Return 2

...The countdown didn't increase.

"As expected, I need to fuck a human."

Sex with Oh Su-jeong in her soul state was just pointless thrusting.

"Haah~ It feels so good, Master’s cock~♥"

I sent the panting Oh Su-jeong back to her soul form. I clenched my fist tight. Still, with nearly 23 hours left...

I racked my brain for someone I could fuck. Nam Seohee, Choi Seo-ah, Gu Mirae, Hamster... None of them were the type who'd spread their legs just because I asked. This wasn't the shell world—this was reality. Oh Su-jeong could only possess shell humans. In the real world, I'd have to find another way.

"Fuck. In reality, even getting laid once is such a goddamn hassle."

You had to give gifts, win them over, go through all sorts of courtship bullshit just for a maybe. Unless it was some brainless cumrag willing to risk STDs or a gold-digging snake specialized in fleecing wallets.

First things first, I wanted to check on my real-world self in the hospital. If O Nangryun's mom was right, I was lying in a coma here. The hospital wasn't far. The thought of another ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me existing sent chills down my spine.

I pulled on a cap and mask. I walked through the night, savoring the chirping crickets and the charm of the late hour. It was, in a way, an ordinary night street. Without the fog, countless people were out enjoying the night in their own ways. Late-night strollers. Joggers. Drunks staggering home.

"Reality's not bad."

As I walked, feeling the cool night breeze, I heard faint whimpering. A subtle sound, but it rang clear in my ears.

"That's the sound of an animal dying."

A status window popped up out of nowhere. Would Soul Harvest here just leave a shell behind too? My eyes kept drifting to the dying dog lying by the roadside curb. Its hind legs were twisted at an unnatural angle, and it let out pitiful whines as it faded.

Looked like it got hit by a car jaywalking. That was when it happened. A voice echoed from somewhere deep in my soul.

A soft woman's voice. Not Jejeop's. And definitely not a hallucination.

"What the hell?"

I looked around, but the night street was empty except for me. I strained my ears for more, but nothing came.

"Was that you?"

I slowly approached the dying dog. The retriever, vomiting blood from its mouth, shuddered and struggled to move.

"Kkiing. Kkiing."

It looked in agony. I didn't know all the restrictions on Soul Harvest, but skipping this one felt like it'd haunt me.

The retriever's soul ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠flapped its huge ears and flew into my wrist. The soul became a point on my wrist, but the corpse remained intact. Unlike the shell world, it didn't just leave a shell.

"Hmm, that voice... I've definitely heard it before..."

A woman's voice. The more I tried to recall, the more the tone slipped from my memory. Like my body was resisting the recollection.

"What the...?"

Shaking off the unease, I headed to the hospital. The lobby glowed pale under fluorescent lights. I readjusted my mask and approached the desk.

"Hello. Could you tell me which room Park Woojin is in?"

The sleepy nurse glanced at me, then checked her monitor.

"Are you family?"

"Yes, a relative."

"Room 504. But visiting hours are over..."

"Just a quick peek. I came from far away."

She sighed at my pleading eyes and nodded. "Ten minutes."

"Thank you."

She turned back to her monitor, diving into work. I took the elevator to the fifth floor. The hallway was quiet, dim lights pushing back the shadows.

My body... is in there?

Standing before 504, my heart raced. I creaked the door open. The room was dark, but medical equipment glowed faintly. A man lay on the bed, hooked up to life-support machines.

That man... was me.

"Fuck..."

The curse slipped out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in a low whisper. I looked peaceful, like deep in sleep. IV drips fell slowly; the ECG monitor beeped steadily with my heartbeat.

I approached the bed and peered at my face. No doubt, it was me. But... strangely unfamiliar. Like seeing a twin brother after years apart.

"What the hell is going on...?"

I reached out and touched the hand on the bed. Cold, but alive. I felt the pulse. Gaunt from cancer treatment—it was unmistakably my body.

"If Soul Harvest doesn't trigger, he's not on the brink of death..."

All fifth-floor patients were in comas. Scanning the rooms, an interesting name popped up.

"U Mi-young's in a coma too?"

