Chapter 33 Baiting Ryu Ga-hyeon (4)
Chapter 33 Baiting Ryu Ga-hyeon (4)
"Senior? What are you doing?"
Han Ji-su, who had been struggling to cuff the flailing wrist of Kang Da-eun, released her to address what seemed like a more urgent matter and stepped forward.
She could see the bastard son of that trash cult leader—the same depraved wretch who had assaulted his own mother and uploaded the footage all over the internet—now running toward Kang Da-eun.
"Mom! Are you hurt?"
The cult leader's son shouted just then.
The cool, expressionless look on Han Ji-su's face twisted slightly with contempt.
'Mom? According to the records, there's less than a ten-year age gap between him and Kang Da-eun. What a sick fucking pervert...'
Unlike her senior, Han Ji-su never let her guard down around criminals. She didn't hold back just because she was worried about hurting them.
Ruthless suppression was the only proper attitude a cop should have when dealing with criminals.
Han Ji-su abruptly swept her leg out, tripping the cult leader's son mid-stride as he approached Kang Da-eun.
If he had fallen forward, he could have been seriously injured.
But the bastard had decent reflexes—he instinctively rolled with the fall, ending up with nothing worse than dirtied clothes.
"Hey, pig cop! Who the hell do you think you're laying hands on?!"
The moment Han Ji-su released her grip, Kang Da-eun—who had been chasing after Ryu Ga-hyeon—shouted in alarm.
'Son? You crazy bitches... Birds of a feather, huh. No wonder you got sucked into a damn cult.'
Beneath her icy exterior, fury toward the cult seethed inside Han Ji-su.
But letting anger slow her reactions was something she couldn't tolerate—not from herself.
She approached the dazed cult leader's son from behind, who still seemed confused about why he had fallen.
Before he could even turn around at the sound of her footsteps, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
A textbook-perfect rear naked choke locked in.
If she applied pressure to his carotid artery now, he'd be out cold in under ten seconds.
And Han Ji-su began doing exactly that.
With the burning hatred she held for pseudo-religions—for Cheonmyeong Cult.
With the self-loathing she felt whenever she saw his videos, her body flinching every time his dick flashed on screen.
'Drop dead, you cultist bastard! Just because you've got a pretty face doesn't mean I'll go easy on you!'
Unbeknownst to her, Han Ji-su had already lost her usual cool demeanor—too consumed by the turmoil inside her to even notice.
"Ghk—!"
The cult leader's son let out a pained groan.
For a split second, Han Ji-su thought, Even his voice is annoyingly attractive, before angrily tightening her grip.
Her team leader, sitting on the bench with a tub of ice cream, gave her a look as if to say "Take it easy," but as far as Han Ji-su was concerned, she was taking it easy.
If she weren't a cop, she'd have beaten every last Cheonmyeong Cultist to death with her bare hands.
So choking him unconscious was already a merciful takedown.
"...Huh?"
But it didn't work.
Despite her flawless technique, Han Ji-su's body was suddenly lifted into the air.
No skill involved—the cult leader's son had simply overpowered her with brute strength.
Now she understood why Senior Park Cheol-woo had lost his grip on him earlier.
The startled, almost cute noise she let out lasted only a second.
Han Ji-su—who never skipped her workouts, even after late-night shifts spent wrapping up investigations to throw cultists in prison—quickly adjusted her position.
She leapt lightly, wrapping her legs around the cult leader's son's waist.
Immediately, the scent of his sweat mixed with something distinctly him hit her.
A provocative, intoxicatingly fragrant aroma.
Even Han Ji-su, who was sensitive to smells and owned multiple perfumes, had never encountered anything like it.
'Ugh! Don't you dare enjoy the smell of this cultist bastard, Han Ji-su, you fucking idiot!'
Cursing herself, she smoothly transitioned into a new hold.
Releasing the choke, she pressed down on his shoulders to straighten his torso while shifting her legs from his waist to his arms.
"Hey! I said keep your hands off my son!"
Kang Da-eun, who had been chasing their ice cream-holding team leader around the bench while clutching her phone, yelled furiously.
"Slurp. Slurp. Damn, this is good. Expensive ice cream really is the best. Munch. Munch."
The team leader, scooping ice cream into her mouth with her fingers, muttered as if this were none of her business while watching Han Ji-su.
Seeing that, Han Ji-su's tension eased slightly—but her body, honed through years of martial arts training, moved without hesitation.
In the blink of an eye, the new hold was locked in.
The cult leader's son's left arm was now twisted under the combined pressure of Han Ji-su's legs and arms.
"Ugh—!"
He tried to muscle his way free, but when it proved impossible, he groaned and slumped back down.
Even though the situation didn't call for it—and he certainly didn't deserve it—Han Ji-su caught herself thinking his labored breathing sounded oddly enticing. Disgusted, she yanked his arm harder.
'I'll snap it right off, you cultist, motherfucking bastard!'
The cult leader's son held out surprisingly long—his joints must've been as sturdy as his strength.
But without proper technique, brute force alone wouldn't free him.
It was only a matter of time before his arm broke.
Logically, Han Ji-su knew this was excessive. She kept thinking that the entire time she strained against his arm.
Yet for some reason, she couldn't control her emotions around him. The moment she saw his face, her usual cool demeanor shattered.
Her body burned, and worse—that place between her legs kept twitching.
For Han Ji-su, who had sworn to dedicate her life to eradicating Cheonmyeong Cult, this reaction—this arousal sparked by the very son of the man she despised—was unacceptable.
To bury those feelings, she pushed herself even harder than necessary.
Then Ryu Ga-hyeon, who had been messing around until now, looked down at her with a cold gaze.
"Ji-su, that's enough."
Han Ji-su deeply respected Ryu Ga-hyeon—the woman who had contributed the most to the cult leader's arrest—but right now, she acted as if she hadn't heard, wholly focused on breaking the bastard's arm.
To Ryu Ga-hyeon, Han Ji-su looked like a grade-school boy pulling the hair of the girl he liked.
(Though the "bullying" here was far beyond grade-school levels.)
"Let go!"
The cult leader's son shouted, swinging his free fist at her.
Han Ji-su arched her back to dodge, still maintaining the arm lock.
Frustrated, he started punching her thighs with all his strength.
It hurt, but her well-muscled legs absorbed most of the impact.
And now that he was attacking her, Han Ji-su felt fully justified in retaliating. She poured all her strength into snapping his arm—
—when suddenly, his fist shot straight between her spread legs.
Right toward her pussy.
Thud!
Uncharacteristically considerate for a cultist, he didn't put much force behind the punch.
The fact that he had held back because she was a woman wounded Han Ji-su's pride. But more than that—it flustered her.
Because despite the light impact, the moment his fist pressed against her, pleasure exploded through her—ten times more intense than when she rubbed herself against the edge of her desk.
"...Huh?"
No one could deny Han Ji-su was beautiful, yet no man ever approached her—not at work, the gym, or her martial arts classes.
She made sure of that, radiating an unapproachable aura wherever she went.
But now, from the lips of that very same ice queen, came a soft, dazed sound—almost adorably stupid.
"Eeek, eeeek♥"