[No title provided]
The results of the third problem were a complete victory for Group B. In Group B, just one woman took off her top, and that wrapped it up. The real issue was Group A. With two guys and one girl getting all three wrong in a row, they were now facing underwear removal.
All three stood blankly in front of the baskets, hands frozen in place. Thanks to that, the other dropouts—looking far less burdened by comparison—didn't hesitate much as they stripped one by one, tossed their clothes into the baskets, and returned to their spots.
One guy from Group A seemed to steel himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed the waistband of his underwear with trembling hands—then pulled them down.
The hall went dead silent for a moment. Clutching his groin with both hands, he hurried back to his seat. His ears were beet red. He probably knew what this choice meant: next problem, hanging from the pull-up bar would expose his dick to everyone.
The other Group A guy, seeing that, gritted his teeth and dropped his underwear too. Covering himself with both hands, he shuffled back in tiny steps. Both guys kept their heads down, thighs clenched tight, eyes glued to the floor. It was downright pitiful.
But the Group A woman didn't move. She just stood there, unable to remove her bra, her fingers trembling faintly with her eyes shut.
"10 seconds remaining."
The host's voice rang out, but she didn't budge. The 10 seconds passed.
"Those who have dropped out, please move to the side of the stage."
At those words, she opened her eyes and reached for her clothes in the basket, trying to put them back on. The host stopped her.
"Leave the clothes as they are and move quickly."
In that instant, the air in the entire hall shifted. Once you're out, no clothes allowed. You had to stand by the stage in whatever state you were in—making you a spectacle for everyone.
This dropout woman was still in her underwear, at least. But if you flunked out fully naked... you'd have to stay naked in front of everyone until the third program ended.
Fear flashed in everyone's eyes. Stripping to underwear was humiliating enough, but staying that way afterward? That was the real terror. Resistance to removing underwear was about to skyrocket.
The Group A woman bowed her head apologetically, covered her underwear with both hands, and shuffled to the side of the stage.
I still didn't know the true purpose of this gig. But one thing was clear: this place was a testing ground for human shame. Drugs to dull it, programs to provoke it—and observation of how people reacted in between.
"The average depth of Lake Baikal is 744 meters. True or false? Please move within one minute."
Lake Baikal? That massive one in Russia? Wait, the world's largest lake by volume, or freshwater? But average depth, not maximum? How the hell would anyone know that?
As expected, no one in Group B knew. Simple halves weren't cutting it anymore. We had to decide whether to send the underwear-clad guys and girls together or split them.
Safest bet: split them.
"Numbers 1 through 4 and 14 through 18 to True, everyone else to False!"
This way, the three who had stripped would split three to True and three to False. And someone was definitely losing underwear. Group B's two women were locked into bras coming off.
But no one would quit. I had a feeling.
The problem? Hanging from the pull-up bar afterward. Breasts exposed for 30 seconds. Hands on the bar meant no covering up.
We hurried to True and False. The moment I grabbed the True bar and hung, something caught my eye: a naked Group A guy, eyes shut, face flushed, dangling from the bar.
Everyone tried not to look, but eyes magnetized anyway. One naked dude per side—True and False. How could you ignore that? Right now, naked guys outshone the women's underwear.
And feeling those stares—or reacting to being seen—his dick started to swell.
"Eek!"
"What the hell!!"
Screams erupted from the women. His face burned redder, body shivering. Hanging there, no way to cover or hide. Forty people watching it grow in real time.
Before the host even counted 30 seconds, he dropped down and clutched his dick. Couldn't handle the shame.
"One minute up. One participant drops out. Counting 30 seconds now."
What a ridiculous dropout. He'd committed to full nudity in front of everyone, only to bail from the exposure itself.
And I could predict it: Group A would start forfeiting strip-downs left and right from here on.
"30 seconds up. Correct answer is... True."
Now came the moment of resolve. One Group B guy going fully naked, two women losing bras. Ha-young included—down to full underwear.
But no hesitation. Group B dropouts at the baskets stripped without pause. Guy covered his dick, women their chests, and returned.
Ha-young came back in her underwear too.
