Chapter 8
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Side Menu - Landlord Mr. Lee and Seo Na-yeon (1)
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-Side menus unfold like side stories in third-person perspective, rather than the protagonist's first-person view.-
This episode connects to the events with Landlord Mr. Lee from Chapter 4.
The landlord who rented the basement studio to Seo Na-yeon was a 49-year-old geezer with half his head bald, looking like a half-octopus.
He had a wife, but their relationship was icy. They hadn't had sex in over ten years, they had no kids, and things had frozen solid after she discovered he'd been blowing cash at hooker joints.
"Fucking bitch. Bet she's screwing around with other guys too."
Truth be told, their marriage had been forced by their parents pushing the match, so it was never exactly rosy. For Mr. Lee, his wife was old, out of shape, and fat from poor self-control, killing any sexual spark. And she hadn't seen him as a man in ages—not since his construction work had tanned him prematurely and his hair started flying off his scalp.
So even though he was getting on in years, his body was still spry enough. But he'd gone nearly a decade without proper sex. In his early forties, he'd handled it by hitting hostess bars for client entertainment or massage parlors. But pushing fifty, even the nightlife had lost its appeal. Hookers didn't take kindly to older clients anyway.
"Kahk. Ptoo! Fuck."
Then last year, after quitting his construction gig, he'd used his dad's inheritance plus savings and severance to buy a rundown building—four floors plus basement studios. It was on the outskirts of Seoul, up against a hillside, built over forty years ago, so he'd snagged it for just over ten billion won with a loan. The monthly rents covered living expenses, letting him coast through life like a bum these days, no side hustles needed.
In short, no kids, no thrills—just endless boredom. Male menopause piling on, turning his days into a gray void with no joy. If he'd had kids, they'd be school age now, giving him some purpose watching them grow. But with the marriage in shambles, popping out a late kid was off the table.
"Let's see... Basement Room 2..."
Even he had something to do today: collect back rent from the young housewife in the basement.
It wasn't him who'd rented it to her—his wife had handled it—so he hadn't even met her face-to-face.
"Married already, but still in her twenties? And she has a kid?"
His shrewish wife's venomous voice echoed in his ears.
'From what I saw, that bitch looks like she could eat her husband alive. Eyes like that—tsk tsk. Total trash. In this day and age, relying on her man's income without working at that young age? Anyway, she's four months behind already, so collect it clean, no mercy for the kid. Got it? If you can't, deduct it from her deposit without hesitation!'
After twenty years together, Mr. Lee could auto-translate wifese: 'She's dripping with sex appeal' and 'Don't let that slut distract you—don't go soft and let her off!'
'Wonder what she's like.'
Intrigued despite himself, Mr. Lee fussed with his receding hairline in the window reflection, then headed down the stairs to the basement.
"Ahem. Ahem! Hey, young lady! Come out here!"
His wife had said she didn't work and just lounged around, so she'd be home even in broad daylight. He cleared his throat, pitching his voice low and intimidating to minimize arguments and grab the back rent quick—but he worried if it'd work.
Sure enough, there was a bustle from inside, and the door swung open fast.
"Oh! Hello. What brings you here?"
As the door opened, it was like spring had bloomed again for Landlord Mr. Lee.
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'Holy fucking shit... Hot damn!'
In his forty-nine years, Mr. Lee had seen plenty of women, naturally. Female clients at the architecture firm, hostess girls during client schmoozing, karaoke helpers, hookers from all sorts of nightlife spots—he'd clocked a lot.
But he'd never laid eyes on a vixen as sultry and oozing sex appeal as the one half-stepping out the door right now.
"Ahem... Uh... That is..."
Nerves jangled his voice into a shaky mess; he had to steady his breath multiple times. His face and half-bald scalp flushed red as boiled octopus sashimi.
And blood rushed uncontrollably south, to his crotch.
'Fuck this bitch... Why am I even here again?'
Snapping back, he looked at her again and got why his brain had shorted out.
