Solidarity-7
"Then, Oppa... can I make a wish?"
I had to stop her. I wanted to bolt upright right then and seal her lips before she could utter another word. Mikoto had always carried trauma about making her own choices. If she mustered the impulse and resolve to push past that, there had to be some real change brewing inside her. But the words wouldn't come.
"I want to be Oppa's slave forever. I don't know how to do anything useful, and I'm not pretty like the others..."
The desperate cry she spat out was such a tiny, humble wish.
"Even if Oppa ends up with tons of slaves by his side and this house gets completely packed... even if I'm shoved off to the warehouse... that's fine. Just let me see Oppa's face once a day..."
My worries had been dead wrong. Mikoto was mentally fragile, but that fragility had cemented something solid deep within her.
"If that's too greedy... even if you kick me out of here, I'll work my ass off outside, make money, and send you gifts every month. At least accept those..."
All Mikoto truly feared was being separated from me. Being useless to me.
"I'll never abandon you. I promise."
I gripped both her hands tight. Her body always struck me the same way—so small. The only part of Mikoto that ever felt generous was those breasts.
"Wish... granted."
Her face pressed against my hand. A damp warmth spread across my skin.
"Hehe..."
/////
Karin filled a massive beer mug to the brim with sake. The bottle's level plummeted in seconds. Yukiko stood stock-still in the middle of Karin's room, watching her drink.
"Have some too."
"I don't drink unless it's necessary."
"Fine, whatever."
From outside came Mikoto's cries. The blonde girl let her pleasure-soaked voice spill through the door crack.
"Aigoo, I'm dying from how good it feels. Dying..."
"A natural phenomenon. Getting ravaged by the master and turning into such a lewd, pathetic mess—no woman can escape it."
"True. Terrifying stuff."
Karin raised her mug high, toasted the empty air, and slammed it back in one gulp.
"Kyaa—now that's living. So, what's your point?"
"Clean this up first."
"No way—it's my room! Who died and made you mom?"
"Even when you lived with your parents, or now with the master, this room was never yours. Theirs back then, his now. So clean it."
"Ugh, such a pain..."
Karin grumbled as she gathered the scattered clothes. Yukiko let out a single sigh, then pitched in to help.
"Whoa, thanks!"
"How was your day?"
"Fun. Real fun, but..."
Karin trailed off, poured herself another full mug, and downed it. A tad rude, maybe, but Yukiko let it slide.
"Why's it gotta be so damn scary? No warning at all makes it worse. Mikoto, okay, maybe her feelings got hurt or whatever. But Seongha? First time I've ever seen him like that!"
"Proof you're capable. You should be proud."
Yukiko applied unusually lenient standards to others—not out of kindness, but because her expectations were rock-bottom.
"As long as you don't refuse to serve the master and can scrap like a street punk, that's plenty. You've gone beyond."
Yukiko wove praise and barbs seamlessly.
"Clad in rudeness and shamelessness like armor, taking no wounds from the master and giving none back. Impressive."
"That's a compliment, right? I'm taking it as one."
"Of course it is. Tough nuts like you are rare."
Yukiko had stood there ages without a hint of fatigue.
"The master bruises too easily. And most of those wounds are self-inflicted."
Karin sat on the bed; Yukiko stood ramrod straight. Yet Karin was the one feeling cornered.
"He treats every woman's pain like it's his own. Pure, beautiful... but I can't accept it."
Even Karin's easy slouch against the wall, sipping her drink, now felt forced and awkward. Like blinking or breathing suddenly demanded focus.
"He's got these absurd ideas. Like a guy covered in thorns who won't lie on the bed for fear of pricking it, or cover up with the blanket in case it tears."
"Hm."
"If the bed rips, mend it. Blanket shreds? Buy a new one. That's what they're for. Give that up, and the bed's just trash hogging space."
To Yukiko, Seongha's empathy was overkill. Even when it turned inward on her, it felt humbling, shameful. Directed at other women? Unbearable rage.
"Why does he... see other women as his equals? I just can't comprehend it."
Karin couldn't comprehend Yukiko either. She knew the feeling was mutual.
"So, spit it out—what's your angle?"
"Someday, you'll need to rein yourself in."
Karin shot her a glare. Yukiko conceded that Karin's "human" reactions didn't faze Seongha.
"I'm too rowdy, huh? Should I go full 'master this, master that' like you lot?"
But once Yukiko's plans came to fruition, that "human" side would be obsolete.
"Don't like it? With more slaves around, standing out so... rudely might not fly."
Karin felt her head heating up. That faux-polite, manipulative bullshit? Top of her hate list.
"Couldn't care less. Hell, call me 'master's grandpa's servant' and I'd bow gladly. That's how much I like Seongha. But... does he like it?"
Silence hung heavy.
"Bottom line, I need his love, his attention. Will Seongha prefer 'rough-and-tumble buddy Karin' or 'submissive girl Karin'? Could go either way. But it's a big risk for me."
Karin flashed a grin, but her eyes sharpened. Murderous tension thickened the air, yet Yukiko gazed down impassively.
"Selfish. Keep 'playing human' like that, and it stalls the master's growth."
"Your idea of 'growth'?"
"The master openly embracing his desires. Treating women without kid gloves."
Karin twirled the near-empty bottle. Yukiko looked downright comical through the glass.
"Grow Seongha up, lead him down the 'right' path? Ha. Mommy dearest has arrived."
"Right and wrong? Irrelevant. All I want is the master's happiness."
Staring into those icy eyes, Karin inwardly groaned—why's this dump got zero normal people?
"Next target, then? Slip him some male aphrodisiac on the sly?"
"Ideally, the next one's a girlfriend, not a slave."
"Huh?"
"Someone out in society... who can naturally draw the master outside, let him enjoy modern perks."
Post-war world. Men on top, freedoms unchecked. Even Karin saw Seongha's basics were off.
"More girls means less spotlight on you, right? Why drag out someone who hates it?"
Yukiko's lip twitched upward. Karin missed the sneer.
"When I first arrived, the master treasured me too much. Wouldn't even consider embracing me—gave me money to buy my freedom instead."
"Yeah... over the top."
"One word from me then, and I could've lived plush, duty-free."
Yukiko, who'd stood frozen in place till now, took a single step toward Karin.
"But he didn't. Because he loves the master."
One step at a time, the gap closed.
"Back then, no plans for slaves, so I seduced him as a lover."
Seongha from her arrival and now? Worlds apart. That evolution? Yukiko's meticulous handiwork, stitch by stitch.
"But I knew monopolizing him was selfish. So I became his slave again."
Now Yukiko loomed right at the bed's edge. Her head dipped slowly.
"Selfish types like you—worrying over petty 'risks'—you'll never get it. Attention split? Ha. Think I, Yukiko his slave, fear that? Me, who loves him more than anyone?"
Their faces were inches apart.
"I've claimed everything of the master's. And offered it all back to him."
In Yukiko's eyes, Karin saw it all: devotion, service, resolve, conviction, madness, arrogance, love. Unbreakable. Cold steel.
"I live for the master."