The Price of a Single Finger
"Good to see you, Kim Hayan, you fucking bitch."
Among them, one man greeted her with an exceptionally bright, mocking smile.
It was President Yoon Jiseong, the man who had trusted Hayan with work only to be stabbed in the back.
But...
"President Yoon..."
"President Yoon, my ass, you fucking cunt."
He was no longer a president.
"Just call me Yoon the day laborer."
Yoon's company, Iron Cat, had launched their game after years of preparation.
However, because Kim Hayan had secretly snuck That Finger into the illustration of the very first banner character, the player base boycotted en masse. The game was forced to shut down its servers just a few months after launch.
Of course, among the other men present, there were those whose companies had gone bankrupt or whose projects had been disbanded, leaving them on the streets. But President Yoon's situation was far worse.
"Do you have any fucking idea how much debt I'm in because of you?"
He had taken out massive loans to invest in the game.
He was an industry veteran who had recruited top-tier talent to develop the game, so he had been absolutely confident in its success.
The feedback since the closed beta had been stellar, and the future had looked incredibly bright.
But all because of...
"A single finger, you fucking cunt... Just because you wanted to shove in that one retarded feminist finger, you fucking piece of shit..."
Jiseong reached out to grab Hayan by the collar, but—
"Eek?!"
Since she was completely naked with nothing to grab onto, he violently grabbed her by the tit instead.
"Fucking hell. Because of that goddamn finger, me, my family, my employees... do you know how many people's lives were completely ruined?!"
Jiseong squeezed Hayan's breast so hard it felt like it would burst, shaking her violently as if he were holding her by the collar.
"Aaargh?! Kaaah?! It hurth?! It hurth!!"
Due to the severe sexual abuse she had already endured, including her Uterine Prolapse, Hayan had absolutely no strength left to resist.
"Fuck! You deserve to hurt! You need to hurt until you fucking die! You fucking bitch, because of you... because of you..."
As Jiseong squeezed and shook her breast, his voice finally began to crack with tears.
"Fuck... give me my money back!! You goddamn feminist cunt! Give me my fucking money back!!"
Jiseong wrapped his hands around Hayan's neck and began to strangle her.
"Ke-kegh... I-I'm thorry... I'm thorry..."
Choking, Hayan squeezed out a bizarre, strained apology through her restricted airway.
"You should have fucking apologized back then! If you had just apologized back then! If you hadn't hidden behind those retarded feminist civic groups and politicians! If you had just said a single word of apology, we wouldn't have ended up here!!"
But even with Hayan's desperate apology, Jiseong's rage showed no signs of subsiding.
"Whoa, President Yoon, calm down."
"At least justice is finally being served now."
"We have to make her pay. What's the point if you kill her already?"
"Exactly. How can we let this bitch off so easily?"
As Hayan's face began to turn a dangerous shade of purple, the other men stepped in to pull him off.
"Th-Thankth... Thank you..."
Hayan wheezed and coughed violently, pathetically gasping out her gratitude.
"What the fuck are you thanking us for, you crazy bitch?"
"If anything, you should be thanking President Yoon for trying to kill you."
"She still doesn't get what's happening."
"Well, she's a feminist, so of course she's fucking retarded."
The men's reactions were cold and mocking.
"So, what should we do with her now?"
"Yeah, we came all this way. It'd be a waste to let this bitch off easy."
When the world turned upside down, the very first thing these men did was hunt for Hayan.
Jiseong, in particular, had been bloodshot with rage, leading the search.
He had utilized every connection he possessed to contact the National Democratic Vanguard, cooperating with them to track Hayan's every movement.
And this was the result.
"Hmm... there's no set protocol, but..."
Shin Seongil fell into thought for a moment.
"Since the orders say 'the method of execution is left to the discretion of those on-site,' you can do whatever you want with her."
"Ah... so there are absolutely no limits on how we execute her?"
"Yeah. No one's ever complained about how we've done it before anyway..."
"In that case... understood."
With Seongil's confirmation, the men gathered in small groups and began to discuss.
Jiseong, in particular, proposed the most creative ideas, making the other participants shake their heads in awe.
Was this what the direct democracy of ancient Greece looked like? It was truly a democratic and beautiful sight to behold.
In a place where women's rights were utterly obliterated, true democracy had blossomed.
What a profound irony.
It was a day when the wise words of the ancient sages—'When the hen crows, the household goes to ruin'—truly hit home.
But that was none of their concern.
The only thing that mattered to them was how to deliver absolute justice to this wicked, wretched feminist cunt.
After a brief discussion, Jiseong and the men reached a conclusion.
"Shall we start by pulling out her fingernails?"
The men began unloading gear from an SUV parked nearby.
Among the items was a heavy toolbox.
