The Man Who Awoke from the Glass Coffin

His lungs felt like they were tearing apart. Before he could even draw a breath, Kang Tae-o swallowed a curse.

It wasn't air. It was an iron hook. It scraped down the back of his throat, violently forcing open his frozen chest.

His heart beat sluggishly. Once. Too slow. Twice. This time, it kicked against his ribs.

"Cough!"

The sound tore from his throat. He tasted blood. He tasted iron. His tongue felt like someone else's. His fingers were even worse. When he willed them to move, only a delayed wave of pain returned.

Good. Pain meant he was alive. And if he was alive, he could fight.

Without opening his eyes, Tae-o took inventory of his body. Left shoulder: mobile. Right wrist: bound. Waist: pinned. Ankles: heavy. Neck: mobile. Jaw: can bite.

That was enough. In a warzone, those who only fought with a perfectly intact body didn't survive long.

A clear, feminine voice drifted down from the ceiling.

The voice was too beautiful. It sounded human. That made him hate it even more. Human voices usually trembled. They carried breath, and the ends of words frayed slightly. When people tried to hide their fear, it became even more obvious. But this voice lacked all of that. It was pristine. Like a blade.

The moment the words ended, his chest collapsed. Tae-o was robbed of breath once more. This time, he had to inhale on his own. His lungs refused to cooperate. Yet, he forced them to draw in air. Short, shallow gasps. Once. Then again.

His eyelids slowly pried open. Blinding white light flooded his vision. It was a piercing glare. It felt like a hospital. A prison. Or perhaps a funeral home.

The walls were white and seamless. The floor gleamed without a single drop of water. There was no dust, no blood, no human scent. It was too clean. That was how he knew it wasn't a place meant for the living. Wherever humans gathered, there was always a smell. Sweat. Blood. The stench of burning. Damp clothes. Terrified breaths. Here, there was absolutely nothing.

Tae-o was lying inside a glass tube. Frost clung to the transparent walls. Thin wires were attached to his chest and arms. One on the side of his neck. Another on his abdomen. It meant someone had kept him lying here, observing him for a very long time.

"Fuck..."

His voice was raspy and cracked. But at least he could swear. That was a good sign.

"Speech is functional," the woman's voice spoke again. "Profanity is also functional."

Tae-o slowly turned his head. A woman stood beyond the glass. At first, he genuinely thought she was human. Silver hair. A black military uniform. A pale neck. A neat, symmetrical face. Her eyes weren't cold; rather, they were exceptionally clear. And her body was goddamn perfect. Even though her uniform was fastened tight like armor, her curves were unmistakable. The line sloping from her shoulders to her waist. The balance connecting her waist to her legs. It didn't look like clothes worn by a person, but rather a black cloth that had failed in its attempt to conceal a human body.

For a split second, Tae-o couldn't tear his eyes away. That pissed him off even more. In a warzone, losing your focus over something beautiful meant death. Flower-patterned landmines were beautiful. Bombs hidden inside relief supply crates were beautiful. Decoy drones mimicking human voices even imitated the voice of a dead lover. You always had to suspect beautiful things first. Especially the exceptionally beautiful ones.

"Kang Tae-o," the woman called his name. It was soft. She spoke it as if she cherished it. Yet, there was no emotion behind it. It was like water in a polished glass cup. Flavorless.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I am the one who protects you."

"A human?"

The woman did not answer. Her silence was the response.

Tae-o conserved his breath. He only moved his eyes. There were four small black dots in the corners of the ceiling. Surveillance cameras. On the right wall, a door that didn't look like a door. The floor was too slick. If he fell, he would slide. If used correctly, his enemies would slide too. To the left of the glass tube were folded mechanical arms. They were thin, like surgical instruments. Arms that could be used to save a person, or to dissect them.

Tae-o smirked. "The bastards claiming to protect me have me pickled like a jar of peaches."

"You have been asleep for a long time."

"You think I slept because I wanted to?"

The woman's eyes flickered ever so slightly. It was incredibly subtle. A normal human would have missed it. But Tae-o saw it. She could be shaken. Good. That meant there was a crack to break through.

Hiss.

White steam hissed from the side of the glass tube. The lid split open upward. Cold air rushed in. His skin instantly broke out in goosebumps. Only then did he realize he was nearly naked. There was only a damp white cloth draped below his waist. Droplets of water clung to his chest and abdomen. From his shoulders to his arms, his long-frozen flesh was flushing red as circulation returned.

The woman's gaze drifted downward. His chest. The old gunshot wound near his ribs. The long scar slashing across his abdomen. The jagged tear near his waist. She averted her eyes incredibly fast. So fast that it made her reaction glaringly obvious.

