Anonymity's Shield
Kim Hyun-ja releases the restraints of the Neuro Pod.
He stretches his arms out fully, yawning deeply.
"Ughhh~ Haaah."
It feels just like emerging from a sauna, sweat fully wrung out.
His back muscles tremble slightly.
The pleasant afterglow of intense exercise.
"Ah~ Feels so refreshing."
The words feel foreign even as he says them.
Just moments ago, he was rolling around like an animal with a woman whose name he didn't even know.
No love, no emotional connection.
Just devouring flesh in a space bought with money.
By the conditions alone, it was no different from mechanical masturbation before the Eden System.
Yet the results were polar opposites.
Instead of the usual sticky regret, a cool clarity fills his chest, like phlegm finally cleared.
"Eden. It was just a plain physical fuck, right? So why did it feel so hot this time?"
> Post-ejaculation cortisol levels confirmed. Data analysis in progress.
Two hormone graphs appear on the monitor.
The left is from previous simulations, the right from just now.
> To leave a lingering aftertaste, you need good memories or intensely imprinted ones. Naked bodies without context can't achieve that.
The graphs highlight sections where levels spike dramatically.
The moment Kim Hyun-ja pulled out his card.
And right before the finish, when he yanked her waist.
Testosterone and dopamine levels had surged each time.
> You flashed your card to show off wealth, claimed the VIP room space, and led her. Your brain registered it as social reward.
"Social reward? What does that have to do with it feeling sexy?"
> Yes. Victory as a male. A reward that elevates excretion to conquest.
Social reward? And what's this conquest stuff?
Still, one thing was clear.
The way her eyes changed when she saw his card.
The moment she gasped and clung, begging him to cum inside.
That thrill was definitely more than mere lust.
> Deep data analysis in progress. Linking contexts.
> Second factor: anonymity.
"Anonymity?"
> Relationships with loved ones come with responsibility stress. You must consider them, avoid hurting them. But your recent partner was a nameless stranger.
"You saying I was stressed with Sua—no, my first love?"
> Not at all.
"What? Make up your mind."
> Because you knew it was a simulation.
"......"
> Difference between fantasy and reality. When safety is guaranteed, even freefall becomes play.
Eden continues.
> Sage, you used that anonymity as a shield to unleash your normally suppressed instincts freely. You needed a trash bin. A luxurious one where you could dump desires without guilt.
"Damn, you don't pull punches."
It wasn't anything profound.
Pleasure without responsibility.
The liberation of shedding restraints.
"Thirsty. Gotta grab a drink from the convenience store."
He stands in front of the fridge at the shop near his place.
What's good for rehydration? Water? Green tea? Sports drink?
He picks the energy drink.
Raw power.
What more needs saying?
Opening the fridge door, cold air hits his face.
Beads of sweat evaporate, stealing away the heat.
Today, he settles into the Neuro Pod again.
Slipping on the HMD, he looks around.
His home is an alpine cabin atop a snowy peak—Alps or Everest vibe.
Endless snowfields stretch beyond the window.
A random thought strikes.
"When do you open the parachute skydiving?"
> Typically between 900 and 1,200 meters altitude. The safety line.
"The closer to the ground, the more thrilling?"
> Fear of imminent death explodes adrenaline. Even survival instinct turns to pleasure.
"In a sim, no need for a parachute, right?"
Eden's air cooling fans ramp up RPM.
> Simulation self-analysis. Sensory replication average 95%+. Simulating user safety.
Extreme simulations may cause shock or permanent trauma.
He flinches at Eden's ominous warning.
"Not saying I wanna actually splat on the ground. Just testing how intense a stimulus can feel sexy."
> Scenario building per user request. Searching user memory. Optimal stimulus scenario ready.
The snowy cabin around him pixelates and collapses.
The reconstructed space is stuffy, laced with instant ramen smell—the Club Room.
Laughter from the next room buzzes through the thin partition.
Creak—
The door swings open with a rusty hinge scream.
It's Ji-su senior.
The one who went viral for winning best couple at festival.
She doesn't even notice him in the corner, slamming her phone on the desk.
"That fucking bastard..."
Unable to hold back her rage, she rakes her hair irritably.
Each heave of her thin blouse sends her ample curves rippling dramatically.
Normally he'd look away, but this is a sim.
He brazenly scans her slim waist and the legs stretching from her skirt.
"Kim Hyun-ja? What're you doing?"
Her icy voice makes his heart drop.
Even knowing it's a sim, he shrinks like a thief caught red-handed.
"Fight with your boyfriend?"
"You like him or something? DMing half-naked bitches on Insta."
