Intern Kim So-jung

Was I seeing things? Something had clearly broken in my head. I scrubbed at my eyes roughly, thinking exactly that, but the red countdown hanging in the air kept ticking down, clear as day.

My heart began slamming against my ribs, off-rhythm and wrong. It was far too vivid for a dream, and no prank could account for the sensation of the message driving itself straight into my skull. This was reality, no question about it.

And one line above all the rest froze my gaze solid.

"This is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠insane—it makes no sense. Why Chae-ah, of all people!!"

Bang—!!

Instinct carried me; I slammed my fist down on the desk at the window stamped with that impossible text. That was when Kwon Eun-young, our department head, who had been passing nearby, glided over and settled a hand on my shoulder. Her voice wound sticky around my ear through skinship nobody had asked for.

Kwon Eun-young. Past forty, she had climbed this conservative company through one improbable, lightning-fast promotion after another on nothing but raw competence—acknowledged by everyone, herself included, as the finest career woman in the building. Perhaps because she'd lived for work alone and never married, a virulent starvation for affection had taken root in her as she crossed into her forties, and it showed in the way she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠craved excessive physical contact with the company's young men.

"You look absolutely drained, Assistant Manager Park Do-hoon~. It hasn't even been that long since the wedding, and your wife is already running you ragged? Hohoho~"

Crazy bitch. As if my mood wasn't rotten enough already...

"N-no, ma'am. I was just thinking about something... haha..."

"You do have all the materials ready for the eleven o'clock meeting, haven't you? I have rather big expectations riding on you, Assistant Manager Park Do-hoon."

"Yes, ma'am. Of course."

It was grating enough when she pressed her face right up against mine to breathe that sticky breath onto me, but using my wife as the butt of a cheap joke made the irritation come flooding up all at once.

Listening to the click-clack of her high heels receding as she turned away, I checked the quest window floating before ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my eyes one more time. One hundred women in 365 days...? Even a rough calculation meant I had to sleep with a new woman, on average, every three days and fifteen hours.

Fuck. I was on the verge of losing my mind. A demented race. I wasn't some Casanova—was I seriously expected to rotate total strangers through my bed every three days?

But the price of my hesitation was Chae-ah's life. Every minute and second I wasted playing the noble, faithful husband was another minute shaved off the date she'd be lowered into a coffin. To protect my wife, I had to betray her. I was forced to swallow that filthy contradiction whole, tears and all. There was no other way. Whether I went mad or became garbage, I had to move. Time was running out.

Tiroring—!

A mechanical chime struck my skull again, and a new alert rose onto the blue window hanging in the air.

"...And what the hell is this now."

What appeared before my eyes was a tiny perfume bottle, no bigger than my palm. It drifted down out of the empty air and dropped onto my hand with a soft plop. The feel of the glass against my skin was vivid enough to raise goosebumps. This insane system had clearly decided to drag me all the way down to the very bottom of myself.

Just as the guilt and disgust of what was coming began churning together in my chest, my gaze drifted across the office to Kim So-jung, the intern, walking toward me with a stack of documents hugged to her chest.

"Assistant Manager~! Shall we head into the meeting room now?"

"Y-yes. Let's."

The eleven o'clock meeting was one the interns were required to observe for onboarding and practical training. And of all the seats in that room, Kim So-jung had to be sitting directly across from me.

Kim So-jung, the intern. Twenty-four this year. A college senior on the verge of graduation who had applied to our company—still fresh, still untouched by the world, in that green way of a student. Her file, which I'd gone over when we hired the interns, was fairly impressive: a brief language-study abroad of about half a year, and a healthy spread of job-related certifications. A genuinely solid candidate.

A face with round, slightly drooping puppy-dog eyes. Height somewhere in the late 150-centimeter range, I'd guess. A small, endearingly petite frame, and a tidy bob cut that left just a hint of her nape showing. Even her clothes were too plain and demure to pass for office wear.

The longer I looked at that harmless face, the heavier the perfume bottle in my pocket pressed down on my chest. But it had to be done. For my wife.

The meeting ended, lunch came and went, and the afternoon stretched on. With the two-hour window on my first-mission item nearly spent, I stole over to the back desk where she was working, gave a single discreet pump of the perfume, and slipped back to my seat.

Is this really all it takes...?

Tiroring—!

"...!"

A moment later, my phone buzzed softly in my pocket.

To think it was going this smoothly...!

But however well the plan was unfolding, the thought of the "deed" still to come brought Chae-ah's face rushing back, and it felt like my chest was being torn to ribbons. Just in case, I'd better set up an alibi...

With fingers that felt like they were dragging stones behind them, I opened my messenger. My wife's profile photo filled the screen. I pressed the guilt down hard, lump by lump, over that clean, lovely face, and left her a message: work was piling up tonight, so I'd be home late.

Six o'clock, as promised. So-jung crept up to my desk and whispered, shyly, that she'd already called a taxi. We hurried down to the first-floor lobby and slipped together into the cab waiting outside.

Is this really the road that saves my wife?

Though the ride was short, the air inside the taxi was uncannily still, and I agonized, over and over, about the vicious paradox I was trapped in—sleeping with another woman to buy my wife more time. Somewhere in all that agonizing, the taxi arrived.

"So-jung, where did you book us a table?"

But when we stepped out, we weren't on a restaurant street. We were at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a hotel.

"Assistant Manager, come this way..."

And then—— So-jung seized my tie and yanked me toward her, pulling me along. Like someone possessed, she led me in an unbroken stride toward the hotel's grand entrance, blazing with light. Even dragged along by my own necktie, my head was still a dizzy tangle of guilt over Chae-ah and the compulsion to survive.

