Letting Yukiko Go
"Phone. Give it to me."
Her gritted teeth and the force she put into every syllable had such intensity that I couldn't even ask why. I just unlocked my phone and handed it over.
She poked around here and there before zeroing in on the investment app, scrutinizing it carefully.
"More... ordinary than I expected?"
"Is Yukiko handling it well?"
Park Si-young didn't take her eyes off the phone, but her tone had softened considerably.
"Financial investments aren't really my thing anyway—just basic knowledge level. Yukiko probably knows way more than I do. I'm just checking if there's any massive dumps into shady companies or something."
"Besides, I don't spend much anyway. Even if all that money vanished, I could live off my pension."
"That's the problem with that carefree attitude! Even a normal person would be tempted by that much cash... Argh, seriously! And my number isn't even saved!"
At some point, she had stopped focusing on the investment app and was digging through the whole phone. I hurriedly snatched it back.
"Oh, uh, you're basically the only one who calls or texts anyway, so I just memorized your number..."
"That's kinda sad."
It felt like quite a bit of time had passed, but Yukiko still hadn't returned. Was it that important a call?
"Oh, right—this is what I meant to say first. It's important, so listen up, Seongha."
Park Si-young grabbed my hand tightly, her face dead serious.
"I felt it earlier too, but... you're such an idiot. Like, really."
"I thought you were gonna say something actually important..."
"This is super important. So... don't ever trust your own judgment? Instinct? Reasoning? Whatever. If something comes up, just act like you know nothing and have an honest conversation. Got it?"
Caught off guard by her intensity, I nodded without knowing what was going on.
Only then did she seem satisfied, releasing my hand.
"May I come in?"
She opened the door before I could even answer. Yukiko entered calmly, without a hint of surprise.
Realizing I hadn't called her for anything lewd, she had stopped coming into my room in those erotic underthings like she did that first day.
Even so, my heart raced every time I saw her. I'd never had the experience of chatting so intimately with a beauty like this. Lingerie or not, her pajamas weren't some thick winter parka. Her subtle fragrance lingered, and her figure was still on full, tantalizing display.
But I'd built up some tolerance now—at least I didn't have to turn away and hide my lower half the moment she walked in.
She naturally turned off the light and lay down on my bed. I lay beside her as usual, about to drift off, when something I needed to say popped into my head.
"Oh, right—I never mentioned this... I think we should go back to the Slave Market—or, uh, the 'Sexual Service Volunteer Center'—sometime. When works for you?"
I didn't know the details of her work, but even simple housework wasn't haphazard; she clearly had plans and purposes. With some free time on my hands, I didn't want to disrupt her schedule.
And if I ever decided to buy another slave—which wasn't on my mind right now—Yukiko would have to live with her, like it or not. She rarely showed emotions, but she could surely filter out anyone she absolutely couldn't stand or had bad history with.
But Yukiko didn't respond, just lying there silently for a long while. She looked tired today—maybe she'd fallen asleep first. I closed my eyes.
"Is this something my opinion matters on?"
"You're awake... Of course it is."
She was facing away, so I couldn't see her face. But from her faint breathing—rough and restrained—I could tell she was forcing it down.
"Is it tough? If it is, just tell me anytime. No need to force yourself."
"How... cruel."
I knew it sounded hypocritical—me, her captor in a life without freedom where her purity could be taken at any moment, pretending to listen to suggestions.
"Sorry."
"No, thank you for forgiving my rudeness."
"Yukiko. I've been thinking... if you want, you can quit being a slave anytime. I should have said it from the start—I’m sorry it’s so late."
Something shifted in her; the trembling stopped.
"I have no intention of such ingratitude."
"It's not ingratitude. Look at everything you've done for me. If you need money, I can give you as much as you want. You could even go back to Japan."
Her face was hard to read even when visible; with her back turned, I had no clue what she was feeling.
"You needn't lavish such generosity on me. Offering my worthless body and meager skills is the least I can do to repay the mercy you've shown."
Yukiko struggled to sit up, kneeling on the bed. Startled, I tried to calm her.
"Please, don't abandon me. I'll do anything."
Her usually cold face twisted in humiliation, sorrow, and despair. I'd wanted to see her express emotions, but not like this. This was what I hated.
From the moment we met, she was too beautiful, too radiant—I couldn't stand seeing her debase herself. Among the desperate and poor at the Slave Market, who had cast aside their pride and dignity, I didn't want her there.
