The Miracle Hand
Sorry as I felt toward Lee Yeondo, even if she’d suggested heading to a hotel for round two, the cost-benefit just wouldn’t have added up. This was what they called power.
When I declared in front of both of them that Shin Iseol’s massage had been better, Lee Yeondo’s face fell with pure disappointment. Shin Iseol, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with joy, not knowing what to do with herself. Now that we’d grown a little closer, she patted Yeondo on the back and said,
“Since it turned out this way, I’ll leave the foot massage to you. Talk about all the things you never got to say and clear up any misunderstandings between us, okay?”
When Shin Iseol spoke so familiarly to Lee Yeondo—who was two years younger—Yeondo nodded along.
Shin Iseol returned to the front desk while Yeondo and I walked side by side into the break room. I’d expected her to start complaining the second we were alone, but she stayed quiet—so quiet I had to be the one to break the silence.
“I didn’t have a choice. If I’d picked you over the manager right there, things between the two of you would’ve gotten even worse.”
That seemed to land with enough logic that Yeondo gave me a small smile.
“You did that on purpose, thinking about me?”
“Yeah. Your massage was way better, Yeondo.”
“Really?”
She lit up like a kid who’d just gotten the perfect Christmas present. Honestly, she seemed happier about that single line than about me choosing her in the first place.
“I’m so relieved. I was a little nervous, you know? Worried my skills might’ve gotten rusty. It’s been a while since I massaged a guy, after all.”
“I almost lost it right there. Seriously, I was this close to whipping out my credit card on the spot.”
“Hehe. There was a time people used to call me the Miracle Hand, you know.”
“Miracle Hand?”
“Yeah. You’ve never heard of it? Miracle Hand. For baking it’s the Hand of the Sun. For massage, it’s the Miracle Hand. Of course, I was just called that for fun, but supposedly a real Miracle Hand is someone who can save a life with bare hands alone. Things like ‘Hand of the Sun’ or ‘Miracle Hand’ only show up in comics and novels, right?”
Miracle Hand…
I nodded and answered,
“Y-yeah… If someone like that actually existed, the world would go crazy.”
“Mm-hmm. Anyway, today felt really meaningful. I’ll talk things out with the manager soon and I’m sure it’ll be fine. Work used to drag because it was so slow, but a foot massage? I can handle that no problem.”
“Yeah… Thanks for your hard work. And thanks for letting me experience the four-hand massage.”
“Aww, don’t mention it. So Saturday’s round two is on you, Junhyun?”
“Haha. We’ll see when the day comes.”
“Such a cheapskate! Keep saving like that and you’ll be rich in no time.”
“Rich… Yeah, I do need to get rich.”
Honestly, I barely registered whatever she was saying. My head was completely occupied by that one phrase: Miracle Hand.
A hand that saves lives. In that case, I’d already achieved that goal early on. When Jin Ayoung fell into the water, I’d dragged her ashore intending to give her CPR, but the moment my hands touched her she sat up like nothing had happened. And that wasn’t all. I’d fixed ankle injuries, cured erectile dysfunction, and solved the worries of a woman suffering from anorgasmia. All of it had happened in less than a week since I’d realized my ability. How many more people’s problems and worries was I going to solve from here on out?
Did that mean I could rightfully call myself a Miracle Hand?
The moment the thought formed, my own earlier words came back to me. “If someone like that existed, the world would go crazy.”
Exactly. The world would be turned upside down. But it wouldn’t be all good. Anyone who’d watched an SF movie knew that people with superhuman powers always ended up being hunted. I’d become a target for every kind of weirdo—kidnapped, locked away.
I could use the ability, but I could never let anyone discover that I could see those colored spots.
“What are you thinking so hard about?”
Worried, Yeondo leaned her face right up to mine and stared.
Right. For now, I should just enjoy life stuck to pretty women like Yeondo—like I was finally getting payback for all the shitty years I’d lived so far.
“I was thinking about what we should do on Saturday.”
“Hehe. Don’t overthink it that much. We’ll just go wherever our feet take us. We’ve both got things to pay back, so let’s just take turns treating, okay?”
“Alright.”
Yeondo practically floated out of the break room. Thinking about meeting on Saturday must have put her in a great mood. Watching her smile so brightly made my own mood lift too.
But the good feeling didn’t last long. A glance at the clock told me it was almost time for Lee Mikyeong’s four-hand massage.
Before heading into the VIP room I carefully washed my hands, thinking about the purple spot I’d seen earlier.
Pressing the purple spot had lengthened my dick and increased its hardness. What if I applied the same thing to a woman’s body? Her breasts would grow, her vaginal tightness would improve… or maybe the distribution of her erogenous zones would expand.
Red spots meant muscle tension—pressing them made the body feel languid and helped injured areas recover. Blue spots meant loss of function; releasing them restored that function. Pink spots seemed to represent pleasure. So how should I define purple spots?
Dick length, thickness, hardness… My head was getting complicated.