We crossed the gleaming marble of the lobby to the front desk. When I showed the mobile barcode for the reservation, the clerk handed over a key card with a mechanical smile.

Tap—

The instant I tagged the card and punched in our floor, So-jung exhaled a ragged breath, shoved me back against the elevator wall, and brought her crimson lips down onto mine.

"Mmph...!"

Chuuup—— chup.

Her wet tongue pried its way into my mouth before I knew what was happening, forcing itself against mine.

"S-So-jung... w-wait... h-hold on..."

Before I could get the words out, her tongue churned through my mouth all the harder, sealing off my air.

Ding—

The ninth floor, already. Her saliva still slicking my lips, she kept her fist wound tight in my tie and hauled me down the corridor in one unbroken pull, straight for Room 904 at the far end. It was a strength you would never expect from so small a twenty-four-year-old frame.

Beep, clack—

The lock released, and the moment the door swung open she shoved me into the room by the chest. A pitch-black sealed box of a room. I hadn't even found the card slot yet. Through eyes still blind to the dark, I caught So-jung dropping hurriedly to her knees, tearing my belt open without a flicker of hesitation.

And then she took me—still soft—into her mouth in one full gulp.

Shluuurrrp—— chup!

Shluuup—— chup!

"Ngh..."

She drove it into her throat down to the very root, then wrapped her hand around the base, now drenched in her spit, and began stroking me back and forth without restraint, hand and mouth working me together.

Squelch—! Squelch—!

In the pitch-dark room, the sound of wet flesh grinding against wet flesh rang out obscenely loud. How much spit had she slathered on? The drool was so maddeningly slick that the hot palm gripping me might as well have been the inside of a pussy.

Then she swallowed one of my balls whole in a single mouthful and rolled it over her tongue. My ball was rolling on her tongue... That was the only way to describe it. Above, her right hand kept up its rapid stroking through the coat of her saliva; below, her tongue kept cradling and rolling my sack.

"Hahh, ugh..."

I couldn't hold it in anymore; a moan tore out of me. I'd kept my mouth shut, kept the silence out of guilt toward my wife—but the pleasure soaking up my spine was so intense it short-circuited my brain. Even as my mind resisted, my cock rose hard without a shred of tact.

I didn't want this... My head was rejecting the whole situation. The desolation of betraying my wife sat on my chest like a stone. It was only my body, reacting on pure instinct, with no permission from me at all.

"Hahh... hah... Assistant Manager... how am I?"

She pulled her mouth away, gasping—she'd worn herself out working that tongue. How was I supposed to answer that? What was I supposed to say in a situation like this? Nothing came to me.

"I taste good, don't I?"

"My boyfriend's actually in the army right now. I sent him off without ever doing it with him, not even once..."

"So I'm giving you my first time, Assistant Manager... hahh...!"

And with that, she sank my cock, swollen hot and hard, deep into her mouth.

Chup, chup, shluuurp...!

Shlup... chup... pop!

She was so slick that every time she swallowed me whole and drew back, a bright, lewd pop echoed through the room.

Shluuuup...! Pop~!

As if she couldn't wait a second longer, she shoved me roughly backward onto the bed, then stood there heaving for breath as she stripped off her pants and underwear.

So-jung's chest... Chae-ah was a full, heavy D-cup, but So-jung's were smaller—firm, perky little things that stood up proudly on their own.

Her nipples were flushed a deep crimson and standing stiff—she was far more worked up than I'd realized. By then she'd climbed on top of me, and she rubbed her soaked, eager slit back and forth along my length until we were lined up, then bent at the waist and drove me into her in one stroke.

Sliiide, shlugulk—...

"Hiiiiugh...!"

Chulpuk—...

Chulpuk—...

It felt nothing like my wife. The ridges of her walls scraping at me from the inside, the deep contact when I bottomed out, a temperature just slightly off. And the cries.

"Hiiik...!"

"Hiiyuugh...!"

Perhaps her small body was struggling to take me. What burst from So-jung's lips wasn't breathless moaning but something closer to plaintive screams, as if the air itself was being knocked out of her.

Chulpuk— Chulpuk— Chulpuk—

She was picking up speed. But pleasing her had never been the point. The mission had never asked for her satisfaction—only the act itself. And by now, the act was more than established. I seized her hips with both hands and pinned them still, cutting off the frantic grind.

"Ugh... that's... enough. We stop here."

"I'm not done yet...! You haven't even come..."

She was on the verge of tears, face flushed scarlet, staring at me with pleading eyes.

Then——

Tiroring—!

A notification shattered the stillness, and a system window bloomed above my head.

"........."

Fuck. So in the end I had no choice but to drive the period into the end of this godforsaken act.

I turned her onto her back, pushed into her missionary, and fucked her, hard and merciless.

"Kyaaaaah—!!!!"

Watching her legs spread wide, her toes curling inward until her small feet went bone-white, I came seconds later, spilling myself across her stomach.

"Hahh... hahh... hah..."

Is that the end...?

Tiroring—!

The moment I finished, the progress counter ticked up to one. Congratulations, my ass...

Whether her slight frame had simply hit its limit, she was out cold the moment it ended. I wiped the semen from her stomach in a frantic rush, threw on my clothes, and ran from the room like a thief.

I hailed a taxi. My body made quick work of getting ready to go home—but what face was I supposed to wear? What face could I possibly show my wife, show Chae-ah? The excuse—that all of it was to save her—offered no comfort whatsoever.

And then, just as the taxi drew near home, the alarm rang out again.

Tiroring—!