End of Respite: The Hunter Awakens
Having shaken off the fatigue from the fierce battle at Masakado's Head Mound with a few days of rest, Jinwoo headed to his next destination as promised.
It was an unimaginable place for the savior who had gained worldwide fame: the Warner Bros. Studio Tour Tokyo – The Making of Harry Potter, located in Tokyo's Toshimaen urban area.
Using his newly acquired wealth, he had pre-booked the most expensive VIP ticket online. Dressed casually to blend in with ordinary tourists, he slipped into the line of excited people waving magic wands and house scarves from the entrance onward.
This wasn't a theme park with rides. It was a massive museum and interactive space showing how the movies were made. Visitors walked through the actual Great Hall set from Hogwarts, admired portraits of actors that seemed ready to spring to life, and marveled at the thousands of intricately crafted glass potion bottles in the potions classroom.
Jinwoo himself felt little excitement, strolling through with detached indifference, as if inspecting well-crafted stage sets. But the Magic Grimoire, disguised in a plain leather cover instead of robes and hanging from his waist, was different.
[...Amazing.]
The Grimoire's voice echoed in Jinwoo's mind with pure admiration. Gone was its usual arrogance—this was genuine awe.
[This primitive race can't wield even a scrap of magic, yet with nothing but imagination and technology, they've depicted the essence of magic so meticulously. Those moving portraits must be mechanical devices combined with screens, and the floating candles are wires and special effects. But... their imitation captures the true essence. Impressive.]
They passed the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom set and entered the Forbidden Forest area. Cold, artificial fog pooled at their feet, and as a massive spider model descended from the ceiling, screams erupted around them.
[Pathetic. If they'd seen a real Necromantula, their hearts would have stopped. Still, the texture of that exoskeleton and the leg movements are quite realistic. The venom sac might even be usable as material.]
Jinwoo smirked and paused at the potions classroom set, gazing down at the bubbling cauldron prop.
'Having fun, huh?'
[Fun... more like academic interest. It's excellent research material on how your species perceives the concept of 'magic' and visualizes it. For instance, that 'moving staircase' set effectively symbolizes the infinite possibilities and changes of high-level magic. Childish toy though it is.]
The Grimoire tried to frame it academically, but Jinwoo could sense the hidden delight in its voice. He stopped at a stand selling sweet, buttery non-alcoholic drinks and ordered two.
'Liar.'
Jinwoo sipped one while holding the other near his waist where the Grimoire hung. It fell silent for a moment.
[...Fine. To be honest, it's pretty fun.]
The Grimoire finally surrendered.
[I've wandered countless dimensions for thousands of years, seen all manner of grotesque and grand things, but this is the first time I've seen a magic-less race love, crave, and beautifully realize magic like this. It's... quite endearing. I acknowledge this facet of your species.]
Jinwoo smiled at the Grimoire's candid reaction. Sipping his drink, he entered the Diagon Alley set lined with countless shops. Children and adults alike wore expressions of pure joy, as if they truly believed in magic.
That was when he spotted a couple. A slender woman with a pale neckline and blue house scarf nestled in her boyfriend's arms, playfully chanting spells with her newly bought wand. He kissed her forehead affectionately, and she laughed like sunshine, burrowing deeper into his embrace.
The sight of their pure, overflowing happiness ignited a cold, sticky flame deep in Jinwoo's core, starting from his lower abdomen.
It was lust. The sensation he'd tasted through Kim Sea—of defiling something pure and happy, breaking it, forcing it to kneel and submit at his feet.
Her joyful laughter rang in his ears like the mating cries of a bitch in heat, stoking his conquest drive.
In his mind, reality faded, replaced by a screen of brutal, lewd delusions.
He approached the couple, roughly seizing the woman's delicate wrist.
Her boyfriend froze in shock, while she looked up at him with wide, rabbit-like eyes filled with fear. Right before the man's eyes, he tore her blouse open, buttons flying.
Exposed white lingerie and fragile shoulders. He devoured her protesting lips—"No, stop!"—and pinned her writhing, resistant body with brute force.
In the fantasy, he yanked off her scarf and stuffed it roughly into her resisting mouth. "Mmph! Mmmph!" Her screams became muffled, humiliated whimpers. He gripped her tear-streaked chin, forcing her to look at her boyfriend, who stood trembling helplessly.
Then, like a beast, he whispered in her ear: 'Look. That's the man who swore to protect you. You're not his anymore. You're mine.'
He sucked hard on her pale, slender nape, leaving an indelible red mark. Trembling in terror, her body still twitched as his hand stroked the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh.
He slipped his hand between her legs, toying with her secret place, already slick with fear and arousal.
And as her resistance slowly eroded into pleasure, as she wept from shame and terror yet arched her hips into his touch, he slammed her against the cold wall, lifted her leg, and thrust in to the hilt in one go.
Despairing tears cascaded from her eyes, and muffled moans of ecstasy escaped past the scarf. In the delusion, he poured his hot seed deep into her womb, branding her eternally as his bitch.
His expression didn't change, but his eyes shifted in an instant to those of a predator spotting hungry prey.
[...Master.]
The Grimoire's voice rang low, immediately sensing the shift in his aura.
