Remake: Beside the Unknown Old Man
Exactly ten meters. The distance looked deliberately measured, but Kim Mingyu kept his eyes locked on Song Jiwon, refusing to miss a single moment of her reaction to that message.
The instant she hesitated and turned toward the park, a slow smile spread across his face.
“Good girl. You’re in now. No backing out.”
The moment Jiwon sat on the bench, Mingyu instinctively scanned the surrounding terrain. He needed an angle that captured the camera’s view without getting caught. The rooftop of the nearby row house immediately came to mind.
The distance from the gazebo to the bench was roughly forty meters, but his high-end smartphone offered 100x zoom, high resolution, stabilization, face tracking, and edge enhancement. It was equipment capable of capturing her more vividly than any porn.
Just then, a group of students passed along the side path. Jiwon greeted them casually, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Their eyes, naturally, dropped straight to her ass.
“Whoa… Teacher Song looks insanely sexy today too, huh?”
“Haah… I feel like I’d die if those thighs squeezed me…”
“Those stockings… coffee-colored? That’s just cheating.”
Mingyu snorted, twisting his lips.
‘Pfft… idiots. You’ll just keep talking about licking and sucking. Me? I can see exactly which way that pussy is getting wet right now. The difference between guys who only bark and the actual master who trains her… it’s just a matter of class, you dumb fucks.’
Without hesitation, he turned toward the row house. A six-story building with no elevator. Only one goal mattered.
“The single spot where I can look straight down at that bench with 100x zoom.”
Clutching the railing, Mingyu sprinted up the stairs, panting but never slowing.
“Fuck… this is exhausting… They really need to redevelop this place, damn it…”
He cursed with every step because she had already reached the bench—the very spot she had messaged him about earlier, claiming she would “try.”
“Ah… I should’ve worked out more… haa… but I can’t waste this chance… fuck…”
When he finally reached the top floor, he shoved the rooftop door open. The perfect vantage point unfolded before him.
The bench near the park gazebo. And there she was.
Catching his breath, Mingyu zoomed in. 100x. The optical zoom on his latest smartphone locked perfectly onto Song Jiwon’s silhouette in the center of the frame.
She was already seated beside the old man.
“Already sitting down, you bitch… You’re really desperate, aren’t you?”
At that moment, the old man beside her suddenly moved, pulling a small, outdated phone from his pocket. A basic senior phone. He awkwardly pointed it toward Song Jiwon and began pretending to make a call, lips moving without sound. Yet the subtle angle of his wrist made it clear he was aiming straight at her.
Mingyu snorted.
“Ha… look at this old fossil. Filming her with a senior phone? Hey, you dried-up creep. Can you even focus with those eyes?”
But the truly amusing part was Jiwon’s reaction. She seemed to have instantly seen through the act. Slowly, she turned her body, angling herself so her back faced the old man. She adjusted her seated posture slightly, drawing her legs together demurely.
Mingyu immediately hit the record button.
Through the lens, Song Jiwon lowered her head, tilting her smartphone down onto her thighs. Her fingertips slowly traced the front of her blouse, moving carefully, deliberately.
‘It’s starting… The old man’s behind her, and I’m right in front. She’s basically telling me to jerk off to this, huh? Thanks, Samsung, for making a phone like this…’
Mingyu leaned against the rooftop railing, locking the lens onto her body. On the bench, she sat a short distance from the old man, but that small gap only made the scene more obscene.
Jiwon lifted her phone slightly, adjusting the angle with astonishing precision. The lens framed her from just below the chest down to the top of her thighs—face carefully excluded, body fully exposed. It was a quiet, self-directed performance offered solely to her master.
Mingyu gave a bitter smile.
“Tsk… I didn’t even order her, and she’s already doing it on her own? This bitch… leveling up all by herself?”
She rested her elbow on her handbag and slowly leaned her upper body forward. The motion caused her blouse to naturally part, and one button quietly came undone with a soft click.
Beneath the thin fabric, the full curve of her breasts pushed outward, clearly outlined. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on the exposed skin between the buttons, and the deep valley of her cleavage cast a dark, suggestive shadow.
Nothing was directly revealed, yet the taut, explosive tension made it far more lewd than any outright exposure. The thin cloth covering her only fueled the imagination, making the flesh beneath feel vividly present even without being seen.
Song Jiwon leaned further forward. As she did, her blouse rode up slightly, and the curve of her breasts became even more pronounced through the fabric. Right in the center of the frame, the edge of her areola quietly slipped into view.
There was no special lighting or staging. She had simply leaned forward, and the cloth had shifted. In that brief instant, the entire atmosphere changed.
“Ha… fuck… She hides it from the old man, but shows everything to me, this bitch. Avoiding the old man’s gaze while flashing her areola straight at the camera? She’s always been overflowing with this kind of slutty talent. Song Jiwon…”
As Mingyu gritted his teeth and muttered, her fingertips slowly stroked her thigh. Her fingers slid over the coffee-colored stockings, light and fluid, like wind skimming water. She wasn’t searching for anything or touching anything specific, yet every movement carried clear intent.
