Two Rabbits, One Burrow
Six in the evening.
Dusk had washed the campus in a romantic sweep of orange, but the faces of the two women climbing the hill behind the back gate looked closer to ashen. Choi Yura and Seo Jisu — a business major and a physical education major, different years, different circles — walked side by side through a silence so thick it had weight. The only sound was the heavy, measured tap of their footsteps.
"Um… sunbae."
Choi Yura was the first to speak. She clutched her Chanel bag against her chest as if it were the only shield she had left — or the only weapon capable of hiding how wretched her reality had become.
"Why are you even here?"
Seo Jisu's voice came out sharp, almost a snap. She didn't stop walking. The edge in her tone was raw and irritable, and it showed on her face: the hollows under her eyes were dark, her lips cracked white and dry. Days of living inside the terror of revenge porn had eaten her down to the bone. She hadn't been sleeping. She hadn't been eating, either.
"It's just… Dohun oppa told me to come."
"Dohun… oppa?"
Seo Jisu's brow knotted. The look on her face was pure disbelief. A few days ago this guy had been "that loser returnee," "that convenience-store wage slave" — and now Yura was calling him oppa? She ran her eyes over Yura's outfit and it only got worse. A flashy dress, a full face of makeup, a luxury bag. Anyone with eyes would have said she was dressed for a date.
"What's going on between you and that bastard?"
Jisu pressed the question like an interrogation, the kind of tone that said she didn't understand this situation and, more than that, didn't want to.
"It's just… complicated. What about you, sunbae? Why are you…"
Yura let the sentence die. She couldn't figure it out either — why the student council president would walk herself, of her own free will, all the way out to a rooftop hovel in a neighborhood like this.
"None of your business."
Jisu jerked her head away. The thought of her weakness becoming known even to this shallow, materialistic underclassman was worse than dying. It was the last scrap of pride she had left.
They didn't speak again. They just climbed. The slope was steep enough to steal the breath from their lungs, but the pressure sitting on their minds was heavier than anything their bodies were doing. The destination was the same. Park Dohun's shabby rooftop room. At the end of this narrow, punishing alley, the man who held both their leashes was waiting.
The rusty iron door creaked. Both women let out a long breath at the same time. Open this door, and what fresh hell would be sitting on the other side? Fear rolled over them in a wave. There was nowhere to run.
The electronic chime of the door lock rang out far too loud — like a judge's gavel coming down.
"You're here. Right on time."
I was sitting in the middle of the room, just cracking open a pizza box that had arrived minutes ago. Hot steam curled up in lazy ribbons. I popped a beer can and greeted the two of them with the hiss of carbonation.
"Come in. Close the door."
They shuffled inside, hesitant. Their heels lined up by the entrance made a strange contrast against my beat-up slippers. Two of the most beautiful women on campus, packed into this cramped little room, and the density of the air changed on the spot. Yura's sweet, heavy perfume tangled with the cold citrus of Jisu's body wash and cooked up a tension you could almost taste.
"Sit. Pizza's getting cold."
I patted the mattress. Not a couch. Not a chair. The bed. They glanced at each other, then finally settled in on either side of me, perched on the edge like they might bolt — hips barely touching the fabric, postures wound tight.
"Introductions would be a waste, right? You two already know each other."
I tore off a slice and bit in. Salt and pepperoni flooded my mouth.
"What's with the faces, though? You look like cattle being walked into a slaughterhouse."
"Park Dohun. Get to the point. Why did you call us here?"
Jisu folded her arms, chin still tipped up, still trying to hold on to her pride. She couldn't hide the tremor in her fingertips.
"The point's obvious. I was bored."
I swallowed, took a pull of beer, and stared at her until her eyes started to slide away.
"Sunbae. Phone."
"What? Why do you need my phone?"
"I need to check something."
"That's my private life. No."
"Your private life?"
I let out a short laugh.
