Gangnam Mud Festival 1
Choi Seo-ah's ass spun around on the stool. She beamed at me, her face now surprisingly pretty with the double-eyelid tape making her eyes pop. A small face and sharp nose—definitely canvas material for beauty.
"That's amazing."
"What is?"
"No one's ever asked me that before. Nobody ever gave a shit about me."
Choi Seo-ah pressed both hands to her chest, her expression touched. It was weird seeing hands actually land on tits like that.
"I'm just nosy like that. Why'd you get into dealing drugs?"
She stared at me intently, fiddling with her double-eyelid tape and jawline.
"I needed money. Wanted to get surgery to look even prettier. My body's already hot as fuck, but my face is kinda lacking..."
"You've got personality—it's cute."
"'Personality,' 'cute'—that's all code for 'not hot'!"
I chuckled awkwardly. She had a point.
"Siiiigh~"
She let out a light sigh and started venting about her life like I was her therapist. Once she got going, it all poured out like a dam breaking.
Department Head Choi Dong-jin had seemed like a genius workaholic dad from the office, but he wasn't the father figure I imagined. Choi Seo-ah's mom died young. The playboy Dong-jin kept cycling through girlfriends, turning the house into his personal fuck den. Disgusted, she used college as an excuse to move out for independence—which her horndog dad fully supported.
The trouble started when she took a job at the Gangnam club 'Night Sun' to cover rent. The same spot I'd hit up late-night. Night Sun was notorious—ground zero for drug trafficking. Working as a server, she learned delivery gigs paid big, so she dipped in bit by bit... and here she was.
She mentioned her friend Kim Mina too—the one she said she killed.
"I knew it'd kill her... No, I killed her."
She said it flatly, but the guilt over her dead friend hung heavy. Kim Mina had OD'd on the drugs Choi Seo-ah delivered. I didn't pry for details. Just a girl who'd learned the world wrong from a young age. Genius dad or not, his neglect left her starved for affection. That was Choi Seo-ah.
I glanced at the photo on the wall: young Choi Seo-ah with Department Head Choi.
"You two got along back then."
"We still do. I visit once a month for dinner."
"Can you quit the drugs?"
"I should, right?"
"...They're expensive."
"Hahaha. Yeah, too pricey to keep up."
Self-deprecating laugh. Probably why she couldn't stop dealing.
A fresh-out-of-school girl forced into drug dealing by reality. Unreal.
"You know something?"
"What?"
"Addiction can be cured with another addiction."
I yanked her stool closer. Wheels rolling, her ass slid right to me.
Yanked her panties aside and slammed in. Knowing she was Choi Dong-jin's daughter made me harder.
"Ahhng... I just did my makeup..."
Her pussy, already stretched by my cock, slickened up fast, wet flesh gripping tight.
"Better high than drugs?"
"Fuck yes... Admit it~"
I pounded her stool-mounted ass deep and sticky. More relaxed now, she grabbed my hips and pulled me in harder.
"Your... drugs... Uncle's cock... Waaay better..."
Sex in this shell world was worlds apart. Sure, I preferred the total control of shells, but here the raw exchange of words and emotions added a fresh thrill.
I creampied her and planted a light kiss on her forehead. Cheeks flushed crimson, she pressed her palms to them, fighting down the afterglow orgasm.
She whispered softly.
"Can you kill everyone at the party?"
Out of left field. I tilted my head.
"Dunno... If they gotta die?"
"You're not some other cartel guy? Wait, you're not a real cop?"
"Just think of me as someone with beef against Nam Seohee and Shin Serin."
"Journalist! Which paper? Not Dongju Ilbo, right?"
I neither confirmed nor denied. Better she assume whatever.
"You know the Mud Festival?"
"Yeah."
"Wanna crash it."
"Where's the mud?"
"You'll see."
"Uncle... you're so mysterious. Like a movie protagonist. I always dreamed of a cinematic life."
"Want salvation?"
She turned from the mirror, locking eyes desperately.
"Can you save me?"
"Nah."
"Tch~"
"Ask your dad."
"Dad's a total player—might end up fucking me by mistake."
"No playboy dad fucks his own daughter."
"How do you know him so well to say that?"
"...Fair point."
I'd thought I knew Choi Dong-jin. But seeing her, maybe not.
Awkward silence fell. Couldn't exactly say I was his coworker, his subordinate. I'd already NLP'd and creampied her into my psychological fucktoy.
"Shin Serin-unnie and Nam Seohee-unnie... not really friends, right? This is revenge?"
"Told ya."
"Don't fall for their looks... They're cruel bitches."
I nodded. She'd blended pink blush perfectly—unrecognizable hotness. Makeup suited her like never before.