In reality, she was only caressing her thigh, but the rhythm, the pressure, and the direction of her fingertips made it feel as though she were directly stroking her pussy. The subtle curves traced across the stockings drove the viewer mad. No direct contact occurred, yet the illusion created by those fingertips alone was enough to stoke desire.
Then, slowly, the hem of her skirt began to roll upward. The band of her coffee-colored stockings came into view, and above it, the edge of black lace panties appeared—briefly, yet unmistakably. The boundary where skin met fabric. The exact point where the stockings ended and bare flesh began. In a public park, on a bench, that forbidden line was quietly and clearly revealed.
Whether the old man could see any of it was unclear, but Jiwon maintained her casual demeanor while subtly shifting her posture, allowing her thighs to be naturally exposed and guiding the gaze from the stocking band down to the sliver of skin between panties and bare thigh.
‘The spot men go crazy for… the stocking band line.’
She slightly extended her left leg and turned her knee just enough to widen that “gap,” inviting the gaze—and the desire—to penetrate.
Mingyu zoomed in on the screen and chuckled.
“Coffee stockings with black lace panties? Ah, fuck… right in my strike zone. She’s already walking around with her tits half out, and now she’s opening up her thighs too. Showing the band line and everything… Damn, she’s really dedicated. Our bitch knows exactly what gets people off.”
She crossed her legs again, and the skirt lifted even higher. The lace of her panties stood out more clearly against the stockings, and the bare skin between them glowed softly under the moonlight. Through the lens, the inside of her thigh trembled faintly—not from simple tension, but from the rising excitement deep within her body.
Mingyu let his gaze drift downward across the screen and muttered.
“This isn’t just exposure. It’s seduction. She’s openly showing it. Hiding just enough from the old man, but giving me everything. This bitch… she’s probably dripping wet right now, isn’t she?”
He gripped his smartphone tighter.
The soft shadows cast by the coffee-colored stockings. The curve of her thighs rising under his gaze. And at the end of it, that precisely calculated boundary of exposed skin. Everything was perfect. Calculated exposure. Controlled seduction.
How much time had passed? A vibration pulsed through his hand.
His heart dropped.
It wasn’t text. It was a video. A scene recorded with clear intent.
“She filmed this without me even asking… for me?”
Mingyu sank down against the railing. The phone in his hand was slick with sweat. He tapped the screen with his finger.
The video began in silence.
Jiwon’s face didn’t appear. The camera started at her neck and slowly panned downward. A neat blouse. The lens pushed between the buttons, revealing the curve of her breasts. The dangerous gap looked ready to spill everything if she turned her head even slightly. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. The space between the buttons felt alive.
In the corner of the frame, the old man’s shoulder was faintly visible—just beside her. That single detail made the location unmistakable.
Jiwon didn’t say a single word, yet the video spoke clearly:
‘I’m carrying out Master’s orders. Right here. Exactly like this.’
The camera continued its slow descent. The curve of her thighs on screen was more than mere flesh—it was a map drawn by desire. Her skirt had ridden up softly over the stockings, and the thighs wrapped in coffee-colored fabric gleamed with a subtle sheen. Even the shadows seemed to lick her legs.
Between her slightly crossed legs, the delicate contours created by the thin fabric were captured in exquisite detail. The outline of her panties beneath the stockings, the faint wrinkles along the edges—every movement made them seem to breathe, as though someone’s fingertips had just brushed across them.
And then—at the very edge of the lens—a faint contour. Something peeking just beyond the panty line. It was impossible to tell whether it was the tip of her pubic hair or the shadow of folded skin, but that single fragment sent the imagination spiraling endlessly.
The outdoor lighting was dim, yet the footage remained impossibly clear. Every angle, every shadow, every pose had been calculated for the camera—for the master beyond it.
Her body was saying:
‘Look. But don’t touch.’
The secret seduction passed straight through the screen.
Kim Mingyu’s breathing grew unconsciously rough. He paused the video with his finger and remained silent for a moment. Only the corner of his mouth slowly curled upward as a single word slipped out.
“…Ha. She’s fucking insane. Seriously.”
He played it again. The video was short, but the afterimage lingered.
The old man filmed so openly. The face carefully excluded. The body revealed just enough. And above all, her own will.
At that moment, a speech bubble appeared on the smartphone screen.
The trembling between the words was obvious—expectation, anxiety, and above all, a desperate craving for approval.
Mingyu looked down at the screen and smirked. Then, with deceptively gentle fingers, he typed.
His fingertips were calm, but his mind was anything but.
‘Ha… fuck. If her face had shown even a little, it would’ve been perfect. A perfect blackmail item… damn, what a waste.’
His hypocritical fingers slid across the screen once more.
A moment later, the screen lit up again.
