Chapter 18
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 18
Despite the incident, I managed to finish my shower safely. Putting everything else aside, it was a genuine relief just to wash the sweat from my body.
Her ragged breaths and the sound of water sluicing over skin had been dangerous enough. The sight of her stark white, naked body as I was leaving the shower had been maddeningly perilous. But somehow, I had managed to look away and make it back to the living room unscathed.
Dokyun glared at the top of Eun-ah’s head. She was sitting beside him, arms crossed, her head bowed low.
...You lewd bitch.
From the moment he’d stepped out of the shower and sat on the living room sofa, her eyes had been periodically sweeping over his lower half. His handcuffed hands moved instinctively, shielding his groin from her view.
Clink—.
As Dokyun shifted, the chain collar around his neck scraped against itself. A slight frown creased his brow as he registered the sound.
A real chain…
This wasn't some prop you’d see in a porno; it was a collar made of real iron. It was thin enough that its weight wasn't a burden, but it certainly didn't look weak enough to be broken without tools.
Where in the world did she get all this stuff?
Her thoroughness was dumbfounding. As far as he knew, real iron chain collars—collars meant for a person’s neck, not a dog’s—weren’t commercially available.
Did she have it custom-made?
It was a reasonably logical conclusion. Just looking at the objects filling this space, every single one exuded an expensive air. Considering her apparent wealth, it seemed entirely possible.
Dokyun’s eyes darted around, carefully observing the living room.
Even at a glance, the room was filled with decorations and art pieces that gave off a strongly antique feel.
This can’t be her style.
If he had to make a comparison, it was closer to the home of a chaebol family from an old TV drama. In other words, it had a rather dated feel, an atmosphere he couldn't reconcile with the woman smiling wantonly beside him.
The first thing that comes to mind is…
Her parents.
That was as far as his thoughts could take him. Dokyun’s gaze swept across the space once more.
And of course, there are no devices connected to the outside world.
There was no sign of an intercom, an internal phone line, or a TV. It was a completely sealed-off house, a space whose very design revealed a specific purpose.
Dokyun felt a throbbing headache coming on.
Even if he tried to deduce something, he knew far too little about this woman to begin with. Web novel author Goni. A psychopath. Possessed an incomprehensible obsession with him. Was suspiciously wealthy. As his thoughts continued down this path, they suddenly veered off in a strange direction.
Could she really be some chaebol heiress?
The child of a wealthy family, hidden from the public eye due to a mental illness. A daughter concealed to protect the corporation’s image. Just as Dokyun’s overactive imagination was scripting an entire morning soap opera in his head, Eun-ah, who had been leaning against him with her arms crossed, opened her mouth.
“H-Honeybee…”
“Yes?”
At the sound of her voice, Dokyun’s train of thought scattered, and he turned to look at her. Her cheeks were still flushed red. Her eyes darted about, unable to meet his.
Staring at her, Dokyun felt a sense of surprise.
You’re capable of feeling shame?
It was an emotion he never would have imagined she possessed. While Dokyun was lost in that thought, Eun-ah, her face beet red, continued.
“I-I’m sorry… I-I-I made a mistake…”
“No, it’s… everyone makes mistakes… Yes, everyone makes a mistake once in a while.”
“B-But…!”
Dokyun was responding with a smile when she, who had been avoiding his gaze until now, looked up and met his eyes with a new force.
“N-Next time… I’ll d-d-do it… p-properly…!”
A resolute expression. Sparkling eyes. Staring back at her, Dokyun took a moment to process the meaning of her words.
A moment later.
Shudder—.
Wh-What is this crazy bitch saying!
A chill ran down his spine at the way she was so casually asking for a second round. This woman was declaring that next time, she would see it through to the end.
In other words, she wasn't apologizing for touching his body; she was apologizing for not being able to finish. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she had arrived at such a conclusion.
Dokyun wanted to refuse right then and there, but he was afraid her face would twist into that vicious expression again. He simply forced the corners of his mouth up and uttered a positive reply.
“Haha… I’ll… I’ll look forward to it.”
“Yes…!”
Her smiling face as she nodded enthusiastically was nothing short of terrifying. The predatory glint in her eyes was practically sizing him up for sex. He swallowed nervously, his throat dry.
I-If I can’t stop her…
For a moment, Dokyun’s wretched imagination began to paint a picture in his mind. A background of nothing but flesh. Bodies tangled together, heat radiating from them. Feverish moans.
The scene from the shower began to replay in his head, sharpening the details of the hazy, silhouetted image. The soft pressure on his arm, the awareness that she wasn't wearing any underwear beneath her dress—it all put the final, damning period on the thought.
Throb.
Sh-Shit!
This was a problem. His lower body was once again acting outside of his control. He knew he shouldn't let his imagination run wild, but his thoughts wouldn't obey him. He needed something, anything, to shatter the fantasy.
Something, anything…
A struggle between reason and instinct began. Dokyun frantically spun his thoughts, searching for a breakthrough. Soon, he landed on the most appropriate excuse for the situation.
“The manuscript!”
“…What?”
He had practically shouted the word.
Turning his head to meet her eyes, Dokyun forced a smile and delivered the follow-up line he had prepared.