In 511, I confirmed her face—the same U Mi-young from the gate.

"What a weird coincidence."

O Nangryun had to be here somewhere. Checking rooms, another shocker.

"Han Areum? No way?"

In 509, there she was—the Han Areum I'd fucked in the Bentley. Even on life support, her beauty shone through.

"Damn, she really is gorgeous."

I'd wondered if these coma cases from some mystery illness had their souls transferred to the shell world. But Han Areum debunked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that. She was a pure shell demon. Or... a survivor pretending? Or transferred and then killed by demons? ...Who knows. I'd check later.

Finally, in 501, I found O Nangryun. He slept peacefully. I approached and stared at his face.

"Buddy... what the hell happened?"

No answer.

"Hang on. I'll find a way to wake you, no matter what."

In a way, O Nangryun was my last family. We met at five, grew up like brothers—genius academy to college, always together.

"Heh... I even went to Tenpro because of you, you bastard."

O Nangryun was a total maniac for hooker spots, mapping out rankings himself. He was on artificial lungs, not even breathing on his own.

Then the door opened. A doctor entered.

"Who are you?"

"Ah, a friend."

The doctor eyed my mask suspiciously. "Visiting hours are over. Please leave."

"Sorry. But... could you tell me about his condition?"

"Pardon??"

He looked baffled as I bombarded him with questions.

"What do the brain scans show? Any unusual activations on fMRI or PET? Especially hypothalamus or brainstem? Any unconscious P300 responses?"

He sighed. My questions were way beyond layman level.

"Government again? No special symptoms. They just won't wake. Brainwaves normal, vitals normal. Like... deep in a dream."

"Cause?"

"That's for you government folks. We've got fifteen here lately. You said over a hundred fade-outs, right?"

Mistaking me for official, he spilled freely.

Over a hundred in comas...

Something clicked. "Did they all enter coma at the same time?"

"Yes, our patients were around the same timeframe."

"Thanks for the cooperation."

I bowed and left. Hurrying down the hall, lost in thought. Something big was happening. All comatose at once—their souls transferred to the shell world? Beelzebub might know. Ten hours till I can talk; I'll ask then.

That was when it hit.

Soul Harvest kept triggering as I walked the halls.

Hospitals had that many dying. My reality was T-12. Shell world was T-16; SpongeBob was T-12. SpongeBob was a monster from my world...

"Riddles everywhere. Goddamn it."

Beelzebub can answer this too. Thought reality would fix everything... but seeing another me in a coma just muddled my head more.

I left the hospital for the night streets. The countdown above my head ticked down relentlessly.

22:25:22

22:25:21

"Ah... fucking countdown."

To extend it, I need to fuck a human. Immune to STDs? My body cured cancer. If I don't care about diseases, sex is easy.

Headed to Gangnam Station. Still bustling even now. Past 3 a.m., yet club lines formed.

There.

Club 'Night Sun'. Tip the waiter a few hundred thousand won, and he'd hook me up with a club chick eager to please.

All my hookup knowledge came from O Nangryun.

"Clubs got pros managing drinks. Act a bit rich, and free pussy's yours. But watch for syphilis or AIDS. They're usually second-rounders."

I smirked. Sex to stop the countdown? Club's perfect.

Ear-splitting music and air thick with booze and sweat hit me. Inside, crowds danced under flashing colored lights. High couples deep-kissed, groping freely.

"Vodka shot."

Bartender poured. I downed it. Throat burned, but no time to care.

Scanned for solo women. Needed high sex score and hot. Can't fuck just anyone. Higher score meant better fuck—from shell world experience.

Then, behind the bar, a woman in a red dress sipping cocktail, eyeing the crowd.

[680, 441, 223]

Stunning beauty. But her eyes? Predator hunting prey. Fake designer dress— no one wearing 100-million-won gear comes here. Wallet pat said she was broke.

The number above her head gave perfect intel for analysis. Masochistic slut hunting sadists to drain dry.

There.

I sat beside her. Her face reflected in the cocktail bowl. She scanned me instantly.

After the shell world, I'd decided to use my neuroscience and psych knowledge for selfish gain. I could manipulate this beauty like clay.