Part 1: Aching Awakening
No sooner had I woken up than a gasp of admiration escaped me. Whoa— How the hell could every single inch of my body ache like this? As expected from the undisputed queen of Korea's fitness scene. She'd thoroughly demolished me.
With my body in this state, I doubted I'd manage a proper workout today. I blinked my eyes groggily, letting out a hollow chuckle under my breath—but that realization didn't last. I'd gotten my priorities all wrong. Working out was the last thing I should be worrying about right now. The real question was whether I could even get out of bed on my own.
Yeah, that's what I should be stressing over first. Part of me wanted to just lie there forever. My body hurt that damn much. But still, I braced my hands against the bed and forced myself upright—because there was something I had to do.
The stream ended too late last night, so I skipped dinner... If I couldn't make dinner, the least I could do was handle breakfast. Dragging my trembling legs, I headed downstairs. Honestly, it wasn't easy. My legs shook so badly I had to grip the wall for support.
Fucking pathetic. Even my old body, glued to the computer all day, hadn't been this weak. I glanced down at my precarious form, on the verge of face-planting, and forced a bitter smile. Shuffling to the fridge, I started rummaging inside.
Let's see... What sounded good? It was breakfast, so nothing fancy—he'd just stress me out. But a soup would be nice. What to make... As I pondered, my eyes landed on the Japanese miso paste hiding in the top shelf.
White miso? Yep, confirmed. Staring at the jar-shaped container, turning it this way and that, a recipe popped into my head. Perfect for when you crave hot soup but don't want the hassle of a full boil. A magical recipe that took exactly five minutes. The ingredients were simple too—just three basics for my favorite version. You could add more if you wanted, but...
Miso was already in hand, so skip. Onion? Obviously there. Bacon was the wildcard. Hope it's here... Digging through the produce drawer—my hands numb from the cold—I finally spotted the bacon slyly tucked among the veggies.
Now I had everything for the soup. But after all this effort, just soup felt lacking, so I grabbed the mackerel that caught my eye and decided to grill it. Steaming white rice, miso soup, and crispy grilled mackerel. Just imagining it made my mouth water.
Ugh, sour... I swallowed the flood of saliva and headed to the counter. The mackerel was fresh—probably for today's or tomorrow's meal—no thawing needed. I entrusted the grilling to the air fryer. Lined it with foil, spread the fish out wide. The big capacity fit two easily. Looked like salted mackerel, so no extra salt.
Started the air fryer, then back to the sink. Filled a pot with water, peeled the onion. So damn slippery. This body wasn't just weak—my tear glands were wimpy too. Hadn't even sliced it, just peeled, and my eyes were already stinging.
Hiss... Reflexively, I nearly rubbed my eyes, but summoned superhuman willpower to hold back. Placed the peeled onion on the board, sliced it to bite-sized pieces. Chopped the bacon while I was at it. Then, into the now-boiling pot, I added the miso.
Not straight in, though. That'd make it lumpy later. Scooped some into my palm-sized strainer, dissolved it gently with a spoon. Repeated until the bits turned to crumbs—the remnants of beans sacrificed to miso-making. Tossed those in the sink and dumped in the prepped onion and bacon.
Everything was in. Now, exactly three more minutes. Boil until the onion turns translucent, and you'd have white miso's subtle sweetness blended perfectly with onion's mildness and bacon's rich, salty punch.
More time than expected. What else to do...? Then, the door lock chimed through the living room. Followed by a chipper beep—and in strode Jina.
Had she gone jogging at dawn? Windbreaker that looked super light, skin-tight leggings—a bit chilly for the weather—and her face glistened with sweat.
"Huh? Oh, it's you, Yuhan?"
"Back from a workout?"
"Yeah, light jog along the neighborhood path."
Call me weird, but I couldn't fathom her refreshed grin as she said it. Workout should mean exhaustion, right? A world I couldn't comprehend.
