Half the World (4)
Half the World (4) — Marin Hotel, Jung-gu, Incheon
The second night of proselytizing.
"…Things just kept getting bleaker. Food ran short, and after a few of the boys who'd gone outside never came back, everyone turned sharp and aggressive."
Crouched in a corner of the living room, Jeong Seonga murmured on about the past. I could tell from the way she stared blankly into empty air—right now, she had no particular intention of passing her story on to anyone. She was simply exposing, again and again, a wound that would never be erased.
Had I done something wrong back then? Would it have hurt a little less if I'd acted differently? Questions like those—about a past that could do nothing for her present or her future—she kept retracing, over and over. She knew perfectly well that thoughts like these were no help to her at all.
But it wasn't that Jeong Seonga was unusually fragile. Every human being goes through that process. Some overcome the pain by their own strength, but no small number overcome it through the devotion and love of someone else to lean on. In that sense, Seonga had been dealt a wound she could never overcome alone. And, of course, she had found no one to lean on.
She was a broken woman who, given the smallest opening, would unconsciously fire off SOS signals without end. The calamity everyone assumed would end any day now simply dragged on; everyone, taught nothing and prepared for less, fell into panic; and the men favored by survival began, instinctively, to want their genes carried forward. Perhaps I listened, calm and unhurried, to a process that was simply inevitable in the apocalypse.
Her throat dry from the unbroken confession, Seonga meekly sipped at the paper cup she'd been fidgeting with. I quietly watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed.
"Want a little more?"
"…Yes."
Over the paper cup she held out, careful as could be, a plastic bottle tilted on its own—my telekinesis at work. She watched the drink pour itself with wonder in her eyes, and I watched the white mana blended just so into it. The moment the bottle, having filled her cup, drifted away, she drained it in one go.
"…I-it's just, it's been a while since I had any."
Embarrassed, maybe, by my eyes lingering on her, Seonga ducked her head and offered the excuse. Even as she did, I smiled at the sight of her gaze lingering, regretful, on the cup gone lighter.
"It's fine. There's more than enough to drink."
It helped that, with nothing much to do that afternoon, I'd stowed every last plastic bottle of drink laced with [Liquid of Subordination] into my inventory. Her slow nodding, her reddened cheeks, caught the glow of the LED lamp.
Addiction—wanting to keep drinking even with her thirst long since quenched. Arousal—her body visibly climbing hotter by the minute. Subordination—her resistance toward me visibly dissolving with every swallow. The [Liquid of Subordination], aided by my Divinity, was coaxing her to meet me with an ever more open heart.
"They teach you, in proper counseling, never to give advice…"
"…Counseling?"
But the [Liquid of Subordination] didn't solve everything. It was only the finest of seasonings. To truly savor a good dish, it takes countless devoted steps beyond the simple addition of seasoning. I gave a silent smile to Seonga, whose eyes had gone perfectly round.
"So me just saying whatever I wanted, however I liked—that counts as therapy?"
"That's the first step. Sitting down, and saying the words you've kept locked up inside your heart."
In the end, she came into my suite. And sat down.
"Having heard everything you've told me, Seonga, there's only one truth I can state."
Whether consciously or not, she had been sending out desperate SOS signals—and my answer to them was this:
"None of the misfortune that has happened to you is your fault. Not a single bit of it."
Her pupils, trembling faintly, stared into mine. The long eye contact ended only when she bowed her head. With shaking hands she drank down more of the [Liquid of Subordination], and I refilled her cup with telekinesis as I went on.
"It's a tired old saying, but where there is light, there can be no shadow. If wicked beasts exist, then so must people trying to live as humans—people trying to live decently."
"There are no good people left. Other than Soyoung-unni, I've never seen a single one."
"I understand. You take right after your grandmother in that way, you know?"
"…My grandmother?"
I knew nothing about her grandmother beyond a single fact: that she was a believer of the Guwon Church. And so I would recite a few vague truths about what the believers of the Guwon Church had been through.
"Your grandmother wasn't doing so well before she came to the shelter, either."
"My grandmother?!"
Seonga jolted upright at the bad news about her family.
"She was starving, and she was in pain. She was wary, too—strange and distrustful of every helping hand we offered."
"…Is she still in a lot of pain?"
The very situation she herself had lived through, now her family's. There was no way she couldn't be drawn in. To her, brimming with anxiety and worry, I shook my head.
"No."
This time it was my own eyes that drifted toward empty air. My gaze went hazy, as if picturing somewhere far away, and I began to speak.
"She sleeps in these days. Sometimes her appetite fails her and she skips a meal. She laughs and bickers and makes up with people her own age. Just living ordinary days, one after another."
In an era where the ordinary had become treasure, I spoke of the ordinary. I felt Seonga's blank stare on me as I dreamed of the Sanctuary and paradise. I rose slowly and walked toward her.
She only kept watching me; no violent rejection came. She didn't call my story about her grandmother a lie. She didn't call me a Tess.
