Flashback: Arthur Kim
“Alright then, I’ll hang up?”
“Babe?”
The call, which hadn’t been short by any means, finally ended.
As if she’d been waiting for it, a woman slithered out from under the covers and threw herself into Arthur’s arms.
Amid the soft, enveloping warmth wrapping around his back, a faint tickle teased him.
“You done with the call?”
A sultry, intoxicating voice, laced with succubus-like seduction, beckoned him. A clear signal that she was already ready.
“Huh?”
Not content with that, she added a coquettish whine, her voice dripping with aegyo.
Any average guy would’ve surrendered right there.
But Arthur’s reaction was lukewarm at best. Puffing out her cheeks, the woman extended her slender, flawless arm and wrapped it tenderly around his waist.
Her lewd fingers trailed slowly over his firm abs, inching toward his groin.
“Whoops. Sorry, did I keep you waiting?”
Arthur chuckled softly, grabbing the woman’s mischievous hand—her hair dyed a striking white.
Caught in the act, she pouted her lips dramatically.
“I waited over thirty minutes. You could let me touch a little. So unfair.”
“My mouth’s better than my hands, though?”
“Pervert.”
“I didn’t say which mouth.”
“Doesn’t matter which one.”
She shot him a playful glare and buried her face in his shoulder, letting out a soft, purring breath.
“We’ve already done it plenty, and you’re still not satisfied?”
Arthur gave a wry smile, stroking the woman’s hair as she nuzzled against him like a cat. Even though it was dyed rather than natural, her well-maintained locks flowed like silk between his fingers.
It was the silken texture he loved most.
“Ugh, you’re so shameless. It’s all your fault.”
She sharpened her nails, her tantrum a thinly veiled threat.
“Ahaha. Sorry, my bad.”
“Do you even know what you did wrong?”
Arthur gently took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
“If I didn’t, would I be apologizing like this?”
“Always so sly and smug…”
Pretending to be annoyed, she shook off the hand he’d kissed.
Instead, she jabbed her sharp chin hard into his shoulder.
His shoulder bone twisted with a crack, cracking the grin on Arthur’s face.
“Ow, ow! That hurts! What the hell?!”
“That’s the point. You’ve been taking calls all the time lately. It’s making me jealous as hell.”
She was already infamous for streaming non-stop for over ten hours at a stretch. Now she had to compete with his phone for half an hour? As his girlfriend, it was only natural she’d be pissed.
“Ahaha. To think I’d earn jealousy from a woman as captivating as Rin. That kid’s got some game too, huh?”
“Hm? A young friend?”
“Hey now, it’s a guy, so don’t look at me like that…”
Arthur spilled the beans in a panic.
But Rin wasn’t convinced, sinking her teeth into the nape of his neck in petty revenge.
“Ow! That hurts, Rin!”
“Hmph. Punishment for ignoring your pretty girlfriend for some boy.”
Arthur scratched the back of his head at Rin’s adorable sulking.
Her cute little fangs were charming, but a pain in moments like this.
“Sorry, Rin.”
“Don’t just say sorry. Show me with actions.”
Her voice turned menacing as she prodded his side with the edge of her hand.
“Satisfy me, Ogawa Rin.”
“Tall order…”
Ogawa Rin.
A utaite, odoriite, and cosplayer all in one.
A unique woman who could’ve debuted as a major-label singer ages ago but chose to stick with the doujin scene. People reverently called her the Queen of the Doujin World.
Unlike Arthur, she showed her face openly, uploading cosplay photos and dance videos from time to time.
Her multifaceted activities had earned her a massive, diverse fanbase, giving her star-level clout in online and doujin circles.
Even now, agencies kept scouting her, but she turned them all down.
“Arthur. How many years have we known each other?”
“About ten, right? Around when I debuted, and you hit your first million.”
“You remember that well?”
Rin pulled him close, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Then you know how to satisfy me, don’t you?”
“Hey, we’ve been at it for three hours straight today already…?”
“So you’re saying no? Should I ruin you for good? Hm?”
“Haha, no way…”
As she eyed his crotch with sharpened nails, Arthur paled and conceded defeat.
No choice. When she said strip, he stripped.
Any other woman, maybe not—but Rin had him weak.
“Man, ten years already. Feels nostalgic. Some creepy girl back then came up to me in karaoke, asking if I’d ever thought about being a utaite. Scared the shit out of me.”
She’d burst in like she owned the place.
Her intensity back then made him think she was yakuza.
His friends thought his playboy ways had finally caught up.
Recalling it, Arthur let out a hearty laugh.
“Join my crew, and success is guaranteed—she was bawling her eyes out.”
“And I did succeed. You ungrateful jerk.”
“Ow, ow! That hurts!”
Rin pinched his cheek, and he whined.