Unaware or not of my thoughts, she kicked off her shoes and glanced at the pot behind me, nose wrinkling cutely.
"Making breakfast?"
"Yeah, stream ran late last night, so no dinner. So..."
"Jeez... You don't have to go that far."
She gave a wry smile, like she couldn't help it, then strode toward me.
"Miso soup?"
"Yep, found some Japanese white miso in the fridge, so I gave it a shot."
"Huh. But the ingredients..."
Was she about to ask why bacon was in miso soup? Her look—like staring at pineapple pizza—was annoying. Pineapple pizza's a crime, but this? Different. You wouldn't get it till you tried. This combo was a total cheat code.
"What? Think it won't taste good?"
"N-no... Uh, anyway, how's your body? Okay? Not hurting?"
"Feels like I slept rough outdoors for three days."
"Huh?"
"Like I'm gonna die."
"Ah."
Realization dawned, then a bitter smile spread across her face. Like, I knew it.
"So, about today's workout..."
"We'll take it easy. Yesterday was just testing your limits—a bit too hard."
I was about to suggest a rest day, but she cut me off.
"R-right..."
"Oh, how'd Sena's stream go last night? No issues?"
"Yeah, she took good care of me. Ended fine."
"Good. Fun?"
I nodded slightly, and she grinned, ruffling my hair.
"Glad you enjoyed it. Told Sena too?"
"Yeah, right after the stream."
"Bet she loved that."
She said it casually, but if I announced serious streaming, she'd flip in an instant. This was her limit—fun one-off guest spots. Cross into regular like Sena? She'd ignore Gayeong's pleas and fight tooth and nail against it.
So, before going all-in, I needed more allies. If Sena and Gayeong backed me, even Jina couldn't dig in her heels forever.
"Anyway, almost done? Time to wake Mom and Sena."
"I'll handle waking them. You shower first."
I said it to buy solo time with Gayeong or Sena, sans Jina. But fresh-off-workout Jina heard it differently. Her thinly clad body shivered—hard to believe it was winter gear—and a faint blush crept up her cheeks.
Embarrassment, shyness. Face flushed, she stepped back cautiously.
"S-sorry, do I smell sweaty...?"
Honestly? Yeah, sweat scent. But not bad—hell, it was good. Surprisingly, sweaty Jina turned me on more than her usual fresh self. Did I have this kink?
"Nah? Not at all."
To prove it, I leaned in toward her neck. Distance vanished in a blink; she flinched in surprise as I demonstratively sniffed her.
Not pretend—I inhaled for real. Fresh from her run, winter's dry crispness clung to her, mixed with sweat and faint burnt-leaf aroma. Addictive. I'd bury my face here all day if she'd let me.
Of course, Jina wouldn't. Or rather, couldn't handle it. Look—even after just a minute, her neck was beet red, like it'd burst.
Overwhelmed, she pushed me back gently, covered the spot my breath had warmed, and retreated.
"W-we gotta eat...! G-gonna shower!"
She bolted. Her stamina unscathed by a few laps—damn fast. She flew up the stairs to the second-floor bathroom in seconds, while it'd taken me ages to descend. I watched her retreating figure with interest, turned off the perfectly simmered miso soup, and headed to Gayeong's room.
Knocked lightly at her door. Knock knock— The sound echoed in the quiet living room. Then, mouth to the door:
"Auntie? You up?"
Obviously asleep—no response to the knock. Perfect excuse to enter. I pushed open the door and stepped in.
A wave of intense alcohol hit me.
Drinking with salon staff last night? Must've been a lot—still in yesterday's outfit.
Bet that's uncomfortable... No wonder. Tight dress for sleeping? But honestly, horniness outweighed sympathy. Passed out drunk, unchanged—felt like peeking at something forbidden.
Her sky-blue dress had ridden up from tossing, exposing panty-clad hips. Even more so.
Fuck... So damn hot. Just pounce?