The One Who Strips Wins
The first program ended, and everyone got their clothes back and put them on again. But getting dressed didn't make the shock disappear. People were still murmuring restlessly.
"No way they'd go that far..."
"All the guys were buck naked. Aren't they insane?"
"The girls took off their bras too?"
Sighs and gasps mingled from spots all over Group B. I felt the same. Sure, we'd seen them naked during yesterday's physical exam, but how the hell did they reach that conclusion in just thirty minutes of undressing time? In our group, it took over ten minutes of back-and-forth just for me to ditch my one pair of underwear. What was going on in Group A? And above all, what gnawed at me was their expressions. When the tent curtain lifted, there wasn't a trace of shame on their faces. They looked like it was the most natural thing. Eyes that screamed we knew we'd win. The unshakable confidence of victory that only those who'd conquered humiliation could claim.
Yoon Seo-yeon and Na Ye-jin were different from yesterday too. Back in the exam room, they'd strained every muscle to cover even one more inch of skin. Yoon Seo-yeon had whimpered while hugging her chest, and Na Ye-jin had shot me murderous glares. But today? They stood there in nothing but panties, flashing victory smiles. Was it just that they hated showing me anything? The thought hit me, and for some reason, I shrank inside.
All the guys naked. All the girls bras off. Compared to that resolve, stripping down to one pathetic pair of panties made me feel infinitely small. We'd endured the same shame, but they'd crushed us in sheer scale and unity.
"Don't sweat it. We gave it our all."
Ha-young's voice was listless as she tried to console me. I appreciated it, but even she sounded drained. She'd been the hardest worker in the first program—first to bare her top, first to drop her bottoms, even standing in front of me like a shield to block prying eyes. And here she was, swallowing her own defeat to comfort me. It hit me again just how she was: the type who hurts the most but puts others first.
"...Yeah. Thanks, Ha-young."
I meant it. That's when the host grabbed the mic again.
"Now for the second program. Once this wraps, the morning schedule ends."
The murmurs cut off as everyone zeroed in on the host. Second program. If the first was that wild, what fresh hell was this? No way I'd buy "simple."
"This one's simple too."
Called it. Nobody was falling for that line anymore. Ever since yesterday, "simple" had always led to something not simple.
"First off, these two lottery boxes contain names from both Group A and Group B."
Two boxes sat in front of the host, labeled A and B.
"We'll draw one from A and one from B for a duel."
The air thickened at "duel." It was team versus team, but one-on-one meant it boiled down to individuals.
"Here's how it works."
The host paused for effect.
"The one with command rights issues an order to their opponent. If the opponent carries it out, their team wins."
Simple enough so far.
"If they can't or won't, the commander has to do it themselves. Succeed, and their team wins. Fail, and they lose."
Hold up—so if the opponent bails, you have to pull it off? That meant no issuing orders you couldn't handle yourself. Give something impossible, opponent forfeits, and you're stuck—if you choke too, you lose. The game's core was finding an order you could stomach but they couldn't. They bail? You do it and win. Pure shame showdown. Command something humiliating you could handle, and if they balk, you prove it.
"We'll do this nine times."
Nine rounds. Plenty. With eighteen per group, half would duel.
Murmurs rippled again, eyes darting nervously. No one wanted their name called.
Then a guy raised his hand.
"Any order goes? Like... touching or whatever?"
His intent was crystal clear. Nearby girls shot him death stares.
"No. No touching allowed. Solo acts only."
Phew, small mercy. But on second thought, "solo" might crank the danger. No hands-on needed for plenty of mortifying stuff.
Wasn't this stacked against the girls? Sure, the performer wins—but guys could order something lewd on a girl, she'd bail, he'd do it (or fake it) and win easy.
Sure enough, a woman from B piped up.
"This feels super unfair to women, right? Guys can do tons of stuff we can't."
Spot on. Even tops: guys shrug it off, girls eat massive shame.
The host replied, "Rules apply equally to A and B. It's team versus team—no advantages."
Fair point. Gender imbalance, sure, but both teams had girls. Equal shot at drawing one.
"Got it? Let's proceed."
The host plunged a hand into the boxes. My heart hammered. Please not me. Who'd I face? What order?
I was already pegged as the perv—opponents wouldn't hesitate with something filthy against me.
Two slips unfolded.
"Group A: Nam Ju-yeon. Group B: Kim Tae-hyun."
Not me. Relief sighed out. Ha-young patted her chest beside me.
"For opposite genders, the woman holds command rights."
Made sense—girl disadvantage, so she strikes first. She orders, guy does or bails; bail means she does it.
Same gender?
