Her Little Brother's Room
"I know it's rather forward of me to say this the moment we've met, but... Miss Wonyoung, you are truly beautiful."
"Ah. Yes. Thank you."
Seated in the open-air lounge of a hotel in Hannam-dong, Wonyoung's expression was anything but bright. She had played along, pretending to be worn down by her mother's pestering when she was called out to yet another matchmaking date — but right now, marriage and suitors were the last things on her mind.
"I only came out today because the elders of my own family wouldn't let up either, but now that I'm here and seeing you in person, Miss Wonyoung..."
The son of a steel company CEO, the eldest son of some group division head, the son of a former cabinet minister — not one of the men she had been paraded before could move her heart an inch. Every last one of them ordinary and dull, nothing more than the sons of those fossilized old farts.
"I hear the chef at the French restaurant here was brought in fresh from his home country. Shall we start with a bottle of wine?"
"No. I'm sorry, but I'm busy with work. I'll be leaving now."
"U-um... Miss Wonyoung?"
She had no intention of trading a single second of conversation with these rich-boy heirs — men without one shred of masculinity, soft enough to graze on grass. Wonyoung had something far more urgent to deal with than a blind date like this.
"What is it? Why are you back so soon?"
"Where's Dad?"
At the grand estate in Bangbae-dong, Wonyoung brushed past her mother — who was pruning the branches of a five-needled pine in the front garden — and headed straight into the first-floor corridor. Passing the moonlit inner courtyard, she found her father in the high-ceilinged reception room, teacup in hand: the chairman of the Eunsung Medical Foundation.
"What's the matter?"
"It's Seongjun. I can't reach him."
Her snow-white miniskirt had snagged on a branch as she hurried through the garden, tearing a little.
"This is English black tea — the kind supplied to Ronnefeldt. Will you have a cup?"
"Dad!"
The rich aroma of black tea filled the high-ceilinged room. Setting his teacup down unhurriedly, the chairman pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and regarded his daughter.
"Didn't he say he'd go out and enjoy himself for a few days before coming home?"
"He did, but... he won't pick up his phone at all."
"He's a grown man. What is there to worry so much about?"
That a young man freshly discharged from his military service might stay out on the town for a few days was a perfectly understandable thing. But when not only his calls went unanswered — when his texts and messenger messages, every last channel, fell silent too — it meant something had happened to him.
"His phone's off. Location tracking doesn't work either. Dad, something has happened to Seongjun!"
"Location tracking, you say?"
Wonyoung had secretly installed a location-tracking app on her little brother's phone the moment he entered middle school. Every time he upgraded to the newest model, she had deployed every means and method imaginable to get the tracker back onto it. And now her brother's location had vanished without a trace — its last signal coming from the back alley behind a lounge bar in Sinsa-dong.
"He has never gone completely dark like this. Something has happened to him — I'm sure of it."
"Hmm... for now, let's wait a few more days, shall we."
"That's absurd! We have to start looking for him right now."
"Now, now, Lee Wonyoung!"
Wonyoung declared she would file a missing person report with the police on the spot. But announcing that the son of the nation's premier private academic foundation — a family that was, for all intents and purposes, chaebol — had vanished the moment he was discharged would be no different from airing the foundation's dirty laundry.
"The pharmaceutical company stock the foundation holds has been hitting its daily ceiling for days on end. If some useless tabloid rag gets wind of it..."
"Dad!"
Worked up, Wonyoung shouted that she would find Seongjun by any means necessary — police report or not, private detectives, errand services, whatever it took.
"Seongjun is the one who will one day head our Eunsung Medical Center as its hospital director. Why does nobody care about him?"
"Wonyoung, it isn't that no one cares—"
"I don't need anyone! My brother is mine to find."
Bang— The chairman set his teacup down hard enough to ring out, and at last called for his executive secretary.
"You there. The deputy commissioner at the National Police Agency..."
"Do you mean... Deputy Director Park?"
"Yes, that one. Connect me to his phone."
The Eunsung Foundation's backing was every bit as formidable as advertised. The chairman inquired after his son's whereabouts of the deputy commissioner — a man officially carrying a headquarters deputy director title — as though asking him to run a personal errand.
"Yes, Deputy Director Park, I'd be much obliged if you would. Let's have dinner together sometime."
Ending the call, the chairman picked his teacup back up and looked at Wonyoung.
"He's assembling an unofficial task force of ace detectives from the Metropolitan Investigation Unit. Naturally, without leaving so much as a case number behind."
Only then did the knot between Wonyoung's brows finally loosen back to normal — the terror had been enough to bring her within a hair of wetting herself. The chairman asked after the state of the arts foundation under her charge, but got nothing back but textbook answers.
"I'll see to the arts foundation myself. I don't like the feel of this. Tell them — the Metropolitan Investigation Unit, whoever it is — to find my brother, and quickly."