She flops roughly onto the sofa beside him.
Warm, sweet peach scent spreads through the air.
"You do that too? DM girls on Insta?"
"Nah. All filters anyway."
"......"
"Senior, you'd blow up followers in a day."
She snorts at his words, shoving her phone screen in his face.
The woman on it boasts unreal proportions and features.
"Look at her. He DMed this one. Pretty?"
"You got catfished? She'd scam prayers and voice phishing too."
"Pfft. Voice phishing, huh."
Irritated laugh, but it works.
Her expression softens a bit.
"All filters. Even accounting for my own, you're way prettier, senior."
"Your own? What's that mean?"
"Uh. That is."
Ji-su senior stares him down.
Tension breaks, weird silence flows.
Next room's chatter thumps like muffled drums.
As he imagines what's next, blood rushes south—
Real classroom Ji-su flashes in his mind.
This'll be awkward IRL... Should I stop?
Peach scent blocks his resolve.
I wanted stimulus.
Hesitating—
Bzzz— bzzz—
Phone on desk vibrates wildly.
Her eyes flare with fury at the popup.
She flips the phone face-down, suddenly leaning into him.
Blouse gap reveals white collarbone and shadowed cleavage.
Her hands fix his cheeks.
Lips crash before breaths mingle.
Smack, wet friction fills the quiet club room.
Next room chatter fades.
Haughty Ji-su senior devours his lips like venting rage.
Hot, rough tongue ravages his mouth.
Fallen idol's burning thirst electrifies every nerve.
"Haa... haa..."
No telling who starts.
Ji-su senior fumbles his belt urgently.
He hikes her skirt.
Already soaked.
Rage, fear, arousal—unknown fluids.
Her walls part slickly, guiding him.
Tip bottoms out, kissing cervix—
She clamps desperately, milking him.
"Ngh!"
She buries her face in his shoulder, swallowing moans.
Old sofa creaks in protest.
Will sound leak through the partition?
They hold breath.
Squelch. Squelch.
Flesh friction shatters silence.
Next room hear?
Sudden intruder?
Heart pounds madly.
Heightened hearing side effect?
Even coupling hypersensitive.
Bzzz— bzzz—
Phone spasms on desk.
Rhythmic buzz disrupts his tempo.
He ignores, thrusting deeper.
Buries face in her chest, ragged breaths.
Ji-su senior stiffens.
Her gaze shifts from him to the twitching phone.
Her fragile illusion cracks.
Bzzz— bzzz—
He rises.
His cock slips free with a wet pop.
She stares blankly up.
He strides to desk, grabs phone.
Mashes end call, silencing it.
"Get up."
Grabs her arm, hauls her up.
She staggers; he spins her roughly, bends over desk.
Cheek mashed on wood.
Ass hiked high.
"Ah~!"
No hesitation—plunges from behind.
Deeper, more direct than before.
Her hands grip desk edge.
"Hngh, hngh—."
Moans muffled against desk.
Beside dead phone screen, she shakes defenseless.
Only rear impacts dominate her.
Bzzz— bzzz—
Phone rings again.
He reaches, rejects.
Less than a minute—buzzes anew.
Persistent.
Bzzz— bzzz—
Her eyes lock on shaking screen.
Each vibe, her walls spasm irregularly.
Annoyance builds at endless buzzing.
Daring to interrupt me? Fine, let him talk.
Impulsively, he hits accept, speaker on.
"Ji-su! Sorry, my bad."
Man's frantic voice spills from phone.
Ji-su senior's shoulders jolt.
Her pussy clamps harder.
Ngh!
Nearly slips out a sound.
Trembling from terror or ecstasy—unclear.
Sensation of freefall, no parachute.
His hips accelerate unconsciously.
"You listening? Meet quick, talk. Yeah?"
Man's pleading echoes in tight room.
Senior bites lip, stifling moans.
He grabs her blouse nape, yanks hard.
Fabric screams taut.
White back and shoulders bare.
"Ji-su, please. Curse me out. All my fault. Yeah?"
Man's whimpering scratches air via speaker.
Ji-su senior claws desk edge white-knuckled.
"Hngh...!"
Jaw clenched, she crushes emerging cries between teeth.
Each merciless thrust slamming her depths sends thin screams leaking past her twisted neck.
Rationality screams stop—warning lights flash—but goosebump heat surges from toes.
Each groveling voice from speaker, she twists upper body in desperate rejection.
Yet deep inside grips like devouring him.
Forbidden sensations entwine—spine shudders near snap.
He uses the man's desperate pleas as rhythm, slamming hips fiercer.