Discipline Begins (3)
"Ah, fuck, my ankle's gonna snap."
In stark contrast to the cheerful click of the door lock disengaging, a groan escaped Park Min-jeong's lips.
The moment the front door shut, she kicked off her 7cm stiletto heels. Or rather, she practically ripped them off her feet and flung them away.
Her heels were swollen bright red, courtesy of her calf muscles screaming after a full day of abuse on those sky-high heels.
"Ugh... work is fucking brutal...."
Min-jeong leaned her head against the front door and closed her eyes for a moment.
Normally, this was the happiest part of her day. After getting home from work. Showering, cracking open a cold beer, sprawling out on the fluffy bed, and zoning out.
But not today. Not yesterday, either....
How could she feel good when her breath caught in her throat the instant the door closed?
Hiss—
Hot water pounded her scalp, and only then did her choked breathing ease a little. The bathroom filled with white steam in seconds.
She hadn't done any special skincare, but her naked reflection in the mirror was still firm and smooth.
Thanks to the magical girl's privilege of body correction.
But.
Min-jeong thunked her forehead against the shower wall. Her body was fine, but inside, she was rotting away. Habitually, her right index and middle fingers rose to her lips.
"Cigarette...."
Filling her lungs deep with acrid smoke and exhaling with a whoosh would send this shitty stress flying away.
But her brows furrowed immediately. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn.
Why the hell was this happening?
"Damn it, why? It's my one fucking joy."
A magical girl's body was tough. Wounds healed fast, skin didn't age. But that was just the hardware. The software—her mental state—was no different from a regular person's.
No, if anything, it rotted and festered even easier.
So, Park Min-jeong's condition, starved of stress relief for days, was the worst it'd been in years.
Min-jeong roughly toweled her damp hair and stepped out of the bathroom.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and chugged it down.
Gulp, gulp—
Her thirst was quenched, but something was still missing....
Her brain craved stimulation. Dopamine. A intense hit.
Normally, she'd be chain-smoking right now, burying herself in the haze. But that road was blocked.
So, what was left....
"......"
Her gaze drifted to the tablet PC on her bedside table.
'Yeah, it's been a while. Might as well watch that.'
She flicked on incognito mode with practiced ease and loaded her bookmarked site.
Thumbnails scrolled into view.
[Pure Love/Sweet]
This was her usual taste. Stuff where they cherished each other, caressed gently, whispered sweet nothings.
Habitually, she tapped the one with the most views. Skipping ahead, a handsome male actor and a pure-looking female actress tumbled on the bed.
[Mwah, smooch... I love you... Yeah, me too...]
Soft kisses. Romantic lighting. Perfect.
So why?
She hit pause before a minute was up.
"This is so fucking cringey, seriously."
Irritation surged. Protect her ass. In reality, they'd scream and run from a single magical beast.
It felt fake. The gentle touches, the sweet voices—all like acting, making her want to puke.
She irritably skipped to another video.
But it was the same. Foreplay was boring, sex was bland. No stimulation at all.
If anything, just more annoyance. She almost hurled the tablet but stopped herself.
'Am I actually losing it?'
Her tastes changed? Or had she gone so long without a man her brain fried?
She pondered, then reopened the category list.
Her finger scrolled down.
A genre she'd never glance at before—hell, one she despised.
[Hardcore/Force]
"......"
Her eyes snagged on a provocative title: [College Girl Sold Off for Debt].
She swallowed hard. Normally, she'd curse, "Perverted fucks, disgusting." Treating women like animals, ignoring their dignity, trampling them. She should hate it.
So why.
Her finger hovered over the thumbnail like mesmerized. Her heart started thumping oddly. Thud, thud.
"I'm crazy, Park Min-jeong. Just... curiosity. Yeah, too much sugar, need something salty."
Excusing herself, she tapped the thumbnail with trembling fingers.
Different from the start. Foreplay? No such thing. The man roughly shoved the door open. Grabbed her hair and slammed her onto the bed.
[Get over here.] [Agh! I, I did wrong...!] [Shut up. No money? Pay with your body. Do as I say.]
Rip! Tear! Clothes shredded, flesh slapping sounds echoed raw. Smack, smack.
Insulting words. Coercive acts.
'Ah....'
Min-jeong's pupils shook. She should feel disgusted. Upset. But the moment the woman on screen had her legs forced apart, submitting to the man's rough violence.
Her heart raced wildly. Her lower belly clenched heavily.
"Hngh... ugh...."
Each harsh word made her body tremble.
[Hate it? Then get out.] [Hahk, ah, no... I did wrong....]
"Haa...."
Hot breath burst from Min-jeong's lips. Her hand slipped smoothly into her pajama pants.
Soaked. Flooded.
"Crazy... I'm really... ngh...."
She rubbed her clit with her fingers. Every time the man on screen slapped the woman's cheek and spat insults, her thighs quivered.
