Driven Mad by Jealousy
Ayoung stopped in front of the front door. Her legs were trembling. The sensation of clinging to Jinho in the alley, holding on desperately, still lingered in her waist. The numbers on the door lock blurred. She closed her eyes. The feeling of him filling her completely just moments ago came rushing back. The moment his hot seed had flooded her insides, spreading deep within. It had warmed her most intimate depths with a mind-numbing ecstasy. I'm crazy. I really am a crazy bitch. She'd wailed and clung to a boy younger than her in that dark alley. And that wasn't enough—she'd even permitted him to finish inside her.
"Ah..." Her knees buckled, and she collapsed right there in front of the door. Her whole body shuddered at the sensation trickling down between her thighs. No. I can't do this. She covered her face with her palms. It didn't suit her. There was no place for her beside that boy. All she could hope for was a fleeting warmth, barely grazing her fingertips. What if this drags me down?
Sorry. Thank you. The boy she'd hated and cursed. The one who'd blackmailed her and taken her body at will. Yet before his touch, her body opened first. His hands turned her into a woman; his voice calling her name filled the emptiness inside. That was enough. Just a brief lapse. Lend him her body, nothing more. As long as her heart didn't follow... But Ayoung knew the line she'd drawn had long since vanished.
She wanted to cling to him. Her head knew they had to part eventually. He was barely twenty. But the more she knew, the less she wanted to let go. If she did, she'd never experience this version of herself again. His whisper that he wouldn't discard her—it was crueler than any promise to a woman who'd been abandoned once. She gritted her teeth, vowing not to believe, yet her hands still grasped at those words. Her chest tightened.
And that scent... A faint, unfamiliar feminine aroma clung to his body. It was definitely another woman's. Her jealousy felt pathetic. He had money, youth, looks—another girl was no surprise. What could a woman like her expect from him? Maybe that's why she'd allowed it. Letting him pour inside her. Just like that. At least then, a part of him would stay within her. Something that no one else could take away. In that moment, nothing else crossed her mind.
Stupid. Ayoung buried her forehead in her knees. It was time to return to being a mother. She took a couple of deep breaths and punched in the code. Beep. She opened the door, stepped inside, and slipped off her shoes. The bedroom door creaked open.
"Mom, you're home?" Woochan poked his head out.
"...Sorry, I'm a bit late, huh?"
"You must be exhausted."
His innocent smile, oblivious to everything, choked her up.
"Thanks, honey."
"What's that?" Woochan's eyes dropped to her hand.
"Oh... I got some blood sausage on the way."
"Oh, nice. Looks tasty."
The blood sausage he'd bought for her to take home, even thinking of her son. His generosity weighed heavy on her heart.
"Let's eat it at the table together." Ayoung tore open the bag and set it on the table.
"Smells good." Woochan picked up his chopsticks. He popped a piece in his mouth, eyes widening. "It's good. Try some, Mom."
"Okay." Ayoung took a bite. She tasted nothing as she chewed. She remembered him biting into the twisted doughnut she'd given him, smiling that it was delicious. The way he'd tilted the bag toward her, urging her to try. In that brief moment, Ayoung had felt, after so long, like she could give something to someone. It squeezed her heart like a vise.
"Mom?" The chopsticks paused.
"Oh... Sorry, I was lost in thought."
Sitting in front of her son, thinking about a man. Her face burned.
"Your head doesn't hurt, right?"
"No, it's not that."
"No, you look like you're sweating a lot."
Woochan's hand rose toward her forehead. Before it touched, her body reacted first. She swatted his wrist away harder than intended. A flash of the alley crossed her mind. The sweat beading on her forehead. Was it from the heat, or from what had just happened? If her son touched it, he'd know.
"Ah..." Woochan's hand hung in the air.
Ayoung's heart plummeted.
"Sorry. You startled me."
"It's fine." Woochan casually picked up another piece of blood sausage. That smile only tightened her throat more.
"Gonna use the bathroom quick." She stood and shut the bathroom door. She locked it and gripped the sink edge with both hands. There she was in the mirror. Flushed cheeks. Relaxed eyes. A lingering red tint on her lips. Not a mother—a woman stood there.
Get it together. She turned on the faucet. Cupped cold water in her hands and plunged her face in, holding her breath until it dripped from her chin.
