Taming the Shincheondang Girl — The Innocent, Her First Experience, Temptation, Blasphemy
It was the third time.
At the mouth of the alley leading to the PC bang. The same hour, the same spot — a woman stood there in a white blouse, notebook in hand.
Dohyun pulled out one earphone and slowed his pace.
"Hello! Aren't you on your way to work, by any chance?"
Her voice was bright. Bright in a way that sounded practiced.
"I'm not a bum. On my days off, I'm a 'young adult.'"
Yuna paused for a beat — as if the answer wasn't in her script — then opened her notebook and jotted something down. In tiny, careful letters.
Suitable evangelism target identified.
"I'm with Shincheondang. Do you have a moment?"
"It's raid time right now, so..."
Yuna wrote something else in her notebook. Dohyun adjusted the strap of his bag and said,
"I've got time tomorrow, though."
As he turned to leave, he raised a hand to Yuna for a high-five. Not thinking anything of it — pure habit. Bewildered, Yuna lifted hers. Smack!
Yuna went on staring at her palm long after the alley had slipped out of sight. The warmth lingered there, strangely long.
The next day, under the convenience store's patio umbrella, Dohyun came out with two cups of ramen and set one down in front of Yuna without a word. No strings attached. No explanation. Just because.
Yuna stared down at the cup. It was nothing like what the Shincheondang people handed out. Theirs always came with a flyer. There was always a reason.
"I'm grateful, but why are you giving me this?"
"Because it's cold."
Dohyun snapped his chopsticks apart as he said it.
Yuna took out her notebook, and it was plain to see she was preparing an explanation. Dohyun flicked the edge of it — and the notebook dropped, falling open on the ground.
It was her performance log. Evangelism targets tallied by day of the week. And at the very bottom—
Today's reflection: I thought of him again. Repent.
Yuna snatched for it — but Dohyun picked it up at the same instant, their hands landing half a beat together, her fingers settling right on top of his.
For a moment, they both stayed like that.
Yuna pulled her hand away first.
Handing the notebook back, Dohyun asked, "So what do you like, Yuna?"
Yuna opened her mouth — then closed it. It was a question off-script. Someone calling her by her name — she couldn't remember when the last time had been.
Neither of them said another word until the ramen broth went cold.
It was raining.
At the PC bang entrance, Dohyun held out his umbrella as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Yuna tried to decline, but he simply stepped out into the rain first — leaving them no choice but to share it.
Yuna recited scripture in her head. Whenever the words began to blur, she repeated them harder. The sound of Dohyun's footsteps falling in rhythm beside her kept cutting in between the verses.
Their shoulders touched.
"Mm."
A very small sound. Yuna swallowed it down her throat. Dohyun glanced sideways at her.
Near the end of the alley, the umbrella tipped — toward Dohyun's side. Yuna reached up to right it, and his hand was already there, on the handle. Hers came down on top of it.
Their fingers lay stacked over the umbrella's grip. Yuna tried to pull hers free. It wouldn't come loose.
"This is a sin."
"Getting rained on?"
Dohyun played dumb.
Yuna lost her words. It felt like every verse had vanished from her head. Dohyun's hand closed tight around hers, still holding the umbrella handle. It was warm.
At the end of the alley, Yuna turned toward home. Walking away, she looked down at her hand — the place where his had touched was still warm.
She took out her notebook and began to write — then stopped. The next sentence wouldn't come.
A week went by.
Dohyun didn't come looking for her. He simply walked to the PC bang at the same time every day, along the same route. That was all he did.
Then Yuna appeared.
Without the flyers she always carried.
"I left my notebook at home."
Her hands were empty.
Dohyun looked at those empty hands. He didn't say a word.
They sat down on the bench. A narrow bench in a narrow alley, under a low eave — it looked like rain.
Dohyun leaned in toward her. Yuna went rigid.
He closed the distance slowly and kissed her.
The hand she'd raised to push him away — clenched his collar instead.
Dohyun's hand settled on her waist, over her clothes and nothing more. That alone — Yuna's body reacted hugely. Heat surged up from below her belly all at once. No one was more startled by the size of that reaction than Yuna herself.
"I'm sorry — I can't be doing this!"
Yuna sprang to her feet. And ran.
At the end of the alley, she glanced back once. Dohyun had risen from the bench — and was chasing after her.
At the mouth of the alley, he caught up. They were both out of breath.
Yuna was the one who spoke first.
"Take me somewhere. Anywhere."
Dohyun swallowed hard. Then he took her to a motel nearby.
Dohyun stopped. He waited. He didn't hurry her.
Yuna laid her hands on the buttons of her cardigan. Her fingers trembled. The first button came undone.
That was her answer.
"Shincheondang says this must never happen."
"This isn't Shincheondang."
Dohyun caressed her body slowly, beginning at her waist.
Whenever a sound threatened to rise, Yuna covered it with her hand. Dohyun eased her fingers away — not forcing anything, never pulling. Just opening them one by one, until her hand lay open, and he set it gently down at her side.