"Same gender: rock-paper-scissors for rights."
"You two, begin."
A woman stepped forward from A. Nam Ju-yeon. Slender frame, petite build. Squirrel vibes—round eyes, tiny mouth, cheeks slightly puffed. The quiet type who might vanish if she stood still. Usually, girls like that scream passive: hates the spotlight, soft voice, shies from guys.
Kim Tae-hyun from B was the polar opposite. Playful vibe, tall, broad shoulders, confident swagger. The guy who grabs control anywhere.
B had the edge here, I figured. Lost the first—had to win this. Tae-hyun probably thought the same.
Woman commands, so nothing too brazen. He'd do it for the win, or bail and she'd never follow through. Tie or B victory at worst.
Light work.
"Nam Ju-yeon, your command."
She opened her mouth after a brief pause. Not agonizing—more like picking words. Face utterly serene. No nerves, no quiver.
And then:
"Take off your underwear and write your name on your ass—facing the participants."
Silence. Time froze. One second. Two. Boom.
"What the hell?"
"Is she nuts?"
"Strip to nothing?!"
B erupted first—shock, sneers, disbelief crashing together.
"Hah, she just handed us the win. Orders something she couldn't do herself?"
Someone jeered. But weirdly, A stayed cool. Barely a ripple, no gasps. Like they'd seen it coming.
The contrast bugged me. B mocking, A stone-faced. Shouldn't it be flipped?
Tae-hyun smirked lazily, victory sealed. Dumb girl orders that? Done.
"I forfeit. You do it."
Casual bail. Too casual. Convinced she'd never bare her ass.
Relieved chuckles from B.
"Knew they were all talk."
"Free win first round?"
But I couldn't laugh. A nagging doubt stuck. Who issues a command they couldn't handle? Unless losing on purpose—no way.
Rules again: Opponent bails, issuer performs. Succeeds, wins; fails, loses.
So... she thought she could do it?
First program's A flashed back. All guys nude. All girls braless. That unity. That resolve. Eyes of shame's conquerors.
This duel felt like the fork in the road for all the rest. A premonition.
No way.
It took under five seconds for "no way" to become reality.
Nam Ju-yeon turned blankly, back to the crowd. B's buzz soured—mockery to dread.
"She won't, right?"
"What the... that girl..."
One hand slipped inside her lab clothes. The other yanked pants and panties to her knees in one go.
B went mute. White ass exposed. Small and pert, matching her dainty frame. Front covered, bottoms fully down.
In front of thirty-five participants.
No hesitation.
Then she started shaking it. Slowly. n, a, m. Stroke by stroke. j, u, ng, yeo, n. Steady twerks.
Insanely obscene. A cute little thing like a small animal, bottomless, waggling her bare cheeks. That squirrel-faced girl. The one who'd fade into nothing standing still.
Unreal. The hall plunged into dead quiet. B's jeers? Vanished.
A watched in solemn silence. No cheers, no boos. Like they already knew the score.
Tae-hyun next to her was probably most stunned—mouth agape, frozen. Regretting that breezy forfeit.
Too late. No take-backs.
Moments later, final stroke. Name complete.
She pulled up casually, straightened her clothes, looked at the host. Expression unchanged. Blank from start to finish. No shame, no pride. Just... did the job. That nonchalance? Terrifying.
"First duel: Group A wins. Return to your spots."
A cheered—restrained, confirming the inevitable. We knew.
B reeled in shock.
"...What was that?"
"She really stripped?"
"Crazy or what?"
"How does a girl just...?"
Chaos, but no denying what we'd seen.
I stood dazed, pondering. What the hell was this? No shame gene? Sure, it'd sear into memory forever—that squirrel girl's white ass painstakingly spelling her name. Unforgettable.
But something was off. Just a freak coincidence? Nah. Group A was the anomaly.
First program: total nudity unity. Now: random girl drops drawers without blinking. Their calm reactions, her poise, that coordination—it all pointed one way.
A was moving like they'd prepped. Like they knew the program.
For real? Impossible. Same center, same time, tents separated. No leaks.
So what? They had some edge we didn't. And without cracking it, B was doomed to lose.
"Hey, you okay?"
Ha-young peered at my face.
"...Yeah. Just... overthinking."
"About what?"
"Group A seems off, right?"
She tilted her head.
"Kinda... but maybe all the tough ones clustered there?"
"Could be, but..."
I trailed off. No certainty yet. Thoughts churning, the host drew again.
"Second duel."
Heart raced anew. Not me, please.
Slips out.
"Group A: Jeong Min-su. Group B: Park Jin-ho."
Both guys this time.