Branded as Livestock
My last memory before the kidnapping wasn’t a bad one. I had been happy with friends I hadn’t seen in a long time, and the night brimmed with nothing but good memories right up until the end. So where exactly had it all gone wrong? I was clearly a woman with a bright future ahead of me. I was smart, beautiful, and better than anyone else. Why… had I ended up like this?
The only thing I could do was remember the past. I had been an impossibly perfect, impossibly successful woman. Clinging to those memories was… my only remaining strength.
September first. The day before the new university semester began. That evening, at a drinking party.
“Hey, remember that bitch?”
“Hahaha! Dude, it’s all ancient history. What does it matter? I’ve got nothing to do with it.”
“Ugh, Lee Ah-young, you really are awful!”
“We should’ve just wiped them all out back then!”
“You really haven’t changed at all since high school, have you?”
High-school reunion friends I hadn’t seen in years. I was now a senior at Seoul National University, standing on the threshold of employment. We drank while swapping stories about the old days—fun memories, boring ones, annoying ones. Everything became fair game for conversation and side dishes.
My name is Lee Ah-young. Pretty face, perfect body, born into a wealthy family, excellent grades. My personality was… decent enough, I suppose. Of course, having so much sometimes led to a few mean-spirited acts, but still—by most standards, wasn’t I a good student? My friends liked me. Plenty of people followed me. Sure, there were occasional relationship troubles, but I always came out on top. I was a woman who deserved to win.
There were a few unpleasant memories, but the word “school days” wrapped them all in a forgiving glow. In the end, nearly everything about my youth had been perfect.
“Still… Ju-yeong went through a lot because of it, didn’t she?”
“…”
The friend who uttered the name Ju-yeong instantly soured my mood. The only name tied to my one bad memory.
“Ha… Hey! Why the hell are you bringing up Han Ju-yeong? You really never know how to read a room, do you? God… fuck…”
“Ah-young, I’m sorry…”
“It’s completely ruined the vibe now.”
One word from me and silence blanketed the table. It wasn’t my fault. The so-called friend had poked the exact spot that hurt most, so of course I got angry.
Han Ju-yeong. I remember ruining that girl. The bitch who talked back to me, who embarrassed me in front of everyone. She had been our class president, I think. Studied better than me, too. The more I thought about it, the more it pissed me off. Even now the memory made irritation crawl up my spine. I had decided to destroy her properly and I had. I didn’t remember the exact details, but I felt zero remorse.
Then one of the friends raised his voice at me.
“Lee Ah-young. Don’t you feel even a little sorry for her? I’m genuinely curious.”
“What? Are you all insane? Why do you keep saying her name? Why the hell should I feel sorry? She’s the crazy one!”
“Ha… Yeah. You really are…”
The pleasant atmosphere collapsed into what could only be called a total mess the moment Han Ju-yeong’s name came up. The topic eventually shifted and the mood recovered somewhat, but my spoiled temper refused to improve.
“Hey! I’m leaving. You guys enjoy yourselves.”
“You’re just going? Wait!”
I ignored my friends’ attempts to stop me and walked out of the bar. I was pleasantly buzzed. It should have been a good night, but hearing that one girl’s name from the past had left a foul taste in my mouth.
The streets were crowded. I walked home alone. The noisy energy that usually felt exciting now grated on me. That was when a man who had clearly dressed to impress approached.
“Excuse me, would you like to—”
“Fuck off!”
I sliced through his attempt like a blade. I knew I was beautiful. I had been beautiful since the day I was born. The older I grew, the more certain I became that I was the prettiest woman anyone would ever see. Therefore I was not the kind of woman who entertained street-level men who thought they could try their luck. That was my standard, and I had always lived by it.
But that man’s face is my final memory. After that… nothing. Really. Nothing at all. I remember nothing.
Is that even possible? How can someone have no memory whatsoever?
When I think about what came afterward, however, that was the smallest part.