"I saw something interesting on the internet. I think pulling them out like this would be perfect."
The speaker was Kim Seongchul, a gamer who had once been one of Hayan's victims.
He had poured a massive fortune into a gacha game, only for it to be ruined by the feminist sabotage spearheaded by Hayan.
"...Are you sure that can even be called 'pulling'?"
"Well, it'll be fun either way, right?"
"True enough."
With the others' agreement, Seongchul set to work.
"Can you tie that bitch to that chair first?"
Seongchul pointed to a chair they had unloaded from the SUV.
It was a metal folding chair made of steel pipes, the kind used in lounges or campsites.
In this freezing weather, it was hardly fit for a human to sit on naked—but it was the perfect throne for a feminist cunt.
"It'th... *hic*... it'th so cold...!"
Hayan's face turned pale as she was forced onto the chair.
The biting midwinter chill of the metal pressed against her buttocks, and especially her plump, exposed vulva. The sensation was utterly unbearable.
"P-Please... a cushion... at least a cushion, pleathe..."
Hayan pleaded, shivering violently, but—
"Whoa, who told you to sneak that feminist finger in, you fucking cunt?"
Jiseong delivered a brutal soccer kick straight to her ankle, leaving her with nothing to do but sob in silence.
"Did you just break her leg?"
The kick had been so powerful that her ankle was bent at a grotesque, unnatural angle.
"Her brain was already retarded from feminism, so what does it matter if her body's crippled too?"
"We just gave her some chiropractic therapy to match her mental state. She should be thanking us."
The men snickered and jeered.
"Aaaah... kaaah..."
Jiseong and his crew continued binding her.
They didn't use anything as humane as rope.
To them, Hayan was just a "feminist cunt"—a grotesque chimera existing somewhere between an object and a beast.
A monster had to be bound as tightly as possible to ensure she couldn't escape.
Thus, they used heavy-duty metal zip ties and thin steel wire to secure her.
The metal zip ties went around her ankles and arms, while the thin wire was wrapped around thicker areas like her waist.
Both materials had razor-sharp edges, slicing long, thin gashes into her flesh wherever they touched, causing blood to trickle down.
And worst of all...
"Aaaaargh?!"
They wrapped the thin wire tightly around her left breast.
The large breast swelled up, taut and swollen like a water balloon.
The wire dug deep into the base of her engorged breast, constricting it.
Blood began to ooze from the circular ring where the wire bit into the base of her chest.
It looked like a delicious ring of red icing drizzled around the base of a round cake.
"Oaaagh... oh-geeegh?!"
"Her brain is completely rotten, but this bitch has some seriously plump tits."
Jiseong marveled, grabbing Hayan's left breast in his hand.
Though she had a decent cup size, her petite frame meant her breasts were dense, firm mounds that fit perfectly and heavily into a single hand.
With the blood flow cut off by the wire, the swollen, water-balloon-like breast bulged and squished between Jiseong's fingers.
"Didn't they say this bitch used to be a fat pig?"
President Park Hyeonjun, who used to run another game studio, asked Jiseong.
Hyeonjun's situation was practically identical to Jiseong's, minus the crushing debt.
"Yeah, she was. Fuck, I should've known she was a feminist the moment I saw her ugly-ass face back then..."
"It's not even just the ugly ones. Even the normal-looking ones are all feminists. These days, women are all feminists to varying degrees, so the only right move is to never hire them at all. In our company's case..."
Hyeonjun furrowed his brow.
"The bitch who ruined our company alongside this cunt actually had a decent face and a boyfriend, but she was still doing that feminist shit."
He let out a deep sigh.
"Sigh... I see... I guess you really can't trust women at all. I've learned a valuable lesson... though it's too late for it to matter now."
"You have to make a comeback."
"At this point?"
"Well... we actually discussed a very lucrative idea earlier..."
"Oh... if it's that..."
Jiseong looked down at Hayan with a sly grin.
"Hey, you know what a Snuff Video is, right?"
"A Smurfs video?..."
"Those are the blue midgets, you retarded bitch. Snuff. Snuff."
Dumbfounded, Jiseong jabbed his index finger hard into Hayan's forehead.
"You see, there are people in this world who love watching girls get torn apart, abused, and destroyed for their own amusement. Those videos are made for them."
Jiseong explained as "kindly" as he possibly could.
"And you're going to be our star actress and make us some serious cash."
He offered her the role with a sweet, mocking smile.
Of course, Hayan had no right to refuse.
"Hieek..."
Hayan squirted out another trickle of urine in sheer terror.
The muscles of her mutilated, prolapsed vagina lost all tension, turning inside out on their own.
Mixed with her urine, the exposed walls of her Uterine Prolapse began to freeze and stick to the icy metal of the pipe chair in the freezing winter air.