Still not over it, she puffed her cheeks and kneaded his rock-hard abs.
A man’s firm muscles were therapeutic just to touch.
Arthur let her.
“But is that kid that fun? You don’t show interest in guys often.”
Once he’d gained some fame, the hardest part of handling Arthur for Rin was his constant women.
Industry folks, she could hush up. But fans? Rumors flew, and she’d sweated bullets covering for him.
If he lacked even one of talent, looks, or bedroom skills, she’d have dumped him.
Now he was eyeing some boy. She’d warned him preemptively.
“Look, I said I don’t care about other girls, but guys are different, right?”
“Aigoo, such worries. I’m straight, Rin.”
Arthur flopped back, pulling her into his arms.
Their soft skin and firm flesh rubbed together, drawing a small gasp from her.
“And my type’s women with hips and legs like yours.”
“Ooh, wanna do it with stockings this time?”
“Nah, I prefer bare legs.”
He whispered sweetly in her ear, chuckling as he caressed her nearly naked thigh in smooth circles.
Handsome guys made anything look good.
Rin wanted to smack him but lifted her thigh for easier access.
Savoring his affection, she casually vented her pent-up gripe.
“Liar.”
“Me?”
“You said you liked huge tits that overflow your hand.”
He definitely had.
Her mobile game cosplay back then—those breasts were perfection. He still jerked off to those vids and pics when solo.
“Your tastes change every day.”
“And you hate that?”
Her hazel eyes drank him in lovingly.
“I’m the type to dump a guy cold if I hate it.”
“Guess I’ll have to work hard to keep you satisfied.”
Arthur pulled her close.
“How?”
“Kisses first.”
He pecked her lips without warning.
“Then compliments.”
“Like what?”
“Like how your charms are endlessly varied?”
“Varied how?”
“Every glance reveals something new, electric. I can’t pin down just one appeal.”
“What, you grease up your mouth today?”
“Nah, just butter on honey.”
“Eek!”
Without warning, he grabbed her ass and thrust in his pride.
She arched in shock, but long trapped in his embrace, her squirms only spiced the pleasure.
Her eyes fluttered wildly before her pinned torso wriggled desperately.
“Ahh… you bastard…!”
“You wanted satisfaction?”
As much as she wanted.
From there, it was Arthur’s show.
True to his playboy rep, he kept her on the edge with dizzying pleasure.
Arthur Kim.
Or Kim Arthur, if you preferred.
He wasn’t born blessed, but his life and circumstances were—far from misfortune.
At century’s end, as Japan opened culturally to Korea, Kim Hee-tae hustled back and forth between Busan and Fukuoka, peddling goods.
That same era, as Britain returned Hong Kong to China, Igraine followed her mother’s roots to Japan.
Arthur’s birth was pure coincidence stacked on coincidence.
His father, a seafaring trader, frequented Fukuoka, closest to Busan.
His mother’s Hong Kong relatives, seeking a familiar vibe and foreigner-friendly spot, settled there too—for her and her British husband’s sake.
But that bold choice changed her fate.
In a port town buzzing with foreigners and tourists: entertainment districts.
That’s where they met.
Hee-tae sought a foreign woman after ages; Igraine, homesick runaway turned desperate, took a cabaret job—unwittingly a scam joint preying on foreigners.
Unlucky her: first customer was Hee-tae.
Condoms were standard, paternity hard to pin—but he tricked the naive Igraine.
Her unwanted first time done, she fled that night.
Home, she sobbed apologies to her parents.
Soon, they discovered her pregnancy.
Luckily, drunk Hee-tae had spilled his life story; a bar regular, he was traceable.
Her parents hired help to find him.
Suddenly responsible for a woman? Not bad for Hee-tae—income dropping post-openness, no other gigs.
Marry the pretty young thing with a kid on the way? Refuse and they’d kill him, shoulders broad with muscle. No choice.
Thus, the ultimate playboy, heir to lusty dad and beauty mom.
He lived a thin-novel protagonist’s golden life.
Friends dubbed him Hakata’s Ada Bomber.
Witnessing an ugly guy snag a beauty with sweet love songs hooked him on music. Guitar and vocals? Taught by a woman, naturally.
Then Ogawa Rin spotted him; utaite life began. He toured live houses, hunting pretty singers.
Reason? Good singers moan prettily in bed.
That night was no different.
As Rin’s crewmate on live house tour, nationwide jaunt, he hunted his type on free time.
“Thank you! See you next Halloween! Love you! Yahoo!”
“And that’s BIG O Pumpkin!”
The band, all in pumpkin masks, soaked up cheers descending stage.
Name to Halloween theme: autumn-focused, unlike spring/summer/winter acts.
Tours and buzz? Fall only.
Arthur’s friend sneered at their seasonal hustle.
‘Talks big, but he’s the most hyped.’