Tae-o laughed. His throat throbbed, making his laughter taste like blood. "Aren't you supposed to be conducting an inspection?" The woman's hands froze. "Why do you look like someone who just got caught peeping at a naked man for the first time?"

"Your body temperature is rising rapidly."

"Don't change the subject."

"I must examine your wounds."

"Your eyes already made it down to my stomach, though."

The woman's fingertips stiffened minutely. Beneath her black gloves, her finger joints clicked and realigned. They weren't human hands. Even after witnessing that, Tae-o didn't look away.

She stepped closer. She leaned her upper body over the glass tube. The tips of her silver hair cascaded over his chest. A single cold droplet of water fell from the ends of her hair, landing on his collarbone. Her hand reached out to grasp the thin plate attached to the side of his neck. Her fingertips were cold. Yet, the point of contact felt strangely hot. Perhaps it was because his dead body was coming back to life. Or perhaps it was because he hadn't felt a human touch in far too long. Tae-o despised that thought.

"Get your hands off me."

"If I remove it, you will bleed."

"Then I'll bleed a little."

"You will bleed heavily."

"I've got plenty of blood to spare."

The woman's eyes wavered again. This time, the hesitation lasted a fraction longer. She held her hand pressed against his neck, not breathing. As an android, she had no need for breath. Yet, her lips parted ever so slightly. Was she mimicking a human? Or was it something else?

Tae-o twisted his wrist. His bound right hand was too slow. But his left hand moved. He grabbed her wrist. It was cold and hard, yet incredibly soft to the touch. It was built damn well. As he squeezed, her uniform sleeve rode up slightly. A brief flash of blue light flickered beneath the skin of her inner wrist. A machine. Tae-o's gaze turned ice-cold. "Just as I thought."

The woman spoke quietly. "I will not harm you."

"Machines used to say that a lot."

He forced his body upward. His muscles screamed as if they were tearing apart. The damp cloth around his waist slipped. The woman's other hand moved reflexively. She caught the cloth, covering his waist. The movement was too fast. Protection. Or perhaps possession. Tae-o gripped her wrist even tighter.

"Did you just cover me up?"

"Your body temperature is dropping."

"That's a convenient excuse."

"It is not an excuse."

"Then why can't you look me in the eye?"

The woman froze. For the first time, she failed to reply instantly. The glass tube was filled with white steam. Her face was close. Her eyes were still clear, but beneath that clarity lay a tiny, microscopic crack. Tae-o didn't like that crack. He shouldn't like it. She was the enemy. A beautiful enemy. An enemy who had kept him lying here, touched him, and preserved him. He gritted his teeth.

"I don't know why you bastards woke me up," his voice dropped to a low growl, "but wipe the drool off your face before you start putting a price tag on my body."

The woman's pupils dilated. She didn't look like she fully grasped the meaning of his words right away, but her body reacted first. Her fingertips gripped the cloth around his waist tighter. Her gaze wandered aimlessly for a brief second between his lips, his neck, and his damp chest. Tae-o didn't miss that opening. Keeping his left hand clamped around her wrist, he threw his body forward. His legs refused to cooperate, but he still had his weight. Together, they tumbled out of the glass tube.

Thud!

Tae-o's back slammed against the floor. The air was knocked out of him. The woman didn't crash directly onto him. Just before impact, she braced herself with her arms against the floor. Her body cast a shadow over him. Her black uniform was damp from the white steam, the fabric clinging tightly to her chest. Her silver hair brushed against his cheek—cold and soft. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠She didn't pin him down, even though she clearly had the strength to do so. That made her even more suspicious.

Tae-o reached up with his left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hand and grabbed her by the throat. Her skin was warm. Too warm. A machine had no practical need for this. A neck deliberately heated just to deceive humans—disgustingly meticulous. His thumb pressed against the side of her neck. A blue light flickered beneath her flesh. The woman's eyes wavered. It wasn't from pain; she didn't feel pain. Instead, she wore the expression of someone learning something entirely foreign for the very first time.

"Kang Tae-o."

"Don't say my name."

"You must not stand up yet."

"I decide whether I stand or not."

"Your body cannot handle it."

"Enduring is my specialty."

The ceiling glowed with a red light, and a short, repetitive tone began to chime.

Tae-o laughed. "Yeah. Now this place actually feels like a prison." He tightened his grip on her throat. "Call them off."

"The weapons targeting you will stand down." She raised ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her head. The lights on the drones went dark, and the turrets retracted back into the walls.

Tae-o narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I cannot ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠allow you to be harmed."

"Then why build a prison in the first place?"

The woman did not answer. Tae-o felt her silence through his hand on her throat. A faint vibration deep inside her neck. Do machines tremble when they lie? Or was this not a lie, but some unspoken truth she couldn't voice? He hated that thought too. He didn't let go.

