If the Gamble Fails

When I opened my eyes, the first things I felt were a vicious thirst, a hangover that pounded against my skull, and an unfamiliar ceiling. ‘……Did I pass out?’

I instinctively checked the state of my body beneath the blanket. For better or worse, I was still wearing the pink training suit and thin cotton t-shirt from yesterday. I had gone all out with what could pass for battle gear and even deployed the red underwear to push him hard, yet the result was the utterly pathetic ‘passing out.’

The blue numbers hovering over my retina flickered as if mocking me. An entire day had vanished. If I were the older brother of a guy who didn’t even exist, I would have wanted to beat the pathetic younger sibling who had kicked away a fortune that rolled straight into his lap.

“……Stupid bastard who can’t eat even when it’s handed to him.”

I spat the harsh words and hauled myself up. My mouth felt dry and sticky, and the smell of freshly papered walls mixed with the high-proof alcohol from yesterday made my stomach churn. I headed straight for the bathroom and roughly rinsed my mouth with tap water. There was no chance this place would have spare toothbrushes for guests.

The Cha Seolah in the mirror had disheveled hair, yet even that only made her look like a decadent beauty, which irritated me even more. The one saving grace was that today was Sunday. I could avoid the disaster of wandering around campus in the same clothes and running into university people. If it had been Baek Gangho, no one would have cared, but too many eyes—whether she knew it or not—were always on Cha Seolah.

Ding-dong. At the cheerful sound of the door lock, I turned my head. Baek Gangho was coming in with a black plastic bag in his hand. The moment he saw me standing in the hallway outside the bathroom, he froze solid, hand still gripping the doorknob.

“Uh…… ah, you’re awake?”

His eyes were bloodshot. It wasn’t simply the alcohol; the skin beneath them looked hollow. He had probably spent the entire night waging a brutal internal war beside the sleeping peerless beauty who reeked of liquor in that tiny room—whether to become a beast or remain human. The haggard face was the scar of that battle, and it seemed he had ultimately chosen to become the loser known as a “gentleman.”

I secretly hoped he would offer some excuse. Something like You were too drunk so I just put you to bed or a cringeworthy confession like You were too precious for me to touch. But the words that left his mouth tested my patience.

“Look…… um… does your stomach hurt a lot? I don’t know the area well so I wandered around forever, but there’s a hangover soup place down the street. Eat this and settle your stomach.”

He set the plastic bag down on the table with the care of a diligent servant. In those bloodshot eyes that had probably stayed up all night in torment, only a pure sense of duty remained: I must treat the honored guest to soup and send her home safely.

Was his capacity too small to harbor dirty thoughts, or was I simply too much for him? Perhaps both.

‘……The thing burning my insides isn’t the alcohol. It’s you, you idiot.’

I fell into deep futility as I stared at the bag of hangover soup he had brought.

Hot steam curled up from the plastic container on the table. Baek Gangho carefully split a pair of chopsticks and set them in front of me, but he himself kept his head bowed as he began sipping only the broth.

“……Thanks for the food.”

When I spoke first, his shoulders twitched and he barely managed a nod. The moment the hot soup entered my body, heat began rising all over. Once again sweat beaded along my nape and spine. The thin cotton t-shirt clung wetly to my skin, blatantly outlining the red silhouette of my underwear.

His gaze lingered for a second on my chest before he flinched and buried his eyes back into the soup bowl. Finding the sight amusing, I gently tested him.

“Gangho. Yesterday…… was it uncomfortable? I was worried my drunk habits might have been bad.”

At my question Baek Gangho’s spoon stopped. He glanced at me through his glasses, then opened his mouth with an expression of heavy resolve.

“No. You slept like you were dead. Actually…… you even snored a little.”

“……What?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll forget all of it. You were drunk and made a mistake too. And it’s dangerous for a girl to pass out drunk outside like that.”

The fact that I had snored hit me once. The ridiculous gentlemanly line I’ll forget it all for you struck the back of my neck twice. The seduction trap that 35-year-old me had meticulously designed was being dismissed by 21-year-old me as nothing more than a drunk’s mistake and answered with leniency.

“Hey, Baek Gangho. You really……”

“And let me say it again—I’m enlisting right after I finish first year. So I have zero plans to date anyone until I come back from the military. Therefore…… you don’t need to worry about yesterday. I really didn’t think anything of it.”

His eyes were sincere. The problem was that not only had there been no confession, the seduction itself had failed completely, yet he was already pushing me away by bringing up the army. It felt like being rejected without even having confessed. Even now, with dozens of meal invitations still flooding Cha Seolah’s messenger, this would be an utterly unexpected ‘zero confessions, one immediate rejection’ moment for ‘Cha Seolah.’

It was obvious he was currently drunk on the narrow-minded belief that he possessed excellent self-control, praising himself for protecting me. From where I stood, he was simply an idiot who had kicked away a fortune that had rolled right into his hands.

‘How the hell do I educate this moron?’

A self-mocking wave of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠futility washed over me at the realization that I had to teach myself. In any case, this was the moment 35-year-old me had suffered complete defeat at the hands of 21-year-old me.