—I hear the murmur of voices.
Clank. Rattle, rattle. The sound of unknown metal instruments.
And the light shining above my vision. My eyes won’t focus, so all I can tell is that something bright is beaming down on me.
“Mmm…”
“She’s awake? Already? Hey! You sure you gave her the right dose?”
My vision is blurry. The light overhead is sharp, but everything else is indistinct. My hearing, however, is crystal clear. What is this? A dream? At the end… Ah! Did I drink and pass out at home? But why can’t I remember getting there? I didn’t drink that much, did I?
Random thoughts flickered through my mind, but I wasn’t especially worried. I naturally assumed it was a dream.
Squeeze. Squeeze. Someone is fondling my breasts. Every nerve in my body snaps to attention.
“Mmph!”
I try to cry out in surprise, but no words emerge. My vision is too blurry to see who is touching me. It must be a dream. What kind of dream is this…? Even in a dream it’s humiliating. Yet the sensation on my chest is far too vivid. And it isn’t over clothes—it feels like bare palms on my bare breasts.
“Her tits are fucking huge. What size are those?”
“Seventy F cup, apparently. Insanely pretty with huge breasts. Normally I wouldn’t even be able to look at a girl like this.”
The conversation is painfully clear. A dream… right? If this is a dream, it is an absolutely horrific nightmare.
“All right, flip her! Let’s get this done fast!”
At least three men’s hands land on my body. All of them skin to skin. This… this…? Am I naked? In front of men? The feeling of my breasts being groped earlier wasn’t fake? But why is the sensation so… vivid? Is this… not a dream?
I try to move, but no strength reaches any part of my body. The men flip me over. I end up face-down.
Slap! Slap! The sharp sound of a palm striking my ass. The distinct feel of skin on skin. Someone has slapped my buttocks.
“Mmph?!”
Now that I am prone, I can see the floor. Focus is slowly returning. But someone is not satisfied with just slapping me—they are openly kneading my ass. Then they grab both cheeks and spread them apart.
This feeling… this is not a dream. The sensation is too real. This… this!
“Nngh! Nngh!”
The instant I realize it is not a dream, I try to scream and thrash with every ounce of strength I possess. I… I am naked right now… and I have no idea where I am. No matter how hard I struggle, my body refuses to obey. What have they done to me? Why am I lying here naked? Terror flooded me. Kidnapped…? Have I been kidnapped?
“Okay, okay! Miss Lee Ah-young, you seem to be awake. We’re about to brand your ass with the Brand of Livestock, so please endure the pain for a little while~ Let’s begin!”
Brand of Livestock (also known as Slave’s Mark or Livestock Brand).
In present-day South Korea, where the death penalty is no longer carried out, the Brand of Livestock refers to the tattoo (brand) applied to heinous criminals sentenced to death. Once engraved, the criminal loses all human rights and must devote the remainder of their life as a legal “public slave.” Because they are no longer treated as human, it is the harshest punishment in the nation, reserved solely for anti-human, extremely atrocious offenders.
The brand is placed on the left buttock. A high-temperature iron is used to burn the flesh, leaving a scar, after which special permanent ink is tattooed into the wound. The brand is permanent and can never be removed.
I hear the words and immediately try to thrash, to resist with everything I have. But no matter how hard I struggle, my pale naked body will not move a single finger. Someone kneads my ass again, then spreads both cheeks wide. My asshole and pussy are now completely exposed to their gaze. The shame was unbearable. Yet I can do nothing. Total strangers are casually inspecting my most private places, and I cannot stop them. They freely admire the view between my spread buttocks without the slightest hesitation.
“Her asshole is a pretty color too.”
“Of course. Pretty girls always have pretty pussies and pretty assholes.”
On top of that, these men are about to commit an unthinkable crime. Stamping an ordinary citizen like me with the livestock brand—does that even make sense? Is something like this actually possible?
