Chapter 3
A pink nipple 3 cm above the white breast. A black spot on the pristine white breast, like an ink drop fallen on clean white paper. That single spot made the white skin of her breast stand out even more. Like the legend of the painter who drew a dragon on the wall, and once he added the eyes, it ascended to the heavens. One mole perfected the breast.
Gulp. It maximized the eroticism of the breast. Like a hypnotist shouting, "Focus right here."
What a pretty rack... The firm, upright curve without any sag was superior even to his wife's. And Shin Serin had been a pro at Tenpro, no less.
Thinking of his wife made anger boil up like a pressure cooker. She'd betrayed him with nine affair partners.
Ah, stop thinking about it. I got fucked, that's all. Being able to objectify himself like this was a skill in its own right. He'd gotten a small revenge on his ex-wife, at least. He'd secretly canceled the ten life insurance policies he'd taken out in her name. Over 2 billion won. Her phone would be blowing up when she returned from Japan.
He turned back to admiring Nam Seohee's breasts reflected in the elevator's metal surface.
Are tits like that natural or fake? The perfect hemispherical mounds defied gravity. Following the curve upward led to erect nipples like mountain peaks. The pink was fresh and tangy, a deeper shade than the surrounding areola.
His gaze drifted lower. Who knew her waist could be this slender? Tall women with great figures were rare. His eyes traveled down from her waist to her crotch and halted abruptly.
Holy shit... It was starting to get a little scary now. A neatly trimmed triangular bush was blatantly visible. This outfit wasn't bold—it was insane. Her slightly swollen outer labia clung to the dress fabric, outlining its shape perfectly. Some idol had done the same on stage recently. The vulgar axe-wound crease became art thanks to her voluptuous body.
Is she drunk? Her expression didn't suggest alcohol or drugs.
Just a blank stare. Unfocused, dilated pupils with a slightly cloudy iris—like those he'd seen on TV. ......! Enough to summon pure terror. Like there was no soul inside...
Nam Seohee stood rigidly. Her eyelids barely blinked; she just stared straight ahead.
Is she hypnotized or something?
Ah, fuck? Could that be it? Hypnosis? He'd seen scenarios like this in anime or porn. Someone under orders doing lewd things... Gulp. The sound of him swallowing echoed loudly in his throat. He could feel the saliva sliding down his esophagus clearly.
What if everyone in the world was under hypnosis...? It was a pathetic thought for someone with his elite mindset. Who'd have thought his stupid imagination would run wild like this? Absurd, but he kept swallowing as he ogled her body. Dopamine was flowing freely.
In her tiny slippers, she had to be at least 171 cm. E-cup tits? Nipples adorably bite-sized. Even the bumpy texture of the areola was clear.
Fuck. The pubic hair was neatly reverse-triangled, and the outer labia looked Brazilian-waxed.
Her asshole's probably pristine too, right?
He feasted his eyes on Nam Seohee's body to his heart's content. Who got to hold a killer body like that? He suddenly felt jealous of the guy.
Should I say something? Like, "Had a drink?" He wanted to see her with his own eyes, not just the reflection. With the full natural colors. His instincts egged him on: You're gonna die anyway—enjoy the view. But his reason, like Yi Sun-sin at Noryang, held firm: Don't let them remember your death as a pervert's!
If Nangryun were here, he'd kick his balls and call him a eunuch with his elite bullshit. "If I were you, I'd whip it out and fuck her right now. Might as well go out with a bang."
Nangryun's voice echoed in his head. Could he really do that? His hips twitched. Imagining plunging into Nam Seohee's crotch.
Ding. The elevator arrived, snapping the fantasy. Clutching his trash bags, he boarded first. The interior had huge mirrors on three sides. He avoided eye contact with her and headed to the corner, pretending to check a flyer stuck to one mirror.
Mirrors! Jackpot.
She followed him in. Then she slowly turned to face the door. Through the mirror, he got a full view of her back side. Her body was starkly visible in the clear reflection.
Whoa, her skin's really white.
That's when it happened. She slightly lifted the hem of her dress. On her inner thigh, where the round ass began, there was a mole. Small and black. His breath caught.
Moles hidden in every curve of her body. Her dress was paper-thin. The soft, wavy curves led the eye to that spot on the back of her thigh. ......!
He had no idea what her intent was in hiking up the dress. Did she know he was watching? His heart suddenly pounded.
No way... was she showing off her mole?
Who knew. He was also curious about what the [5, 12, 0] above her head meant, and why her expression was like that. With mirrors on three sides, he could see multiple angles via reflections. He got a close-up of Nam Seohee's face.
Was she always this hot? Another tune-up? Her small face crushed normies. Breasts about to burst, nipples protruding through the thin fabric. The fine bumps on the areola.
Fuck... wanna suck 'em so bad. His eyes were drawn to the heavy sway of her breasts with every breath. Missile-like tits swinging like pendulums.
Game devs weren't exaggerating jiggle physics! How could he not stare at tits shaking like that? Pure instinct. Like a corrupt cop's entrapment sting.
Then, at the 8th floor, the elevator stopped. Ding—the doors opened, and one more person boarded.