“Sh-Shall we read it…?”
It was a rehash of his excuse from the shower. It was the most effective way to divert her attention and hide his own condition.
At the very least, while he was reading, this wretched imagination of his would be forced to focus all its energy on picturing the scenes in the novel. Her gaze would be fixed on the manuscript and his face. If he could manage that, he could avoid a repeat of what happened in the shower.
As Dokyun’s mind constructed this chain of logic, Eun-ah’s head bobbed in a vigorous nod.
“Ah…! Yes, yes!”
Then, Eun-ah, who had been pressed right up against him, released his arm and stood up.
“I-I’ll go get it right away…!”
“Yes, take your time.”
When Dokyun replied in a gentle tone, she smiled, nodded, and disappeared from his sight with a series of short, quick steps. A sigh of relief escaped Dokyun’s lips, thinking he had overcome the crisis.
A moment later, the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance.
Click.
He heard a door open and close again. Dokyun strained his ears, focusing on the sounds.
The back of the hallway.
A space that was outside his line of sight. The room she had entered to get the manuscript was, in all likelihood, her workshop. Her workshop seemed to be in the inner part of the house. Having confirmed this, Dokyun’s mind began to race.
If there’s anything useful, it would be in there…
Usually, people hide their most important things in their most private spaces, don't they? It was reasonable to assume that any clues to his escape, or any clues about this house and her, would be in there.
The problem is how to get in…
The biggest issue was his limited range of movement. In the room where he first woke up, a rope had been tied around his waist. Now that he was in the living room, the chain collar connected to various pieces of furniture restricted his actions.
Dokyun’s hand went to the chain collar around his neck.
Clink-clank.
The sound of the chain links striking each other followed his movement. The cool touch of the metal on his hand felt suffocating.
I have to get this off…
A sigh escaped him. The collar was fastened with a small padlock. Like the chain itself, it was constructed to be quite durable and looked impossible to break with brute force.
Dokyun recalled the moment she had unlocked his handcuffs in the shower and when she had fastened the collar on him just a little while ago.
The key to the cuffs and the key to this collar are in her pocket…
His mind spun, spitting out heat. He tried to think of a way to steal the key without her noticing, but no good ideas came to him. His thoughts stretched on.
A way… a way…
A way to steal the key. Make contact with her secretly, without her noticing.
The small pocket on the waist of her dress.
The key hidden beneath it.
The only way to get it is to touch her.
To put a hand on her body.
To put a hand on her waist.
Below her waist, there is no underwear.
In that case…
Gasp!
“Goddammit!”
A short curse burst from Dokyun’s lips as his train of thought continued. He began to berate himself for the feast of flesh that was filling his mind. In despair, he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up.
Dokyun, Chae Dokyun! What the hell are you thinking!
As his thoughts progressed, he had unwittingly pictured her bare skin. A grotesque, jiggling mass of flesh filled his mind. He continued to tousle his hair, trying to erase the images that kept flashing through his head.
Get… get a grip…!
If he gave in to his impulses here, it would truly be the end. He would be trapped in this house forever, living only to cater to her whims.
A fucking captivity ending!
No, he could never, ever live like this. There was no freedom here. No will of his own.
He couldn't eat what he wanted, wear what he wanted, or go where he wanted.
But most importantly.
There are no ‘najakso’!
There was no joy in life.
If he were to be tied up here forever, the only story he would ever be able to read would be hers, a story that had already blown up. A tattered rag of a novel, corrupted and filthied by capitalism.
I need a clean… a pure story…
His eyes grew moist. He had a mission. He had to give those fresh, untainted novels struggling in the Deep Sea a taste of the ecstasy of skyrocketing to success. He had to give them hope so they could continue writing tomorrow. He had to plaster a high-quality cover on their main pages, which didn't even have proper art yet, and fill their donation sections with his own nickname.
I’m sorry, my little ones… Oppa will be back for you, I promise…!
He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. A small ember ignited in his heart. It was the calling, the resolution, that had moved him for so many years.
Just as Dokyun was steeling his will and calming his mind, the sound of a door opening echoed from down the hall.
Click—.
Dokyun’s head snapped up.
She’s coming.
Beyond the sound of the door locking, he heard light footsteps approaching, followed by a voice.
“I-I’m back…”
“Ah, you’re back?”
Dokyun turned his head and welcomed Eun-ah, who was holding a thick manuscript in her arms. When their eyes met, Eun-ah froze for a moment, then her face burned bright red. She ducked her head and took small steps toward him, sitting down to his left. She held out the manuscript she was carrying.
“Here’s the m-manuscript!”
“Ah, thank you.”
Dokyun extended his cuffed hands to take the manuscript from her, then placed it on his lap and spoke in a gentle tone.
“Shall we start reading now?”
“Yeees…”
Her voice was a small, trembling hum. At the same time, Eun-ah’s arm reached out, wrapped around Dokyun’s left arm, and hugged it tightly.
Flinch.
As she linked her arm with his, her breast pressed softly against his bicep. As she squeezed his arm, increasing the surface area of flesh pressed against him, Dokyun squeezed his eyes shut. He desperately clung to his fading reason and made a silent vow.
I will not break!
His resolve sounded anything but certain.