Her face wasn't celebrity-level stunning, but among regular folks, she was top 1%—a solid nine outta ten. The kind you see maybe two or three per class year. Fair skin, small face—already a winner—plus sharp, glamorous features on a beauty.
'Damn, this slut's built to tempt.'
Pretty was pretty, but those slightly drooping eyes really hooked you. Usually puppy-dog eyes scream cute, but hers radiated yin energy—decadent, not adorable. To Mr. Lee's seasoned eye from the nightlife scene, this young housewife screamed "born for the game."
Face-wise, he'd seen a couple at her level before. But her real weapon was her body. At 172 cm, tall for a woman, with slender arms, calves, ankles—willowy thin.
Yet her tits were hefty, perfect for groping—what they call "Dongtan look." She wore a gray tank dress with a deep plunge, cleavage and all on full display. No bra, either—nipples poking out embarrassingly clear. Most women would cover up, but she twisted her body just so, flaunting her cleavage and stiff peaks on purpose.
'Ah. I wanna fuck her.'
No red-blooded man could think otherwise, with that outfit, face, and figure. But Mr. Lee had a job to do, so he forced himself to focus.
"Uh, well... You're already four months behind on rent."
He composed himself, mimicking a dignified tone, fighting to drag his eyes from her cleavage back to her face.
"I'm sorry... I've been looking for work..."
But even her soft, nasally voice dripped seduction. Mr. Lee swallowed hard to keep from drooling.
"Jeez... There's such a thing as a lease, though..."
"Right... I'm sorry. But leaving you standing out here feels rude—why don't you come in for some tea?"
"Ahem... Sure, why not."
Right on cue, this temptress invited him inside. A chance for more talk and eye candy—Mr. Lee's face lit up as he followed her into the studio.
'No fucking way... Insane!'
But catching sight of her rear view as she led the way nearly blew his rationality to bits.
This fox's real killer wasn't her big tits or pretty, sexy face—it was her lower half.
'Hot damn...! What the hell kind of soybean paste can is that...?!'
Cheap vulgarity bubbled up unbidden: her lower body was overwhelming. Korean women usually had narrow hips and flat asses, but hers was unprecedented.
Wide hips, thick riding muscles on her thighs, tiny waist above—coke-bottle curves poured straight through that clinging Dongtan dress. And her ass? Not the typical Korean pancake—more like a Brazilian Latina's, massively plump.
An ass that screamed "soybean paste canister" more than anything—crude, but cock-stirring as hell.
Mr. Lee shuffled in after her, dick throbbing like it'd blow at a touch, mouth agape.
But disappointingly... the room had uninvited guests.
Kids, with bright, sparkling eyes.
"H-Hi?"
"Who's this ajusshi?"
"Huh? Oh, I'm the landlord."
"Ohhh..."
"Heh heh... You kids in elementary school? How old?"
"Um... Ten."
"Ten? Wow, your mom's got some serious baby face."
How old was this woman anyway? Thirties? Despite the decadent vibe, her face was so youthful he'd pegged her at twenty.
"Well... I had them young..."
"Really? How old are you now?"
"Me? Twenty-four..."
"What?! How the—"
Hot damn. Fucking hell.
Landlord Mr. Lee gripped his reeling mind.
Women built like her usually chased their calling elsewhere. With that face and body stuck in a basement dump? Kinda made sense now.
Business was business, though. Shaking off the daze, Mr. Lee brought up the back rent...
"...Sorry. If you could just cut me some slack..."
"I've already waited four months... Been lenient 'cause you're young, but I..."
1.8 million won wasn't chump change. Mr. Lee had financial breathing room, sure—but middle-class, not rich enough to shrug it off.
Then her eyes on the unyielding Mr. Lee flashed a hint of danger.
"...Hard to talk with the kids here... Why not come to your place and discuss it properly?"
"Uh...? M-My... house?"
Mr. Lee's brain circuit froze solid.