The Calm Before the Storm
In the days after she watched that match, Se-ah changed in ways impossible to miss.
She had started going to the gym during the daytime hours when I was at work. Outwardly she claimed it was for her health, but her true motive was obvious.
An unmarked side street off Cheongdam-dong’s luxury shopping strip. A secretive space without even a sign. Commonly known as Zenith Gym. This was no ordinary fitness center. It was a training ground designed exclusively for sexual combat.
Its core membership consisted of chaebol wives, female executives from politics and business, spouses of major hospital directors—upper-class bitches who had to maintain pristine public faces. Unofficial sexual bouts sometimes broke out on the private ring inside, binding the place tightly to the Black Room.
Which is exactly how I managed to plant surveillance cameras in every corner.
These days my favorite thrill was watching Se-ah train through my phone screen.
Instead of the pastel leggings she usually wore for yoga, she was dressed in a rough black tracksuit.
"Member. Drop the unnecessary tension from your shoulders and transfer only the rotational force into your fist. The striking point is precisely the center of the opponent’s chest. Don’t hit the surface—drive it through as if you’re piercing the organs."
Se-ah’s personal trainer was a woman with the cold eyes of a former combat-sports athlete. Se-ah clenched her teeth and threw a hook at the heavy bag.
Thud! Thwack!
Explosive impacts rang out in a steady rhythm, as if the bag might burst. Every time her fist cut the air, her heavy breasts rebounded and swayed violently. She frowned and let out pained moans, yet never stopped.
That’s it. Keep going, Se-ah.
Her eyes blazed with nothing but the murderous resolve to tear her husband’s mistress apart and defend the master bedroom. Watching her destroy herself for me, I felt a thick heat gather low in my body.
But this spectacle was too good to enjoy alone.
I pulled out my phone and fired off a short text to my loyal hunting dog, whom I had stationed nearby in advance.
Before long the sharp click of high heels approached, and Lu Yuyen slipped her arm through mine. Her breasts, threatening to spill from a fluorescent-pink bra top at any second, pressed against my arm.
I wrapped an arm around her waist and threw open the doors of Zenith Gym with the face of a devoted husband.
"Honey. Still working out?"
At my call, Se-ah’s fist, mid-extension toward the bag, froze in midair.
For a split second her eyes, meeting mine through the mirror, began to soften. Then she saw Lu Yuyen pressed tight against me, and her expression hardened to stone.
"Our madam. Your face is practically dripping with poison."
I pretended to be flustered and offered Se-ah a gentle excuse.
"I ran into Ms. Lu by chance. I only came to drive my hardworking wife home, but…"
Shameless deceit. Se-ah bit her lip, knowing the truth yet choosing to play along. She wiped the sweat from her chin with a towel and forced her voice into calm.
"I was just finishing. Let’s go together, honey."
Her gaze stabbed toward Lu Yuyen like a blade.
"Though I must say, this secretary is rather bold. Marching uninvited into her superior’s private space."
Lu Yuyen brushed off Se-ah’s contemptuous stare and slipped free of my embrace, walking deeper into the gym.
"I’ve been worried about my health lately too, so I started working out. Heard madam trains at a gym nearby and got curious. Nice facility."
She deliberately took her place at the empty heavy bag diagonally across from the one Se-ah had been striking.
Barely three meters separated the two women. The wall of mirrors reflected their explosive bodies without mercy.
I stepped back, crossed my arms, and leaned against the wall.
Go on. Tear into each other, you bitches.
Conversation died. Lu Yuyen struck first, driving her fists into the bag with raw force.
Thud! Wham!
Unlike Se-ah’s rhythmic punches, the impacts were jagged—yet they carried crude, unfiltered power. Every time Lu Yuyen extended her arm, her breasts shook violently, producing a dull, fleshy friction sound.
Se-ah refused to yield. She rewound her hand wraps and began pounding her own bag again.
Neither woman looked directly at the other. They studied each other only through the mirror, eyes hungry as if ready to bite. Every time a rival’s breasts bounced, murder flared in both gazes—as if each were already imagining that mass of flesh collapsing onto her own body.
Once the bag work wound down, Lu Yuyen loaded a barbell on the floor, settled the heavy weight across her shoulders, and began squatting. She dropped until her ass nearly brushed the ground, then exploded upward with animal elasticity, her lower body flexing as if it might burst.
Se-ah answered by spreading a mat and launching into core work. Even as her abs burned, she never made a sound, holding perfect form while tilting her chin toward the mirror and sneering at Lu Yuyen.
The air inside the gym grew thin with tension.
A blood-drying war of nerves over whose body looked more threatening, whose poison ran deeper. The atmosphere crackled as if either woman might seize the other by the hair and roll across the floor at any second.
"Ms. Lu, the fun ends here. Time for you to go. My wife needs to rest."
At my languid intervention, Lu Yuyen smacked her lips in disappointment and set the barbell down.