Wonyoung walked straight past her father and out of the reception room. Her chest felt tight the whole way down the corridor; it was as if a creeping unease kept seeping into her, eating away at her mind. Then, without quite knowing why, she stopped. She stood a moment lost in thought before the staircase that led down past the inner courtyard toward the parking area — and then turned her steps not downward, but up. At that very instant, a servant carrying cleaning supplies came face to face with her on the stairs.
"Eep! M-Miss?"
Wonyoung never exchanged greetings with the servants who moved through the house. There was only ever the most perfunctory communication — orders given, confirmations received.
"G-good afternoon?"
She had been about to brush past without a second thought when Wonyoung, wearing that notoriously vicious scowl of hers, called the woman to a halt.
"Hey. Ma'am."
"Aah! Y-yes, Miss, i-is there... something you need from me...?"
The woman, wound tight as a wire, bowed her head low. Clutch bag in hand, Wonyoung pointed toward the floor above and spoke.
"Seongjun's room is on the second floor."
"Y-yes? The young master's room... has something happened...?"
"Have you been cleaning it?"
"N-no, Miss. Exactly as you ordered — we never touched it, not even when the young master came home on leave."
"Good enough. Off you go."
For once, the corner of her mouth flickered upward. Not that the servant, head still bowed and utterly at a loss, had any need to see it.
Wonyoung took the stairs from there and made for the second floor of the mansion. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, moonlight washed over the flowers and trees of the sculpted garden. At the end of the corridor she came to a stop before a door of mahogany, smoothed back her wavy hair, and gripped the antique brass handle, turning it.
Click—
The room, looking straight out over the front garden, was immaculate — as if reflecting Seongjun's character exactly. For the son of a private foundation that disbursed budgets worth hundreds of billions of won a year, it was sparse to the point of looking almost humble.
"Ahh... Seongjun, where on earth have you gone... hm?"
Her expression melting into one of flushed excitement, Wonyoung settled herself onto her brother's bed. In the room where he had stayed some two months ago, on his final leave before discharge, that faint musk of his seemed to linger still.
"Seongjun..."
Timed to her brother's discharge date, she had also secured a lavish two-hundred-square-meter officetel near the medical school he would be returning to. Now that it was time for him to devote himself to nothing but study, she had obtained a nest for the two of them alone, as close to campus as possible. A cutting-edge unit, every last facility — from a sauna to melt away the day's fatigue to a bathtub carved from solid stone — personally designed and finished under her direction.
"Where on earth are you... why won't you answer your phone..."
Perhaps the last of her composure had finally snapped. Face flushing hot, she suddenly threw open her brother's closet. She pulled out a heavy navy coat, hugged it to her chest, and flung herself onto the bed.
"Mmnh... hah... Seongjun's scent..."
The crisp fragrance rising off the coat seemed to jolt some degenerate instinct in her awake. Heat surged up beneath her tight skirt.
"You're mine, Seongjun. You know that, don't you?"
She had held back for as long as she could bear. From elementary school through middle school, right up until he entered high school, every time she watched her little brother's shoulders broaden a little more, she had spent more than one sleepless night aching with the urge to devour him.
Her body burning, Wonyoung finally hiked up her skirt and peeled her stiff pantyhose down to her knees.
"I love you... you stallion of a man... hah!"
Ultra-miniature cameras were installed throughout the room, and during his last leave she had watched on a screen as her brother took out his cock and stroked himself off. Now fully grown to its limit, that finished cock flaunted its magnificent bulk, veins standing out all over it — a shape that was ferociously, almost violently masculine.
"Mmnh! Seongjun... you'll stir up your noona's hole with this cock of yours, won't you? Hm?"
Seongjun's ink-dark cock was like a lacquered baton. The unusually black shaft stirred a strange stab of jealousy in her — but since it had never once been buried in any bitch's cunt, she chose to believe that darkness was nothing more than a cosmetic quirk.
"Pound into me, Seongjun... relentlessly... won't you?"
Wonyoung's long fingers parted her inner lips. Her clit swelled fat, and her cunt juice gushed out all at once. Above all, when she fingered herself with her little brother on her mind, the slick feel of the nectar flowing from her opening came into focus more vividly than at any other time.
"Ahhn...! Seongjun... you fucking bastard.... I love you... I love you, I said!"
The keen tips of her fingers ground roughly against her clitoris. She wanted to shove her fingers deep into her cunt that very instant — but that hole, and that hole alone, had to be reserved for her little brother's cockhead. They were her own fingers, yes, but if anything at all trespassed into her fuck-hole, it would mean surrendering her virginity.
"You son of a bitch! I've been keeping it safe for you all this time, you knooow!"
Squelch, squelch— Spilling her juices, Wonyoung buried her face in her brother's bed and hoisted her hips high. One hand pried her buttocks apart while the other worked her clit. Fingers stiff, tormenting her front and back, side to side, that merciless rhythm gradually turned her pink clit a deep, fevered crimson.
"Ahhn! Seongjun...."
Spurt— Her juices ran down along the creases of her labia and dripped, one by one, onto the bed sheets. Her asshole clenched tight in spasms, and the full cheeks of her peach-shaped rump gave a violent tremble.