The Sister Sleeping in the Forest
Evening had come, but my sister’s door remained firmly shut. I deliberately cranked up the TV volume in the living room and let the smell of delivered chicken permeate the entire house. I even opened the front door to ventilate, making sure the savory, salty aroma would drift down the hallway and slip through the crack of her door. Under normal circumstances she would have shuffled out like a zombie, drawn by the scent, but today was clearly an exception.
“...”
The silence was absolute. It felt as if no one was inside that room at all. I tore into a chicken drumstick while glaring at the stubbornly closed door.
Is she sulking? No, she’s probably drowning in self-loathing and kicking the blankets right now.
I’m trash… letting my little brother see me like that… My life is over…
She was definitely in there, yanking at her hair with those exact thoughts. Just imagining it nearly made me laugh; I barely held it back.
What if she skips dinner and collapses? …No, that’s not what I should be worrying about right now.
The problem was me. Even though I was chewing on crispy chicken, it tasted like sand. No matter how ridiculous the celebrities looked in their comedy skits on TV, the corners of my mouth refused to twitch. My head was completely occupied by the awe-inspiring valley I had witnessed earlier that afternoon. That deep, dizzying ravine kept flickering before my eyes until I thought I would lose my mind.
Time flowed on mercilessly—ten o’clock, eleven, midnight… Once the clock hands passed the witching hour, my patience finally hit rock bottom.
I booted up the computer and tried to game, but even though I would normally pull all-nighters, I couldn’t concentrate at all and ended up feeding the enemy nothing but kills. A barrage of curses from my teammates filled the chat, yet none of it registered.
“Ugh, fuck…”
I eventually quit. On the off chance I might need it someday, I opened the secret folder buried deep in the D drive—my treasured collection I had gathered for years. Folders meticulously sorted by genre and actress. It was pointless. No matter how beautifully the women on screen stripped, they looked like faded figures in an old black-and-white movie. My junior didn’t stir in the slightest.
This damned body only reacted to the word “sister.”
“Ha… I’m actually going insane.”
I clutched my head. At this rate my junior might file for independence and smash straight through that door. The last thread of reason was about to snap.
Just once. Really, just once—to check if she’s sleeping.
After feeding myself that flimsy excuse, I rose from my seat without a sound. My heart began to hammer wildly. From this moment on I was a predator stalking its prey.
I opened my door and stepped into the dark hallway. There was only one target: the door at the far end of the corridor. My sole salvation lay sleeping behind it.
One careful step at a time, I crept toward my sister’s room like a cat, muffling every footfall.
Thump. Thump. Thump. It felt as though my heartbeat was reverberating throughout the entire hallway. Every creak of the old floorboards made the hair on my body stand on end.
First, assess the situation. No light leaked from beneath the door—perfect darkness. I cautiously pressed my ear to the wood.
Soft… soft… Faint but steady breathing. She was definitely asleep.
Good.
I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and slowly wrapped my fingers around the doorknob. The cold metal seemed to travel straight through my palm and into my heart.
Creeeeak—.
Damn it. The old door made far more noise than the speed at which I was turning it. I froze on the spot and held my breath. I couldn’t tell whether the breathing inside had stopped or if my own tension was drowning it out.
Ten seconds. Twenty. After what felt like an eternity, the soft breathing resumed. She must have been deeply asleep.
I turned the knob again, this time moving it so slowly it felt like I was shifting it by millimeters. Finally, with a soft click, the handle gave way.
A gap just wide enough for a body. I squeezed myself through the narrow opening.
Park Soyeon’s room. Dim moonlight filtered in through the window, softly illuminating the space. The room was exactly as I had expected. Clothes and books lay scattered across the floor; the desk was covered in empty snack bags and instant-ramen cups. Strangely, I didn’t find it dirty. Instead, every bit of clutter felt like proof that this was Park Soyeon’s space, giving me an oddly comforting feeling.
The faint scent that belonged only to her—shampoo mixed with the warm smell of her skin—filled my lungs. And at the center of it all, on the bed, my target lay curled up like a shrimp, fast asleep.
I closed the door behind me without a sound and approached the bedside. The sleeping Park Soyeon had shed every trace of her daytime gloom; her face was peaceful, completely defenseless. Lips slightly parted, hair fanned across the pillow, long lashes sparkling in the moonlight.
…She’s beautiful.