"You're insta-short level gorgeous now."
"Hehehe."
Thick eyeliner and red lips aged her up sexy. Double-eyelid tape fixed the small eyes—boom, stunner.
"Wanna fuck more pretty girls?"
She hiked her skirt, flashing cum-dripping thighs. My load 'drip!'ed out.
"Texted Seohee-unnie. Said I'm coming to the party. But you can't come with, okay?"
"She knows my face."
"Oh..."
Checked the time: 9:50 PM.
"By 11, they'll all be fucked up on drugs?"
"Probably."
"Knock twice at 11 sharp—they'll let you in."
She nodded, stood, and spritzed perfume. Sweet scent filled the room.
"Seohee-unnie gave me this. Guys love it."
We left for the elevator. On the ride to 15, she looked tense.
"You good?"
"Yeah... Just nervous. Feels like I'm a spy."
15th floor, Room 1514. Faint music leaked through. I ducked into the stairwell. She rang the bell. Door opened; she went in.
I slipped into my place, 1515. Nam Seohee knew my face—time for disguise. Tried non-prescription glasses and a fake mustache. She'd spot me up close, but dodging her meant intel on the party. Intel to utterly destroy Shin Serin. Not just kill her—turn the world against her, make her off herself in misery.
11:00 sharp. Two knocks on 1514. Choi Seo-ah flung the door wide.
"Whoa, disguise! Glasses suit you."
Inside: total otherworld. Apartment reno'd into a massive party lounge. Dim red lights, classical tunes. Guests mingled with wine glasses. Mostly 20s women, 50+ old dudes. Half-naked: women in lingerie or mini-dresses, men shirts unbuttoned or topless.
Big table: booze, drug paraphernalia. Glass pipes, mirrors, baggies of white powder, mystery pills.
Nam Seohee cooed at a prim-looking guy.
"That's a top prosecutor," Choi Seo-ah whispered.
"That one's Dongju Ilbo's president. That guy's a three-term Republican assemblyman."
"Hmph..."
Even without her saying, familiar media faces—politicians across parties. Shocking unity. Off-camera brothers indeed.
"What a clusterfuck."
Surveyed: sofa couples kissing, groping; corner blowjob on some TV doc pushing game addiction. Next to him, a famous YouTuber lawyer high as fuck, getting serviced by a slim girl.
"Bro, once games get disease-coded, hospital revenue skyrockets?"
"Nah, it's not just hospitals. Whole new industry! Look—this is big money. Church backs it too; classification's imminent."
"Industry? You invest?"
"Duh. Buy the stocks I name—related plays. Hits classification? Straight to red candle king."
Blood boiled. As a gamer, rage-inducing. Blaming games for every fuckup.
"Fuck off, why pin it on innocent games?"
Anger rising. Not for kids' sake—for profit. Their wealth scheme. Worse.
"Banning games after 10 PM in PC bangs was bullshit too."
Public health? Bullshit. All about elite cash.
"Haaaang~ Harder~~"
Four small bedrooms with beds—moans echoing.
"Sex still on beds, huh."
"Later, living room free-for-all."
Bunny-outfit servers with mystery drinks—crotches cut out for easy access. Hips swaying seductively. Public use.
Cute girl passing snagged by a politico, bent over. Pure debauchery. Drugged, boozed, pussy-drunk elites flexing power.
"Kosajang, cover the nomination vote rigging—no news."
"Hehe, no worries. Got an idol drug scandal primed. Public are pigs—they forget fast."
"Idol drugs—and hey, Prosecutor General! C'mere, favor."
"Yes, sir!"
Top prosecutor scampering. Media bosses, pols, prosecutors bonded by drugs and sex.
"Fucking hell."
Overheard elite chatter fueled my fury. Public as pigs—drugs as political tools. Why drugs never die here.
Rage wouldn't quit. Mom died from a drugged driver. Lingered a year post-crash, complications. No headlines 'cause she didn't die on impact.
Shin Serin knew my drug hatred. Ex-wife mocking inside.
"Fuck."
I raised my arm, stopping Choi Seo-ah.
"Seo-ah, go down to the 8th floor now."
"Huh? Okay..."
Fury peaked. These scum turned the country into a kid-drugging hell.
Time to punish trash their way.
"Humans' darkness... deeper and eviler than demons."
Death? Too merciful. Humiliation to shatter them. My sentence set.
Even spared the workers? Nah. Servers earning via body and drugs—not victims, voluntary for cash. Didn't care about drug fallout casualties. Their brains wired for others' sacrifice.
"Time for hell, all of you."
Confirmed Seo-ah out, headed to the bathroom. Empty.
...Lips moved.
Soul Summon: Explosive Diarrhea