The Sound of the Heart (7)
“W-wait a second!”
I hugged my body tight and scrambled backward. The hand that had been undoing my buttons swept through empty air.
Yoon Seo-a stared at that empty hand for a beat, then planted both hands on her hips and spoke with a face full of pure dissatisfaction.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Miss Ha-eun? It isn’t just anyone helping you undress—it’s me, personally.”
“That’s exactly the problem! Why are you the one doing it, Miss Yoon Seo-a?! And more importantly, I don’t even need to take my clothes off in the first place!”
“You don’t need to take them off…? If you attend me in the bath, your clothes will get completely soaked.”
“That’s something I’m willing to put up with! Wait—does that mean every single person who’s ever helped you bathe has stripped and climbed in with you?!”
Even the butler?! The horrified look on my face must have been something, because Yoon Seo-a gave me an expression of pure disbelief, as if I’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“Have you lost your mind, Miss Ha-eun? Why on earth would I want to look at those people’s naked bodies? Of course they come in fully dressed.”
“Th-then why are you telling me to take mine off?”
“Well…”
She started to answer, then paused, considering. After a moment she simply shrugged one elegant shoulder.
“Because I feel like it.”
“Because you feel like it? Feel like it?!”
The same person who had been talking about “rationality” and whatever else back on the bed was now spouting something this absurd. I nearly choked on my own outrage, but Yoon Seo-a’s expression didn’t so much as flicker as she slowly closed the distance between us.
“I’m not wearing a single thing and I’m starting to get cold, so would you kindly stay still? I’ll have you stripped down to your underwear in no time.”
“E-even the underwear?!”
Just what is her obsession with peeling my clothes off?! I kept my arms locked around myself and retreated from her advance until my back hit the wall and I had nowhere left to go.
Of course it wasn’t the door—just a solid, dead-end stretch of wall. No escape. Seeing that, Yoon Seo-a’s lips curved into a sweet little smile.
“Nowhere left to run now, Miss Ha-eun. Be a good girl and do as I say.”
“Ugh… uhhh…!”
Fine. All or nothing! I flung my arms wide from their protective hug and thrust them straight out toward her, planting my feet shoulder-width apart and locking my lower body solid.
“Hm?”
Yoon Seo-a tilted her head, looking puzzled by the sudden pose. I, on the other hand, wore a face of pure triumph.
“Even you, Miss Yoon Seo-a, won’t be able to break through this iron-wall stance…!”
It was a posture I’d learned at the self-defense academy—one designed to let you hold out for a long time against someone pushing in. But it wasn’t purely defensive. The moment the opponent showed an opening while trying to break your stance, you struck that gap and bolted. A thoroughly practical technique!
I declared it with absolute confidence. Yoon Seo-a seemed to search her memory for a second, then let out a soft snort of laughter.
“Now that you mention it, self-defense was one of the sports you used to do, wasn’t it, Miss Ha-eun.”
“That’s right! Now that you’ve realized, how about you back off…?”
“But did you know this, Miss Ha-eun?”
She stepped closer as she spoke. I poured strength into both arms and both legs, bracing myself to hold the line.
That resolve lasted less than a second. The instant Yoon Seo-a’s hand closed around my wrist and lifted, I was yanked forward and slammed against the wall without the slightest resistance. The other wrist met the same fate. Trapped between the wall and her body, I could only make confused little sounds—“Huh? Uh-huh?”—until our eyes met.
“The trainer who handled my workouts was a boxing medalist.”
“Eh.”
I looked at the arm holding my wrist. It was slender and porcelain-white, yet it wasn’t merely pretty the way other girls’ arms were. Finely honed muscle packed every inch of it. When my gaze dropped lower, the clear eight-pack of her abdomen stood out in sharp relief.
I stared blankly. Yoon Seo-a continued, almost conversationally.
“And that self-defense academy you used to attend? It shut down not long ago. Word spread that they were selling fake techniques.”
“F-fake self-defense?”
“Yes. So I’d suggest you stop using that so-called ‘iron-wall stance’ or whatever. To anyone who actually knows what they’re doing, it just looks… cute. Laughable, really.”
Laughable…? Despair crashed over me.
I’d learned it because I’d been reborn as a woman—and a small-framed one at that—and needed some way to protect myself. They’d told me this was the most effective technique of all, so I’d drilled it every single day. And it had been a scam the whole time.
“M-my time… my money…”
“All right then. Shall we get you undressed?”
While I floundered in hollow despair, Yoon Seo-a smiled brightly and began peeling my clothes off one piece at a time.
By the time only my underwear remained, I finally snapped back to myself and thrashed, but it was humiliatingly useless—both wrists were pinned in her grip and I couldn’t move an inch.
“What cute little underthings you’re wearing.”
“Kh…!”
Everything in my size is frilly and bright—I don’t have a choice! My face burned as I twisted my head away from her.
The clasp came undone; my slightly constricted chest was freed. Even my panties were stripped away before I could put up any real resistance.
I sank to the floor, arms crossed over my private places, and cried out,
“Kh—just kill me…!”
“Why would I kill you, Miss Ha-eun?”