Ayoung emerged from the bathroom and stood by the table. "I'm beat. Gonna head to bed."
"Okay, I'll clean up."
"Thanks."
She closed her bedroom door and leaned against it. Her hand that had struck her son's flashed in her mind. His startled eyes. The face that brushed it off with a smile. She undressed. As she slid her panties down her thighs, his sticky essence stretched like a thread and trailed down her skin. What had soaked into the fabric snapped free. What he'd left inside her. A thick, musky scent rose. It should have been fishy, revolting. But inhaling it brought back his body heat pinning her against the alley wall. His rough breaths in her ear. The hands gripping her waist, refusing to let go. The embrace that lingered long after. She wanted to see him. Tonight, the loneliness felt unbearable.
---------
Hoo... I let out a long breath and looked ahead. Grandfather stood on the mat, guards up, utterly still. His eyes narrowed behind the headgear. I hate those eyes. That habit of scanning people from bottom to top—same whether tossing a pen or throwing a punch.
I could step in one more foot. I extended my leg. In an instant, a fist flew at my face, and my body reacted on instinct. I twisted sideways, raising my arm to block—but the strike never landed. His fist opened right in front of me, grabbing my blocking wrist.
Ah! By the time I realized, my body was yanked forward, steps tangling. Thud. A knee rocketed toward my side. I barely lifted my foot to catch it on my thigh, but the shock traveled up my bones to my waist. Second, third strikes came relentlessly. At this rate, I'd just take hits. I grabbed his arm to counter-kick. But then strength drained from my wrist. He released my arm, dropped low, and tackled.
Oh shit! One leg was already up for the side kick—defending the tackle was impossible. My base crumbled, and I fell backward. I tucked my head and curled to roll with the fall, but slamming into the mat choked the breath from me. I felt him twisting my arm; I pinned my elbow to my body and resisted. But with my waist pinned under his weight, there was no angle to escape.
Thud. Thud-thud. Fists hammered my face. Even with the headgear, my vision flashed white and shook.
Ugh... Suddenly, my arm was trapped between his legs. His thighs clamped around it, squeezing. As the angle hyperextended my elbow, my bones screamed.
"Aaaagh!! Tap!! Tap!!" I slapped his thigh and yelled. A beat later, the pressure released.
Haah... haah... I lay on my back on the mat, staring at the ceiling. The training room lights stabbed my eyes. Grandfather loomed over me, not a drop of sweat on him.
"You little shit, skipping training and slacking off—total mess."
Fuck... I tried to snap back, but my lungs wouldn't cooperate; my mouth just opened and closed.
"All you do is daydream bullshit."
He walked to the opposite side, grabbed a water bottle from the mat corner, and drank casually. Not even winded. I sighed. A geezer over sixty with that physique? Unreal. But saying it would just earn me another round, so I swallowed it.
I finally gathered myself and sat up on the mat. My head throbbed, elbow ached. Something flew at me. I caught it reflexively—a water bottle. I twisted the cap and chugged. Cold water down my throat, and my lungs finally worked again.
"Hoo... Feels like I'm alive."
"What the hell you been up to lately?"
I just drank, no answer.
"You're twenty now. Time to get your shit together."
"I'm working hard, Gramps."
He sighed heavily. "Pulled you here 'cause you wouldn't go to the military academy."
"I just wanted to go to a normal university."
I grumbled, and his eyes narrowed. "That's 'cause you act like a slimy punk."
"Who even goes there anymore!"
"Our family's in defense contracting—skipping the army? Ridiculous!"
"Ugh... I'll go, but I don't wanna rot as an officer."
"You little bastard!"
Lecture incoming. I flopped back flat. He clicked his tongue at me.
"And the stuff you asked for. Got the files ready."
I bolted up, eyes sparkling at him.
"I won't pry into your business, but one thing clear."
He stared straight at me, all businessman now, not sparring partner. "If you're gonna do it, do it right."
"Got it. Don't worry."
He turned to leave but paused. "And if you get caught doing something you can't own up to, you won't walk away with just broken bones this time."
"Won't happen."
He shook his head and left the training room. A file folder sat on the mat edge. Inside, neatly packed docs and photos. Flipping through—jackpot. Damn... these punks are baby druggies already? Little shits starting young.
I stuffed the papers back in my bag and pulled out my phone. One message. From Jinhee.