Won't You Try It Just Once? (1)
I'd held out as best I could, but the nagging anxiety and thoughts of semen kept draining my hard-built patience.
Even if I'd checked right then, she wouldn't have given me time to reply before calling anyway.
"Ah, shit..!"
The automated voicemail grated on her nerves, so she hung up irritably and hit redial, gnawing at her lip. No connection again.
"What the hell!?"
No matter how drunk she was, anyone would check their phone after that much fuss. Sure, she might've fallen asleep already, but that just meant Min-ah was the only one losing her mind—which pissed her off even more.
Fueled by rage, Kim Min-ah hammered at her phone screen.
"Fine, whatever."
Of course, it was way too early to sleep. But she couldn't help it—saying it felt like admitting defeat somehow.
"Hmph. Time to eat."
She muttered it like she didn't care, set her phone down, hung up the "Do Not Disturb" sign, and headed out. Her stomach was boiling, so she figured food would help. She rescinded her no-eating-out rule, hit her usual chicken joint, and demolished a Red Honey Combo with beer.
Belly full, she returned to the office and checked her phone. The chat was unchanged.
"Fuck! Why carry a phone if you're not gonna check it!?"
Swearing—which she rarely did—she pounded the screen again.
No time for replies—she called again. By now, she'd accepted he wouldn't see or pick up.
"Ah, seriously..!"
Two more calls, no answer.
It was past 9:30. She should've stayed till 10, but rules weren't that strict. She decided to head back early, flopped onto her bed.
"I really don't care anymore.."
Not blackout drunk, but the buzz plus day's stress melted into fatigue, and her eyes drifted shut.
"Ah, shit.. my neck hurts.."
Unusual position left her neck stiff and sore. All Choi Min-seok's fault. Even in pain, she checked her phone, cursing him.
"What the hell are you doing..!"
Three calls in a row, no messages this time. Still nothing. She vented like the phone was a punching bag—messages, calls—until exhaustion pulled her back to sleep.
*
By the time I got back to Eunseong Goshiwon from Seo-yeon Yoo's apartment, it was past 10 a.m. How pissed must she have been to curse like that and spam calls obsessively?
Worry crept up as the elevator climbed floor by floor. I didn't owe her constant contact, but I'd said I'd come back last night and didn't—my fault. Strictly speaking, the hypnosis I'd planted made her freak out like that, so my conscience stung.
The elevator's calm announcement cut through my anxiety as the doors slid open.
"Huh..?"
Stepping out, I reflexively blurted in surprise. Gone. Kim Min-ah should've been in the office unless something came up. Lights off, "Do Not Disturb" sign up—she hadn't come in.
"In her room?"
Better face the music first. Resolved to fix it quick, I headed to her door and knocked.
Knock knock-.
Goshiwon etiquette meant light knocks. Loud enough to hear if she was inside, but no response.
"Asleep?"
After her 4 a.m. rampage, maybe. She had my room key, but I didn't have hers—nothing more I could do.
She'd probably bought the excuse already, so I stuck to the "drunk and crashed" story. Message sent asking her to call later—done. I turned back to my room, feeling oddly relieved as I breathed deep.
"Yeah. This is home."
Not really a home—just a cramped space—but after over half a year, it felt familiar. Once Kim Min-ah left, I'd scout a new place. That was set in stone. Goshiwons had women, but none as hot as her.
Tossed my coat, sat, booted the PC. Most used laptops or none, but I'd splurged on a beefy setup. Room got tighter with the big monitor and tower, but worth it.
Back in school, I'd envied friends with home PCs. Computer lab trash games were my limit. Post-independence, personal rig was top priority—I poured money in.
World's vast, games endless—days vanished in a blur. That's why, deep in a gaming binge, I'd totally forgotten about her until her key turned the lock.
"Hey."
Kim Min-ah's curt word from the doorway was icy cold.
Maybe sweet-talk my way out?
No matter how mad, she was still Kim Min-ah. Apologize profusely, stress the drunken crash—her rational side might let it slide. Problem: mid-upgrade match, 2-2, final win on the line.
"Oh, you're back..?"
"Yeah. Turn off the game?"
Soul-crushing clash imminent. She loomed beside me, glaring coldly—had to be. Soul match hanging by a thread.
"Five seconds. Off."
"Okay.."
Five seconds? Too tight to quit properly. Bad for the PC, but I swallowed tears, mashed the power button for hard shutdown. Didn't expect a win anyway—just no reports, please.
Screen black, I glanced over. Two cold eyes stared down, as expected.
"Let's check facts first. You promised to come back last night, right?"
"Not a promise, more like.."
"No?"
"..Yeah."
Lifetime first dealing with a woman this furious—parents aside. Her sharp retort cut like a knife; I meekly corrected.
"But your texts say you got back after 10 a.m."
"Drank with a friend, passed out.."
"Phone on silent? Ignored texts and calls?"
"Must've missed 'em. Sorry."
Good—no "You don't even know why I'm mad?" crap from the internet. Apologize first, always—added it quick.
"Haa.. Why do I even.."
"Wait, hear me out first."
Before the dreaded "why," I cut in desperately. Her brow twitched irritably, but she shut up, gesturing to go on.
"Planned to hang casual and head back. Drank Friday, PC bang duo Saturday."
"..And?"
"He had a girlfriend from pre-army. She's on leave, met up since he's free. Midway, she dumps him—says he's ignoring her for games with bros."
"...."
"Kinda his fault, self-inflicted.. Anyway, ends up dumped mid-fun. He was serious about her. One slip, gone—devastated. Calls to her? Blocked, instant hangups."
Pretty solid improv story.
"He crashes hard. Couldn't ditch him, so more drinks. Snowballed. Should've messaged I couldn't make it—really sorry."
I rapid-fired it, ending with another apology. Her expression softened subtly—halfway there, debating whether to blow up.
"Want anything? My treat tonight. Oh, semen issue okay now? Wanna go?"
"Eek..!"
Seizing the moment, I yanked down my pants. She flinched, eyes dropping. Underwear off, cock out—her gaze quivered, heating up.
"Feeling sorry, so till I'm spent. We call it even? Deal?"
Ridiculous offer—who'd say no?—but even horny, "till spent" wrecked you. Post-Yoo Seo-yeon, I capped at five max daily.
Oblivious, she bit her lip, then nodded.
"Dinner too?"
"After a nap..?"
If she could stand after. Her eyes blazed with raw hunger.