I gently took her hand and drew her to her feet. Nothing more, nothing less—just her hand—and led her out into the corridor.
"…Just a little longer."
Only then did she whisper, soft and low.
"Couldn't you talk with me just a little longer?"
I shook my head, gently.
"It's too late tonight. The others will worry—Soyoung, whoever. By the way, has that Awakener unni of yours come to yet?"
"…Not yet."
"That's a worry. She needs to come around soon. Hurry back now—Awakened or not, the others are bound to worry."
Seonga bowed to me, polite to the last, and headed straight back to the Blue Wing.
"See you tomorrow, Seonga."
At the sound of my voice behind her, she turned her head to look back, gave a small nod, and turned away once more.
The third night of proselytizing.
"This is so good!"
Seonga fell upon the rose tteokbokki like she was inhaling it, lips smacking. Her wooden chopsticks flew fast enough to blur, and she looked up at me with round, bright eyes.
"Aren't you eating, Oppa?"
"…Oppa?"
"Well, you are my oppa, aren't you? You're obviously older than me. And you're a man."
"Not a Tess, you mean?"
"…You're not a Tess, Oppa."
Much obliged, trusting me like that. With a small laugh, I motioned at the rose tteokbokki—go on, eat. She wound the long-stretched cheese around rice cake and fish cake, popped the whole bundle into her mouth, and let out a moan of pure gratitude, shaking her head in wonder. Watching the bright face of a college freshman come back to her, I asked.
"You must have been starving."
"Of course I was! I went room to room collecting everything from the minibars, and even the snacks the hotel handed out are gone now. Food I rationed and rationed and rationed. Ah—the unnis have to be starving too."
She cut herself off mid-sentence and gazed at the rose tteokbokki with doleful eyes.
"She could always come to me. I'm the type to order plenty and eat little—there's always food left over."
"I want to, but… I can't bring myself to tell the unnis to come see you."
"Don't push yourself. Eat up, and have something to drink too."
"Hehehe. Okaaay!"
I smiled, warm, at Seonga as she steadily drank down her [Liquid of Subordination]. One glance told you she was the baby of her survivor group. In a women's group that took its pecking order surprisingly seriously, it wasn't easy for the youngest to voice an opinion. Let alone oppose the prevailing gospel that all men were contemptible Tesses? For women whose sense of safety came from belonging to the group, it was beyond imagining.
"Hurry and eat too, Oppa. Eating alone is boring."
"I am eating, though?"
"Liar! There isn't a single drop of sauce on your chopsticks!"
"Sharp eyes."
I chuckled, rose from the far side of the table, and sat down right beside her. Seonga, as if even a second spent reacting to me would be a waste, was busy dipping her fried food into the tteokbokki sauce. Slowly, I took her left hand in mine.
Seonga's busy chewing stopped dead. I watched her pupils tremble, fine as a shiver, as I caressed her hand, soft and slow.
In proper counseling, of course, making a physical move on your client is madness. But that precaution meant nothing to me. I quietly watched Seonga knock back her drink in one gulp, like a chugged beer.
Haah— haah—
I smiled at the sweet breath spilling out of her, so out of place for the scene. In her excitement, she was recognizing at last the 'heat' the [Liquid of Subordination] had been stacking up, layer by layer. She looked, just now, like a woman who had set one foot on dry land—but the feelings I had built up in her were as vast as a deep blue sea. The waves crashed, and the sticky heat warmed not her ankles but her whole body.
"Seonga."
"…Yes?"
As if I could no longer contain myself, I pushed her gently over.
"Oppa… mmph!"
I kissed her startled mouth exactly as she was. Seizing her right hand—the chopsticks slipping free from it—along with the left I already held, I pinned them tight. Her lips, still parted in shock at the sudden kiss, were softly plundered by my tongue, and every milky-sweet corner of that rose-tteokbokki taste was made to soak up my saliva. There was none of the fumbling sweetness of a first kiss; my only purpose was to fill her mouth to the brim with fresh [Liquid of Subordination]. The saliva pooling deeper and deeper guided her next move.
Gulp—
"Mmph— aahhn—"
As the heat swelled higher, she writhed beneath me. Only then did I release her pinned hands and lift my head.
Haah— haah—
Watching her full breasts rise and fall and rise again, I knitted my brow in a look of apology.
"…I'm sorry, Seonga. To you, whose heart hasn't even finished healing… for me to…"
"It's okay."
Tentatively, her hands came to rest against my chest. Our eyes met, both of them bright with moisture, as her palms climbed slowly upward. At last, with her arms looped behind my neck, holding me soft and tight, she whispered.
"…If it's you, Oppa, it's okay."
At that faint permission, my telekinesis moved. I spread my arms wide, watching her clothes strip themselves away, then shed my own vestments just as quickly, just as practiced, and buried my face in the nape of her neck.
