When I Proposed a Bet, the Crazy Landlord's Daughter Demanded to See My Fully Erect Dick
What the hell... Did some random stabbing spree break out or something?
I tilted my head, staring at the emergency disaster text that had just landed out of nowhere. For something labeled “urgent,” the wording was way too vague. The only thing I could reasonably guess was a random knife attack.
Still, I thought those random stabbings had dropped off a lot lately... And don’t they usually just call it a “weapon rampage” straight up?
It had been a while since I’d gotten one of those random-violence alerts, so I dug back through my memory. As far as I could recall, weapon-rampage texts used to be a lot more specific than this one.
There’d been a stretch when random murders and random knife attacks were basically a trend. Back then I was seeing related texts about every two weeks. Once it got bad enough, the security industry in Korea exploded. And sure enough, the serious violent crimes actually dropped off in a meaningful way—enough that I could look back and think, Yeah, it used to be like that.
Damn... After pounding Auntie Min-jung last night, I want to see her even more. Gotta go see my Auntie Min-jung~
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!
After checking the text I washed my face and shampooed my hair. I was scrubbing myself clean and shiny so I could head over to the landlord’s house.
Yesterday while we were eating dinner, Auntie Min-jung had told me she’d make breakfast too and to come over around nine in the morning. After the emergency alert I checked my message pile and found she’d texted around 8:30 saying she was actually prepping breakfast and to come over. When I didn’t reply she must’ve figured I was still dead asleep, because at 8:55 a follow-up arrived telling me to come for lunch once I woke up.
So here I was, all dolled up, ready to eat lunch with Auntie Min-jung and her daughter.
Man... Weather’s perfect... Look at that sunshine... Hell yeah...
I threw on a sleeveless tee and sweatpants, dragged my three-stripe slippers across the ground, and stepped outside. Clack. I cut across the wide front yard on my way to the main house—then stopped dead.
“....”
I was looking over the newly expanded construction site for the landlord’s place. Blank-faced, I just stared at the huge plot.
Honestly... “Some people succeed no matter what they touch” fits Park Do-chul perfectly.
Look at that monstrosity...
Park A-young had told me roughly 35 billion won had been poured into the new space. For the record, that 35-billion-won bunker complex had nothing to do with Auntie Min-jung. It was purely Park Do-chul’s project.
What the hell did he build a bunker that big for...?
He’d put a massive bunker into the new construction. According to Park A-young it was three stories above ground and two below. Work had started three years ago, but the real peak of construction was last year. Back then I’d taken a leave of absence, gotten a job, and only came home on weekends. Plus the site had been so high-security they’d ringed it with barricades, so someone who only ever went back and forth to our little house never got a detailed look at the build.
Damn... A bunker that size could shrug off pretty much any disaster...
Hell, it might even take a nuke.
I’d seen Park Do-chul’s bunker yesterday when I opened the front gate, but after that random emergency text it hit different. That was why I was standing here gawking.
He built these things all over the country—and even overseas—so of course the money just rolled in...
And the company that built the bunker right in front of me was Park Do-chul’s own security firm. Daebak Security handled all kinds of security content. Bunkers were basically a side hustle; the real meat was the academy and special-police business. That side of things was big enough that they even dealt in a certain level of weapons, from what I’d heard.
It was 2062 now, and a unified Korea existed. Park Do-chul’s business had ridden the chaotic post-unification wave like a pro. He’d dipped into the food industry right when post-unification food shortages hit—jackpot. The capital from that went into construction, which then lined up perfectly with the national administrative-district reorganization project—another massive jackpot. And it didn’t stop there.
At the end of 2049, before I’d even moved in, he’d jumped into the security business he was still running now. Naturally that was another huge win, and the timeline went like this: right after unification, the regional and generational conflicts that had been simmering finally boiled over. That was exactly the flood of random violent crime I’d mentioned earlier. Riding that giant wave came the bunker-building boom, the expansion and government support of security companies, and finally the mammoth national project known as the Goryeo Special Police. That was how Park Do-chul became a full-fledged member of the mainstream elite.
Side note: at every single one of those turning points, the business ideas had come from Auntie Min-jung. Which was why he’d rather die than give her a divorce.
“Geum Tae-yang, this your house now? You just walk in like you own the place?”
Park A-young was sprawled on the sofa in a crop top and dolphin shorts. The second she spotted me she fired off her usual daily dose of snark.
“Auntie told me to come eat lunch, so I came. You heard her say it yesterday right next to me, so what’s your problem?”
I had full immunity to her by now, so I answered without missing a beat.
“But I don’t see Auntie Min-jung. Where’d she go?”
My Venus. My first love. I couldn’t sense Auntie Min-jung anywhere. Normally the moment she heard my voice her smile would bloom and she’d come running from wherever she was. The place felt empty without her.