Arthur chuckled, glancing at his flushed pal’s serious critique of BIG O Pumpkin.
“Solid concept. Vocal’s tone is killer. Others replaceable, but her? Irreplaceable.”
“Yeah, she drags the band.”
“Sound’s shit here, but even so—major debut material.”
“That gimmick kills it.”
Pumpkin masks, black capes. Mic with scythe from cardboard.
Concept levels up to impressive.
Friend shyly agreed it was overkill.
“Right? Wonder what’s under the mask.”
“Curious? Hiding ugly mug.”
Arthur, Fukuoka local meeting tons via Rin, knew: confident beauties don’t hide.
Hiders? Face or past flaws.
“Tch. Voice screams hottie.”
“Voice hot doesn’t mean face hot, like some VAs.”
“Dude! Don’t shatter my dreams, you manwhore!”
Arthur crushed hopes; friend raged.
“You trash seasonal bands then praise vocals?”
“Vocals are top-tier, no debate.”
“True.”
Arthur nodded. Trained singers show it. Rin self-taught: early vids raw breath, pitch, voice.
BIG O Pumpkin? Pro despite mask—clean highs, stage bounding.
Trained breath, voice. Plus natural tone? He’d push major debut if scouting.
“Gimmick madness. Copy band sans it? Agencies would snatch.”
“Yeah. Voice that good? Bedroom moans fire too.”
“Fuck…”
Virgin friend whimpered at the tease. Mirror said he wasn’t bad, but next to Arthur? Squid.
Sighing, he eyed next band: sweaty dudes. Eyes off.
“Rin’d scout her on sight.”
“Prob. No face reveal.”
“Bull. One look at you, and Rin’s smitten.”
“Jealous? Get handsome.”
“Piss off!”
Friend jabbed lightly in annoyance.
“Hm?”
Blocking the jealous punch, Arthur spotted a boy.
Seen at another live house days prior.
“What? Hot girl?”
“Nah, not a girl…”
Intriguing.
Mesmerized, Arthur pushed through crowd, ignoring friend.
“Found him.”
“Huh? What? Not a girl?”
“Told ya. Check him.”
Arthur pointed.
Friend eyed the ordinary-looking kid puzzled.
“Just a brat. Solo without guardian? Wild.”
“Third time. Band maniac already?”
“Looks elementary.”
“Seems so.”
“Tch. Anime at home, but bands…”
Pitying yet smirking—future playboy vibes.
Arthur watched silently.
Awkward in the venue, yet boy navigated crowd expertly, chatting post-stage acts.
Performers mingle, gauge via crowd.
Crowd’s cold.
Some push feedback anyway.
Arthur thought idiots—upload vid, net nerds dissect.
Boy approached first.
“Your set was awesome! Not into metal, but that brutal growl scraping your throat? You own it!”
“R-Really?”
Long-haired furry dude blushed.
“Three years practice. From Until Death band. Similar?”
“Don’t know ’em well…”
“Oh…”
Deflated, guitarist scolded.
“Sigh. Showboating to a kid.”
“What?!”
“Kid, Gorilla’s growl is half-year old. Stage limit: our song’s only.”
“Hey!”
“Half-year? Throat okay? Hurts in live, they say.”
“Not that bad. Vocal cords stuffy quick. Choir in school, so theoretically… comfy?”
“Tone-deaf ass—torture sensei drilled him. Hot teacher, gorilla dude teary, no backtalk. Hilarious.”
“Keep it up, I’ll spill yours!”
“Try me!”
“Overcame tone-deaf to vocal? Awesome!”
“See? Pure praise rocks!”
“Scratch-only hack! Ruin cords, done, idiot!”
“True!”
“Guh!”
Not mere fan—boy dished critiques, chatted fluidly.
Bands laughed, teared, ruffled his hair.
‘Not scared?’
Some inked muscle arms, studded vests, gloves.
‘What’s this kid?’
Curious.
“Bet?”
“Bet? What?”
“Foreigner or not. Deal?”
Friend wary.
“You advantage. Third sighting for you.”
“Your take? Which country?”
“Wild style… Asian?”
“Dumbass…”
Arthur cursed; friend scratched irritably.
“Japanese? Foreign kid solo live house?”
“Then I bet foreigner. Korean?”
“Tch. Feels rigged…”
Cash-strapped from gear, friend bit—good stake.
Approached boy post-metal chat, scouting next.
“Hey, sis!”
“M-Me!?”
“You headliner just now, right?”
“N-No…? Mistake?”
“Voice matches. Or lower?”
Watching afar, friend elbowed.
“Girl on stage?”
“Nope. First see.”
Arthur’s face memory flawless—no beauty performed.
Boy insistent.
“No instrument?”
“Big backpack iffy…”
Smaller than hiking pack. No guitar/bass.
Snare first thought.
