Peck-11: "My Daughter Has Caused You Trouble"
It was a soft, gentle voice that I felt like I'd heard somewhere before. Since it seemed like I might have a bit of face left to show Yukiko's mother, my own voice gained some strength.
"Trouble? Did... did Yukiko tell you about it?"
"She did. That incompetent wretch couldn't even serve a generous man like you, Mr. Seongha."
I'd expected some warm words. Something like being grateful for looking after her daughter or whatever. But her words were far rougher and sharper than I'd imagined. It wasn't outright blame directed at me, but it wasn't pleasant to hear either.
"I knew it would end up like this. Yukiko is unfortunate, born of lowly blood, so her attitude is insolent and her heart isn't pure. I sent her hoping she might at least have some talent for pleasing a man, but in the end, she failed..."
I missed the timing to get angry because I couldn't quite process her words. Wasn't she her own daughter? Why call her lowly blood? What did she mean by insolent attitude? How much more deferential did she expect than Yukiko already was? Was crawling on the floor like a dog during dogeza the baseline courtesy?
"We'll send another girl from our family as quickly as possible."
"No, that's not what I want right now."
But her words spilling out from the phone were too shocking. I'd already burned through most of my remaining patience.
"Do you want punishment for Yukiko? If so, we'll handle it here. Since she's my daughter, please spare her life, but we'll cut off her arms and legs and mate her with a pig. There are still plenty of male pigs, even if human men are rare. A bitch who can't even adjust her attitude and stiffens her face in arrogance..."
"Hey."
Anger surged to the top of my head. It hadn't been long with Yukiko, but we'd lived together for several days. Just hearing petty insults was bad enough, but imagining actual harm being done to her made it impossible to hold back any longer.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Yukiko's mother fell silent. I wanted to explode further, but I couldn't bring myself to spew curses in front of Yukiko.
I roughly ended the call and sat on the sofa, glancing at Yukiko.
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's not something you need to apologize for. That... is your family always like this? Your mother is a bit..."
"My biological mother was my father's mistress. That woman is his wife."
There was no need to view a non-blood family through colored glasses, but in this case, the cause and effect were clear. Calling her "dirty blood" and subtly putting her down was probably just because Yukiko wasn't her real daughter.
"Not the whole family is like that, right?"
"My birth mother passed away when I was young, and the rest of the family doesn't welcome me."
My plan to return her to her family instantly turned to trash. I didn't like their gaze treating Yukiko like some sexual furniture or pet for managing lust, but treating her like waste was even worse.
"However, her words hold no falsehood. It's true that I was immature and failed to please Master. A woman like me deserves punishment. Even now, you could punish me and bring my sister..."
I grabbed Yukiko's shoulders. She offered no resistance.
"If you say one more word, I'll really get angry..."
"Whether I'm no longer needed or punishing the unneeded is a right that belongs to Master."
That's what slavery was, originally. No matter the owner, you couldn't outright kill them, but a convenient "accident" label meant no one would investigate their deaths. At the level of chopping off limbs, there wasn't even need to cover it up.
My anger at Yukiko's stepmother stemmed partly from knowing it was possible. If I allowed it, Yukiko could suffer any torment. I hated that we'd reached such a relationship.
"Yukiko is the best. No matter what anyone says, she's the most beautiful person I've ever met. She's kind and diligent. So there's no need to blame yourself for being immature or to receive punishment."
"Then why are you trying to discard me?"
"I'm not discarding you! This... this slave-master relationship where you hold my lifeline isn't a proper one! Before the war, someone like me could never have a girlfriend like you, let alone a slave!"
I realized I'd gripped her shoulders too hard and quickly let go. Checking her face briefly to see if it hurt, I could have sworn the corner of Yukiko's mouth twitched upward. Was it my imagination?
"I just want you to meet someone not through this kind of relationship—to live well with a lover. Yukiko, you..."
"I have no lover. Dating a man isn't easy in this era, and I have no taste for women either."
Her response held no hesitation. I'd avoided mentioning it fearing she'd feel sorry if she knew I had one, but she showed none.
"Pardon? Then the person in that photo..."