“All right, iron’s coming in~ This is gonna hurt! Clear the way~”
Sizzle. Something heated to an unbearable temperature approaches with a terrifying sound. I feel the heat closing in on my buttocks.
SSSSSSSSSHHHH! Sizzle!
“Guhhh! Guuuuuuhhh!”
A branding iron of monstrous heat is pressed against my ass, my buttocks. Agony explodes through me, but my body still refuses to move. My sense of pain, however, is brutally clear—I feel every second of it. My flesh is burning. My buttocks are being seared by the iron!
“Guk… guk… mmph!”
The stench of burning squid fills the entire space. The smell of my own buttock flesh cooking, of it charring. The Brand of Livestock—the mark given only to death-row criminals—is being burned into my ass.
“Guuuuuuhhh!”
I moan in agony. My body… still does not move. Why is this happening to me? I cannot understand any of it. Why my… ass… why me… why are you doing this… aaaaah! Tears spill from my eyes. Tears of pain, tears of terror. This is not a dream. A dream could never hurt this clearly. This is real. I am truly, forcibly being branded on my… ass… with the Brand of Livestock.
“Mmph, mmph, mmph, mmph…”
“She’s crying like a pathetic whore.”
“Yeah… she’s so pretty, I almost feel bad…”
My vision has begun to clear. A man leans his face directly in front of mine.
“Wow… She’s gorgeous. Even when she cries, she’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Mmph, mmph, guuh, mmph.”
SSSSSSSSSSSS! The iron is lifted from my buttocks. The pain feels as if the flesh is about to peel away.
“Guuuuuuhhh!”
My ass throbs violently. It really happened. The iron has been stamped into me. The agony of raw flesh burning is beyond description. Still, none of this made any sense. Why? Why suddenly? Why me?
Another man pushes his face close to mine and speaks.
“Ahem. First of all, Miss Lee Ah-young, we are professionals in this field. The branding iron we just used on your butt is the exact same one employed by the South Korean government. Therefore, you now carry a genuine Brand of Livestock, identical to that of real death-row inmates. Once the burn cools slightly, we will tattoo the brand using official government ink. It will be indistinguishable from the real thing. In other words, you will soon become exactly like a real heinous criminal—specifically, a death-row inmate. There are a few other details, but we’ve already implanted the Discipline Chip while you were unconscious. Your fabricated crime is serial murder—eight counts of the most atrocious killings. We will ‘produce’ you perfectly. Hehehe.”
From my eyes, along with the tears of pain, pour tears of despair born from pure shock. The man’s words make no sense. They are impossible to comprehend. My body cannot move at all, yet unfortunately my mind is perfectly clear, and every single syllable drives itself deep into my brain.
Kidnapping me… drugging me… this entire systematic process… the feeling that it was not a lie grew stronger by the second. If what he said is true… what am I supposed to do…? My body still refuses to move.
How much time passed? I cannot tell. But even after time had gone by, I remained completely unable to resist, simply lying there prone.
Thud-thud! Thud-thud! Thud-thud!
Another wave of searing pain crashes into my buttocks. On the burned, branded area, the tattooing begins. The needle drives into the raw, scorched flesh.
“Guhhhk!”
Once again my moan of agony echoes through the room.
“Anyway, Miss Lee Ah-young! I do feel a little sorry for you, but what can we do? This is our job.”
The man smiles brightly at me, then disappears from my field of vision.
Drip. Drip. Tears continue pouring from my eyes. The buzzing of the tattoo machine fills the air, and with every stab of the needle, fresh pain blooms across my burned buttock.
This hopeless situation. All I could do was cry and pray that it was all a dream.
Naked, slumped face-down on the simple cot, Lee Ah-young sobbed for a long, long time while the tattoo needle continued to hammer into her flesh.
“All right! It’s finished!”
The moment the man’s voice rang out from behind me, my consciousness cut off once again.