"Ha—"
Low. Brief. Yuna closed her eyes. She hadn't known a sound like that lived inside her.
Dohyun slipped off her cardigan and moved slowly over her blouse, the hand at her waist traveling up along her ribs — through the fabric, only through the fabric. And that alone reached her skin as vividly as a direct touch. Fine hairs stood up all over her body.
The blouse's buttons gave way one by one. A bra strap slid down her shoulder, and the moment Dohyun's hand touched her breast bare for the first time, Yuna's back arched clean off the bed.
"Aah—"
There was no hand left to muffle it.
"Does it feel good here?" Dohyun asked.
Yuna opened her mouth — and closed it. She started to nod — and stopped.
"Yes."
For the first time, she spoke her own heart. In place of the verses she'd memorized. In her own voice.
Dohyun didn't stop there. He went looking for where her body answered — a brush along the line of her throat, fingertips grazing the soft inner skin of her thigh — and every time he found a new place, Yuna's body tipped toward it, as if asking for more.
The inside of her panties had begun to grow damp. Warmly. Somewhere he hadn't even touched.
Dohyun's hand slid down toward the waistband of her skirt.
Yuna went rigid.
She could feel exactly where his hand was. She knew what he meant to do. Everything she'd ever been taught said to stop it — Shincheondang's lessons, the whole way she had lived her life, all of it pointed at that single word: stop.
And yet — she didn't want to stop.
That was the most frightening part.
The zipper of her skirt began its slow descent. In the dim little room, the sound of it was unmistakable, and Yuna heard every inch. The skirt slid from her hips and fell to the floor.
Dohyun looked at her. Yuna turned her face aside. She hated being seen like this — and the mere thought of how she must look in his eyes set the heat below her belly burning hotter still. Her face flamed at herself for it.
"Look at me," Dohyun said, low.
"I don't want to."
"Why not?"
Yuna couldn't answer. There was no way to put the reason into words — because saying it would only make her want to hide deeper.
Dohyun turned her chin with a finger until she faced him straight on. Their eyes met. There was nowhere left to hide.
His fingers hooked into the elastic of her panties. Yuna's hand darted down on reflex to stop them — and landed on top of his.
"It's just... down there, I—"
The words gave out. She couldn't finish.
Dohyun waited.
Yuna drew in a breath — and let the strength drain from her hand.
The panties slid down slowly, tracing her thighs all the way to her ankles. Yuna bowed her head. She knew she was already wet. The feel of the fabric peeling away from her skin was so vivid that simply feeling it at all felt like a shame.
There was a soft sound as they dropped to the floor.
Dohyun's gaze traveled down. Just how far gone she was — he took all of it in with his eyes. Yuna couldn't bear being watched. Couldn't bear that, with nothing yet even done to her, she was already this soaked.
It was mortifying — and the heat below her belly clenched tighter anyway.
Dohyun reached out and touched her there, directly.
"Haa—"
Short and low — out before she could stop it. The moment his fingertips met her, he felt exactly how wet she already was. Warm and slick. Yuna squeezed her eyes shut.
"You're so wet already," he murmured — low, like he was simply confirming a fact.
"Don't say things like that."
Yuna said it with her eyes still closed. Her voice shook. At that, Dohyun — laughed. Then he kept going.
His fingers began to move, slow and searching, as though mapping out every place her body knew how to answer.
Then Dohyun hastily pushed down his trousers and underwear and lifted one of Yuna's legs slightly.
He began to enter her. There was resistance at first — a taut, stretching tension — but Dohyun didn't rush. He gave her body the time it needed to accept him. Little by little she gave way, opening around him, and the weight of being filled reverberated from below her navel deep into her belly.
Filled. Utterly.
A moan climbed up from the deepest part of her throat. This time, Yuna didn't cover it.
"Haaah—"
A rhythm took hold. Dohyun found his angle — the direction her body answered to — and every drag along her front wall sent heat swelling up from below her belly, layering over the heat rising from her chest. Both places at once.
From her overheated depths came the sticky sound of wetness clinging and giving way.
"Lord— hah— this sinner— aah—"
Scripture drowned in her moans. And at that very moment, Dohyun drove in deeper.
She went stiff — her whole body at once, her toes curling inward, her fingers digging hard into his shoulders.
The waves came from inside her. Once. Twice. The contractions went on and on, the next one arriving before the last had even settled.
Her voice never broke off. She cried out loud and free, as loud as she wanted.
Dohyun toweled Yuna's hair dry, ruffling it into a fluffy mess. Vigorously. Grinning the whole time.
"Oh, come on."
Yuna moved to protest — and laughed instead. Without meaning to.
It was morning.
She opened her notebook to the "Today's Reflection" column. Yuna studied it for a moment — then, for the first time, wrote something different.
Nothing to repent.
The one who had come to evangelize — had been evangelized. Not to Shincheondang. To herself.