"The photo... if you mean the one in my wallet, that's my brother."
I'd made a ridiculous misunderstanding. Just a photo of a brother and sister— I should have considered they weren't lovers.
I'd wanted to send her back to family or a lover, but she had neither.
"Master. May I do something presumptuous, relying on your mercy? It involves cunning tricks to mock you and harsh words to hurt your feelings."
I couldn't tell Yukiko's intent. Everything felt chaotic.
"It's fine. If it's something you want to do, go ahead."
Still, I didn't think she'd do anything bad to me. Raised in a family calling her "insolent," her idea of "harsh words" was probably just casual speech. With no future dealings, she might vent and say she found me repulsive all along. Seeing raw anger and disgust replace her cold, obedient tone might feel cathartic in its own way.
"When that photo was taken, I was a child. Even if a high school girl takes a photo with a boy, people normally wouldn't assume a romantic relationship."
"I just... didn't know. It wasn't a uniform, and you seemed so mature..."
"Even assuming you saw us as lovers, the man would be presumed dead. If my lover were alive and we hadn't parted, I wouldn't have been sold as a slave."
Yukiko was right. Even with a photo of a man, it being from the past meant the odds of him surviving were minuscule given the scarcity of men.
"Even if Japan grew poor after defeat, the few remaining men could earn money just by smiling at wealthy women."
"I just thought... you dated only one man... and were sold into slavery to pay for medicine..."
"That's the most forced logic. Would a man who hates his woman with others allow her to be taken by another man?"
Her words were too logical; I had no ground to defend myself. Outside Korea, men didn't get massive military pensions just for being men, but they could freely exploit beautiful, rich women using their bodies as bait. They might end up drained dry with women in control, but poverty was unlikely. No medicine cost would bankrupt them. Even in rare 1:1 couples, if truly romantic, they wouldn't sell the woman for cash.
"From the moment you first saw me, Master, it seems you've already decided the answer and acted accordingly."
With that, Yukiko sat beside me. The sudden closeness made my already confused heart pound harder.
"You've decided it's right for you to be alone again and for me to leave, then conveniently shaped reality to fit. In truth, I couldn't have a lover, nor be happy without you..."
I couldn't deny it. I was the one compromising with a lazy, half-hearted reality of "this should be enough." Without talking to Yukiko or having evidence or plans, my head was filled with "she'll be happy without me."
Drunk on the fantasy of being the "cool guy sending Yukiko off without lust," I'd forced her into the tragic heroine role. I'd viewed her through my delusion-tinted filter.
"Sorry for assuming on my own. But... the result doesn't change. Our contract is bound by money, and before the war, you wouldn't have debased yourself like this or been given to someone like me!"
"You're assuming again with your own thoughts. Money is necessary for the family. If I could just be Master's slave, that pittance wouldn't matter."
Thinking about it, she was right. With no lover and a family treating her like an object, she had no desperate need to earn money.
"Still... still, you hate it. Being with someone you hate. Before the war... you wouldn't need to..."
"Even before the war, I would have ended up in the arms of a man I didn't want, selling smiles."
Her words left me even more bewildered. Even in an era without slavery or male scarcity, was this her fate?
"Women in our family are raised to be offered to men. We take 'bridal lessons' to become ideal females, trained and ultimately given as concubines to politicians, yakuza, or businessmen."
"So even truly before the war..."
"Yes. I didn't learn special obedience for slavery. Slave or mistress—same woman, different name. Whether beaten, discarded, or treated roughly, resistance is impossible. I'd have been some much older man's second or third woman, living miserably."
Only then did I realize how stupid I'd been. During the war, seeing the dead wasn't painful. Missile, shell, virus—they felt no more pain. The truly terrifying were the suffering. Someone with both legs blown off by a missile might survive but be deemed non-combat viable and abandoned in a hospital as "unfit for sacrifice." Worse was seeing people I knew commit evils. Guys joking "if war breaks out, I'll fuck that beauty" actually raped women in occupied zones. Vengeance for dying comrades turned people crueler. Post-virus, few men remained in the military, but women committed crimes too. I tried to stop it, but one man couldn't halt atrocities born of fear and hate.