“She saw you scarfing down dinner like a starving animal last night, got all happy, and went grocery shopping.”
Park A-young was flying through her phone with flashy two-thumb technique, but she still answered me. Her tone was pure trash, yet she was surprisingly good about actually answering questions.
Ahem... The hair, the attitude—she’s got that half-delinquent vibe locked down...
As expected of Auntie Min-jung’s daughter, Park A-young’s body, movements, speech, and expressions just dripped sex appeal. She’d never hung out with full-on male delinquents or smoked back in school, but she’d still been classified as a half-delinquent. She thought it was unfair. Considering how she’d stubbornly ignored every teacher’s relentless complaints about her dyed hair, though, the label fit.
Doesn’t match the image at all, but her brain is ridiculously good... Must be Auntie Min-jung’s genes—Park Do-chul’s Midas touch...
She just didn’t study. Her raw intelligence was insane—genius-level at minimum. I’d ground my body into dust to get into a top university; she’d coasted in while goofing off. Definitely not Park Do-chul’s genes. It had to be the genes of the woman who’d actually built his entire success roadmap. I’d always heard a kid’s brains come from the mother.
“Hey, Park A-young.”
Curiosity got the better of me.
“Can you open the bunker door?”
I wanted to know if she could crack the high-tech bunker’s security and throw it open.
“What kind of random bullshit is that all of a sudden?”
Even I had to admit the question came out of nowhere, so her reaction made sense. For the record, Park A-young’s current goddess title was “Engineering Goddess.” Purely looks-based, of course—though her grades were goddess-tier too. She’d entered as the top student.
She’d stopped studying in high school, but up through second year of middle school she’d worked hard. The reason was a little sad: she figured if a smart kid like her studied hard enough, her father Park Do-chul might finally pay attention. How good had she been? She’d stood on the podium at every science and math competition like it was a daily meal. Teachers used to come find Auntie Min-jung for serious career counseling about her. Once she realized nothing she did would make Park Do-chul care, she quit studying cold.
“There was a disaster text a bit ago. If something actually goes down, we should be able to use the bunker, right?”
“I asked Auntie Min-jung last time—she doesn’t know the password. No card either.”
I gave my reason to the still-indifferent, head-tilted Park A-young. Sure, part of me was just curious whether she could open it, but the disaster text had been the real spark.
Even my own words right now proved how special Park Do-chul was. He’d built a bunker and then made sure the rest of the family couldn’t get in. The guy barely lived at home—spent more than half the year outside—and still did that. What the hell was the bunker even for?
“Disaster texts aren’t exactly new. Why the hell are you obsessing over the bunker over something like that?”
“No, A-young. This one was a civil-unrest disaster text. You can’t just brush that off as everyday anymore.”
“Whatever. I don’t care. More accurately, it’s a pain in the ass. If you want it open, Geum Tae-yang, open it with your bare hands.”
As expected, Park A-young stayed completely uninterested. I’d tried a little persuasion and it bounced right off. She was basically a cynic; a civil-unrest text was just a fire on the other side of the river to her.
But I’d already predicted this reaction. And I had a counter ready. The persuasion that just failed had actually been setup for the finishing blow.
“Heh... So even the great Park A-young doesn’t have the confidence to crack a high-tech bunker, huh... Fair enough. Genius, prodigy, whatever—they only ever called you that back in middle school...”
I scratched her pride.
“You fucking bastard...”
My plan landed perfectly. From the moment she’d side-eyed me walking in, Park A-young had never taken her eyes off her phone. Now she finally looked straight at me and fired that signature sharp glare.
“Ohhh... Park A-young’s still alive in there...? That look’s saying ‘I’m the Park A-young they called a genius back in school,’ right?”
So I delivered the finishing shot. Park A-young’s personality simply could not swallow my needling without exploding.
“Fine, you son of a bitch. I’ll open it.”
She shot up from the sofa. The force was so strong her G-cup breasts bounced and swayed wildly—practically advertising that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“But I fucking hate the way you keep needling me. You made the offer first, so if I succeed I’m taking something from you.”
Properly pissed off, Park A-young opened negotiations.
“Bring it on! I’ve never held anything back from you! I’ve always thrown everything I have for you and I’m proud of it. You know that too, right?”
I spread both arms wide, showing off the easy confidence radiating from my whole body. I’d done every single chore for Park A-young just to make Auntie Min-jung happy. There was zero reason to fear any deal she wanted to cut.
“If I open the bunker door, you take that dick hanging between your legs, pull it out, and get it fully hard.”
“Completely full erection. Hard enough it looks like it’s about to explode.”
But Park A-young was still Park A-young. Eyes blazing with rage and pure crazy, she pointed straight at the center of my crotch and dropped a negotiation term that completely shattered every expectation I had.
My dick.
She was demanding, as the price of success, that I whip it out right in front of her—shamelessly, fully erect—and show her the whole thing.