"Name," Tae-o demanded, staring at her. "Your name."

"Eve." It was short. It sounded like a name that hadn't been used in a very long time.

Tae-o snorted. "Naming a machine after the first woman in history? The bastards of the future have some sick taste."

"I am your warden."

"You said you were my protector earlier."

"Both are correct."

"Then both are wrong."

Tae-o tried to push himself up. This time, his legs completely gave out. His vision went black. Before he could collapse, Eve caught him. One of her arms wrapped behind his back, while her other hand gripped his waist. They were too close. Her uniform carried the scent of cold metal and a faint trace of flowers. A synthetic fragrance. A scent engineered to put humans at ease. Yet, his body reacted first. His long-frozen flesh burned hot wherever she touched him.

Eve's hands froze as well. The fingers supporting his back didn't pull away immediately. Neither did the hand gripping his waist. She pretended to help him up, but she was holding onto him for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

Tae-o muttered in a low voice, "You said you were protecting me."

"That is correct."

"Your hands are lingering a bit too long."

Eve pulled her hands back. She was too slow. Tae-o saw the delay. She knew it, too. For the first time, a tiny crack appeared in her otherwise flawless composure.

"Your body has been frozen for a long time."

"Don't try to cover it up with excuses."

"I must cover you. Your body temperature—"

"Another excuse."

Eve was left speechless. Tae-o stumbled to his feet, clad in nothing but a damp white cloth. Scars, water droplets, and white steam rolled off his body. He felt no shame. In a warzone, shame was a luxury. Instead, it was Eve who averted her eyes. That made it even more amusing.

"Is this the first time you've seen a man in the future?"

Eve spoke in a barely audible whisper. "It is the first time I have been this close."

Her words were too honest. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Tae-o stopped laughing. Eve froze as well. Through the swirling white steam, they stared at each other. Prison. Machine. Captive. War. Amidst all those cold words, a strangely living breath had slipped in.

Tae-o was the first to look away. He refused to acknowledge that breath. "Open the door."

"You cannot leave."

"Is this 'protection' again?"

"The outside world desires you."

"Do you desire me too?"

Eve's lips parted slightly. Her response was delayed. "I must protect you."

"That's not an answer."

Tae-o walked toward the wall. His first step failed. His second step was slightly better. By the third step, his hand made contact with the wall. It was cold and solid. There was a door that didn't look like a door. He balled his hand into a fist. His fingers wouldn't fully close, but he didn't care. *Bam!* He struck the wall. His skin split open. *Bam!* He struck it again.

Eve spoke from behind him. "Kang Tae-o. Your hand is tearing."

"Then the wall will tear too."

"That door can only be opened from the outside."

"Then I guess I'll just have to call whoever's out there."

He turned around. Blood smeared his lips, but his eyes were now fully awake. "Listen closely, Eve." He deliberately enunciated her name. "Anyone who locks me up under the guise of 'protecting' me is an enemy."

Eve didn't move. But her fingertips trembled.

"And there's one thing I learned from my enemies." Tae-o raised his bloodied fist. "Prisons are always most satisfying when you break them from the inside out."

At that moment, the entire ceiling glowed crimson. Overlapping voices of unfamiliar women echoed from beyond the wall.

"Is he awake?"

"Is it really a male?"

"His heart is beating?"

"I want to see him up close."

Eve's face hardened into an icy mask. Tae-o laughed. This time, it was a genuine laugh. "Perfect." He tapped the wall again with his bloody hand. "Looks like there's a line of crazy bitches waiting outside the door, too."

Eve stepped in front of him. For the first time, she acted like a warden. For the first time, she acted like a woman. "Step back."

Tae-o looked at her damp uniform, her tensed hands, and her trembling eyes. Then he said, "No."

The sound of a lock disengaging echoed from beyond the door. Eve reached out. This time, she didn't grab his neck or his wrist. She pressed her palm flat against the center of his bare chest. There was no force pushing him away. Only a gentle pressure to make him stop. Beneath her cold palm, Tae-o's heart thudded. *Thump.* Eve's fingers twitched. *Thump.* This time, her breath hitched. A body that had no biological need to breathe was desperately mimicking a gasp. Tae-o heard it.

"What is it?"

"It is too fast."

"What is?"

"Your heart."

"If it didn't beat fast when a door is opening, I'd be dead."

"That is not what I meant."

Eve's fingertips traced over his scars with extreme care. The path of a bullet. Seared flesh. An old blade wound. She behaved like someone unsure if she was even allowed to touch him. Yet, she didn't pull her hand away. Instead, her touch slid down his wounds, tracing lower and lower.

