Chapter 226
Shooooaaa...
Rain poured down relentlessly. Choi Yujin lay curled up on her bed, huddled in a ball as she studied Chinese conversation. She'd been roughly taken by Yaseong all afternoon, and her pussy still throbbed with a sharp sting and dull ache.
Aigoo, he really should've gone easier on me.
With a sigh, she dragged herself up and headed to the bathroom, pulling out the white fruit Yaseong had given her earlier. She broke off a small piece, chewed it into a paste, spat it into her palm, then yanked down her panties and smeared it over her pussy. The throbbing pain eased almost immediately. It was undeniably miraculous.
Where the hell did he even get something like this?
No matter how she looked at it, the stuff was astonishing. If they turned it into medicine, it'd be a massive hit. Wounds healed in seconds, pain vanished— it'd sweep the world like a storm.
Choi Yujin was now convinced Yaseong was hiding some profound secret. She'd suspected it before, but this sealed it.
But why won't he tell me?
It stung a little that he was keeping secrets from her. She'd given him everything—short of anal and shitting in front of him. And yet here he was, holding back on her. It quietly pissed her off.
Still, she wouldn't ask outright. Him spilling it because she pried held no meaning. Someday, she'd make him open up on his own.
Choi Yujin gazed at her sore pussy and chuckled.
"You've been through a lot, huh."
Ever since Yaseong came into her life, it had endured nothing but torment—almost pitiful, really. Yet it quivered happily, as if thrilled to be loved so fiercely.
Shaking her head with a wry smile at its eagerness, she left the bathroom and flopped back onto the bed. He'd said he was heading to the mountains for a few days, but he might come home tomorrow and summon her again. It'd be tough, but if Yaseong called, she'd go—no question. She loved it, after all. How could she hate the way he devoured her?
Wondering if she'd need to head to his place tomorrow, Choi Yujin drifted off to sleep early.
At that moment, Jang Euna stood in her own bathroom, showering as she gazed out at the rainy scene. On a day like this, how perfect it would be to share drinks with Yaseong and fuck. Instead, her home felt like a prison. She couldn't go anywhere she pleased.
Being the eldest daughter grated on her. Her father piled unbearable pressure on her shoulders. Her two younger siblings had shipped off abroad for studies, free as birds. Even her little sister got off lighter—no pussy inspections like she endured.
Sometimes, her father's eyes gleamed with greed as he probed her pussy, sending chills down her spine. It was like he saw his daughter as a prized pet. You'll be the wife of a conglomerate heir or First Lady someday, but you'll never defy me. That was the message in his stare.
Chairman Jang Ilhak had already shortlisted suitors: ambitious young politicians on the rise, heirs battling for control of Korea's top three conglomerates. Rumors about her swirled in high society. Jang Euna, untouched by men. The picture of wifely virtue. Exactly the image her father had cultivated.
She scored points compared to the scandal-plagued daughters of other chaebols. Safe for marriage into wealth, reliable as a politician's wife. In Korea, image was everything—more than half the battle. A shiny facade let you do anything, fooling the gullible masses every time.
"Ah..."
As she showered, Jang Euna's fingers delved into her pussy, chasing pleasure. Hot and swollen, it pulsed under the cascading water from the showerhead. She craved Yaseong. No—she wanted him to ravage her. Being utterly dominated by him filled her with bliss. The thrill of degradation. Seeing her prim public self shattered thrilled her. It was defiance against her father. He still thought her pure, oblivious to how Yaseong had claimed every hole but her pussy's deepest embrace.
Jang Euna fingered herself gleefully, reveling in the insult to her father. Next week, classes resumed. She could fuck Yaseong senseless in the club room—members rarely showed up anyway. School was her sanctuary. No bodyguards trailed her there, no surveillance. They'd never suspect she'd do that on campus.
She'd indulge fully.
"Nngh..."
Her hand worked furiously until her pussy squirted, hips shuddering as she moaned.
The vast plain lay shrouded in darkness, steeped in a deathly silence. Massive beasts slumbered scattered across the land, sated carnivores skipping the night's hunt. Into that profound quiet, a scream shattered the air.
"Gaaah!"
Han Yaseong bolted upright, heart pierced by the terror of the monstrous bird's black talons.
"Agh! Gaaah!"
Flailing wildly, he thrashed about, mind unraveling. The talons seemed to rake him again, sharp and merciless. The vivid horror surged, drowning him in dread.
"Get away! Get the fuck away!"
Han Yaseong resisted with every fiber, scrambling backward. Darkness cloaked everything, his sanity frayed. No—pure fear gripped him, the dread of those talons striking again. He had to escape this place. He'd die anyway, but no more ripping agony.
"Agh! Ack! Ack!"
Screaming and writhing, he crawled backward until he froze. It was too damn dark. No sign of the monster bird.
"Hah... hah..."
Panting, he scanned around. Night had fallen; pitch black. No bird anywhere. Had it left?
Han Yaseong swallowed dryly. It could swoop back any second, talons plunging into him. He had to run—now. He'd survived by sheer luck.
Springing up, he bolted. Legs wobbled, head spun, but there was no time for that. He dashed into the grass, tumbling repeatedly, knees and palms scraped raw. But that pain was nothing. The talons hurt hundreds of times worse.
"Huff... huff..."
Gasping, he plunged into the thicket and flattened himself. Where's the monster bird...? Please don't see me. Just fly away.
Han Yaseong lay still in the grass for what felt like ages. Any twitch might alert it, drawing those talons down. He played dead, corpse-still. The night chill seeped in, but death's terror overshadowed it. He barely breathed, unmoving.
About ten minutes passed like that. Calming at last, reason returned. Memories flooded back.
Wait... My gut and chest were torn open by those talons. Why only chills—no pain there? My ribs were shattered too, gripped in its three claws. But no pain. Just these fresh scrapes on my knees and palms burning.
What the hell...?
Was he dreaming? Or dead, in some afterlife? The thought eased his fear. If he was gone, it was over. Just bitter regret. Life was finally getting good, and poof—dead. Like winning the lottery, rushing to the bank in glee, only to get mauled by a rabid dog. Happiness cut short.
Sorrow and resentment washed away the terror.
"Fuck... I was just starting to live..."
Rage brought tears. So goddamn unfair. How could luck screw him this hard? He slumped in the grass, sobbing openly.
As he wept, he realized he was naked. The bird's talons had shredded his clothes; not a scrap remained. No shoes, barefoot—even socks gone. And impossibly, no wounds on his abdomen or chest. Ribs intact. He was truly dead.
"Damn it... fuck..."
His body whole, but his spirit crushed. What now in the afterlife? Wait—why think at all? Death should be oblivion. Han Yaseong pondered if the underworld was its own realm after all.