A Restless Night Together
"Excuse me."
Yukiko opened the door, bowed politely in greeting, and entered carrying the pillow she'd left outside. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that I couldn't respond to her words right away. It was just a sheer white lace dress. The sections with white floral patterns were slightly thicker, offering a bit of coverage, but everywhere else, her pure white skin was on full display. Her nipples and privates were precariously hidden by those flowers—at least for now—but if I shifted my angle even slightly, I could probably see them.
I quickly turned around to hide my raging erection straining against my shorts.
"Lie down. I'll turn off the light..."
"Understood."
The bed was big enough for two, but not so large that we could keep a comfortable distance. I could feel her heartbeat and breath transmitting through the mattress. Once she lay down, she fiddled with her phone for a moment, setting something, then tucked it under her shoulder blade.
"Don't you charge your phone while you sleep?"
"I have to wake up early tomorrow morning as well, so I've just set a vibration alarm. I'll slip out quietly so as not to disturb you, Master."
"If you put it under the mattress, it'll wake me up too, you know? It's fine if I sleep in late—just lie down properly."
The lights went out. I lay on my side, facing away from her. It wasn't even a few minutes before her heartbeat steadied into the rhythm of sleep. Sensing that Yukiko had drifted off, I felt a surge of accomplishment—and at the same time, a deep respect for that civil servant guy.
So this was a strategy that actually works...
But the problem I hadn't anticipated was that I couldn't fall asleep. Yukiko, always short on sleep from waking up early, had dozed off quickly after lying down. Me? I was the type who slept until well after sunrise, so there was no way I could just drop off the moment I hit the bed. Maybe thirty minutes had passed subjectively, but I was still wide awake. Unable to fight the boredom, I rolled over—and her stunning face filled my vision right there.
Up close like this, her face seemed unrealistically small and fantastically beautiful. She clearly hadn't done her makeup before bed, yet there wasn't a single blemish. As my gaze drifted downward bit by bit, her breasts came fully into view. I couldn't see her pussy, but I could tell she was completely shaved. Feeling like I was doing something wrong, I hastily averted my eyes—but looking at her face didn't make my throbbing cock subside.
Her small mouth and the cold edge softened by sleep didn't exactly inspire pure thoughts. Come to think of it, I hadn't even jerked off properly lately. Modern Physical Enhancement Procedures focused more on health and sexual prowess than raw combat strength, exponentially boosting stamina and libido. I'd usually shoot two or three loads a day, but now that I had someone living with me, it felt awkward. She was home with me all the time I was around—any sneaky session would probably give me away with the smell of cum.
Even if she found out I masturbated, it wouldn't be a big deal, but the thought of Yukiko washing my cum-stained underwear made me dizzy with shame. And there were more practical risks besides. Because of that, my cock—swollen with blood rushing into every corner—showed no signs of calming. My balls felt full to bursting with semen. If she just gave it a light squeeze, I could probably fill every inch of that white lace nightie.
I even thought that if I started something naughty now, she might not wake up. Even as those ideas filled my head, self-loathing washed over me—but with her sleeping so soundly, she probably wouldn't notice if I fondled her breasts or stole a kiss from her lips. Her usual polite demeanor and icy expression always reminded me that she was a slave. But seeing her lying there so defenseless, it felt like this could have been someone's normal daily life in the past.
Dating a girlfriend, inviting her home, lying together and watching her sleep. If I kept staring at Yukiko any longer, I wouldn't be able to hold back—so I rolled away again, facing her back. Not even a few minutes later, using the excuse that I wanted to memorize her sleeping face clearly, I rolled back to look at her again. I tossed and turned like that dozens of times, but she didn't stir. She just breathed shallowly like an angel fallen from heaven, sleeping peacefully.
My foot brushed against something soft. Startled by the unmistakably plush sensation—not a pillow or blanket—I bolted upright. Seeing the woman lying next to me brought last night rushing back. I'd ordered Yukiko to sleep in my room to get her to rest.
I'd seen plenty of her sleeping face last night, but in the morning light, it felt entirely different. For several minutes, I just lay there blankly, staring at her face. Careful not to wake her, I slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen.
I opened the fridge—which I'd barely touched except for milk over the past few days—and pulled out green onions and garlic, chopping them. I was hungry but didn't want to wake Yukiko, so I figured I'd make the simple meal I usually ate alone. The cupboard was still stocked full of ramen, pushed a bit to the back but reliably piled high.
I boiled water in a pot with scallion oil and cracked an egg ahead of time.
"I'm sorry. Please punish me as you see fit for failing to prepare breakfast in advance."
The exhaust fan over the induction cooktop must have been too loud—Yukiko had appeared in her nightie. She always came out fully prepared from her room, so this was the first time seeing her so raw and unready.
"Want some ramen?"
"Pardon?"
"You haven't eaten yet. It's too late to prepare anything proper now, so let's just eat together."
"I have no excuse. I'm sorry. I'll prepare a meal as quickly as possible right now."
Yukiko came over to my side, trying to take over the cooking, but I waved her off.
"Understood."
I thought I'd gotten used to that sexy white nightie last night, but seeing her hips—so disproportionately wide compared to her waist—made the blood rush south again. I hadn't had a chance to check out her backside yesterday. It was just a fleeting glimpse before she vanished from view. Pushing aside my regret, I added more water to the pot and tore open another pack of ramen. The spicy, stimulating aroma of instant food wafted up.