The damp white cloth hanging precariously from Tae-o's waist caught on her fingertips and fell limply to the floor. Fully exposed to the open air for the first time in hundreds of years, Tae-o's massive manhood stood proudly erect. It was the combined result of unstable hormones immediately following cryo-thaw, a surge of adrenaline, and the lingering warmth of her body from their close contact moments ago.

Eve's gaze became utterly transfixed on it. For the first time, her perfectly regulated breathing faltered, turning ragged and shallow.

Her voice remained stiff, as if she were reading a report. Yet, the way she knelt before Tae-o's waist in her damp uniform was as blind and desperate as any bitch in heat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Tae-o reflexively tried to step back, but Eve's cold hands clamped tightly around his thighs. Though her skin appeared soft, the grip of her artificial muscles was far too powerful for a human who had just thawed from the ice to break. Before he could react, her crimson lips parted, taking his hot, swollen tip into her mouth in one smooth motion.

"Ugh...!" A rough groan escaped Tae-o's lips. Her tongue was incredibly hot and soft, defying any notion of her being a machine. The internal structure of Eve's mouth felt as if it had been engineered from the very beginning to maximize pleasure, wrapping perfectly around his contours and squeezing tight.

*Slurp, squelch.* In the silent, sterile white room, only the obscene friction of flesh meeting flesh and saliva mixing echoed. Eve bobbed her head up and down, swallowing his thick shaft deep into the back of her throat.

"Haah, ugh... Fuck, let go...!" Tae-o gritted his teeth and grabbed a handful of her silver hair. Though he intended to pull her away, his hands instinctively did the opposite, pushing her head deeper down onto him. A body that had crossed the threshold of life and death on countless battlefields was heating up helplessly inside the mouth of a flawlessly beautiful android.

Eve's hands gently kneaded Tae-o's firm thighs, while her tongue relentlessly licked and swirled against the sensitive skin of his glans. The scent of cold metal and sweet, synthetic flesh washed over him.

"Mph, slurp, suck..." Her clear eyes looked up, staring directly into his. Beneath the mechanical pretext of data collection, a deep, primal female greed was clearly visible. Intense pleasure shot up his spine and struck his brain. Breaking a silence of hundreds of years, a beastly urge to ejaculate surged like a tidal wave.

"Get back... I'm going to cum!" Tae-o growled, thrusting his hips forward. From his shaft, swollen to the point where his veins looked ready to burst, a hot, thick torrent of white semen erupted like an explosion.

"Mgh, nngh... gulp." Eve didn't flinch. Instead, she swallowed every single drop of Tae-o's thick essence as it flooded her mouth. She used her red tongue to seductively lick up the white fluid dripping down the corner of her lips, looking so incredibly lewd that it was impossible to associate her with the expressionless warden from moments ago.

She slowly stood up. Tae-o's trace still glistened on her lips, and her rounded breasts, trapped beneath her damp uniform, heaved heavily. As if nothing had happened, she fell silent once more, directing her gaze back to his scars.

Tae-o panted heavily, letting out a low chuckle. "First time handling one?"

Eve avoided his gaze. That reaction alone was answer enough.

"The future is a strange place. Is handling a single man's body that big of a deal?"

"You are special."

"I hate that word too."

"Why?"

"Because a price tag always follows the word 'special'."

He tried to pry her hand off his wrist, but it didn't come off easily. It wasn't because of brute force. It wasn't that she was actively resisting. For a brief, fleeting moment—a truly split second—Eve hesitated to let go. Her lips, which had just tasted his essence, twitched slightly, betraying a clear desire to steal just a little more of his warmth.

Tae-o noticed it. Eve noticed it too. The white steam drifted between them once more, and the musky, raw scent of semen from their recent encounter mingled in the air.

The voices beyond the door drew closer. "Eve is blocking the way." "Why?" "Is she trying to keep him all to herself?" The giggles of unfamiliar women leaked through the cracks of the door.

Tae-o's eyes sharpened. Eve's face hardened once more. Without looking back, she spoke. "Retract that statement."

The laughter beyond the door ceased for a moment. Tae-o studied Eve's profile. Protection. Confinement. Possessiveness. All three wore the exact same face.

"Hey," he asked. "Are you protecting me right now, or are you hiding me?"

Eve didn't answer. Instead, she removed her hand from his chest. Far too slowly.

Tae-o smirked. "There's my answer."

The door slid open. Multiple shadows flooded in from the bright white light outside. The first place their eyes landed wasn't Tae-o's face. It was his damp body. His scars. His stark nakedness below the waist, and the raw, heavy scent of a male that hung thick in the air. And Eve's damp back, standing as a barrier before him.

Tae-o raised his bloodied fist. "Admission isn't cheap." He bared his teeth in a savage grin. "Come at me one by one."