet the real her, oblivious or not, sank deeper into pleasure from her pathetic past.

"Slurp, sluuup! Haa, haat..."

Her obsessive sucking grew madder; her anal fingering frenzied. The butt plug in her pussy pistoned wildly with each uterine contraction from her insane heat.

"Heek, ugh, haang ♥ Squish squish, stiiing!"

Separate from my pity for her, my body burned abnormally. My cock, swollen from her desperate fellatio, throbbed rock-hard, ready to burst.

Then, on screen, Lee Hyun smirked coldly.

"Now, sis. The real moment of choice."