"Your private life's already sitting on my phone. A little late to get precious about it."
"……"
That one sentence took the fight out of her. She bit down on her lip, pulled her phone from her bag, and held it out. Her hand was shaking, just slightly. I unlocked it on muscle memory and opened the gallery. Exactly what I expected.
"Look at this. You still haven't deleted them."
I pushed the screen into her face. It was packed with sweet little selfies of her and Gang Minho — kissing under cherry blossoms, wrapped around each other at the beach, the kind of photos you only take in bed.
"Still holding on? Or are you hoping you'll get back together?"
"No! I was going to delete them, I just… I haven't been able to think straight…"
"Lie. You're going soft."
I said it cold.
"That bastard ruined your life, and you still want to sit around nostalgia-farming?"
"That's not… it's really not…"
"Then I'll help you out. Nice and clean."
I hit select-all and tapped delete.
Confirm.
"Ah—!"
Jisu's hand shot out on reflex, grabbing for the phone. Too late.
Thousands of photos — her entire love story — vanished into a digital trash can in a matter of seconds.
"Clean, right? Wipe every trace of that bastard. From now on, the only pictures going on this phone are mine."
I flipped on her camera, shoved my face into frame, and hit the shutter. A cheap, ugly grin stared back from the screen. I set it as her wallpaper on the spot.
"Here. Take it."
I handed the phone back. The look on her face when she saw mine locked onto the home screen was something close to nausea.
"Don't change it. Every time you do, I leak a video. School homepage, Everytime, the Bamboo Forest… you can pick the order."
"……"
Jisu said nothing. She just gripped the phone until her knuckles went white — rage and humiliation written in the bones of her hands. But she couldn't refuse. She was already standing on the edge of the cliff.
"And Yura."
Her turn. The second my eyes landed on her, Choi Yura's shoulders folded in, like a kid about to get scolded.
"Y-yes, oppa."
"Nice bag. Your friends jealous?"
"Yeah… they lost their minds. Said I landed a guy with money. Said they were jealous…"
She forced a smile. The corners of her mouth went up. Her eyes didn't follow.
"That right? You already showed it off. Time to earn your keep."
I pulled a fifty-thousand-won note from my wallet and slid it down the front of her dress, between her breasts. The stiff bill kissed warm, soft skin. Yura's face went scarlet.
"Go raid the convenience store. Condoms, lube… grab more booze while you're at it."
"……Condoms?"
Yura's pupils shook like the floor had dropped out. She flicked a glance at Jisu beside her, then back at me. All three of us? The question was written across her face in plain text.
"What? You don't want to? Should I rewrite the girlfriend contract?"
"N-no… I'll go. I'll be right back."
She shot to her feet and practically fled the room, relief pouring off her in waves — a few minutes out of this suffocating space, a few minutes away from whatever was about to happen. The iron door clanged shut.
Just me and Seo Jisu. Silence settled over the room. The only sound was the low whir of the exhaust fan.
"Sunbae."
"……What."
"You know Choi Yura's family is about to go under, right?"
"What?"
Jisu's head came up. First she'd heard of it.
"Her dad overextended the business, got scammed, and now they're buried in debt. That's why she's borrowing money from me. That Chanel bag she's carrying? I bought it."
"……"
"Funny, isn't it? At school she walks around dripping in designer labels, playing campus goddess like she doesn't have a care in the world. Reality is she's one phone call away from a debt collector."
I chewed the crust of the pizza, slow and mean.
"You never really know anybody. That's the truth."
Jisu looked stunned. The Choi Yura in her head and the one I'd just described didn't live on the same planet. I shifted closer, closing the gap, and set my hand on her thigh. Solid muscle under the skin.
"You and her are the same. You both put on the noble act, the clean act — and underneath, you're rotting."
"Don't you dare. I'm nothing like her."
She tried to shake my hand off. I gripped her thigh harder.
"How are you different? You came here because I have something on you. She came here because of money."
