Chapter 15
What the hell was this first program? Why were they making us do something like this—collect our clothes? Take off what we were wearing and put it in the basket. My head got it, but my emotions couldn't keep up. And one more thing. They say collect clothes, but isn't it obvious? In the end, only the guys would end up stripping. What woman would step up and volunteer to take her own clothes off? But it was an extra million won. Who knew how many programs there were? Could I really give up on the first one? A million won was big money. What if I regretted it later? My thoughts tangled in a mess.
Then someone spoke up.
"Our team wins, huh? There's already one guy over there fully stripped."
She glanced at me. Suddenly, all eyes turned my way. Eighteen pairs of eyes locked onto me at once. Men and women alike, their gazes all saying the same thing.
"Oh yeah, that guy's totally fine with stripping everything off."
Another guy chimed in. My heart pounded. So this was the price of being labeled a pervert.
Fine with it? Yesterday I thought I'd die of shame.
"Hey."
The woman next to me spoke up, her tone so matter-of-fact.
"Could you put your clothes in first?"
It was like saying stripping was a given for me. You don't have a problem with it, right?
I ducked my head for a moment. My face burned—not from anger, but because I had no comeback. With rumors flying that I'd strutted around naked shaking my dick yesterday, how could I argue? No one here was on my side.
Resigned, I reached for my top and started peeling it off.
That's when it exploded.
"What the hell are you all saying!?"
"Why does Si-woo have to strip everything? We should decide this together—why pick on him alone?"
It was Ha-young.
"If you're gonna make Si-woo strip, then you strip too."
Her voice trembled, but it was firm. I paused mid-top removal and looked at her. Ha-young's face was flushed with real anger, fists clenched as she glared at the woman who'd spoken earlier.
I was so grateful. And at the same time—memories of what I'd done to Ha-young yesterday flooded back. Staring at her naked body every which way. Seeing the slit of her pussy. Her pink nipples. Suddenly, it all felt so terribly sorry. For her to stand up for me like this, after I'd seen that body of hers.
"That's not... he just seems to enjoy stripping..."
The woman's voice trailed off. Others looked away. Bold in the group mentality, but face-to-face, especially with a woman calling them out, it wasn't so easy to push someone.
"So what do we do? Just give up?"
Another woman shot at Ha-young.
Ha-young fired right back.
"I'm not saying give up—I'm saying we discuss tops first. Don't you speak Korean? Him stripping alone is just three pieces. Three pieces wins? We need to figure out how to actually win."
She was right. Me stripping alone changed nothing. Top, bottoms, underwear. Just three items. If the other team got ten, we'd lose. It might even spark a bigger fight after I stripped. Who next? More hesitation, wasting time.
Actually, this was good. Thanks to Ha-young, eyes focused, creating a space to strategize. Otherwise, we'd just let time slip away doing nothing.
Then the moderator's voice came from beyond the tent.
"You have 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, we'll collect the baskets and score them."
Thirty minutes. Long if long, short if short. But think about it—18 people each taking off one item? Five minutes tops. The issue wasn't time; it was how much we stripped.
And in that moment, calculations started spinning in my head. We'd all done the physical test yesterday down to underwear. Would anyone freak out showing undies now? Some had even gone full nude. If the other team thought the same, baseline was two items per person, right? 18 times 2 is 36. Both sides 36? Tie. To win, 37 or more.
That logic left me no choice. I was already the center of attention, and no one else was speaking up, just eyeing each other.
"First... anyone who can't go down to underwear? Like the physical test yesterday. I bet the other team is thinking the same."
"What?"
"Telling girls to strip?"
A few women bristled. But most looked thoughtful—they knew it made sense.
"Yeah, she's right. If we're not quitting, we gotta win. Underwear's probably the minimum."
Gratefully, another voice— a guy's—backed her up. Murmurs rose again, then another guy said,
"Guys strip first, yeah? No guy here can't handle it now, right?"
He started on his top. The mood caught on. Guys glanced around, then one by one, two by two, stripping. I matched them, shedding my top, then after a beat, we all dropped pants together. Down to undies, we tossed clothes in the basket. Coming back in just boxers felt... oddly casual. After yesterday's full monty, undies were paradise.
Guys all stripped, another said,
"So what about the girls? We're done."
Instant backlash.
"Girls same as guys?"
"You telling us to strip now?"
But the complaints quieted fast. Ha-young started stripping.
