Oman ko! Farewell to Shin Japan
November 4th, 7 PM. All flights at Tokyo Hoyoung Airport had been canceled. Reservations for people with important appointments were no exception—everything scrapped. But no one raised a complaint. The entire airport turning out to see Master Hoyoung off was only natural.
The airport's decision to not waste time on guests other than Master Hoyoung was common sense to anyone. If some idiot whined, "Hey, we paid for our tickets too—this is too much, isn't it?" they'd be thrown straight in jail without a word. Nothing in this world took priority over Master Hoyoung.
"Everyone, stand!"
The airport president, decked out in his uniform, bellowed through the megaphone, and the staff lined up on either side snapped to attention like machines. Hundreds of uniformed men and women raised salutes like soldiers. As Master Hoyoung and I appeared, a thick tension hung over their faces. One slip-up here, and their lives were forfeit—a terrifying responsibility. But at the same time, a golden chance to lay eyes on the great Master Hoyoung himself. The airport staff watched the runway with fear and anticipation mingled in their hearts.
Every gesture, every step exuded dignity and majesty that soaked the women's pussies. The stewardesses saluting with stern faces were dripping obscene juices down their thighs under their skirts, not a single exception. Well, no woman could see Master Hoyoung in person and not go into heat—it was impossible.
"I told them not to bother with this crap... probably Himeko's orders. Her loyalty's so over the top sometimes. Right, Seungyeon?"
"Yes! Master Hoyoung is always right."
"...But aren't you tired?"
"Pardon?"
Master Hoyoung glanced at me, arms loaded with luggage, his concern warming my heart. How could anyone be so kind? He was so lovable I wanted to shower him with kisses.
"Why not hand it off to the staff? It's just bags."
"No! I want to carry Master Hoyoung's luggage myself!"
"Must be heavy..."
"My love for Master Hoyoung is far heavier, so it's fine. I love you!"
"...If you're okay with it, whatever."
His worry for me ended there. Of course—a great man like Master Hoyoung shouldn't waste time on someone like me forever. I didn't want that either. With noble poise, he scanned the saluting stewardesses, grabbed a pretty one's breast, and squeezed.
"You're cute. Mind if I grope your tits?"
"Of course not, Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty?"
"Master Hoyoung is the head of state of our New Japan. 'Your Majesty' is the fitting title."
"Damn Himeko... isn't the brainwashing a bit too thorough? Anyway, you married?"
"Yes, last month..."
"Hmm. Your tits have nice bounce."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Good work. Oh, but divorce your husband. Sue him for raping you and squeeze him for alimony."
"Yes."
"Know why I'm ordering this?"
"No, I don't."
"Just for fun."
"Ah... I see."
"You resent me? I wrecked your happy newlywed life."
"? No, not really... I can't find a reason to resent you."
Master Hoyoung was absolute and omnipotent, but he sometimes cracked these incomprehensible jokes. Just groped tits, ordered to sue her husband for rape, and divorce—where was the resentment in that? He was too kind, his consideration excessive.
The flight was scheduled for 7 PM, but Master Hoyoung wandered the airport groping pretty stewardesses, and takeoff time slipped by. Naturally, the airport's failure to adjust for his whims was their blatant screw-up. I trailed behind as he fondled asses, rubbed panties, stole kisses.
"Today's the day we head back to Korea, so guess we should wrap it up. Getting tired anyway."
"Yes, Master Hoyoung! A wise choice!"
"No need to butter me up like that. You're starting to sound like Himeko."
Speak of the devil—Fujiwara no Himeko, prime minister of Japan, waited by the plane with her daughter Sumire. The mother-daughter duo looked stunning in kimonos, as always. Plenty of pretty women around, but few with Himeko's refined elegance.
"Oman ko." She lifted her kimono hem, baring her pussy. Pussy juice already streamed down her thighs—proof that Himeko was perpetually in heat around Master Hoyoung, poker face or not.