"Mmnh—"
The moment our body heat met, a soft moan spilled out of her. I licked a long, slow line up her throat as my left hand slid lower.
"Mmhmhm— that tickles— aahhn!"
Squelch—
From a single upward stroke, her lower half greeted my fingers with a lewd, wet sound. Her body, already conquered by the Liquid of Subordination, was waiting for nothing but my seal. But I didn't rush. This, too, was part of the proselytizing.
I kept caressing her pussy, soaked through with nothing but her own juices, as my stiffened tongue went to work.
Mwah— mwah—
From her nape to her forehead, her nose, back down past her throat to her breasts—I pressed soft kisses across every inch of her, unknotting her tension one kiss at a time.
"Mmnh— aaahhn—"
Stroking my hair between her moans, she whispered, quiet.
"You don't have to go that far. I smell… I'm dirty…"
Seonga—you? Or your body?
Her words hung with a deliberate double meaning. I took her cheeks in both hands and held her gaze, then gave her the answer she wanted.
"There isn't a single dirty spot anywhere on your body."
"…Aahh!"
That mental caress, on top of a body already burning, rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling. Not yet. If she were simply savoring it, fine—but she still had one thing left to do. I fitted my aching, rock-hard cock against the entrance of her pussy at once, and met her eyes again with just a little more pressure behind it, my length poised to drive into her depths.
"Every memory that hurts you, Seonga—I'll paint right over it."
"…Yes. Mmph— yes!"
Aaahhh—!
Splitting her sobbing moan in two, my length drove deep into her tight heat. Thrusting back and forth, I whispered into her ear. It wasn't your fault. Everything is okay now. I'm here now. Because I'm here, none of it was your fault, and everything is okay.
"Aahhn— aahh— aahh— nngh—"
Through her tear-thick moans she nodded along to every word.
"Oppa— Oppa— hold me! Hold me, hold me, pleeease—"
Like an infant reaching for its parent's embrace, she urged me on. Clutching me tight against her, she broke into sobs at my ear.
"Aahhn— I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I'm not— that it isn't my first! Aahh— aaahhn—"
"It's okay. I'm here now, aren't I? The first time doesn't matter. What matters is the last."
"You're right— aahh— e-everything you say is right, Oppa—!"
She wailed at the top of her lungs, loud enough to make the walls' thin soundproofing a concern. Into the empty space her old grief left behind, I whispered.
"I'll be your last, Seonga. From now on, you're mine alone to use. This pussy of yours is mine alone to use."
"Aaaahhh—! Yes! Forever, only with you—! Only you— only you get to use it—!"
Ooh— our Seonga's a natural.
I drove my hips deeper into her pussy as it clamped down hard around me.
"Aaaaaahhh—!"
Plap! Plap! Plap!
Under the relentless final sprint, she babbled nothing but 'Oppa' like an idiot, clinging to me with all her strength. And I, too, stopped forcing down the climax that came surging up.
"Seonga, can I finish inside you?"
"Aaahh— it's okay! Come inside me, Oppa! Aahh— please, please come inside Seonga's pussy—!"
"Nngh."
Spurt— spuuurt— splurt—
Her last words undid me, and I erupted deep into her womb. As the Liquid of Subordination was absorbed and her body glowed a faint white, I stroked her hair as if in praise. Shuddering through her orgasm, Seonga never once tried to leave my arms.
Several hours after I'd poured the Liquid of Subordination into her womb, I stood in the corridor, pointed at both of Seonga's hands, and gave her my warning.
"Don't go spilling anything if you run."
"What do you take me for, some little kid?!"
Bound up in a bundle in her hands was every bit of food I'd handed over. I smiled back at her fresh-scrubbed face, cheeks puffed out in a full pout. Seonga had shed the clothes that reeked of too many unwashed days and now wore the white believer's robe I'd given her. Bathed by me from head to toe—with telekinesis and water bought from the shop—she was a piece of Guwon Church publicity prepared with the utmost devotion.
"Get back safe. Don't trip."
"Tch— you could've just let me stay the night."
"No can do. The unnis would worry."
Pouting, she spun on her heel and started off down the Purple Wing's corridor.
"Seonga—"
At my call she whirled around and came running back to me.
Mwah—
She pressed a kiss to my cheek before I could finish, grinning ear to ear.
"You were about to say 'see you tomorrow,' weren't you?"
She watched me fumble for words, looking for all the world like she was teasing me, then opened her mouth.
"See you tomorrow, Oppa!"
With an unreadable gaze I watched her scurry away like something fleeing. The feast of food in her hands. A shower she'd never dared dream of. Even fresh clothes that didn't stink. She was the goodwill ambassador who would deal a massive shock to the Marin Hotel survivors under my care.
Snap— snap—
Clicking my fingers, I counted the days since I'd arrived here. Two down, and this was the third—was that right? Neither slowly nor quickly, I had made it this far. It was just about time to move on to the next stage.