[Cheap slut. Like getting raped?] [Yes... I like it... ahh!]
"Haa... ugh...!"
Min-jeong bit her lip. Self-loathing hit. She hated reacting to this trashy vid. But she couldn't stop her fingers.
Harder. Rougher. She wanted to be trampled like that woman, brain blanked. The impulse dominated her mind.
Her fingers sped up. She crossed her legs, squeezing out pleasure.
The man on screen yanked the woman's hair back.
"Aaaah! Ngh! Haa...!"
Climax.
She gripped the bedsheet tight. Strength drained from her body, lazy pleasure washed over.
"Haa... haa... haa...."
The video kept playing, but she couldn't hear it anymore. She stared blankly at the ceiling.
A stickier, uglier self-loathing than before.
Min-jeong turned off the tablet screen with trembling hands. Her flushed face reflected in the black glass, eyes glazed like she was high.
She pulled the blanket over her head.
"Feels... dirty."
But her hand still lingered over her damp underwear, curled like a coin, as if demanding more.
These past few days, I'd been walking on clouds.
Obviously.
After all, I'd become the mage I'd dreamed of since childhood!
'Ahh, so this is mana....'
Sure, the process was a bit indecent, and digesting the poison qi made my stomach ache, but good results make everything fine, right?
I opened a news channel on my smartphone. The screen exploded with flashy effects.
"Waaaah—! Ruby-chan! Look over here!" "She's our hero!"
The camera zoomed in on Ruby's confident pose like it was waiting. Pink hair fluttering, confident smile, tight costume hugging her curves. Perfect showmanship.
"...Well, becoming a mage doesn't mean I get that glamorous life."
Let me clarify: a slight status change doesn't put me shoulder-to-shoulder with Ruby on TV. If I blasted mana there, I'd get treated like a pathetic villain and tased by the police squad.
Simple reason.
Magic has ranks, and magical girls have ranks.
First off.
Sure, non-combat magical girl office workers count as magical girls in the broad sense. But that's just theory—public perception doesn't see it that way.
Some male mages, supporters, and non-combat female magical girls are all F to D-grade.
Only those on the front lines slaying magical beasts get C to SS ranks and the media's "magical girl" title.
So I'm still caste system underclass. Naturally, the upper class is all women. The media-hyped magical girls are girls, after all.
Why? Simple enough even a high school dropout meathead could explain.
"'Cause those angel cucks are all pussy-whipped."
Angels. Higher beings said to grant miracles to pure-hearted girls. Of course, if they really granted miracles, no weird impurities like corruption desire would crop up... Anyway, only their chosen get the specs to crush beasts.
"Still, this ain't bad."
My body's healthier, and more importantly—
'As a guy, pretty satisfying.'
I glanced down at my pants. The hefty presence was reassuring. Just this boosted my quality of life sky-high.
Then.
Ring ring ring—
A cheery alert shattered the peace.
The name on screen: Manager K. Mid-level exec at villain org Nebula, my direct boss and rice bowl holder.
'More work?'
Grumbling, I sat up straight reflexively.
Mage or not, rent's paid with money, not magic.
"Oh yeah."
The USB Han Seo-yul hacked for me. Data sorted and uploaded already. Forgot to reply.
'What a scatterbrain.'
I fired back quick.
"Yes!"
Nothing heals like money. High security meant fat hazard pay.
That covers rent, good eats, gear upgrades....
But the next message wiped my grin.
"...Huh?"
"Team leader? K bro?"
I hammered keys frantically, but the chat was closed.
Ha.
Freelancer woes. Grinding all-nighters when work's there, thumb-twiddling at the ceiling when not. Shitty cycle.
I flopped onto the bed.
"What's a mage matter? Still a temp."
Checked my balance mentally. Even with tomorrow's pay, a month was tight.
Plus, healthier body doubled food costs. Turning around made me hungry—metabolism up.
"Can't just find cash out of nowhere."
I fiddled with my phone habitually. Naturally tapped the icon.
Screen glows blue, map unfolds. Dots floating nearby—magical girls' positions.
"Can I make money with this?"
Simply put, this app's for "therapy." Care for magical girls' mental states, relieve their corruption desire. I level up and get rewards (poison qi).
So.
"Find rich magical girls, therapize 'em, charge fees."
Obviously, straight-up "I'll cure your corruption desire" gets cops or psych ward. Unless like Seo-yul noona—already shady or desperate....
'Might snag another sex addict... sweet.'
Ahem. No expectations.
If noona-types were common, I'd have read that doujin once.
That's when.
Noise from the hallway.
Normally ignorable. This officetel's soundproofing sucks—hear sneezes next door.
But this felt different.
"Miss, hear me out?" "S-sorry. I'll be careful...." "It's not about careful. Why at 2 AM yesterday, day before?"
A calm voice. And a familiar, shrinking one.
Park Min-jeong's voice.