The True Winner (Yu-ri vs Min-a, Part 2)
On the ring slick with sweat and blood, the two women rolled and clawed through a mud-slinging brawl that refused to end.
"Die…! If it weren't for you, I never would've had to pull this shit!"
Min-a screamed with the shameless fury of the guilty. Rage surged through Yu-ri; she twisted their tangled bodies in one vicious motion and seized the mount. Gritting her teeth, she smothered Min-a's face beneath the full weight of her heavy breasts.
"You shameless bitch! You were the one who betrayed me first!"
Fever-hot flesh and sweat-soaked soft curves swallowed Min-a's nose and lips with greedy force. Her frantic breaths vanished completely into that beautiful, merciless weapon.
"Mph! Mmmph…!"
Terror of suffocation sent Min-a thrashing. Her legs kicked wildly at empty air while both hands raked desperately at Yu-ri's sides and back, leaving long bloody furrows. Yu-ri ignored the pain, driving her entire weight down harder, grinding Min-a's face deeper into the yielding flesh.
As her vision flickered white, a pure white wedding dress swirled vividly through Min-a's mind.
I stole that man…! I finally climbed above you! I will never let him go…!
Min-a's obsession burned every bit as poisonous as Yu-ri's hatred. On the edge of blacking out she wrenched the yoga-honed core muscles in her abdomen past their limit.
"Pffah…! Aaaaah!"
Her powerful legs scissored savagely around Yu-ri's back. The center of gravity flipped.
"Kyaaah!"
Yu-ri lost balance and tumbled with a scream. The two women locked again into the most grotesque, violent, and obscene ground position imaginable.
Breasts and crotches crossed in opposite directions—not to give pleasure, but to form a prison of pure crushing force. Each woman sealed the other's face beneath her chest while her thighs, trained to the absolute limit to captivate one man, clamped around the opponent's neck and skull like iron.
"Mph…! Mmmph!"
"Hngh, mph…."
It was a hideous snare testing whose will—and whose body—would break first.
Bone-crushing pressure closed around each throat. The violent reaction forced their centers into a grotesque, grinding mesh.
Squelch. Slap. Wet friction.
Every time they snapped their hips and pelvises in a mad bid to tighten the choke, their swollen, engorged sex pressed flush and rubbed hard. The thrashing meant to tear each other apart was, paradoxically, scraping the most sensitive flesh of both women raw.
"Hnnngh… Haah, haaang…!"
Between gasps for oxygen, thick, heated moans began to slip free. Yu-ri's first cry of pleasure tore out of her alongside tears. It was a pleasure she had never once tasted in seven long years. Against her will her inner walls clenched and a clear rush of fluid spilled out.
"Mph, haaang…! You crazy… bitch…!"
Min-a was no different. Yu-ri's hard pubic bone ground against her tender folds as if to shred them; even while being choked her eyes rolled and her hips shuddered. The most hideous shame—pain and ecstasy crashing together—melted both women's reason.
The ugliest, most wretched truths they had buried layer upon layer burst out with blood-tinged tears.
"Hnnngh…! Why… why did I do it…!"
Even with Yu-ri's thighs crushing her throat and foam at her lips, Min-a wailed like a heartbroken child.
"When I was crushed under you, you always looked at me with pity! You ruined everything!"
Tears poured from Yu-ri's eyes as she listened to the scream.
"You're blaming me? That pathetic inferiority complex is disgusting…!"
Yu-ri snapped her trembling, pleasure-soaked hips with vicious force and howled.
Even while sobbing openly, neither woman surrendered. Tear-streaked faces twisted with fresh cruelty as they bound each other tighter, desperate to snuff out the last breath.
I don't know. Could I ever go that far?
No matter how firmly she had steeled herself, Se-ah still could not grow used to it. She staggered to her feet. Both legs shook like aspen leaves.
"Oh my, Madam. Heading home already? It's just about to get really good. Running away?"
Lu Yuyen's face glowed an unnatural feverish red as she mocked her.
"Mind your own business. I don't need to watch to the end—your future is already obvious."
Se-ah forced the tremor from her voice, bit her lip hard, and lifted her chin in arrogant defiance.
Lu Yuyen's gaze licked greedily down Se-ah's retreating back.
She's scared. Can't even stand straight.
The corner of Lu Yuyen's mouth twisted upward. Her mind was already filled with the fantasy of slaughtering Se-ah on that same ring.
Back on the ring, the two legs that had clamped Min-a's throat with seven years of hatred began to twitch and seize at their absolute limit.
"Hic, hah… Hnnngh…!"
Minute tears started deep inside the thigh muscles that could no longer endure the crushing squeeze. It was a difference as thin as paper, yet Min-a's flexible thighs still had strength to spare.
"Guh… Guhhk…."