Under everyone's eyes, she was first among the girls, peeling off her top. Light green bra exposed. Her courage was badass.
Ha-young covered her chest with her hands and said,
"We just gonna do nothing and lose?"
Short, but punchy. Protesters shut up. They eyed each other, then one started on her top. Then another. Another. Hands over chests, bras still on—nothing much showed. Soon all girls had tops off, mood dipping again.
Plan called for bottoms too. Silence stretched—then the moderator.
"Ten minutes left."
Time flying faster than expected. Ha-young whipped off her bottoms quick, tossed them in. Now in panties. Guys' eyes converged. Face red, hands over her panties, biting her lip, shoulders trembling faintly.
I stepped right in front of her instantly. Wanted to shield her shame even a little. As my back blocked her, I felt her shakes ease a bit. Guys looked away, maybe guilty.
Then other girls followed, one by one dropping bottoms. Bras and panties only, clothes in basket.
Final count: 36 pieces. Guys' tops + bottoms, girls' tops + bottoms. Two each, 18 people, 36.
Counting done, a guy said,
"But won't the other side do the same? Need one more to win."
Spot on. They'd hit undies easy too—same physical test yesterday. Them at 36. Tie. Win meant one more.
And that "someone"—eighteen eyes swung back to me.
"No, not again—"
I stopped Ha-young from yelling.
"No. To win, someone has to. Better me."
True. Who else would volunteer? I'd already bared it all yesterday in front of dozens. Once or twice, same diff. And letting someone else after Ha-young's solo stand? Couldn't do that to her.
Grabbed my waistband. ...Hand wouldn't move. Yesterday had excuses—staff orders. This was my choice, 17 people staring holes. Hand shook.
"Why's everyone staring!?"
Ha-young jumped in again, stepping in front of me.
"He's volunteering— what are you doing? Look away already!"
Her back. Bra straps. Small but solid shoulders. This girl friend was my shield.
Eyes averted—I felt it. Not all, but no outright stares.
"...Thanks, Ha-young."
Real gratitude. That gave me the guts. Slipped off my boxers behind her, folded, into the basket. 37.
Naked. Hands over my dick. Worried yesterday's memories would make me hard, but tension kept it down. Would the other team have a sacrificer? Probably not. Victory felt certain.
The moderator's voice rang out.
"One minute left. Bring your baskets forward."
The guy next to me grabbed ours and stepped up. I hung back, naked, hands cupped, imagining the other team beyond the tent wall. How many for them? 36? 35? Not 37, right?
"10, 9, 8, 7—"
Countdown started. Heart raced.
"6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1—time's up!"
At zero, staff grabbed the tent walls, slowly lifting. Tent rising. Feet first. Bare feet. Men's, women's. Then fully up.
I was stunned. Our whole team was.
Team A's guys were all naked. Not one exception. All hands over dicks. And the women—panties only. Bras off. Tops fully exposed, hands over tits, behind the guys. Men as wall, women sheltered back. But the real shock? Their eyes. Not shame. Joy of victory. Confidence of conquering humiliation.
Glanced at A's basket. Piled high. Guys' tops + bottoms + undies, girls' tops + bottoms + bras. Three each. 18 x 3 = 54. Us 37. 17-piece gap. Total rout.
My solo panty drop meaningless—they moved like a unit. All guys nude, all girls braless. Did they have a Ha-young? Or a me?
"Team A: 54 items. Team B: 37. Team A wins."
Declaration dropped. Our team groaned. I stood naked, dazed. While I dropped my undies, they'd all stripped fully—same shame endured, but we lost on organization.
Ha-young approached.
"...We lost."
Quiet voice. More hollow than defeated.
"Yeah... we did."
I echoed, empty. Naked, admitting defeat—what could be more pathetic?
Then eyes from A side. Someone staring. Na Ye-jin.
Na Ye-jin, hands over chest behind her guys, smirked faintly at me. Her eyes said it: Lost, huh?
...Damn competitive woman.
Yoon Seo-yeon beside her head down, clutching her chest tight. Must've taken guts to ditch the bra.
So Team B crushed in the first program.
Moderator final word:
"We'll return the basket clothes. Dress and wait for the next program."
Staff brought baskets, handing clothes back. I hurried into my boxers first. Dressing, I thought: If the first program's this intense, what horrors await? One thing certain—I wasn't losing next time.