His fingertips pressed against something indescribable.
“……!”
It felt as though something moist were spreading from the point of contact. As if a sticky substance, like syrup, originating from his fingertips were slowly flowing through the woman entire body, draining her of strength. A languid wave swept from her head down to her toes.
She had neither the time nor the capacity to understand what was happening. Had Oscar not moved, she would have remained frozen in that state.
Oscar—his had been devoid of emotion, like an indifferent god of the underworld—slowly withdrew his finger. Then he straightened his hunched back.
Beneath his flushed nape, his broad chest, concealed beneath his shirt, rose and fell visibly. The moment Seo-ah saw him exhale the breath he had been restraining; she involuntarily sat up. One hand clutched the parted collar of her clothes, the other pressed against the bed for support. She lacked the courage to meet his eyes and lowered her head.
Only then did she realize that her own breathing was just as ragged as his.
Pant. Pant.
Her breaths—like those of someone who had just finished a marathon—spilled uncontrollably from her lips. With her gaze lowered toward the floor, she noticed the undergarment caught between her exposed thighs.
“Or did you like it? Do I get paid every time?”
“If you’re so eager to give your body, do it properly.”
The words she had barely managed to suppress were sharpened again, piercing up through her chest.
Unable to endure the sight of herself, she tugged at her clothes to cover her legs. Unable to endure the sound of his breathing, she covered her mouth.
In the moment when her body felt as though it were melting, what was she experiencing? It felt as though everything were draining away, yet at the same time—
“……”
Her thoughts were cut short by a low curse. At the same moment, a hot hand lifted her chin, as though supporting it. As her head was raised, she saw a man whose eyes were hot and parched, like a city ravaged by fire. The heat threatened to sweep her away.
Cold tears slid down her cheeks. Seo-ah felt his gaze follow the tracks of her tears, then lift again.
The corners of his closed lips rose and fell, barely perceptible.
“Did you like it?”
More tears slipped free. Her heart lurched. She knew she should not cry, yet she could not stop herself.
Unlike his lips, which still carried a trace of mockery, Oscar’s sunken eyes continued to sink deeper and deeper.
Oscar removed the hand covering her mouth. He pressed his thumb against her lips, which she had been biting hard. As he pushed against them—eliciting a dull ache—he tilted his head and smiled brilliantly.
“Judging by how wet you are, it seems you liked it.”
“……”
Just let it happen.
A voice rose from deep within her.
Watch him carefully. This man is waiting for you to say no.
Seo-ah followed that inner voice and met his gaze.
As she looked into his clear blue eyes, the man’s smiling lips twisted.
“……”
“……”
His blue eyes, which had been looking down at her, shifted aside as if avoiding her gaze. He took a breath. His heaving breathing gradually subsided. Then he looked back at her.
Within his clear blue eyes, she could see something swirling.
She felt as though she were being drawn into it when his head suddenly tilted toward her.
Seeing him approach, Seo-ah thought their lips would meet again. But he stopped just short of contact. A deep scent—like wet wood—brushed against her lips.
Oscar hovered there, at the edge of her mouth, then drew back slightly, only to lean in again as though to devour her. The man who looked ready to swallow her lips—and the breath trapped within them—halted at the last possible moment.
“……”
“……”
The space between them felt as though even the sound of rain had vanished.
The distance—so close they might overlap, yet not quite—was precarious. Veins bulged along the man’s forearm as he clenched his empty fist. He took several breaths, rougher than when he had slaughtered an entire mercenary unit, and then he stood.
“Fuck.”
The suppressed curse settled over the woman like acrid smoke. As her vacant gaze dropped, the man’s eyes returned to her.
Whatever fragile restraint had been tormenting him appeared to snap.
“Kneel.”
The command—scalding hot, yet cold enough to freeze the lungs—fell upon her.
I told her to lie down because I didn’t want to face her.
Every time I gave in and kissed her, it felt as though I were plunging into the depths of the earth.
Her clear brown pupils widened blankly.
“Don’t you understand the command to lie down?”
At his cold, indifferent words, she quickly averted her gaze, blinked, and hurriedly turned over.
It was obvious she had no idea what would happen next.
After turning, she fussed pointlessly with her clothes. She covered her open front and hastily drew together the legs that had previously been spread wide, lying down as neatly as possible. Only her bare ankles and feet—exposed by the removed stockings—remained visible.
Oscar laughed in disbelief at her demure, obedient back.
A cruel way of speaking.His mother’s voice, saying she resembled her father, surfaced in his mind. His memories of his father—who existed only as a statue—were faint. If the mother who was more selfish and crueler than anyone had called him cruel, then how cruel must his father have been?
At any rate, one thing was certain.
He had inherited their blood.
“Kneel.”
The cold, indifferent command fell again upon the woman lying so neatly. She did not move at once. Then, just before Oscar could speak, she lifted herself slightly, turned her head back, and asked,
“I… I don’t know how you want me to do it.”
Whether he meant kneel, stand, or something else entirely.
Oscar suddenly recalled her earlier words—arguing that she had turned around when told to turn around only once.
He had laughed then.
Now, a languid sigh escaped where laughter once had. It felt as though thick, viscous lava were pooling beneath his throat.
Oscar stared at her clear profile as though glaring, then grabbed her waist without ceremony and hauled her up.
“Ah!”
Her shrill cry scraped across his eardrums.
Pulled upright by the waist, her knees bent naturally as she landed kneeling on the bed, her hands instinctively bracing against it.
“Like this.”
Her buttocks lifted prominently. Her waist curved inward.
Oscar, having demonstrated the posture himself—anything but demure—pushed aside the pitiful fabric covering her hips. Only then did the woman seem to grasp what act would follow.
She squirmed, trying to block his touch. Yet at the same time, her own words—claiming she did not dislike it—clearly restrained her.
A cruel smile flickered across Oscar’s face.
Let’s see what’s going through that little head of yours… and how much you can endure.
Oscar deliberately lifted the fabric of her clothes slowly. Her already sensitive skin would keenly register the brush of cloth against it. As her pale calves and thighs were gradually exposed, he felt her breathing quicken. When the fabric finally came to rest at her hips, she grabbed it with both hands and looked back.
“Your Excellency, I—”
Her brow twisted as if on the verge of tears. Her reddened eyes and voice, thick with moisture, sounded like a plea.
At that moment, the disposition his mother had recoiled from surfaced.
He felt an urge to capture the scene. To preserve it. To draw it in detail and show it to the pleading woman.
You—looking back at me with reddened eyes—what do you look like?
Though her pitiful state—enough to provoke arousal by sight alone—was undeniable, he had no intention of granting her plea. Without hesitation, he swept the fabric aside.
“Ah…!”
With a breathy sound, she went still. Oscar also paused briefly, collecting his breath.
Beyond the displaced fabric, his gaze lingered.
The front bottom he had only traced with his fingertips was flushed red and fully exposed.
His blue eyes—previously filled with calculation—clouded instantly, like a sky swallowed by storm clouds.
“Ah…”
Whether from shame, the woman—who had followed his commands obediently until now—twisted her body. Oscar pressed down on her lower back and unceremoniously dug his fingertips into the cleft of her ripened flesh.
“Ah!”
He watched the parted folds retract slightly. The fluid that had spilled earlier had not yet dried. Was there any substance more suited to slimy soft area?
His fingertips grew bolder.Crueler.
—