An Almost Too Attractive Specimen

"Ah, I'm still pissed."

I muttered it under my breath the moment I got home. The landlady must have already gone back — there wasn't a hint of anyone lingering outside the front door. Which was exactly why I could mutter like that.

I lifted one hand and ran it down my other arm. Goosebumps still stippled the skin, a prickly, uneven texture under my fingers.

So this was the dark underside of this other world that the original Lee Se-won had been living with...

For a moment, I felt a flicker of sympathy for the guy. Then I steeled myself again.

"I really need to start making money now."

But how?

The question surfaced on its own. It didn't linger long, though. Honestly, the answer had already been decided.

I had no interest in grinding day labor. And hunting down a part-time job would eat up far too much time. It didn't suit me anyway — and besides, I already had something I was good at.

I was an artist.

The only real talent I had was being decent at drawing, so if I was going to find a way out, this was the direction to look.

So I decided to beg. I'd already done the advertising yesterday, so yeah — time to start begging.

Don't get me wrong. This wasn't promotion. This was begging.

There was a world of difference between the two.

Probably.

Anyway, I logged straight into Tartalos and stepped into the Porn Prison. By now it was a place I'd grown thoroughly familiar with. Gay porn seethed across every corner of the board, but as long as I didn't actually touch any of it, there was no reason to get myself in trouble.

More than anything, the place was surprisingly entertaining. Strip away the fact that NSFW images got posted and it was just a regular community. With so many different people packed into one space, the sheer volume of bizarre nonsense that came pouring out was impressive, and reading through that garbage I'd catch myself snorting before I even realized it.

In other words, it was a place that smelled like people.

That people-smell was pretty rank, sure, but I liked that I could dump whatever garbage I wanted without worrying about it. So I was pretty active here. Even without talking about art, taking the occasional shitpost was fun.

And just like always, I posted something without thinking too hard about it.

The post was a little pathetic... which was actually the point. That was how you got people to feel sorry for you and hand over their money.

And I genuinely was in a pathetic position right now, so it wasn't like I was lying.

I hit refresh over and over, imagining the comments that would come flooding in. Surely someone out there would take pity on me and send a donation......

But there wasn't a shred of sympathy in any of the comments that came in.

Irritation flared up out of nowhere.

"Heartless bastards."

Don't poke holes in it — just feel sorry for me!

Don't give me solutions, just send me money! I don't want to work hard, okay?!

I was screaming it internally, choking on the frustration, when a thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Come to think of it... do these people even know I'm a guy?"

They didn't. Of course they didn't. That was why they could talk to me so casually.

I'd never come out and said it, and I'd never left any post that could've been used as a clue. Most of the art I drew existed solely to get women off, so it was a safe bet that not a single person thought I was a man.

The only one who currently knew was Rape Legalization... meaning Seong A-rin, and no one else.

On the internet, I was thoroughly, completely a woman. Realizing that left me with a strange, complicated feeling.

"Hmm... I feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick here."

It wasn't like I'd been forcibly gender-swapped or anything. I had rarity value and I wasn't even using it.

That pisses me off.

Suddenly furious, I opened the camera app on my phone. I wanted to squeeze some kind of benefit out of this, right now. I wanted women's horny attention on me again.

If it were another ajumma like the one from earlier, that would be a different story — but lust wrapped in anonymity didn't involve anyone actually seeing my face, so I didn't particularly care.

I tugged my clothes aside and started photographing my body.

I adjusted the angle as carefully as I could, making sure my stomach was as exposed as possible. Pants tugged down a little, shirt pulled up. The thing jutting out at my groin stayed out of frame, but I let it show all the way up to the iliac crest above it. Nothing above the chest, but the ribs below it were fully visible.

In other words, I photographed most of the area around my abdomen. I glanced at the result and let out a short sound of admiration.

"Oh."

The photo I'd taken was... pretty disgusting, actually.

Skin so pale it clearly never saw sunlight filled the frame. There was no eye-catching six-pack or anything, but if you looked closely you could make out the fine grain of muscle underneath.