Light green bra and matching panties. How many times had I seen this set? Each time, my heart pounded. She acted nonchalant, but her ears were pink. I tried to look away... couldn't.
Her bra strap slipped slightly off her shoulder; casually adjusting it made my heart thud.
I shouldn't be like this. Only the fourth problem done, and already so many in underwear. Ten problems total? Too damn many.
Then trouble in Group A, as expected. A fight broke out. Three Group A women who had to lose bras declared they'd quit.
The already-naked Group A guy was furious. "What's the big deal about showing your tits? I'm already buck naked!"
"You think that's the same for girls? You didn't say shit when that guy quit earlier, but now you nag us?"
"It is the same! We're a team—if some strip and some don't, that's not fair!"
"Fair? Then you show your chest first."
Voices escalated. Other Group A folks just watched, not daring to intervene. Felt like morning's Group B flipped. Drug effects worn off in Group A. Shame back with a vengeance. Morning and afternoon landscapes totally reversed.
Amid the bickering, the host spoke. "One minute up. Return to your seats."
Even the naked Group A guy didn't return. Head down, dick covered, he shuffled to the stage side.
Group A already at six full dropouts. Only the fourth problem, and this gap. Six more to go—doubt they'd last.
Scanning Group A, Yoon Seo-yeon and Na Ye-jin caught my eye. Lucky them: Na Ye-jin in her bra, Yoon Seo-yeon still fully clothed.
Na Ye-jin's chest seemed to glow.
Black bra. Curves taut and clear. Never got tired of it.
"Next problem." The host stayed unfazed. Fights or not, business as usual.
"Seoul has 464 administrative districts. True or false? Please move."
What? Administrative districts? How many??
Glanced at Group B. Everyone clueless.
"It's the legally defined neighborhoods," someone explained. Not a place name, but an administrative division.
But the count? No clue. Had to split halves again. Risk unavoidable now—Group B's one guy and two women already stripped three layers.
"Odds and evens again! Odds to True, evens to False!"
No knowing the answer, no choice. The three-layer strippers were all even numbers—headed to False.
I was number 1. Odd. Ran to True.
But hanging from the bar, I realized: Group B's two women stood under the False bar. Panties only, arms crossed over chests.
True and False bars faced each other. Probably the first time a woman fully exposed her breasts to everyone.
And I was dangling right across from them.
I'd split by number in a panic, but it put all three-layer folks opposite me. Could look bad—like I sent them there to ogle stripped chests.
Absolutely not. But... I was kinda looking forward to it anyway.
Who wouldn't get excited seeing new women's breasts?
The two hesitated under the bar, then leaped up and hung—breasts bouncing free.
Momentum from the jump. They jiggled up and down, settling slowly. So soft-looking. Ha-young's had been soft too...
Soon, dark areolas and pink ones came into view. Women's breasts... they're not that different from men's in shape, but lewd. Just lewd as hell.
Distance blurred details, but watching nipples sway as they adjusted? Blood rushing south.
One had big ones—heavy, sagging slightly even hanging. The other smaller, perky and firm.
Both turned faces away. Avoiding eye contact.
But I stared straight on. The naked Group B guy was over there too—invisible to me.
"One minute up. No dropouts. Counting 30 seconds."
No one quit this time—Group A potentials already gone.
These 30 seconds flew. Arms should've burned, but staring at fresh breasts? Time vanished.
I knew I was pathetic. Knew it, but couldn't look away.
What if up close? That thought creeped me out.
Drug's fault? Or just me?
"30 seconds up. Correct answer is... False."
Damn... wrong again.
At least no full Group B dropouts. Heading to the basket for pants, Ha-young was beside me.
She was in underwear now. And she'd gotten this one wrong too.
Her breasts—about to be shown to everyone.
So far, only I'd seen Ha-young's chest. Fitness test, physical exam—accidents or not, just me.
Other guys too? No way. Hated it. My private view, shared?
Stripped pants into basket. Down to underwear for me.
Ha-young stared at the basket. Hand hovering at her bra clasp, frozen.
Not like her bold self earlier. Even with drugs, baring breasts publicly? Whole different level.
Her hands shook.
Couldn't help or stop her. Nothing I could do.
Just tried not to name this feeling. Better not to.