3. First Day of Probation - 12, A New Home and a New Housemate (Slightly Revised)

"Please lie back for a moment. I'll get you washed up right away."

Song-ah got up, turned on the shower, checked the water temperature, and came back with the showerhead in hand. She gently set it into my outstretched palm and asked,

"Is the temperature all right?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah. It's good."

Sapped limp from coming twice in a row, I answered with my head resting on the air-mattress pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Song-ah washed me down meticulously starting from the tips of my toes, slipping her fingers between each one to scrub them clean.

She worked her way up over my feet, my calves, my thighs, to my center, where ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she washed my shriveled cock and balls by hand, kneading the wrinkles loose under the water. She cleaned between my fingers as well, and scrubbed my palms by pressing her fingers upright against them. Then she diligently washed my belly, my chest, all the way up to my armpits.

"Please turn over onto your stomach."

"Ah. Okay."

I rolled over, resting my forehead on my folded hands. With so much of the water having already run off me while she washed my front, my back was finished faster than the front had been. As Song-ah washed my ass, she asked,

"Could you bend your knees and lift your hips up for me?"

"What? Why?"

"Yes?? To wash your anus, of course, Juhan-nim."

"Ah... um..."

"I know it's awkward, but your backside can't be washed properly unless you raise your hips. Please."

"I mean... yeah, fine."

It wasn't the position I balked at so much as the idea of someone else washing my asshole, but Song-ah asked for it so matter-of-factly that I bent my knees and lifted my hips.

Song-ah first rinsed between my cheeks with the showerhead, then took hold of both sides of my ass and spread them gently apart. Something damp and soft glided over me, from the perineum below my balls all the way up to my tailbone. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It was Song-ah, sticking her tongue out to lick me.

"Ohhk~"

She licked me two or three more times the same way, and then something pliant pressed against the ring of my anus. Song-ah's lips. Next her tongue came teasing at my hole, running along every last wrinkle with its tip stiffened, before pushing against my anus and slipping inside.

"Huaahk~"

The unfamiliar sensation tickled even as her tongue pressed at my insides, and blood rushed back into my cock. Perhaps because I'd already come twice, though, it didn't get fully hard. Song-ah stretched her tongue out long and pushed it deep into my hole.

I'd never had my ass played with before, so it all felt strange — but the sensitivity put every other part of me to shame. I remembered a friend from my twenties swearing over drinks that getting a rimjob was to die for. I'd called it disgusting back then, but actually receiving one? No fucking joke.

"Huaaahk~ Hahk~!"

Only after a good long while of rimming me — eating my ass, as we'd so crudely put it — did Song-ah finally pull her mouth away.

"One moment, please."

She rinsed my hole once more with the showerhead.

"You can get up now— ptui. Oh, I'm so sorry. It just slipped out, I didn't mean—"

When I rose, there was Song-ah, already kneeling with her head bowed. One of my hairs must have gotten into her mouth, and she'd spat it out without thinking. Apparently even that counted as a screwup around here.

"No, it's fine. It's my fault. Dan-ah mentioned it too — I really do need to trim that hair or something. Get up and hand me a towel, would you?"

"Thank you, Juhan-nim."

Song-ah stood and fetched a large towel from the drawer — the same white, buttery-soft kind you'd find in a hotel.

"This way, please."

At her guidance I moved to the glass door and stepped onto the anti-slip mat, and Song-ah came over, spread the enormous towel wide, and began drying me from the top of my head down, working through every last corner of my body.

All I had to do was stand there with my arms and legs spread. She wiped me spotless — armpits, cock, even between my thighs — and then,

"If you'll wait just a moment, I'll go out first and help you get dressed."

"No, I can manage on my own. Take your time coming out."

"Oh... even so, yes. Thank you."

Song-ah, who had been about to say something more, bowed her head and deferred when I met her eyes and gave a small nod.

I opened the bathroom door and stepped out alone, and there was Dan-ah waiting right beside it, hands folded respectfully. She was dressed as before, in her boxy tee and leggings.

- Zzziing~ Zzziing~ Zzziing~

A boiler?

My thought about the faint mechanical whine was cut short by Dan-ah's question.

"Do you feel refreshed?"

Dan-ah knelt and held a fresh pair of underwear open between both hands, offering it up at my feet.

"Yeah. Song-ah washed me up nicely."

I answered as I slipped my feet in one at a time. Being waited on hand and foot was starting to feel natural. With Dan-ah's help, I got into my track pants and t-shirt as well.

"Then, come with me to the study."

"The study?"

"Yes. There are things I need to explain, and things to set up. I meant to do it the moment we got home, but punishing Jiyeon set us back a little."

"Ah~ right."

What had surprised me wasn't going to a study but the fact that the house had one at all — but there was no need to correct her, so I just answered and followed along. All I had to do was take the door on the opposite side from my room.

The study was done in brown tones throughout. Step through the door and bookshelves lined the left wall, with display cabinets arranged along the right.

Most of it was empty, of course. The only things filling the shelves were my old textbooks and novels, which actually looked out of place on the premium hardwood shelving.

Facing the entrance stood a long desk in a deep brown, my computer already set up on it. Even the hazy film of dust that had dulled it had been wiped completely clean — it looked like a brand-new machine.

