Stage of Humiliation: Part 1
How much time has passed since Seoyeon sent the text? Nearly a few hours drag by with no reply. She can't do anything during that time but stare at her phone. One part of her wishes she'd simply be ignored; another desperately hopes for a response, some clue to escape this hellish situation. The two thoughts battle wildly in her mind.
Around midday, when the sun hangs high, her phone finally buzzes briefly. It's from Director Park.
The reply is curt and businesslike. No unnecessary words, no superfluous greetings.
All afternoon, Seoyeon paces in front of her closet. What should she wear? Nothing too flashy—it wouldn't suit a plea for sympathy. But nothing too shabby either. They still remember Ciel; she can't shatter their illusions completely. After agonizing, she chooses a black silk dress that subtly hugs her curves. Not ostentatious, but the luxurious fabric and silhouette accentuate her beauty most effectively.
She applies almost no makeup. Her pale face and red lips are enough. Standing before the mirror, she thinks: This is like armor for a soldier heading into battle.
Around 6 p.m., a call comes from Cheolsu, who's been at the office.
"Honey, I'm off work now. Still near the office... should I pick up some dinner?"
Seoyeon's heart sinks, but she forces a bright voice. "Oh, honey, sorry. I forgot to mention—I've got a meetup with a friend tonight."
"Suddenly? First time you're meeting a friend for dinner, isn't it?"
Cheolsu's question is natural. Seoyeon doesn't work since marriage, so her plans with acquaintances are usually daytime; evenings are for her husband after he gets home.
Seoyeon startles as if caught off-guard but regains composure. "Uh...? Oh, this friend works too, so only after work... I've been putting it off, and I felt too bad to delay again..."
"Got it. I've got some work left anyway, so I'll stay late at the office. Might be really late—take your time and have fun."
"Yeah..."
Seoyeon answers weakly. She hangs up and does a final check in the mirror. Her husband's trusting voice echoes in her ears, aching her chest, but she grits her teeth. With a grim resolve to persuade them no matter what, she steps out the front door.
The taxi pulls up at Biwon's entrance. Seoyeon gazes briefly at the elegant tiled roof and soft lighting visible through the window. In the heart of flashy Gangnam, it's a serene space where time seems frozen—like a kingdom isolated from the mortal world.
She takes one last deep breath and steps out.
A staff member in neat hanbok greets her at the luxurious entrance. Following the winding corridor, Seoyeon hears nothing. Each perfectly soundproofed room hides conversations, deals—who knows what. It feels like walking into the mouth of the abyss.
The staff stops before a firmly shut sliding door. Leaning against the corridor wall is Director Park. As if expecting her, he approaches with a lecherous smile.
"Aigoo, sister-in-law. Glad you made it."
He scans her outfit top to bottom, nodding in satisfaction. Then, leaning close to her ear in a low whisper no one else can hear: "Relax your face before we go in... Don't forget what this gathering is. You're here to beg in your husband's place. Got it?"
He lightly pushes her back and opens the sliding door himself. Seoyeon grits her teeth and enters.
Thick cigar smoke, expensive whiskey scent, and the men's repulsive laughter engulf her. Inside sit a man who looks like the Chairman and two unfamiliar middle-aged executives. They're already thoroughly drunk.
"Aigoo, Chairman, Executive Director Choi! We have a special guest. This is the wife of Manager Kim Cheolsu—I mentioned her."
At Director Park's introduction, every eye in the room locks onto her. Appraising, evaluating, leering gazes.
Park naturally wraps an arm around her waist, leading her to the seat beside the Chairman. The feel of his hand gripping her waist sends chills down her spine, but she keeps a faint smile on her face.
"Come, sister-in-law. Sit here. This is our group Chairman, that's Executive Director Choi, and this is Executive Director Lee."
As soon as Seoyeon is wedged between the Chairman and Choi, glasses are filled. As the drinks flow, the men's touches grow bolder. The Chairman, pretending to chat, slips a hand under the table to squeeze her thigh. Choi leans in to pour, rubbing his forearm subtly against her breasts.
Seoyeon feels every nerve on edge but must pretend ignorance, maintaining her smile. Her husband's face flashes in her mind. She can't ruin everything here.
How much time passes? Deeming the mood ripe, Director Park claps.
"Sister-in-law! Everyone here was a fan from your idol days—any chance of some fan service?"
"Pardon? W-what...?"
"Don't they sing and dance at fan meetings? Pretend it's one—give it a go?"
Seoyeon sits frozen, icy. Park ignores her, turning on the room's large screen and audio system. He searches YouTube deftly and hands her the remote.
"Well, sister-in-law? Pick a song. Your choice."
Seoyeon hesitates, then selects her most elegant ballad—choreography subdued and graceful.
As the gentle intro flows, she rises slowly, turning her back to the men, facing the screen. This is her minimal resistance. Just as she begins soft movements to match...
"Hold on, this is fine, but got anything else?"
Park cuts the music.
"Not this— that sexy one. You know, the hip-shaking one!"
Choi and Lee burst into guffaws at his crude words. Park searches YouTube again, queuing her most provocative dance track, infamous for its choreography. The teasing beat pounds through the room like a heartbeat.
"There, sister-in-law! This song, this one! What're you waiting for? The Chairman's waiting."
Park urges with a grin. Seoyeon can't turn. She feels the lecherous stares from behind. Overwhelming shame she's never known makes her vision blur. She grits her teeth—metallic blood tastes on her inner lip.
But slowly, so slowly, she begins moving to the music. Her black silk dress reacts like it's alive. Raising her arms, the thin fabric reveals her voluptuous breasts and narrow waist perfectly.
From the first move, the men's eyes gleam.
The choreography's highlight: bend deep, touch the floor. As she leans, the V-neck dips with gravity, exposing the deep white cleavage cradled in her bra. Room lights pour over her pale skin.
Seoyeon feels their gazes piercing her breasts but can't stop. Like a doll feeling nothing, she flows to the next.
Snapping her waist up, sweat-damp silk clings to her back. Then the signature move: shaking her hips, emphasizing her ass.
Turning her back, she shakes—thin silk wrinkles explicitly over her massive hips. Stretched taut, the faint outline of her black lace panties shows through.
The men swallow dryly, hands drifting under the table to their crotches.
The music crests. Final pose: kneel, arch back in a wave. Kneeling hikes the hem, baring her thighs. In that instant arching back, the side slit flashes the lace panty edge—clear, then gone.
The men gasp low, not missing it.
