Unexpected Information
Kim Il-woo returned home with a refreshed expression. No one would have guessed he was the same man who had just raped his childhood friend moments ago.
"They must've filed a report by now, right?"
He'd threatened Choi Ara not to report it, but her boyfriend might have done it anyway. No, he had to assume a report had definitely been filed.
"I should've gotten more details from my future wife about what happens next."
Even for a twisted, insane guy like Kim Il-woo, it was unreasonable to predict that space would tear open and his wife from the future would show up. He should have seized the opportunity to extract as much information as possible—it was a mistake, no matter how he thought about it.
"What's done is done."
Regretting the missed chance, Kim Il-woo decided to focus on the present. He'd play it safe, watch how things unfolded, and first check the rape video of his childhood friend—the one treasure that could also serve as decisive evidence.
As he figured it would take time and effort to review the footage from multiple angles, a strange beep sounded.
"Hm?"
It was coming from the communication device his future wife had left behind.
"Oh yeah, she said I could use this to talk to my future wife."
With everything shocking and overwhelming that had happened today, he'd completely forgotten about it. He quickly picked up the device and checked the messages. Sure enough, there was one from his future wife.
Il-woo. How'd it go? You stopped the rape, right? You did, didn't you? Then why hasn't my memory changed? Answer me.
The text message from his future wife was just plain text, yet it dripped with urgency.
"How should I reply?"
His future self obviously knew the truth and was probably watching this quietly from the sidelines, enjoying every moment. The reason his future self had sent his wife back so willingly was obvious.
"It's a kind of play."
He was self-aware of his lecherous, twisted sexual tastes. Even though his past self had been asked to prevent the tragedy, he hadn't—and his future self would delight inwardly watching his despairing wife. So, the reply here just needed to skirt around honestly admitting he hadn't stopped it.
Sorry. I couldn't stop it in the end.
His future self was still hiding the fact that he was the rapist, so Kim Il-woo omitted that and stated the facts plainly. He expected an immediate reply, but the device stayed silent for a long while.
While hiding the rape video securely to prevent leaks and physically destroying the cameras to erase any traces, a response finally came.
Why!!! Why?! No way! Why couldn't you stop it! Tell me! I trusted you! I trusted you! Was I wrong? Can the past not be changed? No. That can't be. Do you know how much effort I put into going back to the past...
A massively long message came back. Even without her there, the raw emotion in those desperate lines hit hard. He could easily picture the more mature Choi Ara from the future raging and sobbing.
Imagining Choi Ara in that masochistic state made blood rush straight to his lower body.
"That's why my future self sent his wife back."
Just the thought was enough to make him cum. Sharing and defiling his future wife—what a hobby his future self had.
By the time I got there on schedule, it was already too late. This is how you were when I arrived.
To deepen her despair and make her wail in sorrow, Kim Il-woo deliberately sent a photo of Choi Ara collapsed on the dirty mattress, covered in cum after the rape and internal ejaculation. A horrific image that would traumatize the victim herself. Thinking of his future wife freaking out and clinging to his future self made him so horny he wanted to go fuck his childhood friend right then.
"That's what you wanted, future me?"
Right now, his future wife was probably having a meltdown over the photo. His future self would comfort the frenzied woman while secretly loving every second.
"Wonder if my future self is having a good time with Ara right now?"
Pretending to comfort a wounded woman while fucking her—exactly his favorite scenario. Telepathy between past and future selves. He'd hoped to get useful info to help his future self, and sure enough, another message came.
Hello. Past me. Too bad you couldn't stop what my wife asked you to prevent.
Surprisingly, it was from his future self.
"Playing it like that, huh?"
Since they shared the device with his wife, his future self was apparently acting like a kind, upright husband on the surface.
I'm sorry. I hoped against hope, but I was too late. Is Ara badly shaken?
My wife cried herself to sleep from exhaustion. What's done is done. Like you did in the past, stay by Ara's side, okay?
Of course. Don't worry.
Kim Il-woo itched to ask what happened next or seek advice in any form, but it seemed impossible.
My wife is just as precious to me now as she was in the past. If she's struggling a lot, try asking her mother for advice.
"Mother-in-law?"
That meant Ara's mom—why bring her up now? Their relationship had grown distant, and he hadn't seen Ara's mother in ages.
Lee Seo-yoon, Choi Ara's mother. For a kid with unusually strong sexual urges like him, his childhood friend Ara was prime daughter material, but her mother was a delicious side dish.
"No wonder future Ara looked familiar—she takes after her mom."
The mature look of his wife from the future closely resembled the mother he'd met as a child. Thinking about whose genes gave Ara her refined, pure beauty, he couldn't believe it hadn't clicked sooner.
"Mother-in-law... yeah, mother-in-law."
Yeah. Feels weird calling her mother-in-law when we're not married yet. It's been so long since I saw her, but I'll lean on her for advice as you suggest.
Oh right, you two are on awkward terms right now. It's fine. You're living together with your future mother-in-law in a kinda distant relationship anyway.
"Living together?"
Kim Il-woo carefully dissected the message from his future self. Seducing Choi Ara and marrying her made sense, but living with her mother, Lee Seo-yoon, too?
My depraved sex life would be totally exposed.
He could tell from the kiss alone how much he'd trained Choi Ara to his tastes. Turning a responsible, diligent childhood friend to his liking took serious time and effort—yet he'd done it while living under the same roof as her mother...?
"Did he fuck Ara's mom too?"
The mother he'd seen as a kid was stunning. She had that mature allure only a married woman could possess, and he'd fantasized about laying her countless times. Plus, that dizzying figure—an upgraded version of young Ara's.
"Future Ara and her mom would make for an epic matchup."
The sensual body of Ara's mom from his childhood memories and the even riper figure of future Ara were neck-and-neck.
"She had Ara at 20, so right now she's..."
If his memory was right, Choi Ara's mom was in her early 40s. Hard to imagine a woman who'd been like a blooming flower wilting in her 40s. And where did Choi Ara get her diligence and strong sense of responsibility? From her mother, obviously. Ara idolized her mom as her role model—a remarkable, attractive woman, morally upright, and capable enough to return to work after maternity leave.
Recalling that enticing prey he'd momentarily forgotten, blood rushed to his groin again.
"He fucked her."
Kim Il-woo's conclusion was simple. For a guy twisted enough to rape his childhood friend, the perks of living with his mother-in-law could only mean one thing. Balancing on a tightrope, fucking both his beloved wife and her hot mother-in-law under one roof.
"Turns out Ara's mom is a pervert."
Sneaking physical relations with her daughter's husband. Even after full training, Choi Ara's personality might lead her to something extreme if she found out.
"Might as well enjoy them together."
His future self seemed to prefer the thrill of getting caught, but Kim Il-woo wanted to taste mother-daughter rice bowl.
"No rule saying I have to follow the same path."
Whether the past affected the future or not, he'd cherry-pick the good stuff and do what he wanted.
"Future me, thanks for the tip. Things might even get better."
With this new pleasure added to his list, Kim Il-woo happily pondered how to topple his childhood friend and her mother, dyeing them in his colors, before drifting off to sleep.