Kim Mingyu read her messages and chuckled softly. The submissive tone, the cautious hunger for approval—it stirred his dominant instincts. He waited a moment before replying.
Mingyu glanced at the park through the camera. Several old men were indeed gathered around the gazebo—playing baduk, reading newspapers, chatting. He already knew what she wanted, but asked anyway.
“Typing…” appeared and disappeared several times before the reply finally arrived.
Kim Mingyu gripped his phone tighter. A smile rose to his lips, and beneath it, a strange excitement simmered. This contradictory state—shame and desire, willingness and submission tangled together—turned him on immensely.
‘But if I’m watching…? This bitch is really something else…’
After cursing inwardly, he finally replied.
Mingyu turned the camera back toward the park and captured Song Jiwon slowly rising from the bench. She slung her bag over her shoulder and pretended to smooth her skirt, but never fully pulled the hem back down. Her thighs remained more exposed, the stocking band faintly visible.
Then, drawing a deep breath, she took her first step toward the gazebo.
From the very first stride, something was different. There was no trace of her usual leisurely pace. With every click of her heels against the ground, her hips swayed ever so slightly. The calf muscles wrapped in coffee-colored stockings moved smoothly with each step.
As she approached the gazebo, the old men’s gazes began to fix on her one by one. Hands paused over baduk stones. Eyes lifted from newspapers. Feeling their stares, Jiwon straightened her posture even more. Her breasts pushed forward, deepening the cleavage visible between her blouse buttons.
Her passage through the gazebo looked like a scene from an erotic film. The rhythm of her legs crossing in stockings, the sway of her skirt hem brushing her thighs, and the natural bounce of her breasts following every movement. The old men’s eyes traced her body slowly, and Jiwon walked while receiving every single gaze with her entire being.
A subtle heat rose to her cheeks. With every step, the reality sank deeper.
‘Right now… these people are looking at me… and tonight they’ll…’
She knew it. She had become the raw material for their nighttime fantasies. In their minds, she had already been violated, humiliated, and defiled countless times. The thought made her tremble. Shame mixed with the thrill of being the center of all those gazes, wrapping around her entire body.
After completely passing the gazebo and escaping their line of sight, she stopped for a moment. She took a deep breath, her chest heaving rapidly. Then she pulled out her smartphone and sent a short message.
From the rooftop, Kim Mingyu watched the entire scene unfold, a satisfied smile on his lips. He sent one final message.
He slipped the smartphone into his pocket and stood up. Today’s game ended here. But the real fun was only just beginning.
Song Jiwon walked quickly toward home, her mind filled with today’s scenes and the fantasies yet to come. And Kim Mingyu, as her “Master,” still had one task left.
Dealing with the old man who had secretly filmed her.
“Fuck… looks like the prince on the white horse has to make an appearance. …This is something I have to do, right?”
Mingyu took a deep breath and left the rooftop. His heart pounded violently as he descended the stairs. Normally, he would have avoided a situation like this, but today was different.
The old man was still sitting on the bench, staring at his smartphone with a sleazy smile on his face.
“Excuse me… sir.”
Mingyu’s voice trembled slightly.
“The person who was sitting next to you just now… she’s my older sister. I saw everything you filmed.”
The old man looked up in shock.
“Wh-what are you talking about!”
“I saw it all from up there.”
Mingyu pointed toward the rooftop with his finger, keeping his trembling hand in his pocket while striking an awkward, blustery pose.
“If you just show me your phone… I’ll delete the videos and let it go. If you don’t… I’ll have no choice but to call the police.”
His lips were dry, and his voice cracked in places, but the weight of his words came through stronger than expected.
The old man’s face turned pale.
“G-give me the phone.”
When Mingyu held out his hand, the old man hesitated for a moment before finally handing over the smartphone. Mingyu opened the gallery. Several recently recorded videos appeared in a row. Five of them. All secretly filmed from different angles, all of Song Jiwon.
“These are the ones you just took.”
Without hesitation, he selected them all and deleted them. He cleared the cache and emptied the trash as well.
“Permanently deleted.”
After confirming everything, Mingyu returned the old senior phone to the man.
“You… got lucky today.”
His voice still trembled, and cold sweat glistened on his face.
“I… I might look like this, but when I get angry, I’m really… scary, you know? I mean it. Do. You. Understand?”
The old man didn’t look scared at all. Instead, he stared straight at Mingyu and let out a dumbfounded laugh, simply looking him up and down with pitying eyes while holding the phone.
Having lost all momentum, Mingyu spun around and quickly left the spot—almost running, as if fleeing. His heart was still racing, and his palms were damp, but his mood felt strangely light.
‘Song Jiwon… you fucking bitch… I’m the prince on the white horse protecting you like this, and you still call me a gloomy loser? …Just wait. I’ll treat you real good.’
Mingyu disappeared into the darkness, glancing up in the direction where Song Jiwon would be. Today’s game was over, but the real story was only just beginning.