First Rally Two Straight Wins
The first rally had netted them two straight wins. The score now stood at 4-2. Still a long way off. Three rounds left, and we'd need to sweep them all just to eke out a 5-4 finish. The do-or-die pressure—no room for even a single loss—hadn't budged. But the vibe had shifted for sure. A subtle change was stirring in Group B. Right after those four gut-wrenching losses, amid eyes pleading 'Please, not my name'—a new glint was creeping in. The feeling that we could pull this off. Faint, but real. Ha-young had toughed out a full minute naked. I'd bared it all for a confession. Those two wins were shifting something. Sure, the price in humiliation for me and Ha-young was brutal. Even now, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, we couldn't look each other in the eye. That lingering press against my back. My voice still ringing in her ears. The more I dwelled on it, the more my face burned.
No time to wallow. The host plunged his hand into the draw box right away. Round 7. The two slips came up—both women, one from Group A, one from B. The girl from our side stood, her face drained pale as a ghost. She'd probably thought, Anyone but me. Didn't care if someone else won or lost, just so long as her name stayed safe. Let others eat the shame—as long as she dodged it. But nope, she'd been called.
Same gender matchup, so rock-paper-scissors for command rights. Group A's girl won. The host prompted her for the order. She spoke up.
"Get naked, then go confess to the guy you like and bring back his acceptance."
Almost identical to what Na Ye-jin had thrown at me. One key difference: "guy" instead of "woman." Girl ordering girl, so they swapped it to male.
Blood drained completely from our girl's face. What was blue-gray before went stark white. Her lips worked soundlessly. Naked. Confess. Acceptance. Just ten minutes ago, I'd pulled off all three. Heart pounding like it might burst as I walked to Ha-young. Terrified of rejection. Shouting "I like you, go out with me" in a quivering voice, ass bare to forty-odd eyes. That shame still clung to every inch of me. And now they wanted her to do it too.
Time ticked by. Our girl just stood there, speechless. Fists clenched white-knuckled, lips trembling. Tears welled up. Finally, she spoke.
"I forfeit."
A quavering voice. Small, but a clear surrender. Sighs leaked from Group B. But not just any sighs—laced with guys' sneaky disappointment. If she forfeited, Group A's girl had to do it herself. Strip naked and confess to some dude. Right in front of everyone. Hell, some were eyeing her like they hoped she'd bail. Ironic as hell. Fine if our team lost, just let us ogle some tits. They'd cheered when Ha-young endured her naked minute for the win, but now treated another girl's exposure like free porn. Disgusting, yeah—but honestly, I was kinda curious how far Group A's chick would go too.
Group A's girl didn't forfeit. She eased off her top, cautious. Pants next. Down to undies, she paused—but soon her hands went behind to the bra clasp. One arm across her chest as it came off. Small tits. Covered by her hand, nothing peeked out. When Na Ye-jin had shielded hers like that—soft flesh had bulged between her fingers. This was neatly contained in her palm. Before the panties, she glanced back at Group A. A signal. One guy from their side stood and glided forward like it was choreographed. Seamless, like they'd rehearsed. He positioned behind her, blocking the view. Same spot I'd taken for Ha-young. But worlds apart. Me and Ha-young? No prior deal. Just her whisper and a look—instant understanding. No practice, no script. Group A? Fully plotted from the jump. Scenario locked before the command even dropped. Who issues it, who steps up if forfeit, who gets confessed to. All of it.
With their guy as her shield, she covered her crotch with one hand and slid the panties down. Head up a touch.
"I like you. Go out with me."
Flat tone. No quiver. No shame. No pounding heart. Like stamping a form. Reciting lines. Just checking a box.
"Sure."
His reply matched. Mechanical, curt. Done.
Was this a confession? Where was that heart-exploding thrill I'd felt in front of Ha-young? My stammered "I like you, go out with me." Those ten seconds shrinking, waiting for her answer. The crowd's hushed 'Say yes, say yes.' The roar and claps at her "Yeah." All of it looked ridiculous against this sterile exchange. No—ridiculous wasn't right. Mine was real. Theirs was fake. That's all. Hollow.
The guys in B who'd been hoping for a show wore the same empty looks. No one said a word. They'd seen my confession first. Naked guy trembling through it to his girl friend, forty people holding breath for her reply. After that raw scene, this canned routine tasted even blander. Made sense, thinking about it. If it's scripted, why bother walking naked to confess? Target just steps forward. Done. No way a pre-planned route sparks real emotion.
Yet amid the letdown, a weird pride swelled. My confession was clumsy. Stammers, eyes squeezed shut, hands shaking. Objectively pathetic. But real. The room went silent not for the nudity thrill. They felt the genuine terror, the raw fear. And Ha-young's "Yeah" took real guts. Her call on the spot, not some script. Untouchable compared to this cold trade.