Yeah. In a word, it was revolting.

What am I even doing right now......

Sitting in the corner of my room taking pictures of my own stomach. A wave of self-loathing started to roll in.

But I'd come this far. There was no backing out now. I went back into the Prison and uploaded the photo I'd just taken.

Of course, I didn't reveal it was me. There was no telling what kind of fallout that would cause.

I just casually lied and said I'd found it online. Nobody would be able to guess it was actually me, so it didn't matter.

The comments started pouring in the instant I posted.

Every last comment was some variation of that's so hot or I want to rail him.

All kinds of lust-soaked remarks were pawing at me. True to the underbelly of the internet, the things people said were as spicy as they came.

And right on cue, a sweet little notification chime rang out.

They'd actually sent money.

The begging post I'd poured my soul into had gotten me nothing but "that's pathetic" — and then I uploaded one picture of my stomach and pulled in a full 5,000 won.

I smiled, a little uncertainly.

"This is... this is kind of a lot to process......"

On the one hand, it felt good knowing my body had value. In this relentlessly spinning modern world, I was useful for something. Being needed by someone was a pretty nice feeling.

The problem was the direction of that value. The worth of my body was almost entirely rooted in sexual desire.

I felt like I'd become a whore.

I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠joked before that drawing NSFW art made me a cyber whore... and now I actually was one.

I could feel myself slowly rotting as a person.

"Still feels pretty good, though."

If I had to pick between good and bad, the good side was honestly stronger. Steering people's emotions with a single post. There was a strange pleasure in that.

It felt like something I could get addicted to.

Good thing I set a different name on the account.

Surprisingly, this place let you hide the name on your bank account. Since nobody could identify me by name, I decided to be relieved about that for now.

I was sitting there snickering at the comments when it happened.

Ding!

An alert went off without warning, and a KakaoTalk message popped up.

Good-for-nothing Me, who I somehow felt like I hadn't seen in a while... none other than Lee Eun-byul.

I hadn't actually told her I was short on money... but true to someone who dumped thirst posts every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠other day, she must have been browsing the community and stumbled onto my begging post.

And the moment she found it, she'd sent a private message. Easy enough to figure out.

Come to think of it, I'd been a little salty with her lately.

She was active as ever, but she never actually commissioned any NSFW from me.

I figured I might as well beg her too while I was at it.

"Hm."

Not exactly the answer I wanted, but I decided to let it slide. She'd said she'd commission something later, so I could grant her a reasonable amount of leniency.

The ripple effect of a single photograph was really something... it sent my thoughts in all kinds of directions.

I said that and closed the chat window. Even the stomach photo had taken a considerable amount of courage. Going any lower than that was, no matter how I thought about it, still too much.

I sat in the chair in front of my monitor and let out a long breath.

"Hah..."

A heavy sigh rose into the quiet of the room and drifted back down. The fragments of it settling toward the floor felt like they were speaking for my mood.

I could feel myself sinking, endlessly, downward...

When I really thought about it, nothing had actually been solved.

I'd made 5,000 won off a photo of my body, but that was all it was. A pittance like that wasn't going to fend off the approaching threat of rent. In the end, all I'd done today was wander around a community and snicker at comments.

Self-loathing crashed through my whole body. Fear pressed in from every side.

If I kept stalling like this, what would happen to me? A small, ugly question welled up from somewhere inside.

"I'm not actually going to get railed, right?"

The landlady, worn down by unpaid rent, would come find me again. She'd corner me in this one-room apartment and take my body as payment.

Just like an eromanga.

Holding it in isn't good for your body~

Just thinking about it for a second sent a shiver crawling over my entire skin.

Ugly thoughts kept surfacing one after another, like a bipolar episode flaring up.

I was sinking into that gloom when it happened.

Ding!

A chat notification rang out again. In the silence of the room, the cheerful little chime slammed into my skull. I lifted my head from where it had been tipped back against the chair.