It must feel like false hope from me. To her, already prepared to sacrifice her body and part from her lover back home, my words now would seem repulsive, insincere. She might think I was picking faults to kick her out.
Refunding a purchased slave took conditions, but abandoning one was easier than dumping a cat. Stray women fared little better than strays cats.
I lifted Yukiko, who had bowed her head to the bed in misery. Her skin touched my hand—warm, pleasant.
I wanted to hold on like that.
"Yukiko."
"Yes, Master."
I let go, feeling the sensation fade, and met her eyes.
Her 'rational compromise' was surely prostituting herself to save money for medicine and protect her lover. I had no right to condemn her as dirty or resent her choice—I'd never known desperation.
Still, I wished she hadn't.
"Do you love me?"
Yukiko bowed her head silently. Even if she saw offering her body as inevitable, doubts about betraying her lover must linger.
"If you don't, no need to push yourself that far. You're already doing plenty. Just keep thinking about what makes you happiest. I'll help however I can."
"But..."
"I'm already happy, and thanks to you, life's even easier lately. Your happiness is what makes me happy."
I'd dealt with depression after the war; life wasn't all smooth sailing. But a rich man's woes are whining.
I gently laid her down and closed her eyes. She kept apologizing, begging forgiveness, but I just smiled and told her to sleep well.
As if nothing had happened yesterday, Yukiko greeted me with her usual graceful poise.
"Thanks to your consideration, Master, I've had time to think. Starting today, I'll prepare to leave."
I'd nudged her toward it and knew it'd come to this. Still, the thought of someone I'd lived with briefly departing stirred regret.
"You've worked so hard until now. Thank you."
"My only regret is not seizing the chance to serve you."
Courtesy or not, I appreciated it. Realizing our parting was truly at hand stirred dark thoughts.
Once she left, no chance to hold her again. Her emotionless demeanor was pitiful, frustrating—but if I'd treated her as a mere sex toy, it'd be easy, unburdened.
She'd accept anything with that blank face, never betray, serve diligently with her body. Once started, I could indulge guilt-free.
It wasn't too late. Refusing to release her would derail her plans.
"I wish you happiness even after you leave."
But I wouldn't. A little regret now would fade in days. I wouldn't cage someone for my desires.
"I'll keep sending you the same amount of money. Even without slave status... Oh, would it be easier to keep the slave ID as camouflage?"
Slaves were pitiful without master's permission, but with it, safer and freer than citizens. For a foreigner in job-scarce Korea, it guaranteed status, experience, and legal protection from assaults by men citing privileges.
"Whatever suits you, Master. I'll leave everything you gave me—use it for another woman or discard it."
"No, take it all. No other women anyway, and I bought them as gifts for you."
Furniture like AC or bed aside, a car or computer she'd use in Japan. Better sold than gathering dust as models here.
"You have to take the money. No arguments, doctor or not."
Every eye contact confirmed it—Yukiko was stunning. The type who'd make you stare slack-jawed on the street, then avert in panic if caught.
Without solving her root issue—money—she'd end up another's slave. I wanted her happy, but imagining some other guy owning her made my stomach turn.
"...Why?"
Why go this far? Reasons aplenty, but none I could proudly voice. After agonizing, I deflected with a joke.
"'Cause you're pretty."
Truthfully, it was. Why my dried-up sympathy sparked only for her, driving me to save her? She was beautiful at first sight—nothing else fit.
"Pre...tty?"
"Yes. Prettiest I've ever seen."
Expecting compliments galore, I was surprised by her reaction. Once so stoic she seemed inhuman, now she faltered—her responses just a beat slower.
Yukiko's traces dwindled one by one. She hadn't left yet, but cardboard boxes filled her room's corners. Clothes and gifts I'd bought piled for storage, not use.
She even sat on the living room treadmill—usually ignored—for workouts. With days left to see her dwindling, I wanted to memorize her face more.
Trailing her housework without purpose felt embarrassing, so I'd find excuses to watch from the living room.
The bell rang several times, but I ignored it, savoring her cleaning.
Calls were just spam or Park Si-young—no big deal if delayed.
"Master, phone."
"Oh, yeah. I'll take it."
Irked by the persistent ringing, Yukiko paused cleaning. Not eager to answer, I kept pedaling the treadmill and switched to speakerphone.
But the moment I realized who it was, I slammed the pedal stop and focused on the call.