A woman with [0, 0, 0] floating above her head. What the hell did those numbers mean? ...... The delinquent girl from the 8th floor. Sharp bob cut ending at her ears. Baggy Adidas tracksuit jacket.
No pants? No, a super-mini tennis skirt barely covering her ass. Exposing her lower body shamelessly.
Delinquent... The girl always sprawled drunk in the elevator. Petite with a slutty figure. She dressed extra slutty to flaunt it. Today, the shit skirt was hiked up tight, her ass cheeks spilling out underneath.
That's why she was "8th-floor delinquent." Two months ago, at the apartment entrance, a nosy old geezer scolded her outfit.
"What kind of clothes are those on kids these days? Did your parents raise you like this?"
She flipped him off and yelled, "Did your parents have you just so you could jerk off to young girls' bare skin?"
He'd stepped in when the old man's eyes bulged. She double-flipped him and ran. After that, she was "8th-floor delinquent" among residents.
A bit late, but his lower half reacted. Blood rushing to his dick.
Hot as hell... but why's everyone acting weird today?
The 8th-floor delinquent eyed Nam Seohee up and down. A spark of life flickered in her unfocused gaze. Her eyes went to Nam Seohee's ample breasts and slim waist.
"Hng..." A small moan escaped the delinquent's lips. Her hand fiddled with her belly, like comparing her body to Nam Seohee's. Short and curvy, she contrasted Nam Seohee's tall sleekness.
Her gaze hit the mole above Nam Seohee's breast. The delinquent grabbed her own tits hard. Decent handfuls hidden in the baggy Adidas jacket. Her lower lip pouted.
She unzipped her jacket all the way. Shockingly, nothing underneath.
Her hefty C-cups spilled out. Slightly smaller than Nam Seohee's, but her nipples were thumbnail-sized—bigger than Nam Seohee's. She seemed satisfied with that.
Topless in the elevator? Am I invisible, fuck?
Tennis skirt hiked up, round ass cheeks fully exposed. She groped her own ass while eyeing Nam Seohee's, then lifted hers slightly in front of the mirror.
As she kneaded her ass, a wet blurp sound came from the delinquent's butt. He knew that noise well—pussy fart during sex, from overflowing juices. She was getting turned on watching Nam Seohee.
This is nuts. Suddenly, the delinquent in heat comparing bodies with Nam Seohee. Totally unhinged scenario.
The mirror showed three: him with trash bags, Nam Seohee in her cicada-wing dress, and the topless delinquent glaring jealously.
Great show from a spectator's view, but...
Why's the elevator so damn slow?
That's when he realized no one had pressed a floor. Ding—he quietly hit basement 2. The elevator finally moved from the 8th. The delinquent pressed 1.
Then Nam Seohee tapped the delinquent's shoulder. He witnessed her expression turn terrifying. Joker Smile.
Nam Seohee grinned ear-to-ear. Her zygomatic muscles bulged under the excessive smile. Lips stretched wide, revealing upper and lower teeth, even gums. Her nostrils flared.
Creak—simultaneously, the 8th-floor delinquent mirrored the Joker Smile.
They stared at each other, beaming those grins, probing.
"!!" Cold sweat trickled down his spine. No words exchanged—just Joker smiles.
What the fuck?
Seeing the Joker Smile from TV up close made his erection deflate instantly. Why no talking, like corpses...? What was with the ear-to-ear grin?
He'd even wondered if it was a hidden cam prank. SNS and YouTube pranksters with slutty outfits or horror setups for reactions. If so, he'd be a lifelong meme after death.
He hardened his non-expression and glanced up—no cameras. No phones either.
They traded the creepy smiles, then wiped them off. The shit-skirt delinquent—with jacket rolled up exposing ass—got off at 1.
Why didn't you get off?
Nam Seohee stayed put. Basement 2 was for recycling and waste. She had no trash.
Gulp... Unease made him swallow repeatedly. If it was hypnosis, that'd be preferable. What if the numbers above her head were hypnosis depth, sessions, sex count? That'd be fun.
Swish. Nam Seohee slowly turned toward him. Her eyes reflected in the mirror, fixed on the back of his head.
...... Honestly, fucking terrifying. Say something, damn it. Don't pussy out. Fuck.
What? You're freaking me out. Why are you staring?
Ding. Basement 2. Had to get out for trash. Goosebumps prickled his neck.
Turning, Nam Seohee blocked him like she'd been waiting. Blank expression, unfocused pupils.
What the? Like she was pranking him on purpose. Her hand landed on his shoulder. Jiggling breasts, citrus-vanilla perfume hitting his nose.
Gasp. He tried not to panic, meeting her eyes. No need to fear. Truth was, he wanted to smash her face right now.
Hold back! When cornered by fear, fists fly first. Human brains are simple. Why so many YouTube horror pranks end in punches. Adrenaline surges to conquer fear. Testosterone floods too. Combo spells violence.
Even if she was a real monster... a woman's body couldn't match male strength. Staring at her pretty face, he restrained the urge.
How does a fist-sized face fit eyes, nose, mouth?
Her pretty face twitched, distorting grotesquely. Nostrils flaring, lips curling ear-to-ear. Joker Smile. She grinned it right at him.
Fuck.