“Drum, sticks maybe. Amp, effects?”
“Pumpkin mask, cardboard scythe mic.”
“Ah…”
Eyes widened double.
“Her? BIG O Pumpkin vocal?”
“Bingo or not.”
Confirmed: beauty.
Deep black long hair, purple bridge highlights.
Lip mole alluring glimpse.
“Really not? Looks like you.”
“K-Kid! Quiet spot?”
Suspected Pumpkin vocal muffled him, dragged to corner.
Chatted shyly long.
Friend mocked Arthur.
“You wrong? Miracle.”
“Past unknown.”
“Looks? I’d shut up.”
“…”
Arthur pursed lips. He would too.
Headliner.
Main highlight—proven popular only.
Pumpkin fit.
Boy spotting casually? No slouch.
Friend thrilled—win sure.
“Bye, stream our songs?”
“Definitely! Sign next time, no forget?”
“Y-Yeah!”
Beauty waved shyly.
Regret missing her, but boy curiosity bigger.
“Kid.”
Only brat aware, boy scowled.
“What.”
“Pfft. Band prodigy. Cocky.”
Friend pointed giggling.
Boy’s face soured more.
“Gets it all. Japanese confirmed?”
“Heh. Me first.”
Reining eager friend, Arthur knelt eye-level.
Clumsy Korean for proof.
“ ‘You Korean by chance?’ ”
Boy startled, eyes wide, nodded.
“ ‘How’d you know?’ ”
Arthur grinned victoriously at friend.
“Bingo.”
Shin Tae-il and Arthur’s first meeting.
Years later, wiser Tae-il reflected:
“Seen tons idol smiles?”
“And?”
“You looked craziest.”
“What?!”
Arthur glared mid-VTuber stream.
“Instant vibe: total player.”
“Ugh…!”
Spot-on; Arthur swallowed hard.
Embarrassing, called slutty by kid.
Tae-il consoled post-setup:
“Made me relieved.”
“Why?”
“In this scene, grinning stranger like psycho? Pure real deal.”
“What ‘real deal’?”
“Setup done. You buying lunch, right?”
Ignoring, Tae-il bolted to door.
Arthur blinked between him and monitor—test stream perfect.
His smile mirrored: handsome, disarming save weird tastes.
“Psycho like this?”
“Can’t tell?”
Tae-il sneered contempt.
Butthurt, Arthur dragged him vegan.
“…”
Arthur blinked.
Turning to rhythmic breathing: Rin, face smeared white-ish.
“Ah, dream.”
Cool forehead hand, pulled covers vs. AC.
“Mm…”
Covers stirred; cold air, she clung seeking warmth.
Why old dream? Unknown.
But nostalgia hit.
His shining prime, boy beside subtly glowing, ready to shine.
Dream-chasing days.
Fairy tale? Dreams endure. Reality? Cruel.
That light dimmed over time.
Like him ditching song for streams.
Boy maybe realized sooner, quit early.
Common bandman malaise.
Regret: no real shot, just broke.
Star unburned cools to death.
Boy’s eyes in memory: dying star cold.
“Romance ending romantic? Dull…”
Reality.
But manifesting romance real? True romance.
Arthur loved such bands.
Romance realized, shown—real romantics.
Majors: all that.
Romance spreaders, infecting others.
‘Utaite lessons, he asked…’
Post-fade, recent.
Offered kindly then ignored; now busy, he begs.
Brat, Arthur griped.
“Composing too, rate it…”
Astronomically: dead star alive—dust, error fooled.
Someone CPR’d perfectly.
Godly. Reviving dead? Divine.
Arthur smirked, turned.
Desk mic: stream prop now.
Scratched Adam’s apple.
Throat itched.
Song urge after year.
“Wanna sing again?”
“…Say awake if awake. Heard all?”
“Held back for your dignity.”
Overheard rambling? Even thick-skinned Arthur cringed.
“Cringed me out too. Pffft.”
Rin’s stifled laugh flushed him red.
“Embarrassing, huh.”
“Ahaha. Laughed morning off. Sing urge? Say. Studio full setup ready.”
“Elite session full?”
“You call, they bolt in undies.”
Humanly worst man.
Singer onstage with him? Honor.
Rin smacked abs.
“Just say. Waiting. Anytime.”
“…Thanks. For real.”
“Pffft. So grateful? Grant my request?”
“What?”
Ominous, but nodded for love.
Covers slipped low; Rin mounted, leering.
“Nothing big. Join morning workout? Cool?”
Licked white-ish off lip.
Horny.
Very.
But no juice.
“Rin? Condoms gone yesterday…”
“Fine. Safe day~♥.”
Heart tail black.
“Not enough yesterday…”
“Nope!”
Only equal vixen tames playboy.
Milked dry morning, Arthur thought:
Only her for him.