But the System had no intention of letting me savor that defeat in peace.

‘……What the hell is this?’

The instant the blue letters swept across my retina, every nerve in my body felt as if it had been honed to a razor’s edge. It wasn’t the heat from the hot soup. A moist, sticky heat swirled up from deep in my lower abdomen. The insides of my thighs touching the chair became unbearably sensitive, and even the cling of the sweat-soaked t-shirt against my skin turned into an agonizing stimulus.

“Seolah? What’s wrong with your face? Are you sick?”

Baek Gangho’s worried hand reached out and touched my arm.

“Ah……!”

It was only an instant of contact, yet a shock like high-voltage current raced up my spine and into my brain. I barely managed to swallow the moan that nearly burst from my lips. The physical reaction of a woman ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had already far surpassed anything the reason of a man who had lived thirty-five years could control.

In this state I had no mental capacity left to say “Do something to me” to Baek Gangho. Only the instinct to flee from this unfamiliar and shameful sensation ruled my mind.

‘No. I can’t…… let him see me like this.’

“I-I have to go!”

“Huh? Suddenly? It’s Sunday.”

“Th-that’s right. Hey, I just remembered an… an appointment!”

“What? Hey! You barely ate anything! Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

I ignored the crash of the chair toppling behind me and sprinted for the shoe rack. Even Baek Gangho’s flustered voice from behind rang through my body like an unbearable vibration. I roughly shoved my feet into my shoes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and flung open the front door as if escaping.

The cool Sunday morning air pouring into the hallway brushed my face, but the sticky heat rising from my lower body refused to subside. I didn’t even have the composure to wait for the elevator. Suppressing the unpleasant yet sweetly moist sensation, I ran down the stairs.

Sunday morning, 10:30 a.m. The interior of the Line 2 subway car was wrapped in languid silence. After wringing out the girl he had met in Hongdae until dawn, the back of Park Hangyeol’s neck felt stiff. He had only managed a couple hours of sleep at a friend’s nearby studio apartment before leaving, and his mouth still tasted bitter.

With a varsity jacket bearing the school emblem draped casually over his arm, Park Hangyeol checked his reflection in the window and yawned.

A reasonably handsome face, an enviable academic background, and a family background without any shortcomings. To someone who possessed all three, the world had always been kind and women had always been easy.

Yet his eyes caught the woman sitting in the corner seat by the door opposite him, her body trembling faintly.

‘……Holy shit.’

His mouth, open in mid-yawn, refused to close. Unfiltered exclamations poured out one after another.

Flushed cheeks visible between disheveled black hair, a chest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rising and falling roughly. The white cotton t-shirt was soaked with sweat, mercilessly revealing the outline of her underwear, and every twist of her body made the pink training pants obscenely emphasize her curved hips.

Explosive volume in contrast to an innocent face. It was raw, unprocessed sensuality on a completely different level from the “styled beauties” he had seen in Hongdae or Gangnam.

What was even more interesting was her condition. Eyes unfocused, tightly gripping her own thighs, biting her lip as if holding back moans. Anyone could see she was not in her right mind. Whether drugged or simply a bitch in heat desperately wishing to be touched right now.

He scanned the car. Only one sleeping old man was present. Park Hangyeol rose leisurely and moved to the seat beside her.

The characteristic rattling vibration of Line 2 conveniently narrowed the distance between them. As he drew closer, a thick body scent mixed with faint hibiscus washed over him. Just that smell made his lower half grow heavy.

When he sat down beside her she flinched and glanced at him. The moment their eyes met—her dreamy, wet gaze—he was certain. This woman no longer had the strength to refuse.

“Excuse me, are you feeling ill? You don’t look well.”

Park Hangyeol flashed the polite smile of a well-mannered elite university student and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. The shoulder beneath his palm burned like fire. The instant his hand touched her she swallowed a suppressed moan and collapsed against him.

“……Haa, ngh.”

‘Would you look at that? This bitch is completely gone.’

The announcement for Seongsu Station played in a dry voice. Park Hangyeol firmly gripped her staggering waist and exited onto the platform. The burning body heat coming through the thin fabric mercilessly scraped at his reason.

He pushed her into the accessible restroom tucked away in a secluded corner past the sparsely populated ticket gate. Click. The sound of the lock echoed inside the enclosed space.

A wide, cool area incomparable to ordinary restrooms. The cold tile walls and the smell of disinfectant only fanned the flames of his desire to conquer.

“Hey, you’re not normal, are you? Walking around the subway in broad daylight reeking of female in heat, you fucking slut?”

He looked down at her leaning against the wall, panting, and smiled viciously. The fact that this unreal beauty was trembling at his feet sent a thrill through him. It was the same intense superiority he had felt in high school when cornering weak-looking guys into toilet stalls to intimidate them.

Park Hangyeol tossed the jacket from his arm carelessly beside the sink and slowly lowered his zipper.

“Let’s see what you can do. Make me feel good and I’ll let you go nicely. Now, open your mouth.”

He arrogantly sat on the edge of the toilet seat and thrust his grotesquely exposed cock right in front of her nose.