How Does Brother Namgung Know About the "Room You Can't Leave Without XX"...?

"Ugh… where am I…?"

A young man with a habit of shamelessly hitting on any halfway decent woman he laid eyes on — a minor local menace of some small renown in his own neighborhood — cracked open his eyes.

A few years past the age of twenty, still a greenhorn as wastrels went, his name was Naerip, courtesy name Tori.

"…What? Wh-what the hell is this…?!"

Raking through his memories of the night before, Naerip was certain he had fallen asleep in his own bed. Yet the place he woke to was a sealed chamber with a thoroughly unfamiliar ceiling, and his body was bound to a chair. How could he not be startled?

"Nngh…!"

Rattle-rattle—

He strained desperately against the ropes, but the arms lashed to the chair did not so much as twitch.

Naerip himself would freely admit that chasing women was not the most noble of hobbies. Still, he had never once laid a hand on a married woman — unattached girls and courtesans, fine, but never another man's wife — so he could not imagine having earned anyone's lasting grudge. And yet… what, exactly, was this situation supposed to be? It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for all the world as if someone who hated him had snatched him from his bed while he slept.

A spike of dread sent him frantically scanning the room, and his eyes snagged on a scrap of paper stuck to the door.

"'No Mating, No Escape'…?"

Meaning… "You cannot leave this room until you've slept with someone"…?

He was still gaping at the utterly absurd message on the door when a low voice drifted from behind him.

"Long time no see. Nae Tori…."

Hearing his own courtesy name spoken so suddenly sent a chill racing down his spine. He wrenched his head around as far as the ropes would allow, desperate to see who owned that voice.

"……."

Behind him sat a young woman in scandalously skimpy underthings, her hair done up in twin tails, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Oh… not bad…

He might well have been moments from death, but Naerip was a man whose cock ran his brain. The near-total lack of breasts was a shame, true — but look at those fever-bright eyes.

With a look like that… I'd get on my knees and thank her…?

Already calculating how best to make a conquest of this girl into a story worth bragging about, he twisted his body around and flashed her what he firmly believed was a charming smile.

"Miss, as you can see, this fellow finds himself in a rather awkward predicament…. Might you lend a hand?"

The young woman behind him only let out a soft, heat-laced sigh, a flush rising to her cheeks.

"Haaah— those eyes really are filthy…. Now I know what it feels like to have someone 'lick you with a look'…."

Her voice was half-drunk, almost entranced.

"Uh, miss…?"

What kind of nonsense was this girl spouting? A sliver of wariness finally stirred in Naerip — but she paid his state no mind at all, simply pointing at the paper on the door.

"The writing on that paper stuck to the door… that. You saw it, right? We can't leave this room until we've mixed our flesh."

"Ahem, ahem…. I understand. I take your meaning perfectly, miss. Then, if you would first undo these restraints on my arms…"

Privately delighted by her blunt declaration of intent to share the clouds and rain, Naerip asked her to free him from his bonds.

"Heh heh… no. You might try to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠resist…."

"Come now — what man would resist the chance to be intimate with a beauty like yourself? Please, just these bindings…"

But the girl was every bit as unyielding as her words. With deft hands she stripped his lower garments clean off — underclothes and all — while he remained seated and bound in the chair.

"I'll wring you dry until you wouldn't even dream of touching my mother again…♡♡"

Declaring her intent to milk him dry, she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠settled onto his bare knees. A sweet, cloying scent of banana drifted from her, and from between her thighs came a soft, yielding pressure.

Banana…? And… wait. Mo…ther…?

At last he grasped the identity of the girl perched on his lap — no, of his friend — but it was already far, far too late.

"Don't tell me — Jieun…? No, wait wait wait…! You're not a girl—aaagh?!"

The room's soundproofing was so thorough that even standing right outside the door and straining, one would have caught only the faintest ant-sized whisper of Naerip — courtesy name Tori, thus Nae Tori — screaming. And since no one could even approach this basement in the first place, it made no difference. As a bonus, a crystal orb installed in the corner was recording every last second of the scene.

"Hey, calm down a little…!"

Naerip twisted his bound arms with everything he had, but the knots were not the sort to yield so easily.