"Oman ko? What's that about, Himeko?"
"It's New Japan's new greeting, Your Majesty. Spreading it nationwide in place of 'ohayou.' Instead of waving, women will show their wet pussies thinking of Master Hoyoung. If a pussy's dry or she hesitates to show it, she's a micro-brain—easy to monitor the populace."
"Whoa... that's straight-up pervy."
"? Isn't it natural for women to be perverts? Women are creatures born to get fucked by Master Hoyoung, right?"
"Even so, can the prime minister just say 'monitor the populace' outright?"
"??? Yes?? Citizens are just resources to spend for Master Hoyoung. Culling rebellious livestock is obvious, isn't it, Your Majesty?"
"...Sigh. Fine, whatever."
Himeko's loyalty topped even the other slaves, occasionally flustering Master Hoyoung. But I thought her idea brilliant. It'd naturally filter micro-brains in daily life. Micro-brains were vermin to eradicate without mercy. Himeko was amazing—probably ranked number one among Master Hoyoung's sex slaves. Made me a tad jealous.
"Oh, Seungyeon. Carrying His Majesty's luggage?" Himeko smiled warmly at me.
"Yes. It's the least I can do to be useful to Master Hoyoung. Can't compare to you, Himeko, offering up a whole country."
"Nonsense. We're all mere bugs before His Majesty the God. Ever pondered which ant in a crawling line is superior? Only obedience to His Majesty matters. And don't call me 'auntie'—just Himeko."
"Still! You're Sumire's mom, my friend's, and older—feels weird calling you by name."
"I'm just His Majesty's lowly slave. Age means nothing to me. You and I are mere servants— no hierarchy needed between us. Understand?"
"...Yes... No. Got it, Himeko. You're right. Only Master Hoyoung deserves respect."
"Hee hee... You're finally growing up." Himeko—no, Himeko—covered her mouth with her sleeve, laughing gracefully. She reminisced.
"When you first came to Japan, you were a crazy micro-brain rejecting His Majesty's grace."
"Ack! Don't bring that up. I wasn't in my right mind... Thinking about my rudeness to Master Hoyoung still burns my face..."
"Hee hee hee. Remember what I said first? 'You'll fall as a bitch in Japan.' And you did."
"Yeah... This place was perfect for educating micro-brains. You're amazing, Himeko... Honestly, second only to Master Hoyoung in my respect."
"Thanks, but praise from anyone but His Majesty doesn't thrill me. You get it?"
"Yeah, obviously. Same here."
"Still, I'm glad you rate my work highly. Fun in New Japan, right?"
New Japan, the divine land—I scanned the airport, reminiscing. When I first arrived, I didn't like Master Hoyoung much. Even crazily wanted to leave him and go home. No idea why I thought that nonsense. Must've been under some weird hypnosis. Good thing I snapped out of it. And New Japan helped me wake up.
"Thanks, Japan... Japanese people... Himeko, Sumire... everyone. Thanks to you, I stayed on track and returned to Master Hoyoung's side. I'll never forget this grace."
I waved grandly, bidding farewell to Japan.
"Oh dear, that's not it, Seungyeon."
"??"
Sumire smiled like an older sister, correcting me. She lifted her kimono, flashing her pussy.
"Ah."
Right, forgot.
"Oman ko! Right?"
"Yeah. 'Goodbye' is vanishing from Japan. Greetings will be flashing pussies and shouting 'Oman ko!'"
Got it. I asked Master Hoyoung's permission to set down the bags, hiked up my skirt. My bush tingled in the air. Airport staff stared holes through my pussy. No shame. Humans besides Master Hoyoung were as meaningless as sweet potatoes or potatoes. I shouted at them.
"Oman ko!"
Oman ko. Goodbye, Japan. Oman ko Japan. Grateful land that brainwashed me. My friends' country. I'll never forget you. Even back in Korea.