"Have a seat."

At her word, I walked around the desk and settled into the big, plush leather chair. Dan-ah sat down across from me in one whose backrest came up only to about mid-back.

"First — now that you've taken the medicine, you must record anything unusual. Will you open the O's NOTE app on your phone?"

Following her instructions, I found the O's NOTE app on the company phone and launched it. The app looked like an ordinary memo pad.

"Simple, isn't it? Whatever comes to you — something you saw in a dream, something that occurs to you in a certain place, something that rises up when you see a certain person — you simply write it down. You may assign a category when you post, but even if you don't, it will sort itself out."

"Anything at all? So even the tiniest, most trivial things go in?"

"Yes. Once you're a full employee, there may be vitally important information that only you hold, but during the probation period, understanding your ability is what matters most. Uploading everything is encouraged."

"Okay, got it."

"You'll see for yourself soon, but even the Omniscients can't simply see whatever they wish. It's near random. Some of what appears is perfectly clear, but a great deal of it makes no sense at all. And yet, they say, when you gather enough of those pieces, sometimes a picture completes itself.

That is why Bakdalhoe keeps bringing in more Omniscients — the more clues and fragments you can amass, the better. It can even help filter out bad information."

"Hmm~. Except there's nothing for me to look at."

I poked through O's NOTE's menus; apart from the writing function, everything was locked.

"Correct — during probation, you cannot view the other Omniscients' entries. You might be influenced by them. I'll say it again: during the probation period, assessing your ability comes first and foremost."

"Right. Got it."

"Next, this tablet is for use at home. As with your phone, your information is already loaded into it."

Dan-ah handed me the black, notebook-sized tablet resting at one end of the desk. Like the phone, it bore the Bluesky logo. The moment I took it and pressed my thumb to it, the lock released. Its app layout was nearly identical to the phone's.

"Next, we need to set up your wearables."

Dan-ah drew a black rectangular box out from beneath the desk and set it on top. Inside were two smartbands and straps in assorted colors. The BD Group logo was printed on each band.

"You must pair at least two wearables to your phone, and you must be wearing one at all times."

I fiddled with the smartband and said, a little curtly,

"'At all times,' huh. Sounds like surveillance."

"Surveillance is part of it, yes. But what matters most is your safety. The devices monitor your biometrics so that we can respond immediately if something goes wrong.

If a wearable shuts down with no notice, your phone will be contacted. If we can't reach you by phone, or your phone is off as well, the security team is dispatched to your last known location."

"So that's why two, minimum."

"Yes. Also, the wearables record your voice at all times. So whenever typing a note is inconvenient, just say it out loud — later, you can convert the recording to text and upload it. The function is in O's NOTE; you can work out how to use it, I trust?"

"Well, it can't be that complicated. Got it."

"Now I'll proceed with the registration. Could you unlock your phone for me?"

I handed over the unlocked phone, and Dan-ah handled it with practiced ease. Then she drew out another tablet from below — not mine — and passed it to me.

"When I give the signal, please read aloud the text shown on the tablet. Mm~ and... begin!"

What had begun as everyday conversational phrases went on to fill an entire page, all the way down to words that seemed to share no connection with one another.

I stumbled in a few places along the way, but with Dan-ah motioning me to continue, I read it through to the very end.

"Well done. Next, we need to record your voice across a range of pitch. Will you do it with a song, or with the scale?"

Bursting into song in front of Dan-ah out of nowhere was a nonstarter — and I wasn't any good at it anyway — so my choice was easy.

"Scale. Let's do the scale."

Dan-ah took the tablet back and opened a keyboard app.

"Just relax and sing along with the notes I press. Here we go."

- Do~

"Do~"

- Re~

"Re~"

...

- Fa~

"Faaahk~"

As the pitch climbed higher, it kept getting harder.

- Sol~

"Soooool~"

- La~

"Laaaaaahk"

- Ti~

"Tiiiiik"

The moment my voice began to crack, Dan-ah set the tablet down and said,

"Well done. Now then, could you unlock your phone again?"

The phone had locked itself at some point; I released it and handed it back, and Dan-ah went back to working over the phone and the devices. While she did, I poured water from the fine glass bottle on the desk into a cup and took a sip.

"All done. You can put it on now."

I strapped the smartband Dan-ah passed me onto my left wrist. Since I never wore a watch anyway, it seemed like no big deal. Dan-ah confirmed the signal was coming through cleanly on the phone, then showed me the screen. The app on it was displaying my heart rate.

"If you ever need to take ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the device off your body for a time, just open this Safety app and enter the reason and the duration."

"Okay, got it."

"Oh! I don't believe I explained this — even after you unlock them, the phone and the tablet verify the user through the front camera at set intervals."

"Like facial recognition? But you were using them just fine."

"That's because I belong to the Support Headquarters and am assigned to your Palm. The security team knew you were in the middle of your setup, so they took no action. In any other ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠case, you would have been contacted — and then you'd only need to explain the situation."

"Fine, got it. And what happens if I miss the contact?"

"Then some very sturdy members of the security team will arrive wherever you happen to be, won't they?"

I said it while tapping the smartband on my wrist with the index finger of my right hand.

"I'd rather that never happen."