Episode 1. Contribution Rate 0%
"No way! That bastard groped me, I swear!"
A woman's voice echoed through the courtroom. A few heads in the gallery glanced up before quickly reverting to blank expressions. It was a common sight here.
The judge flipped through the ruling without so much as a sigh.
"There is no evidence proving the defendant's contact was unlawful."
Short and dry. Emotions thoroughly excluded.
The woman gritted her teeth.
"...So you're saying I overreacted?"
"This court finds the complaint inconsistent with the facts."
The gavel's crack rang out clear. But the sentence that followed reverberated even louder.
"The plaintiff must fulfill an intimacy compensation contract to restore the defendant's social dignity, per Emotional Damage Compensation Law Article 7."
"The contract proceeds by mutual agreement between parties, with records meeting public verification standards submitted within 7 days."
Someone in the gallery muttered quietly.
"People still file complaints like that these days?"
"In this day and age, they even have to explain it..."
The judge didn't look up.
"Videos must meet specified angles and durations; editing or synthesis renders them invalid. Refer to the administrator manual for details."
Another person yawned and raised their phone. A real-time news alert popped up.
In front of everyone, the woman stood speechless. The judge added one last note.
"Failure to submit within the deadline may result in social trust deductions and additional penalties."
The gavel fell once more. The judge called the next case number, and the gallery rose as if nothing had happened.
As the courtroom doors opened, an ad poster on the hallway wall caught the eye.
‘Youth Contribution Program Participants Wanted.’
Same building, a few floors up: Seon Local Court Emotional Damage Compensation Department. Eleven a.m., under the fluorescent lights, Lee Junyoung opened the file for the case just ruled on.
[2025Gambo-7132]
False Accusation Confirmed | Article 7 Applied — Compensation Contract in Progress
Attached Files: 1
[Lee xx Intimacy Compensation Contract Proof Video]
He rested his chin on his hand, staring at the monitor. No need to play the sound. His job was verification, not enjoyment.
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'Specified angle, contract visible... consent confirmation scene.'
Junyoung's eyes flicked between the checklist window and the screen.
'Form requirements met, duration verified, no editing traces.'
Everything per the manual. This was work. Official duty.
With a neutral expression, he watched the couple having sex on the monitor. Business as usual.
But this video's female lead... she was pretty hot. The camera highlighted her voluptuous figure against her innocent face, drawing his gaze longer than usual.
...Her skin's exceptionally pale.
In the shaking car—her 'compensation right' granted to the innocent man—her breasts jiggled wildly.
Junyoung glanced down briefly, then back to the checklist. Just check the forms.
Focus...
Top-right playback timer: 2 minutes 14 seconds left.
Pretending to be fine while dying to whip out his throbbing erection and jerk off to her, Junyoung swallowed hard. The gulp echoed loudly in his ears.
As the sex intensified and her body twisted, he wanted to rewind but instead scooted his chair back a bit.
Amid keyboard clacks, printer whirs, and the fluorescent hum, a coworker plopped down nearby.
Even aroused by the video, too scared of leaving a log to even pause, fantasizing about her moans inside—a timid guy. That was Lee Junyoung.
Hand over his mouth, secretly hoping the short clip wouldn't end.
Form Requirements Met — Receipt Complete
The video ended; he finished data entry and bolted for the bathroom to relieve his pent-up urge—
"Lee Junyoung—"
Turning his chair, his face—
Squish.
It collided frontally with something soft.
"Eek—!"
At the high-pitched yelp, Junyoung froze.
Right before his eyes: pitch darkness. Lifting his head, a white ribbon fringe brushed past.
Familiar perfume. But before who it was, he realized his current state.
Chair shoved back hastily, his lower half still rigidly tense... this had to be—
A woman's breast.
Buried awhile, Junyoung reflexively pulled back, shot up, and bowed deeply.
"S-Sorry!"
His voice way too loud.
"Ugh... don't make a scene!"
Sharp tone. Only then did Junyoung look up.
Han Jisoo. Seventh-grade court clerk at the same Seon Local Court Emotional Damage Compensation Department, his direct senior.
Her reddish-brown hair fell neatly to her shoulders. Her blouse buttons strained pitifully over her ample chest—the very spot he'd hit.
Redder than usual, she cleared her throat repeatedly to compose herself. Her eyes narrowed coldly, as always.
Under that gaze, Junyoung bowed deeper.
"Y-Yes... sorry..."
Jisoo closed her eyes briefly, as if catching her breath, then spoke curtly, like nothing happened.
"You finished the latest ruling case?"
"Yes. Form requirements met, receipt complete."
His voice cracked oddly.
Jisoo's eyes flicked to his monitor, then briefly to his crotch, then back up.
"..."
Brief silence. She turned away, cleared her throat again.
"...Hah."
She exhaled shortly, hand on hip. Fabric pulled taut, buttons screaming, but she wore a perfectly businesslike face.
"Lee Junyoung. You still haven't joined the social contribution program?"
Head still bowed, he froze.
"...Yes."
"Yes?"
Her eyebrow twitched faintly.
"You know you're still at 0% and you say 'yes'? It came up in the meeting room after the ruling."
Despite his meek posture, she sighed irritably.
"What does it say about us if the department handling emotional damage comp has someone at the bottom of the Contribution Rate!"
Her words sharpened at the end; Junyoung was speechless. Taller than her, yet he always saw her crown.
"...Sorry."
Habitual apology. Her eyes narrowed.
"Not 'sorry'—"
She stepped closer; he instinctively backed up. The lingering tension down there nagged.
Her gaze flicked down again, briefly. Then up.
"No, your, your... ugh, it looks fine now, so why the fuss?"
Noting it had subsided—but clearly erect before—Jisoo chose her words carefully, grumbling.
Something beyond mere bossly anger mixed in.
"You're the only one in this department at 0% Contribution Rate."
Her hand slowly left her hip.
"Keep this up, and you'll drag your senior down too. I really pass on that, so handle yourself!"
Junyoung bowed deeper.
"I'll make an effort..."
"Program or autonomous matching—solve it before the section chief asks again!"
Turning primly, she added,
"This time... if you really can't, just say so!"
Her heels clicked away.
Lee Junyoung stood frozen awhile. The accident, her flushed face, the monitor scene—all scattered, leaving his mind a mess.
Unlike his tangled thoughts, one thing stood sharp: the number always in the corner of his HR system screen.
Contribution Rate 0%.
Yes. In this country where childbirth encouragement was top national policy—where intimacy equaled social contribution—Lee Junyoung was at 0%.
In a world where losing virginity before adulthood was baseline, at 29, he'd never had sex.
People said casually:
"Still?"
"These days?"
"Something wrong with him?"
No issue with him. Functionally, at least.
Moments ago in the office, he'd reacted undeniably.
Just... three times, chances came, but he froze, couldn't get hard. Those three etched fatal trauma.
Stupid, but unavoidable.
But stronger than the unavoidable... was irrefusable workplace pressure.
"Haaa..."
Junyoung sank slowly into his chair. No one suitable nearby even if he wanted to contribute now.
"...Next number, next number..."
Focus on work, he muttered, moving the mouse—then paused opening the system window.
Spotting the small email title on one side.