For a brief moment I forgot my lust and simply stared, lost in the sight. Seen like this, she was simply a beautiful woman. That innocent face that looked like it knew nothing of the world… yet it hid such an insane body. This was cheating. Perhaps she was a succubus sent down by the gods to test men.
Then my eyes caught her small, pale hand sticking out from beneath the blanket. It lay there neatly, obedient as a loyal hound waiting for its sleeping master.
Inside my head, reason and desire waged their final battle.
This is crazy. This is a crime.
No one will ever know. She’ll just think it was a dream.
If I get caught, it’s over. I might get thrown out of this house.
But if I walk away now, I’ll die in agony tonight.
In the end, desire won. Or perhaps the outcome had been decided from the very beginning.
I carefully knelt beside the bed and reached out with a trembling hand to lift hers. It was warm. Impossibly soft. The delicate texture, smaller and more fragile than I had imagined, sent goosebumps racing across my entire body.
I wrapped that hand around my already painfully swollen length.
“Hngh…!”
I barely managed to swallow the moan that nearly burst out. This was on an entirely different level. It couldn’t even compare to using my own hand.
I slowly began to move my hips. Her small hand slid up and down in time with my rhythm.
At that moment, an entirely different fantasy unfolded inside my mind.
This was my room. And standing before me wasn’t the gloomy sister from daytime but a seductive version wearing a bewitching smile.
“Haa… Sis…”
When I called out to her in a desperate voice, she breathed hot air against my ear and whispered,
“What’s wrong, Juhyuk? Not good enough for you?”
Her voice was provocative. Smooth and sultry, without the slightest trace of hesitation. The sister in my imagination tightened her grip and looked at me with mocking eyes.
“Kh… You lewd woman. Just how many men have you sent off with those skilled hands of yours!?”
In the fantasy I shoved her roughly onto the bed. Instead of panicking, she laughed as if the situation had grown even more entertaining.
“Why that face? Don’t tell me you’re about to cum already? Uh-huh.”
“Mmm…”
The real Park Soyeon let out a tiny moan in her sleep and shifted. I froze solid. My heart felt like it had stopped. I was finished. She had noticed.
But fortunately she was only changing position. The soft breathing resumed. I let out a sigh of relief. My whole body was drenched in cold sweat.
I had to stop this madness right now. Yet once ignited, my desire refused to be extinguished.
I sank even deeper into the abyss of fantasy.
“Haa, haa… Sis, please…”
“Please what? You want me to do it like this?”
The imagined sister climbed on top of me, pinning my wrists above my head and completely overpowering me. Then she began moving the hand wrapped around me with even more skillful, dizzying strokes.
“See? You’re so honest. Losing your mind from just one touch of my hand. Why were you so cold to me during the day, hm?”
I could no longer hold back. The boundary between reality and fantasy collapsed. All that remained was the sensation of her palm and the overwhelming pleasure that ruled my mind.
I opened her small white hand and poured every last drop of my desire into it. Hot, sticky fluid flowed along the lines of her palm.
“Haa… haa…”
Panting, I returned to reality. The quiet room. The sleeping sister. And the evidence of my lust staining her hand.
Once my senses returned, guilt and terror crashed over me all at once. I frantically scanned the room. Luckily, a box of tissues sat on the three-tier shelf beside the bed. I yanked out several sheets and carefully wiped every trace from her hand, erasing the evidence like a criminal at a crime scene, desperate to leave not a single mark.
When I was certain it was perfect, I gently returned her hand to its original position.
All that remained was retreat. I slipped out of the room as silently as I had entered.
Creek—thud. Only after I had closed the door, returned to my own room, and locked it did the tension finally drain away. A huge sigh of relief escaped me. My legs nearly gave out; I almost collapsed on the spot.
“Whew…”
I rushed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. The man reflected in the mirror wasn’t wracked with guilt—he was glowing with the ecstasy of conquest, the face of someone who had accomplished something tremendous.
Perfect. She won’t know a thing. She’ll just think she had a strangely sticky dream.
Satisfied, I lay down on my bed. Fatigue and lingering pleasure washed over me at once, and my eyes drifted shut.
Just as sleep was about to claim me—
Click.
A very faint but unmistakable sound reached my ears. From the next room—Park Soyeon’s room—the sound of a lock turning. She never locked her door when she slept. Why was she locking it now?
The smile vanished from my face. It felt as if all the blood in my body had turned to ice.
…No way.
Was she awake the whole time?