Maybe… complexes?
The word that shot through my mind was “complex.” I’d thought about it while watching porn. What if I finally got to have sex and my dick turned out relatively small? What if it was soft and the girl couldn’t feel anything? I’d heard plenty of stories about guys who got girlfriends only to break up because their sexual function didn’t work properly. I didn’t even have a girl to sleep with and I was still fucking terrified.
I’d had that complex buried in my subconscious, and when Kim Seoa told me my dick was pretty big, I’d been so happy I could’ve jumped for joy.
There probably wasn’t a better word than “complex” to describe purple spots.
So purple spots, when released, resolved complexes… It was an absurdly broken ability, no question, but one doubt remained. Why had I only been able to discover purple spots now?
My head was starting to hurt. I scratched it with the hands I’d just washed and had to wash them all over again.
The sliding door opened and Shin Iseol poked her head in.
“Junhyun~ Mrs. Lee Mikyeong is here. She’s chatting with the Director in the VIP room. Take your time~”
That sly little… The second she got chosen her whole attitude flipped.
I grinned and answered,
“Got it. I’ll be right up.”
“As expected of our ace~ Always ready.”
“Ah, Manager, one thing I’m curious about.”
“What is it?”
“Do you have any complexes or anything?”
“Huh… Out of nowhere? Um, asking so suddenly makes it a little hard to answer…”
“Yeah, if you could tell someone easily it wouldn’t be a complex, right?”
“Yeah, well… that’s true.”
Figuring out complexes was going to be another task. Once trust was thick enough and they learned I could actually fix those complexes, they’d tell me. Building solid trust with clients had just become extremely important. Since I still hadn’t fully figured out these spots, there were a few experiments I wanted to try.
I looked at Shin Iseol and gave her a small smile.
“I just randomly thought of it, so don’t worry about it too much.”
“Okay. If I think of something I’ll tell you, then…”
Apparently bringing up complexes had been a mistake. Shin Iseol’s bright expression darkened in an instant. Even a kid walking by could tell she had some complex she couldn’t talk about.
It was clearly a sensitive area—something I’d have to approach carefully.
I checked my uniform in the mirror one more time and headed for the VIP room.
It felt like stepping onto a testing ground, and at the same time my heart started racing. Looking at people’s bodies and hunting for spots had become fun—like digging for oil and finding problems only I could solve.
When I opened the VIP room door, Lee Mikyeong’s voice floated from behind the partition.
“Oh my~ Our main character has arrived?”
I pulled the partition aside and she looked up at me with a smile.
“Hello.”
“Yes. I’ve been looking forward to today so much.”
“Alright, alright. Shall we get started right away?”
“Director, really~ We can chat about recent news and take it slow. Don’t you think so, Junhyun?”
“I don’t really have any recent news to share. Did something happen with you?”
I wiped Lee Mikyeong’s feet with a warm towel as I spoke.
“First off, I quit the personal training like the Director suggested. Those bastards still tried to squeeze the full 10% cancellation fee out of me. No skill whatsoever. So I just tossed them the cash and walked out.”
“Oh~ Our madam is fiery.”
Choi Wonjae spoke in that middle-aged-guy way while preparing the oil. I’d half expected him to oil up by rubbing hands with me the way Shin Iseol and Lee Yeondo had, but he just coated his own hands and arms thoroughly by himself.
“And when I said I wanted a refund, you’d think they’d at least ask why, right? Nope. Just ‘cancellation fees this and that, you’ll take a loss if you cancel~’ while trying to lecture me.”
“They’re all like that. Especially the ones with no skill.”
“Exactly~ From now on I’m just going to keep investing in the Director’s place that I can actually trust.”
As she said it, Lee Mikyeong stared straight at my face. It was the kind of stare that would normally be embarrassing, but after enduring the same clingy gazes from Shin Iseol and Lee Yeondo earlier, I didn’t flinch.
“By the way, I really hope what you said is true.”
“What?”
“You said it, Junhyun. That you’d make me look ten years younger than I do now.”
This time Choi Wonjae didn’t answer; he just looked at me.
I took the cue.
“I guarantee it.”
“Heh, I knew it. I was waiting for you to say that. Haa… Then I’ll just rest my eyes a bit. I’ve been running around all day dealing with refunds and whatnot—I’m exhausted.”
“Going to sleep?”
“No, just cover my eyes.”
Choi Wonjae kindly slipped an eye mask over her eyes.
I told him,
“Then I’ll take the pelvic area. Director, please handle the upper body.”
It was a little different from a normal four-hand massage. I’d already told them I was going to restore function around Lee Mikyeong’s pelvis and improve her blood circulation, after all.
Choi Wonjae didn’t pick any nits. He simply moved to the head of the table as if that had been the plan all along and began applying oil to her neck and shoulders.
I sat by her feet and coated my hands and arms with oil as well.
Then, like a surgeon right before an operation, I said,
“We will now begin the four-hand massage.”