It just felt like the kind of line the atmosphere demanded. I’d shouted it half in jest, but the shame still felt ready to split my face open.
It wasn’t that I lacked confidence in my body. Small chest and short height were genetic, sure, but everything else was the product of years of blood and sweat. Objectively speaking, my body was beautiful!
Showing it to someone else, though—that was mortifying.
Ever since I’d become this body, I hadn’t even bathed with my mother, let alone set foot in a public bathhouse…!
“Come now. If you keep sitting on that cold floor you’ll catch a chill. So why don’t you stand up nicely for me?”
“Ugh…”
I had no choice but to rise at her words.
She was right—the area just outside the bathroom had no heating, and the floor was freezing. Warm air circulated overhead thanks to the temperature-control system, but down here it was ice.
“A-at least let me cover myself with a towel!”
“Why are you so desperate to hide? Your body isn’t quite on my level, but it’s still very lovely, you know.”
“I know that! But it’s embarrassing…”
“…Miss Ha-eun, you have a surprisingly healthy dose of self-love, don’t you? In any case, there’s no need to feel shy. It’s only the two of us here, after all.”
“Eek…!”
As if declaring she was done arguing, Yoon Seo-a took hold of my wrist and pulled me along.
I hurried after her so I wouldn’t fall.
“This is the bathroom.”
“The bathroom…?”
When most people picture a bathroom, they imagine a space engineered for maximum efficiency in minimum square footage—a tiny tub jammed against three walls, shower head right beside it, that sort of thing.
What Yoon Seo-a introduced as a bathroom was nothing of the sort. If I had to compare, it was roughly four times the size of the dorm room Su-ryeon and I shared.
And instead of an ordinary tub, there were three full-sized baths of the kind you’d find in a public bathhouse—each large enough for five people with room to spare.
One held ordinary water. Another was already frothing with bubbles. Guests could apparently choose according to preference.
The third stood empty for some reason. As I stared at it, Yoon Seo-a answered the unspoken question.
“That’s the oil bath.”
“Oil bath?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. They specially process crude petroleum and fill it with that.”
“Crude petroleum…?”
An image of thick, pitch-black sludge immediately sprang to mind. Climb into that? My face twisted in revulsion, and Yoon Seo-a laughed.
“It’s better than you’d think. Doesn’t even smell much. They only open it on request because it looks a bit unsightly, but would you like to try it once?”
“No. I’ll pass.”
“You’re so sharp when it comes to things like this.”
“I’ve always been that way where you’re concerned, Miss Yoon Seo-a.”
“That’s a little disappointing,” she said, and led me onward.
A belated twinge of guilt flickered—maybe I’d been too harsh—but I shook my head hard and steeled myself.
If we were ranking who was harsher, Yoon Seo-a won by a landslide. I had zero reason to feel sorry for her.
She brought me to the ordinary hot bath.
“W-wait—you’re getting in without washing first?!”
I yelped in shock as she stepped straight into the tub without a shower, but her face remained perfectly calm.
“The bathroom is cleaned thoroughly by the staff every morning. They change the bathwater as well.”
“Even so…”
“Come along, Miss Ha-eun. Ah—before that, would you fetch the basket from that shower stall for me?”
I did as she asked and retrieved the basket from the stall.
It was packed with every kind of bath product imaginable, each one costing hundreds of thousands of won at the very least just from the brand names alone.
“Miss Ha-eun?”
“Ah—yes! Coming!”
I’d been gawking at the luxury toiletries one by one; her call snapped me out of it and I hurried back.
Outside, Yoon Seo-a was already lounging luxuriously in the bath. I set the basket down near her and knelt formally. Her closed eyes opened and settled on me.
“You’ve never received bath attendance before, have you, Miss Ha-eun.”
“Well… I grew up in an ordinary household.”
Aside from the very earliest years when my mother had washed me, the answer was zero. Yoon Seo-a spoke as if she’d expected exactly that.
“Today I’ll specially teach you every step. If you simply do as I say, it won’t be difficult at all.”
“Yes…”
I couldn’t understand why she was making it sound like some grand secret technique, but instead of arguing I simply nodded.
“We start with the hair.”
Following her instructions, I began with her hair. Rather than dunking it, I wet my hands and carefully worked moisture through the strands.
Then I scooped a generous amount of the oil that served in place of shampoo, massaged it thoroughly into her hair, and finished by smoothing everything with wet hands again.
It sounds simple when you say it like that, but it easily took several dozen minutes.
Her hair wasn’t short, and every touch had to be exquisitely gentle, so of course it dragged on.
I’d only finished the hair and I was already exhausted. Panting, I followed her next instruction and moved my hands again.
This time it was her face. Same principle—no dumping water over her. Just damp fingertips carefully massaging and wiping.
“Eek!”
“Heh.”
Halfway through she suddenly nipped the finger that brushed past her lips (it didn’t hurt), startling me badly, but otherwise her face followed the same careful process as her hair and was soon finished.
The real problem started now. Hands slick with oil, I looked at her and said,
“Th-then… I’m really going to do it…?”
“Yes. As much as you like.”
I swallowed hard as I stared at the upper swell of her chest rising above the water’s surface.