[You reek of a rutting male. Tired of this childish spectacle already, I see.]
Jinwoo didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the still-laughing couple.
[Makes sense. You've rested too long. Your vessel fills through conquest and domination. Seeing that innocent lamb must remind you of first meeting Kim Sea. Time to hunt a new bitch, wouldn't you say?]
Jinwoo finally looked away, a faint, cruel smile curling his lips. He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.
"Yeah. About time."
The bizarre, brief respite was over. The ravenous predator was preparing to hunt once more.
While Jinwoo planned a short rest and new hunt in a foreign land, Kim Sea's room in a corner of Korea was becoming her own isolated little prison, cut off from the world.
The first few days, she tried to fight it. Seeing her brother's guilt-ridden face, she pushed herself to return to normal life. She mustered the courage to open the front door and step out toward school. That was the end of it all.
The moment she opened the door, dozens of camera flashes exploded like bombs, blinding her.
A roar of questions poured out, microphones thrust forward, and beyond them, fanatics screaming "Sea Goddess!" reached for her.
Their obsessive, greedy stares felt like hands groping her body through her clothes, inducing visceral disgust.
She screamed and fled back inside, and after that day, the front door became an uncrossable boundary.
If the daytime world was a prison that hounded her like a criminal, the nighttime world was a sweet torture chamber that trained her into a bitch.
Incubus Whisper
The moment she fell asleep, it activated without fail. In her dreams, she always returned to that dark, decadent room.
And there, always waiting, was the "Savior" in his deep wizard hat and white mask. In the dream, he wasn't forceful.
Instead, he whispered tenderly, soothing her anxiety and fear: 'It's okay. I'll purify all your filth.'
Each time his cool yet gentle hands caressed her body, it trembled with the same irresistible hot pleasure from that memory.
Her conscious mind resisted, but her dream body was utterly his. He obsessively teased her most sensitive spots, and lewd moans escaped her lips unbidden.
In the dream, she lost her virginity countless times, the tearing sensation morphing into extreme ecstasy that set every nerve ablaze.
"Hngh...♡ Ahh...♡ Savior... more...♡ inside...♡"
Climaxing in his arms, accepting him fully—that was when she always woke.
Her heart pounded wildly, her body drenched in sweat, her thighs slick and hot with the dream's afterglow.
The problem came after. Even awake, the echoes of that horrific yet sweet sensation lingered.
A burning thirst like a desert and an unbearable itch rose from her deepest core. At first, she ignored it, burying herself under the covers and sobbing through it.
But the itch only worsened, like bugs crawling in her gut, driving her mad.
In the end, she crumbled. One day, amid boredom and despair, browsing the internet, her eyes caught news of the "Crow Sorcerer" incident in Japan.
Helicopter footage showed a black-robed figure appearing like a ghost, confronting the JSDF, resolving everything, and vanishing.
The moment she saw it, goosebumps erupted over her skin. Why? She couldn't remember, but it felt so familiar.
Just watching made the Salvation Stigmata on her lower abdomen faintly heat up, flooding her with the previous night's dream sensations.
The figure's overwhelming power, the arrogant aura mocking the world—it perfectly overlapped with her unconscious image of the "Savior."
The thirst exploded. Unconsciously, she writhed in her chair. She locked the door, trembling hands replaying the video on loop. Her other hand slipped into her secretly soaked pussy.
"Hngh...!"
The moan from her lips wasn't hers. It was the sound of the bitch tamed by pleasure from her nightly dreams.
Staring at him moving like a ghost on screen, she pleasured herself. His strength, his arrogance, his domination of the world—she imagined herself ravaged at his feet.
"Ah... ahh!♡ Savior...♡ watching you...♡ you're so cool...♡ hnggh!♡"
Finally, her body arched like a bow in orgasmic spasms. But it wasn't release. It only quenched the thirst briefly, leaving deeper emptiness and self-loathing.
Panting in the afterglow, she stared at her hand, sticky with semen-like fluids. Disgusting.
She staggered to the bathroom, turning on cold water and collapsing under the shower to wash away the filth.
The cold streams cooled her heated body, but they became another trigger.
Water trickling down her thighs, grazing her sensitized spot. That alone reignited the arousal.
"Ah... no... stop..."
She shook her head in denial, but her body was beyond control. Her hand drifted back between her legs. Leaning against the cold tiles, she muffled her moans with the rushing water, pleasuring herself again—deeper, more desperately. As if searching inside for his traces, his seed.
Only after climaxing repeatedly did she curl up exhausted under the shower. The hot water had gone cold, her body shivering from chill and depletion. With vacant eyes, she watched the water drain away, carrying her traces with it.
From that day, her life was utterly destroyed. Her room was no longer a place of rest. Days locked away, scouring the internet for his traces while masturbating; nights surrendering to him in dreams. An endless loop. Her room and bathroom had become her self-made prison of lewd solitude.
The air in that prison was heavy and stale. With windows shut for days, the musty lack of ventilation mixed with the fishy-sweet scent of her sweat and fluids hung thickly. The only light was the cold glow of the computer monitor; the only sounds her ragged breaths, the frantic scroll of the mouse wheel hunting his traces, and her stifled moans buried in the pillow.