I leaned in until my mouth was at her ear. Hot breath dragged along the side of her neck.
"End of the day, you're both in the same place — on your backs under me, moaning."
"You really are… a piece of trash."
"So what if I am. You came all the way here because you couldn't forget this trash's cock."
"Shut up…!"
"Let's be honest with each other. You felt it in the storage room yesterday. I'm better than Gang Minho."
I dragged her hand down and pressed it against my crotch. I was already hard, already straining against the fabric.
"Go on. Touch it. It's pissed, thanks to you."
Jisu's hand trembled. She tried to pull away with everything she had, but she couldn't beat the grip I had on her wrist. Heat and hardness bled through the denim into her palm. I made sure of it — made her feel the full shape of me under her hand.
"Hah…"
A thin sound slipped out of her. Shame and disgust and a raw, instinctive heat all tangled into something ugly and complicated. Her eyes wavered. She was supposed to refuse. Her body wasn't listening.
Then the door lock chimed and cut the silence in half. Choi Yura was back.
"Oppa… I got it."
She came in breathing hard, a black plastic bag in each hand, and the second she stepped inside she felt it — the wrongness in the air. Then she saw Seo Jisu's hand, still resting on my crotch.
A strange, brittle silence stretched between the three of us. Yura's eyes went wide. Jisu yanked her hand back and dropped her head, her face burning like it had caught fire.
"Good girl. Come here."
I called Yura over like nothing had happened.
"Sit."
I put her on my right. Student council president Seo Jisu on the left, business-school goddess Choi Yura on the right. A flower in each hand. For a second this cramped, miserable rooftop room felt like a king's bedchamber.
"Alright. Now we play for real."
I upended Yura's bags over the table. Condom boxes, lube, soju, beer, and a scatter of dried snacks spilled out in a heap. Both women swallowed hard at the sight of it — no metaphor left, just the things themselves. I picked up a condom box and gave it a shake.
"Rock-paper-scissors."
"What?"
They said it at the same time, both wearing the face of someone who hoped they'd misheard.
"Loser goes first. Winner watches."
"Are you insane? I'm not doing that! I'm going home!"
Jisu couldn't take it. She shot to her feet. This was the line. She would not eat this kind of humiliation in front of an underclassman.
"Sit down, sunbae."
My voice dropped.
"Forget about the video already? You walk out that door and it's on the school board in ten minutes. How's The Student Council President's Double Life for a title?"
"……!"
Jisu's legs locked. Her fists clenched so hard they shook — and then she sat back down. Tears welled along the rims of her eyes.
"Yura. You can do it, right? It's ten million won. This much service is the baseline, isn't it?"
Choi Yura bit down on her lip and nodded. For her, pride came in a distant second to staying alive — to the debt-collection calls that scared her more than anything I could do in this room.
"Yes… I'll do it…"
The words barely made it out.
"Good. If you don't throw, you lose. Rock-paper-scissors."
The two of them looked at each other. Their eyes met and held. Jisu's said please lose. Yura's said the same thing right back. The animal wish to be the sacrifice a few minutes later rather than now.
"Rock, paper, scissors!"
Two shaking hands came out. Yura threw scissors. Jisu threw paper.
Jisu lost.
"Ah…"
The sound fell out of her as her head dropped. Yura let out a breath of pure relief. The fact that it wasn't her landed first; the guilt of feeding her sunbae to the wolves came in a distant second. People are cheap like that.
"We've got a winner, Madam President. After you."
I leaned back against the wall, got comfortable, and spread my legs.
"Go on. Your underclassman's watching, so you'd better make it good. Set an example."
Jisu looked at Yura with an expression that said she wanted to die. Yura turned her face away, mortified. Sunbae and hoobae — the same campus, the same hallways, the same polite little greetings exchanged with a smile. In this rooftop room, that entire social architecture was coming down brick by brick.