What kept me going was believing normal life would return post-war. No crimes, no one caring about an incompetent like me—just holing up at home. But after the war, foreign women became "voluntary" slaves. I locked my door. The post-war world reeked of crime. A superior I respected seized military power, creating male privileges. I couldn't bear watching men gain romantic dominance, mistreat women, treat perks as normal. Yet laziness kept me collecting my pension without helping the war-impoverished. Like an ostrich, I buried my head, ignoring suffering. Blaming it all on the war.
"The war didn't create all pain and crime. Not every woman met her love. You doubt your worth, Master, but the world has far worse, less deserving people."
These were words I should have doubted—forced flattery for money or survival. Yet they shook me because I no longer trusted myself. My predictions of Yukiko's feelings were utterly wrong. Her analysis of me was spot-on. She'd seen my obsession with pre-war life, my distorted view of her. So her words felt sweet.
She leaned closer, collapsing against me. Her long, slender legs so light, the pleasure of her pale, delicate hand on my neck froze me solid.
"I like you."
Yukiko swiftly pulled out a simple silver ring and slipped it onto my ring finger. No ornaments, just gleaming silver. She added curtly that it was a confession gift.
"Why...?"
My head throbbed from the overload. Yukiko's expression shifted subtly—I recognized it as a smile.
"If you're asking why now, it's because I led you here. Your emotional walls are high; in a calm, whole state, you wouldn't hear a confession."
Yukiko gently caressed me here and there. Her hands grew bolder bit by bit, without crossing lines.
"That can't... be."
As if anticipating, she continued seamlessly.
"You're kind and always take my side, even if a bit off."
"No. I just wanted to play some pointless hero."
"You affirm me and love every part of my life."
It felt unreal. She was listing reasons she liked me, yet I was the one refuting.
"That's just..."
Unable to believe reality, the contrast between her "cool me" and my pathetic true self made me reflexively counter. But I no longer had confidence to assert anything.
"And you're handsome. No arguments here—ugly-beautiful is taste."
This was truly unexpected. She gave no room to breathe in my thoughts. Her touches shifted from caresses to teasing my back and shoulders.
"But I still can't be sure you like me. Of course, you don't have to..."
Her lips brushed my neck. The slight lick's wet sensation sent shivers of pleasure.
"I've had a stiff expression since childhood—scolded, tried, but can't do coquettish smiles. Is even this okay with you?"
"You're... smiling..."
Yukiko widened her eyes, touching her mouth. Seeming satisfied, her tension eased slightly.
"I believe this is possible only before Master. But I still can't confirm if my looks please you. I honed what I could to the bone, but as said, appearance is taste."
"As I've always said, Yukiko is more beautiful than anyone I've seen."
Including the civil servant, among countless people, Yukiko was the most beautiful.
"Isn't an insolent, disobedient attitude a failure as a woman?"
"I'm somewhat passive, so I like when someone approaches aggressively first. Just realized that."
Yukiko slipped her clothes down slightly, baring her shoulder and cleavage. The beauty of her collarbone up close was a pleasure monitors couldn't convey.
"Slaves with bigger breasts exist aplenty. Mine aren't small, but some women have breasts rivaling my face. Aren't mine flat?"
"I think they're just right. With your beautiful face, drawing eyes moderately there is perfect."
"Don't you find my hips too large, unsightly or vulgar?"
"Your rear is so sexy, do you know how hard I tried not to have bad thoughts?"
Our talk had turned to praising her body. Yukiko placed that bursting ass on my lap.
"Then you really like me, Master."
"Of course... I do?"
"I'm lucky. I like you too... perfect space for two, no other lovers to keep chastity for. Even if love bears fruit, we can take responsibility."
"Uh... huh?"
"I've never done it, but young man and woman in this situation usually have something to do, right?"
Like magic, while pressed against me, she shed layers of clothing. Like our first meeting, I couldn't spot her trick. Pondering, no sleight-of-hand could fool enhanced eyesight from the procedure. Magic hides tricks via gaze focus. Then and now, I'd only watched her face—how could I notice?
But it was beauty worth the distraction.