"Yes, sir. Sorry for the interruption. Madam—we’ll meet soon. I’m really looking forward to it."
The door closed behind her. Se-ah sank to the floor, spent. I approached, gently brushed her damp hair aside, and kissed her forehead.
"Go to bed early tonight. If anything happens to your body, it would break my heart."
Se-ah gave me a faint, tender smile and wrapped both arms tightly around my waist.
My perfect madonna, willing to become a beast in the ring just to claim me. Tonight, as always, the night of deception rolled forward without a single flaw.
Well past midnight.
I slipped out of the Hannam-dong mansion and headed with Lu Yuyen to a private club in Gangnam.
Bass that hammered the heart, frantic red neon. Tables where Dom Pérignon flowed like water. Flanking me and seated across the table were girls Lu Yuyen had known since her BJ days, all poured into flashy dresses that left their cleavage bare.
Vulgar parasites who lived off men’s wallets and would kill for luxury brands. To me they were nothing more than toys—ridiculously easy to handle.
I sat in the seat of honor, legs crossed, looking down on their flattery with bored eyes.
"Boss! For real, for real! You’re even hotter in person. Our Yuyen really snagged herself a proper big shot!"
A rather fuckable-looking girl slid her hand onto my thigh and cooed.
The one opposite couldn’t hide her jealousy and snapped at Lu Yuyen.
"Hey, Yuyen! Word is you’ve been bragging about moving into the main house. You crazy? What about the madam? She’s fucking gorgeous…"
The mix of envy and spite only made Lu Yuyen more arrogant.
"Oh, that washed-up model? Pretty shell, but soft as shit. Right, oppa?"
"Who knows."
When I only smiled ambiguously, she raised her voice even higher.
"I’m gonna chew that bitch up. Rip her apart in the Black Room. Then I’ll be madam instead."
The room stirred. Sticky curiosity and fear flickered through the women’s eyes.
"You’re really going there? I heard you can get seriously fucked up…"
"…That madam doesn’t look ordinary."
Then a relatively plain-looking girl who had stayed quiet until now spoke carefully, reading the room. I recalled she was an old colleague of Lu Yuyen’s.
"…I-I heard this story from a big-spending oppa in our room and it was terrifying. Not long ago two Gangnam madams went crazy. They… th-they fought with a huge rock jammed between their chests…"
I let out a short laugh and exhaled a long stream of cigar smoke.
"I arranged that match."
Every gaze snapped to me at once.
"Y-you really hold fights like that? How does it even work?"
I recrossed my legs and began describing that night’s entertainment.
"Both women were in their late forties, but after pouring tens of billions into their bodies they looked mid-thirties—pretty little madams. They had shared one man their whole lives."
A classic two-household arrangement.
"Apparently the husband was obsessed with breasts. The two women wanted a clean ending. The method was brutally simple. They jammed a rough, wide ornamental stone—easily ten kilos—between their tits and fought."
Naked, kneeling face-to-face, crushing each other with their breasts against the rock in a deathmatch. The more explicit my description grew, the more the women flinched and shrank into themselves. One even covered her own chest.
"Y-you’re insane! The stone would dig right into the flesh!"
"Exactly. If you don’t push back just as hard as the other woman is shoving, your tits get wrecked on the spot."
Their trembling hollow shells were almost cute.
"On the ring there was nothing but choking gasps and the sickening sound of flesh being ground. They kept shoving until their chests were black with bruises and their nipples were crushed deep into the stone’s surface… until finally one of them collapsed."
"S-so? What happened?"
"One of them completely ruined her breasts. After that I don’t know. Don’t need to."
I stubbed the cigar out in the ashtray and tossed off the ending with indifference. The women had gone pale and kept glancing at Lu Yuyen’s ample chest.
But the heavy silence was shattered by Lu Yuyen’s arrogant voice, which had already swallowed the fear whole.
"Hey, relax. You ever seen tits bigger than mine? I’ll turn that bitch into jerky."
Her swagger lightened the mood a little.
The women loosened their stiff faces and resumed their flattery. Genuine concern mixed in, but far more of them seemed to be secretly hoping Lu Yuyen would fall flat on her face.
"Once you take the madam’s spot, you better not pretend you don’t know us, okay?"
"Just… don’t actually get hurt…"
I roughly grabbed a handful of Lu Yuyen’s plump ass pressed against my side.
"Ahh! O-oppa… the girls are watching."
Her mouth protested, but her hips eagerly ground against my hand.
"Everyone toast! Once I take the master bedroom, I’ll throw something your way too—so line up nice!"
That haughty, chin-high arrogance of hers wouldn’t last. Before long the bronze tits she was so proudly shoving forward would be mashed like rice cakes and covered in ugly bruises.
I painted that beautiful future of slaughter vividly in my mind and swallowed champagne with deep satisfaction.