Seo Jisu sank to her knees. The cold of the floor bled up through them. Her hands shook as she undid my belt. The zipper cut the silence in a long, thin rasp.
"Hoo…"
She let out a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and took me into her mouth.
Wet sounds filled the room. Choi Yura's face went hot listening to them. She wanted to cover her ears. She didn't dare — not with me watching. She stole glances instead. The student council president, the one who was always so strict, so above it all, hanging off a man's cock with her tongue working. It was a shock. It was also a strange, vicious catharsis, and a jolt of heat she didn't want to name. I'm not the only one who fell this far. A sick little kinship.
I wound my fingers through Jisu's hair and looked at Yura.
"Watch closely, Yura. See how good your sunbae is. You're going to need to learn this. Madam President is leading by example."
"Nn… okay…"
Yura stared, half-hypnotized, at the way Jisu's mouth moved. Jisu was giving it everything she had — because she wanted it over, or because she knew this particular torture only ended when I was satisfied. Her tongue dragged along the shaft and worked the head.
"Alright. Switch."
At the signal, Jisu pulled off, gasping, a sheen of saliva on her lips. She covered her face with both hands.
"Yura. Your turn. Show me."
Choi Yura went to her knees without hesitation. She was more aggressive than Jisu — the compulsion to be worth the money, plus a thin, ugly streak of not wanting to lose to her sunbae. She gripped my thighs with both hands and worked her tongue with a softer, sweeter technique, all coaxing where Jisu had been grim and dutiful.
I tipped my head back and looked at the ceiling. The mold spots on that rooftop plaster looked, for a second, like a palace chandelier.
"Good. You both pass."
I pulled them up. Their eyes had gone unfocused. They were already starting to adapt to this.
"Clothes off. All of it."
An absolute order. They hesitated, watching each other, and then started to undress. The buttons of Jisu's blouse came undone one by one. The zipper of Yura's dress whispered down her back. Fabric hit the floor in soft little drops. Bare skin surfaced under the fluorescent light — Jisu's tight, athletic stomach and the long clean line of her legs, Yura's full chest and the cinch of her waist, a body built for being looked at. Two completely different kinds of beautiful, stripped and lined up in front of me like a panorama.
This was what power actually looked like. Money and leverage. With those two things, there was nothing in the world you couldn't put on its knees.
"Face each other."
They stood naked, eye to eye. Awkwardness and shame filled the air so thick you could have cut it. Their gazes wandered, looking for anywhere to land that wasn't the other woman's body.
"Kiss."
"What…?!"
Jisu stared at me, horrified.
"Um… that's a little…"
Yura looked just as unwilling.
"Did I stutter? Kiss. Make it deep. Tongues."
I said it flat, shook a cigarette out, and lit it. I exhaled a long stream of white and gave the order through the smoke.
"That's an order. My slaves play nice with each other. Don't they?"
Yura moved first. She looked like she'd already put everything down — nothing left to lose when you're already on the floor. She reached up and carefully cupped the back of Jisu's neck.
"Sunbae… I'm sorry…"
A whisper. Then she pressed their mouths together.
"Mmh—!"
Jisu went rigid. Soft lips. A woman's mouth. But when Yura's tongue parted her lips and pushed inside, Jisu opened for her, because she had no idea what I'd do if she didn't. Their tongues slid together. Wet saliva passed between them. The sound of it filled the room — raw, unmistakable. Jisu's hands drifted, lost, and finally settled on Yura's waist. Skin on skin, heat shared, the two of them enduring something that didn't belong to any world they'd lived in before tonight.
I pulled the cigarette down to the filter and watched. Through the acrid haze their naked bodies swayed like something out of a dream. This was the picture I had wanted. The women who used to look through me, who treated me like something that had crawled out from under a rock, taking each other's mouths on a single order and putting their bare skin on display in front of me.
The pathetic old Park Dohun was dead. Inside this room, I was the law. I was God.