Who is it.

Had Good-for-nothing Me sent another message? Or was Seong A-rin reaching out?

I ran through the possibilities as I checked the text.

To my surprise, it was neither of them.

A brand-new commission request.

"Oh!"

I sat up straight immediately. A new client. A heavenly lifeline, come to save me in my hour of need.

I needed to treat this person with respect.

No fluff, no preamble — just a blunt message flying in. The other person didn't bother warming up. They went straight to what they wanted.

The request, roughly, was this.

Take the Geumtaeyang from my comic and draw a new picture of him.

So far, so good. I'd drawn Geumtaeyang so many times recently that I was used to him, and it would be good for building recognition too.

The problem was what came next.

His hands bound behind his back with rope. A small collar around his neck. Both legs wrapped tight in restraints. Geumtaeyang, bound like that, shoved down onto a bed. From that position he looks up, his face a mix of frustration and fear... and the composition is from the observer's point of view, looking down at him.

"What the fuck."

Once I'd heard the full description, I spat out a curse. It was a picture I absolutely did not want to draw.

What is this. What is this person's problem.

I had very clearly posted my commission terms in a notice on Paxiv. I'd even bolded the text, and I made a point of bringing those terms with me every time I advertised.

The first condition was that I would rather die than draw a solo male shot.

The second condition was that I would steer clear of anything too hardcore.

And right now, the person requesting this picture — qwer1 — was violating both of those conditions.

A solo male shot, and hardcore on top of it.

Had they not read the notice... or did they not even have the intelligence to read it?

If that was the case, this bastard was clearly a dyslexic who couldn't even get through a few lines of text.

I could feel the excitement of a new commission request cooling off at high speed. And in its place, irritation came surging up.

"Hah. Calm down."

I still made myself get a grip. Fine, people forget to read things. I also had to consider the possibility that they'd just blindly commissioned me because my art style was too hot to resist.

So I decided to ask politely, for now.

"What."

What is actually wrong with this person?

Their likability in my mind started dropping even further. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠They'd gone from a pitiable dyslexic who couldn't read to a brainless thug who didn't know the first thing about manners.

Which meant... this bastard had read the notice and commissioned me anyway, with their brain fully switched off.

Come to think of it, I didn't like their tone either.

The irritation boiling in my gut started turning into anger. All the gloom that had been piling up fused with the rage and twisted my face into a scowl.

That was it. This wasn't even worth hearing out any further.

I decided to turn them down. No matter how broke I was, I couldn't draw a picture like that.

But then the other person suddenly started negotiating.

100,000 won... that was a full 30,000 won above my base commission rate. I couldn't deny that it pulled at me. Especially right now, broke as I was, the temptation was pretty intense.

But I couldn't sell my principles for 30,000 won. No matter how much I was starving, I wasn't going to gnaw away at my own sanity for that little.

What?

What is actually, genuinely wrong with this person?

That was the third time I'd asked myself that. They'd just gone past double my base commission rate.

Getting twice the money for a single picture... of course I was tempted.

But!

It still wasn't enough! I couldn't throw my principles away for a mere 150,000 won!

So I tried to turn them down again. There were tears of blood welling at the corners of my eyes, but it couldn't be helped.

300,000!!!

Wasn't that basically the minimum rate for actual freelance work? More than four times the average, just for a single commission!

My fingertips were shaking. My heart was pounding.

300,000 won just to sell off one measly principle... how was I supposed to not be tempted.

And on top of that, I was currently a starving beggar. I'd heard that back in the impoverished Middle Ages, there were even parents who sold their own children into slavery for a scrap of bread.

So then, wasn't 300,000 won more than enough for selling a single principle?

If I traded a principle that wasn't worth anything for 300,000 won, wasn't that just a good deal?

Thoughts like that came bubbling up through my head.

Which meant this was force majeure. A natural disaster of temptation that no mere human being could possibly resist. I made that little compromise with myself and sent the message.

The way I said it...

Even I thought I looked pathetic.