"Ehehe…. Don't worry. I'm half my mother, after all…."

Half his mother, so it was fine? From what world, exactly, did that logic spring? Naerip desperately wanted to tear the argument to shreds, but given the circumstances he chose to keep his mouth shut.

And so, lips sealed, he sat breathing in the sweet scent of flesh from the lunatic astride his lap — no, his lunatic childhood friend — until the very thing he had feared came to pass. His cock, rather more impressive than average and the wellspring of his confidence, sprang stiffly to attention at the female(?) fragrance Jieun was giving off.

"Your mouth says you're panicking, but your body's being honest, huh…?"

"…Haha. That, uh. That's just a mechanical reaction to your touch…."

His childhood friend smiled with languid allure. Her androgynous, fresh-faced looks — so like her beautiful mother's — had been softened by light makeup into something that recalled the bewitching beauty of a courtesan he had once held. The memory of once thinking, looking at Son Jieun, if it were just the face, maybe floated up in Naerip's mind… but men had never been inside his range of "maybe."

…Though with his cock already fully hard, excuses were rather pointless.

More importantly — that pure little kid, where the hell did he learn to talk like this?

Not long ago Naerip had been caught making a pass at the lonely widow next door — Jieun's mother, ten years into a solitary bed — and had been thoroughly chewed out for it. Had the boy been trained in some brothel in the meantime? He was a completely different person.

"Forget about my dick and just put my clothes back on…. Ugh!"

Naerip rattled off every excuse that floated into his head without filtering any of them. What he got in return was exquisite fingerwork — using his own precum as lubricant to caress the sensitive head of his cock.

"Hmm… a mechanical reaction, you say…? Take this—!"

Slick, slick—

Provoked by his denial of her seduction, Jieun's caresses grew fiercer. One hand gripped his shaft while the soft palm of the other cupped and rubbed the glans.

"S-stop…! I'm gonna cum…!"

Under the fierce assault, Naerip's already painfully hard cock informed its owner within seconds that climax was imminent.

"Eh, already…?"

Perhaps a little startled by his surrender, Jieun momentarily eased the intensity of the pleasure she had been building toward his release.

"…Hehe. Felt good after all, didn't it?"

"Ugh…."

He had already been highly aroused, and the technique working his cock was genuinely masterful… but the true root of the problem was Naerip's premature ejaculation — a condition that had earned him the nickname "Rapid-Fire Cannon" from a girl he had once seduced at a pleasure house. Naturally, it was a fact he worked very hard to ignore.

"Then… shall we go again? I won't let you cum the first time until you beg me to make it cheap for you…?"

"Wait, Jieun — Jieun! Listen to me for a second. There's an order to these things, right? How about we take it slow, step by step, the way people who know each other should…?"

It was pure stalling on Naerip's part, a face-saving deflection — yet somehow it worked. The hands that had been stroking his cock with such exquisite control went still.

"………?"

Puzzled but grateful, he looked down at Jieun. The boldness of moments before had vanished; his childhood friend's face was as red as a ripe persimmon, and he was avoiding Naerip's eyes.

"S-s-so, so that means… you want to start by dating first…?"

"What…?"

For an instant Naerip was thrown by Son Jieun's shy murmur — but his brain, spinning past its limits, seized the last chance to wriggle free of this situation.

"Of course! I've liked you since we were kids, Jieun…! Everything I've done until now was because I was afraid that if I confessed, you'd hate me!"

Even to Naerip's own ears it was pure nonsense — but waking up tied to a chair and being violated by his cross-dressing childhood friend was even more nonsense, wasn't it? And in fact, his words seemed to land perfectly. Hearing that deranged confession, Jieun wiped at happy tears and smiled.

"Hic— me too, me too…! I lived my whole life without knowing, but thanks to Hero Namgung I finally realized…!"

Hero Namgung…?

The question that flickered through Naerip's mind scattered like mist the moment his childhood friend's hands resumed their work on his cock.

"So… since we're lovers from this moment on… let's make sure you never hit on another woman again. I'll wring out every last drop…!"

"Wh-what did you— oohk?!"

Declaring her intent to drain him dry, his childhood friend ground her soft palm against the head of his cock. Terror flooded Naerip's eyes.