Yu-ri's focus slowly blurred. Her vision bleached white and began to flicker.
Memories flashed through that white void like a dying reel.
Su-han's gentle smile that had given her the strength to endure hard days. Their first clumsy, tender night together.
And Min-a—her only friend, the one who had held her and wept with her through shared pain.
All of it crumbled coldly into unreachable mirage inside Yu-ri's fading consciousness.
Ah… It's not fair. It's not fair…!
Yet before the terror of death, seven years of devotion and hatred for the traitor both melted away without resistance.
In the end…
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The whites of her eyes showing, Yu-ri's right hand weakly struck the ring floor as consciousness slipped.
Tap-out. Surrender.
Enemy faction — Choi Min-a victorious.
The moment Se-ryeong's mechanical declaration rang out, cleanup agents vaulted onto the ring and forcibly pried the grotesquely entangled legs apart.
At the same instant the red lens of the live stream winked out.
Match concluded. Analyzing results…
Black faction combatant Seo Yu-ri — loss of will confirmed.
Final victor: Choi Min-a.
Min-a heaved herself upright, finally expelling the blocked air. Her face was a ruin; her ivory skin was mottled with dark bruises. Her lower body glistened with the fluids left by pleasure and pain.
Yet Min-a smiled.
"I won…."
Her gaze was fixed somewhere far beyond. The dazzling pure-white wedding dress she would soon wear shone brilliantly in her mind. She had won. Through pure femininity she had clawed her way through this desperate survival contest and lived.
Beneath the victor's feet, the scene was wretched.
"Hnnngh…."
Yu-ri lay curled on the floor like a crushed insect. Both hands clutched her convulsing thighs—cramped and torn—while she sobbed brokenly.
It was the exact moment her devotion was smashed into the blood pooling on the floor.
On the free board of the Black Room, the filthy desires and mocking appraisals of aroused men cascaded down without pause like a filthy waterfall.
One month later. The grand ballroom of a five-star luxury hotel.
Beneath the massive crystal chandelier, a virgin road carpeted with thousands of flowers. The bride who walked it, Choi Min-a, was without question the most beautiful bride in the world.
The pure-white dress worth tens of millions perfectly concealed the scars of a month ago. Each time the heavy lace brushed half-healed wounds a faint sting rose, yet even that felt like thrilling proof of victory.
"Min-a, you look truly beautiful today."
Beside her, arm linked through hers, the groom Ki Su-han whispered tenderly.
"Thank you, oppa."
Min-a offered an elegant, perfectly calculated shy smile. She had claimed everything in the end.
But the instant she reached the very center of the petal-strewn aisle, Min-a's steps locked as if turned to stone.
Through the sweet fragrance of flowers a sudden metallic reek of blood stabbed her nose.
In the front row of guests a hideous hallucination shimmered.
Empty black eyes staring at her through tears. Seo Yu-ri. Her silent lips moved, pouring an everlasting curse upon the bride.
Everything you stole will choke you for the rest of your life.
"Hah…."
Min-a's face drained corpse-pale in an instant. The brilliant chandelier light suddenly felt like the descending blade of a guillotine around her throat.
"Min-a? Honey, what's wrong? Are you in pain?"
Su-han, who knew nothing, asked in worry. Min-a forced the corners of her mouth upward and shook her head.
"N-no. Just nerves, oppa."
The guests erupted in enthusiastic applause and cheers, yet Min-a's soul was already rotting from the inside. She would live the rest of her life inside Yu-ri's phantom and her own guilt—a private hell. The wedding dress she had stolen and worn was nothing less than a cursed shroud she could never remove.
At that same hour, a private room in a specialized Gangnam hospital.
Soft, warm spring sunlight filled the room, mingled with the faint scent of a diffuser.
"Ms. Yu-ri, your recovery is excellent. The scars will fade soon as well."
A man knelt on one knee before the wheelchair-bound Yu-ri, wrapping a compression bandage with gentle, careful hands. Her attending physician—a young, capable resident three years her junior. His eyes held an affection for her he made no attempt to hide.
"Thank you. It's all thanks to you, Doctor."
A faint flush colored Yu-ri's cheeks as she smiled shyly. For the past month this kind man had stayed by her side through the despair of her lower body being torn apart.
He came every day without fail to stitch her wounds, and whenever nightmares wrenched screams from her he held her hand through the night.
"When we're alone, please call me by my name."
"I-I will. Min-woo."
Yu-ri felt the hatred inside her heart melting little by little. A certainty bloomed that real spring would come someday.
Perhaps every hellish moment had been nothing more than the rite of passage required to meet true salvation.
The woman who stole everything, crowned herself in blood, and now walked through hell.
The woman who lost everything and fell, yet found warmth at the very bottom and dreamed of a new beginning.
Who, in the end, was the true winner?