By now, Yukiko had done her makeup and changed clothes, standing behind me. It suddenly hit me—serving a woman ramen as my first home-cooked meal for her felt way too inconsiderate. I should take her to a restaurant later. But if I went with her, she'd probably feel awkward, so better to let her go alone. Maybe ask the civil servant guy—he might know some good spots.
"I'm sorry. I promise this won't happen again."
"I told you yesterday it's fine if I sleep in late. No need to beat yourself up."
The first bite was the familiar taste of ramen—the exact same flavor I'd been eating for years. It must have been too spicy for Yukiko; she alternated between a mouthful of noodles and gulps of water. Worried, I offered to top it with cheese or tofu, but she politely declined, saying she'd gratefully eat it as is.
A week had passed, so it was about time for this dynamic to feel normal. The thought made my chest ache again. Getting used to it. Getting used to a post-war society where men were exalted and women from other countries were sold as slaves. Without realizing it, I was starting to see Yukiko's polite honorifics and gratitude as natural—at least familiar.
"Uh, have you ever thought about what you'll do once your time as a slave ends?"
"I plan to serve you for life, Master."
"No way the slave system lasts forever, right? Things will go back to normal eventually."
I said it half in resignation, but it wasn't baseless. Korea's male-supremacist policies stemmed from one man's decision—or rampage—to begin with. When these male-dominant policies and slavery first emerged, I thought they'd vanish in months. Now I wasn't so sure, but slavery at least wouldn't last a lifetime.
Yukiko thought in silence for a moment, then spoke softly.
"I'll start thinking about it from now on."
If she wanted freedom right now, I'd release her in a heartbeat. If she needed money, I could give her that too. It might feel like pointless spending, but if I framed it as a hobby or charity, it wouldn't bother me much.
"If you need anything, just tell me anytime. I'll do my best to help."
"Everything I need, I've already received."
Yukiko's composed, polite face was as beautiful as ever, but she didn't look happy. I wished she'd smile, even a little.
I reached into the yellow paper box on the shelf, but aside from the paper itself, it was empty. No other boxes in sight, so I had to admit there were no coffee pouches left in the house. I rummaged through my desk drawer—no sign of the familiar card. After a moment's thought, I remembered I'd given it to Yukiko. She did the shopping, and I never went out, so I figured she might as well have it. I only had one card anyway; I could make another later, but for now, I needed to borrow it back.
"Yukiko? Can I have my card now?"
She was doing the dishes. There was nothing erotic about dishwashing in principle, but just her turning around exuded raw sexual appeal. Those voluptuous hips were impossible to get used to, no matter how many times I saw them.
"The card you gave me is in the wallet inside the white bag in my room. I should fetch it for you properly, but my hands are tied up at the moment."
"Ah, it's fine. I'll use it and give it right back."
This was my first time entering Yukiko's room. Minimalist? Spartan? Austere? Hard to pin down. Spotless, without a speck of dust, and not a single unnecessary piece of furniture. It felt novel stepping into a woman's room, but I planned to grab what I needed and leave.
I opened the wallet casually to get the card—and froze at the photo inside. Yukiko's picture was stunning as always, but I'd seen her face enough to just think Yep, beautiful and move on. What stopped me cold was an unremarkable photo of a man. He looked handsome at first glance, practically glowing against the ocean backdrop.
There was one of him and Yukiko together too. Even in the picture, her haughty elegance paired perfectly with his vibrant energy. It was a bit disappointing that she'd left a boyfriend back home, but also a relief. I'd known from the start she was out of my league. Having someone good who could truly love her was a blessing for her. It even made sense why she'd become a slave or spent so much money.
Not every country's men had solved the virus issue with Physical Enhancement Procedures. Most relied on ongoing doses of American-developed drugs to endure the disease. But those drugs were only available in dollars, and even with some wealth in Japan, they weren't easy to obtain. Sure, factoring in male rarity, she could have serviced other men for tribute money—but the way the guy in the photo treated her didn't suggest that kind of relationship.
Yukiko must have sold herself into slavery to scrape together yen for his meds. A beauty sacrificing her purity for her boyfriend's life—pretty arousing scenario. But arousal was one thing; I didn't want to be the villain in that story for real. Tales like this were best with clean, happy endings. Forcing myself—a side character without real depth or sincerity—into the narrative would just ugly up the conclusion.
The best I could do was keep my hands off her and send her back to her boyfriend in Japan.
"He's handsome."
It cleared up some mysteries. No need to ask the civil servant guy why such a beautiful, high-born woman had to become a slave. Bringing her here felt like the right choice now—I felt relieved. If someone else had bought her and ravaged her out of lust, she never could have returned to her lover or family. Because it was me, I could treat her without greed and let her go.
"Should I give her more money..."
She didn't seem like the type to have a fixed quota. The "maintenance costs" the civil servant called a bit high were probably being sent home to her boyfriend. If I convinced her later and promised to keep sending money even after she returned, she'd probably go back to him. And I'd be alone again. Back to life before Yukiko.
Having someone cook, wash dishes, and clean was addictively convenient, but ultimately my responsibility. I'd game alone, go out alone, eat alone, read my old porn comics alone in my room, and jerk off alone—back to that familiar routine. It didn't feel great. Realizing my mood soured made it worse. Just moments ago, I'd basked in superiority thinking I'm the kind of guy who can let her go, and now hesitation over "her happiness" irked me.
I pulled out the card. Coffee was one thing, but I suddenly craved cigarettes too. As I headed out the front door, I remembered the pack in my drawer—but I didn't feel like going back for it. I could buy smokes with the coffee. I had the card, after all.