Group A's girl redressed, bra and all. Once clothed, her "boyfriend" strolled back like nothing happened. The host, thrown by the sterility, paused before speaking.
"Ahem... Yes, confession accepted. Group A wins."
Brief silence.
"And with Group A's fifth win, the second program ends in their victory."
Done. First program to them, second too. Ha-young's naked minute endurance. Pressing her chest to my back to clinch it. Me stripping bare before her for that confession. All that shame, and it changed nothing.
I glanced at Ha-young. She stared down, lips parting like she wanted to say something, then closing. The girl who'd tanked our last round shuffled back, head hung low. Couldn't blame her, though. We'd lost when Lee Soo-bin made someone dance in undies in round 3. Lost when Jang Yu-ra imploded in round 4. Wasn't just her. Group A was just that good. Unfairly so.
Then Ha-young met my eyes. We'd been dodging gazes before, but defeat pulled us together naturally. The embarrassment was gone from her look. Replaced by something else. Regret. Frustration. She felt it too. We'd come this far. Endured this much shame. Couldn't end like this.
Ha-young spoke.
"Si-woo."
"Yeah."
"Let's win this afternoon."
Short words. Heavy weight. From the girl who'd lasted naked a minute. Who'd glued her tits to my back for victory. No lightness there.
"Yeah. Let's win."
My reply matched. Short.
"Morning programs complete. Head to the cafeteria. Second dosing after lunch—regather in the hall by 1 PM. Good work this morning."
Morning wrapped. Standing up, tension flooded out like a dam break. Legs buckled. My injured one from yesterday throbbed anew. Adrenaline crash brought the pain roaring back.
The march to the cafeteria split starkly. Group A laughed and chatted, strides loose and easy. Victor's swagger after two straight. Na Ye-jin arm-in-arm with Yoon Seo-yeon, giggling over something. That bug-squashed scowl from my confession? Ancient history. Already plotting ahead.
Group B shuffled along, shoulders slumped. Silent. Eyes down. Weird shift, though. Mornings they'd smirked at me, whispering "perv" about the bath fiasco. Now? They avoided my gaze like I unnerved them. Made sense. While everyone hunkered in "not me" mode during round two, I'd shielded Ha-young and confessed buck-naked. The guy they'd mocked had outdone them all. They were ashamed now.
Didn't know how many more programs, but those early two losses stung. Few grand? Maybe pocket change. Tens of grand? Shrug it off. But a million won? Big bucks. No quitting. Couldn't just swallow it.
I halted. Turned back. Deep breath.
"G-Group... B, fighting! We can still win!"
Stuttered, awkward yell. Voice echoed down the hall to the cafeteria. Embarrassing even to my own ears. Never done this. No class rep gigs, no sports day chants. Raising my voice like this? Alien to me.
But heads turned. Group B—all who'd dodged my eyes—stared. Feet stopped. Shocked looks. Awkward ones. No hostility. Some bowed heads guiltily. Others bit lips, steeling resolve. Then a tiny voice.
"...Fighting."
Couldn't tell who. But it spread like ripples. Murmurs everywhere.
"Fighting..."
"Let's win this..."
Quiet tones. Unlike the earlier "You win it" I'd dumped on Ha-young. This felt self-directed too. Probably then—when my spot in Group B started shifting.
"It's just morning day one! We can turn it around. Team up from the next program. Eat up, recharge—see you afternoon!"
Voice shook. Face flamed. Never knew I had this in me. Hid my bursting embarrassment, spun, and strode to the cafeteria. Murmurs rose behind, but no guts to check.
Then a face popped up beside me.
"Ooooh~ Han Si-woo... Didn't know you had it in ya?"
Park Ha-yeon. Minus me and my Ha-young, the only one holding her head high. Unfazed in program one, bold through two. Blunt talker, zero give-a-damn vibe.
She jabbed my shoulder with her finger. Relentless.
"Ow... Quit it..."
"That naked confession was hilarious~. Stammer city? Oh man~."
Poke-poke-poke. Dug into muscle.
"It hurts!"
"But seriously, epic. Funny and badass. Like... multifaceted?"
Park Ha-yeon tilted her head, chin-stroking. Wild how she grinned bright even now.
"Makes me wanna step up if I'm picked. Naked confession's a stretch, but hey—what's showing it all?"
Her casualness was reassuring and terrifying.
"Nah... You won't have to..."
"Why not~? Si-woo'll cover for me?"
"..."
Regretting piping up. Mortifying. But no real remorse. I wanted this win bad. Not just the million won. Losing like this crushed. Watching Ha-young's hard-won point from her shame evaporate. Didn't want that gut-punch again. So what if it's embarrassing, humiliating? The whole trial's built that way. Strip us, shame us, poke our inhibitions. Everyone knows. So only one play left: Out-endure them. Be bolder. Afternoon, no mercy.